Noodle of a Puzzle

Sister gives her little speech prepared for the ceremony, and all the while her twin devils smile.

The magistrates bow the knee, and her devils smile.

She parades the streets in her palanquin, and there at its sides they never cease smiling.

“I don’t like ‘em,” Sels hisses on my shoulder. “They smell human but they feel real wrong.”

My scars don’t twinge, either, but I couldn’t agree more.

And that, in itself, is a puzzle....

When the entire business is finally over, the palanquin heading back, I send Sels off to Meil and the others, along with a quiet message, and return to find an opportunity to speak with sister alone. It takes as long as I thought it would.

Taking her by the shoulder and whisking her into the Imperial rooms, I make it shorter.

“What are you—?”

“Excuse my impatience.” I ignore the chains biting at my wrists and ankles, marching her into a hardwood-reinforced room that reminds me of my old rooms. Seeing as it’s completely devoid of any furniture whatsoever with only a lone window to let in the evening light, it probably was.

“You will release me—!”

Obligingly, I let go, allowing her to stumble against the wall. “You think you’re very clever, don’t you.”

“You will not speak to me like that.” She turns on me with fire in her eyes, the chain flaring to life, tight enough around my throat to choke. “You are my Guardian, and you do as I say.”

I hold her eyes, this immature child pretending at an authority she’s not ready for. Did I interrupt the joy of your perfect day?

A hint of her teeth shows, her fingers clenching as tight as the ghostly links digging into my skin. “You. Will. Not. Threaten. Me.”

Her expression is fierce, but tightness lingers behind it, around her eyes, around her mouth, in the paleness of her face and the pulse in her taut throat. She’s afraid of me.

Her command sparks around the chink, as I stand unmoving.

She should be.

I’m not here to threaten you, I put mildly through the chain cutting off most of my air. I’m here to tell you exactly how stupid you are.

“Oh really?” She snorts harshly, dropping the chains savagely, likely just to hear the wheeze as my airway opens again. “I’m stupid?”

“You know what they are, yet you didn’t tell me Ilempo had contacted you.” I idly rub at my throat. “Instead you spring it on me as, what, some petty form of revenge?”

“They aren’t devils, brother mine.”

“If you truly believe that, then you really are stupid.” Unblinking, I hold her eyes. “There are no Angrilans left alive on this dying world of ours, little sister. Not a drop of their blood but you and I, and whoever else happens to have a distant ancestor there.”

“There are only legends, you can’t know that for certain—”

“On the contrary,” I interrupt softly, “I’ve been there. I saw it.”

“How? Do I somehow have the ability to send you back eight hundred years, as well?”

“No, but someone else was there at that time.” I step past her, leaning on the windowsill and lifting the waxed paper to let in the full glory of the setting sun glimmering over the hills. “They left very enlightening records. Enough to drive a man mad.”

“They could still be wrong, or lies. Especially if they inspire madness.”

“Hmf.” I smile back at her cold expression. “There are holes in my memory of it, but that, I couldn’t forget. Why are you so insistent on believing them, hm? Can you really not stand the idea of having fallen to such an obvious trick? Or... do you have something else you haven’t told me, perhaps...?”

Her eyes follow my finger lifting dust from the wood as though it were a spider. “Perhaps you should tell me. Is this something to do with this future that happened last time? I thought Ilempo attacks four or so years from now.”

Ah, so that’s how it is, then, sister. I allow my smile to cool. “The timeline’s moved closer. I suggest you keep up.”

I brush silently past her, and through the doorway.

Ξ-Ξϟ†ϟΞ-Ξ

It’s dark by the time I wander the streets towards a certain lantern-lit sign proudly dangling from the eaves of a once-familiar establishment. Cheery blue light streams onto the cobblestones of the street, leaking out with the babble of its patrons.

It sounds like a busy night for them. Hopefully the others managed to save me a seat.

I stride past a half-drunk group laughing around one of the wooden supports holding up the overhang, ignoring the hush and squints that follow me as I remove my sandals and slip inside.

It’s like stepping from a painting into the grass of a memory. Bamboo mats with low tables, a padded bench at the sturdy wooden bar along the back, lanterns hanging low... I’d forgotten the smell—broth with noodles, rice, tea; the sourness of wine and the people themselves—and the chatter of those who have nothing to talk about but the business of buying and selling. Another time, another place.

And the sight of ghosts waving to a man whose body alone resides in it.

I’m quite sure I did come down from the palace after that conversation—if I can call it that—with sister, and haven’t fallen along the way, or passed out at any point to the weakness I’ve been slowly beating back. This is too vivid for a dream, too different for a memory with a very alive Jeanu waving a cheerful wing.

I sit at the space they’ve saved for me, and I’ve forgotten everything I planned to say.

“Here, we saved a bowl for you. I’ll bet you didn’t eat anything at that banquet, did you?” Meil pushes a very full bowl of noodles and everything under the sun at me. “Go on. Leave none of it untouched.”

She may as well have given me a bowl of snakes. “You don’t believe in that superstition.”

“You don’t want bad luck for the new year, do you?” Jeanu grins, tail whapping happily every-which-where, and taps the bowl with a pair of chopsticks cradled nimbly in those knife-like talons of his. “What if the world depends on it? Leave no noodle untouched, my friend!”

“I’ve missed many bowls in my time.”

“Well, now we know why there was such bad luck there.”

“Why do ya eat noodles for White Moon anyway?” Sels cuts in before I can do more than raise incredulous eyebrows. “We just have cress soup. Who cares if some noodles don’t get eaten?”

“No, wait, never mind, I think the heretic population of Fishmouth is to blame.”

I huff a faint smile, reluctantly picking up chopsticks. Luck or not, I’m doing my best to regain my strength, and my appetite has gotten better. We’ll see if it can withstand this test. “I actually arranged this to talk about that— this is... good.”

“It’s always been the best in Nachisi.” Akir nods, smiling at the sudden increase in appetite. “Old Aunt Sakira and Uncle Koji’s special recipe. I was going to invite you to come if you hadn’t told us to.”

The flavour of a meal fades after untold years. I can’t remember it being this tasty at any time I’ve been here. The cooks in the palace need a dose of whatever magic Akir’s aunt and uncle imbue into their noodles. Even Yoive’s can’t compare. “It’s very good.”

The words come out more like “mmfrghu” than anything else. From the smile, Akir still gets the message.

“Don’t choke,” Meil says drily, despite the triumphant smile of a conquering strategist twitching at her lips.

I can’t say I mind being outmanoeuvred like this. If I could say anything at all.

“Think ya broke him.”

“Well, since he’s going to be occupied for a while—” that look tells me not to eat too fast “—I suppose we’ll have to continue speculating on these... Angrilans.”

Akir shakes his head. “I didn’t like the look of them, and I didn’t see much.”

“I couldn’t sense anything off about them in the fissure way,” Jeanu offers. “There was no ichor scent, just a... this sort of....”

“Evil wiggly-air kinda thing? Yeah, they sliced their arms in front of everybody to prove they had normal-people blood cos they’re definitely evil and weird as fissures, and it smelled like blood and everythin’.”

“Yes, evil wiggly-air— heat ripple.” Jeanu points at her with a wide grin. “It was like a heat ripple, the kind you find over tiled roofs in the summer, but in a more spiritual way.”

“Evil essence, you think?”

I pause in slurping noodles. “I didn’t see you in the crowd.”

“You were busy glaring holes in their skulls. That, and we were trying not to draw attention. There are a few people... unhappy with us Sunrise Warriors, shall we say.”

Probably thanks to my dramatic announcement on our failure. “Do you think it’s possible they are what they say they are?”

“Hm. There are definitely gaps, which is why we have so many legends and not many solid records, especially around that time,” Jeanu says, tapping his talons rhythmically on the table, before perking up to point at me. “Actually! That’s around the time Ilempo the Cleaver died, as well. Same name as this devil general you mention—which is funny, as I’d never heard of that concept at all until you brought it up—but anyway, ah... oh, yes, he was very close with them, a sort of envoy back when the Emperor employed tribal warchiefs and things were a bit less united. He died in the spillover.”

I frown around my mouthful of noodles. “Ilempo was a gryphon warlord in the War of Talons. From what I know, his greed and lust for war led to him becoming a devil when Noruaas consumed him.”

...Didn’t it?

“No, he was definitely—”

Isn’t that... what happened....

“Lonn?”

I drag my hand away from the feeling of something sharp digging under my skull. There’s something about this that isn’t right.... Shaking it off, I meet a few mildly-concerned faces with a quick smile, briefly abandoning the half-finished bowl with the faint uneasiness coiled deep in my stomach. “It’s fine. Actually, I need to tell you something, that I’ve left out. That’s why I gathered you here.”

I exhale quietly, all too aware of the weight of phantom chains around my neck. “Sister didn’t intend to send me back. She killed me, and betrayed us all to Noruaas.”