Intan slid to her knees, overwhelmed with sudden exhaustion. Eguzki made his way to her side, silent and brooding.
“Tuyet and...” She grasped for a name, then gave up. “Are they okay?”
He looked in the direction of the fallen Dolls but did not answer. Instead, he said quietly, “Who are you? What are you?”
Intan blinked up at him with some confusion. “Did you forget my name too?”
“You’re the only one who’s ever...” He seemed to change his mind then. “Thank you. For helping with Kasih.”
“It would have been wrong,” she said solemnly, “not to help her.”
“It was my fault. My responsibility. I should never have told her.”
“Told her...” Intan hesitated. “About Sita?”
“About the Headmistress.”
“Headmistress Liow?”
He nodded absently. “She was an orphan. Kasih, I mean. Whole village died in the plague. The soldiers who found her hadn’t expected any survivors. Didn’t know what to do with her, so they dumped her in the orphanage in the capital. Taking the exams was her only chance for a better life.”
“Is that where you met her?” asked Intan, suddenly curious.
“The orphanage?” His eyes sharpened. His lips curved into a bitter, secret smile. “I... No. She was the one who came to me. She’d scored just above the threshold. Barely eligible for admission. Couldn’t find any sponsors. But she was resourceful. She’d heard the rumors. About the incident. My transfer.”
Memory flitted back to her, warped and uncomfortable, but vivid. “The boy of the crows.”
The smile dropped. He studied her. “Funny that you call him that.”
“So it was the Headmistress who sponsored her?”
He did not seem to have expected the question, for it was a moment before he responded.
“No one else would.”
Though Intan had been about to express her surprise that the Headmistress, of all people, should have then been willing to take her on, she said instead, “Then isn’t it good that you told her?”
Again he seemed startled by her question.
At last, he said, “I wonder. I didn’t have to. I could have turned her away. But I...”
Intan waited, puzzled.
“I wish I could say I helped her out of the goodness of my heart. But looking at her was just like looking at a younger version of myself. Maybe it was that selfish desire of mine that made everything go wrong in the end.”
“But it was good that you told her,” repeated Intan. “You offered her a way out. You gave her the chance she needed.”
“If only it were that simple.”
“Isn’t it?”
“... Even if it came at a cost?”
“When we walk down one path, the others are lost to us. But when we close one door, countless others open before us.”
He studied her again. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
“Because it’s true!”
To this he did not respond.
“We’d better find Tuyet!” she said then, springing back up and brushing herself off.
“Wait.”
YOU ARE READING
Memory of AUSOS
FantasyThe gods have abandoned the royal family of Nahwan. Nonetheless, fifteen-year-old mech-crazy Intan Aghavni enrolls in the piloting program at the Royal Military Academy, pursuing the vague memory of a woman who saved her life as a child... When the...