Revolutions

35 - Haesan

Once more, I'm jolted awake before the sun has a chance to peek over the horizon. As my mind races with innumerable thoughts, I become jealous of the quetzals that sing outside my window, how they have no other care in the world other than greeting the morning with their song.

Recognizing I won't be getting any more sleep, I fling the covers aside and sit up on my bed, letting my eyes linger on the world outside my window. I have yet to enjoy a peaceful night's sleep since my arrival, despite the comforts afforded me at the palace. Too much has occurred in my short time here, but the events of last night disturb me to my core.

Removing the ritualistic blade from beneath my pillow, I gaze upon it as I hold it in my hands. The long, ornate knife appears crafted from another world, with its stunningly intricate design and shape, and the gold shimmers even in the dim light. What power does this item contain that would cause those two gangs to fight over it? What secrets does it possess that makes it so sought after?

I hear shuffling of feet and a clattering of dishes, and quickly hide the knife under my pillow before my door opens. The Aimue servant has come to expect me to be awake before she enters the room, and she brings in a display of fruits laid out on a tray along with a cup of juice that she places on a table by my bed. It's only been a few days, yet she's anticipated my favorite items, ensuring I've extra pieces of what I learned is called pitaya, this vibrant red fruit from the southern region in Tapeu territory. Surely it's something only the Tapeu nobility can obtain, considering how even my family in Achope could never procure such a delicacy, and I savor the sour and sweet taste of each delectable bite.

"Qura–," she catches herself before she corrects to say, "Lady Haesan, your presence has been requested in the sewing room after you finish breakfast."

"I beg your pardon," I say, reflexively retreating my hand when I realize I'm about to touch her wrist as I speak to her. Old habits I'm trying to shake. She halts from leaving the room and perks up, and I say to her, "I have been in Qapauma for a number of days, yet I don't believe I caught your name."

At my statement, she looks bashful and casts her eyes to the ground, hands folded in front of her. I'm aware I haven't directly asked for her name, but now I'm self-conscious about making such a request, worried it may come across as a demand. I sigh at the thought of causing her discomfort and return to eating my breakfast.

"Yachaman," she says meekly while looking from side to side as though she doesn't want to be overheard. Are the servants in Tapeu supposed to appear nameless?

"Yachaman," I say, trying out the name in my voice. She corrects my pronunciation—supposedly, it's said with your mouth opening as wide as possible, giving it a staggered, abrupt sound when spoken.

"Two moons," I say. "Well, if you're Aimue, I suppose it's something more detailed and longer in meaning, so..." I squint and stare at a corner of the room as though the translation will come to me from the walls. "One who has the spirit of two moons, I would guess." At this, her face is pure shock, mouth slightly agape.

"How..." she starts, slightly shaking her head in disbelief.

"I studied many of the languages in Chopaqte. I suppose I possess only a rudimentary understanding of most of them, Aimue being one such language. However, I was always fond of how the Aimue said so much with so few words, as if each single word had such a complexity and wide range in meaning, and thus, must be chosen with care. It was always deciphering the contexts in which they were spoken that tripped me up. What appears to have one meaning could actually mean something completely different if you get just one emphasis wrong or misplace a word in the sentence."

"It is quite a complicated language," she confesses with a giggle. I can't help but smile at finally seeing her toughened, stoic façade crack with a bit of emotion.