Winged: A Novella Of Two Girls

Copyright 2009 by Joyce Chng

Including cover design

Enquiries, feedback and permission:

Please contact Joyce Chng at sabersger@yahoo.com

More stories by Joyce Chng are featured at http://jolantru.dreamwidth.org

ISBN: 978-981-08-3863-8
Printed by Lulu.com
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AUTHOR’S NOTE

The story consists of two novelettes: The Basics Of Flight and Phoenix With
A Purpose.
 3

The Basics of Flight

JOYCE CHNG
 4

To my little girls and to those who dare to dream and to fly.

 5

TABLE OF CONTENTS

BASICS

Chapter One
Beginning: First Steps

Chapter Two
Finding Her Balance: Standing On Two Feet

Chapter Three
Balance Of The World: An Interlude

Chapter Four
Finding Her Balance: Walking Aware

Chapter Five
Maintaining Equilibrium

Chapter Six
A Moment Of Gravity

Chapter Seven
A Moment Of Lift

FLIGHT

Chapter One
Fledgling

Chapter Two
Hardening The Wings

Chapter Three
Dynamics

Chapter Four
Earning The Wings
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Chapter Five
Taking Wing

Chapter Six
The Gathering
Chapter Seven
Flight
(An Interlude)

EPILOGUE
New Horizons

List of Dramatis Personae

Artifices

Colleges of the Flight Academy ( Académie De Vol)

The collectors and inventors

The Garden of Crystals

Lee Hsu’s Ship

About the Author

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BASICS
 8

Chapter One
Beginnings: First Steps

Katherine found her view obstructed by a phalanx of broad backs. Nevertheless, she
managed to grab an empty wooden crate and she clambered on top of it, seeing – finally
– the great flying contraption.

It rippled in the sun, a play of fire and blood in its fins. It was modeled after a fish of the
tropical seas, a lion fish. It surely appeared leonine, with its erect frills like a lion’s
luxuriant mane. In the morning sunlight, it looked courageous and daring, flashing its
bright colors. It floated in mid-air, tethered only by sturdy rope.

It was magical.

Everyone was whispering excitedly, pointing at the flying lion fish. Women in their
washerwoman’s clothes thronged near it, clucking like a gaggle of geese. Her own mom
was amongst the women, a quiet figure, watching the contraption.

The lion fish’s pilot stood, conversing with Mr Stanton, the village’s local merchant. Mr
Stanton held a stack of notes and he seemed to be explaining something important to the
gentleman pilot who wore dashing brown leathers and goggles. He stood like an
aristocrat of old, slapping his leather gloves on his thigh.

She gazed longingly at the lion fish. They were the craze in London, touted to be the new
devices to take over the place of the horse and the train. They were also the invention of
the collectors, a group of inventors and scientists who spoke of Science and Logic. Next
to the steely and cumbersome trains who breathed spumes of steam and were loud, the
lion fishes were graceful, almost angelic.
 9

The pilot saluted smartly to Mr Stanton, bowed to the gawkers and strode confidently to
the lion fish. Now, she could see the pilot: handsome, his skin tanned brown by the sun
and moustaches neatly and fastidiously trimmed. He looked about two years older than
her. He wasn’t that old as she had previously thought.

He disappeared into the flying lion fish. For a moment, nobody dared to speak, all eyes
intent on the contraption. Someone loosened the rope and the pilot appeared from an
window, quickly pulling the rest of the rope back in. The lion fish was no longer floating
but moving with purpose. Everyone gasped and ducked as one when it shot over their
heads and lifted into the air.

She tilted her head up, shielding her eyes. The lion fish – leo-fin – shimmered in the
Dorset sun. It was glorious. It was magnificent.

She wanted it so much to be hers.

~*~

The academy’s main building reminded her of a cathedral, with soaring

steeples and grave-looking stonework, befitting more perhaps a monastery or a convent.
Yet, as she walked towards the large brass door leading to the auditorium, she could hear
merry laughter coming from the courtyard. It lifted the somber mood and she felt less
intimidated.

It was an exceedingly large area. A crisscross pattern of roads and paths

led to the main building that served as the center of the academy. Directly facing the
cathedral was a splendid-looking manor, constructed in the form of a H, with the extreme
wings serving as dormitories for the academy students. Between the two wings were the
classrooms and lecture chambers as well as a dining hall.
 10

What drew her attention immediately was the Flying Field, a magnificent
sprawling field probably the size of Dorset. There were two leo-fins flying in the middle
of it while a group of students watched. A tiny figure – the pilot? – threw down rope from
one of the leo-fins and as she watched in amazement, the students began to climb up the
rope one by one. The figure/pilot shouted encouragement.

The activity on the Field sent a thrill of excitement through her. To be able
to fly! She would do anything!

She pushed the brass door and it opened with a low stygian groan. Eyes
stared at her: a thousand pairs of them, as she walked in, feeling – suddenly - immensely
small. The auditorium seats were arranged in terraces. Row after row of seats and
students wearing their college designations. She swayed, dizzy with the sensory overload.
The noise. The colors. The people.

To make it worse, the lecturer standing in the middle of the auditorium

was watching her like a hawk. The lecturer was a tall handsome-looking woman, with a
strong jaw and shoulder-length russet hair. Her skin was tanned, bearing testimony to the
hours spent in the open and under the sun. She was dressed in a simple white shirt with
long sleeves, covered with a manly black vest, and khaki riding breeches. Black boots
shone with dedicated polishing and she held a riding crop in her right hand., tapping it
impatiently.

It was an astonishing sight.

Clear-blue eyes bore into her critically and she ground to a halt, realizing
that she could hear muffled giggles and whispers coming from the students.

“Name and College? You are terribly late, young miss.” The woman said,
her voice husky but firm.
 11

“Katherine Riley. College Sable.” She replied, almost biting her tongue.
She knew that the woman was looking at her injured ankle and her slight limp. The injury
was an unfortunate reminder of her past; it had not healed properly, forcing her to limp.
Icy anxiety spiked uneasily in her stomach.

“Good! I am the Tutor-in-charge of College Sable. Please find a seat, Miss

Riley.” The woman’s voice held a hint of amusement and tapped the rostrum sharply
with her riding crop. “The rest of you, make haste back to your task. The chapter on bird
flight, please.”

She walked up the aisle, desperately looking for an empty seat. Most of
the seats were occupied and jealously guarded. She was about to give up hope when she
saw one beside a pale looking girl, about her age. Embarrassed and muttering a rushed
Iamsorry, she eased herself in, knowing that she was distracting others from their studies.

The girl beside her appeared fragile, her face framed with fine flaxen-
colored hair and her skin the shade of delicate porcelain. Her fingers were slender,
caressing the open book in front of her. She noted that there were tiny notches on the
page and wondered why. The girl’s eyes were a startling green and they stared straight
ahead.

“Don’t be embarrassed. Tardiness is a problem, even though Pilotmaster

Lee doesn’t really like it.” The girl whispered softly.

“Um…”

“I am Alethia Forrester,” the girl continued, still staring ahead. “I am

College Sable too.” She noticed the red band around the girl’s slim left arm.

“You are a muddle of red and orange, aren’t you?” The girl finally faced
her and she realized, with shock, that she was blind.
 12

“I am not!” She hissed back, stung and offended, and some students glared
at them. The nerve!

“I think in colors,” Alethia said mildly. “I am blind. But I perceive and

feel things in different hues.”

“Oh.”

“People assume I can see.” The girl smiled and it was a warm genuine
smile. “Come, I do not want Captain Sagan to hound us later.” She inclined her head
towards the direction of the tall woman at the rostrum.

She opened her book but she kept glancing at Alethia’s fingers stroking
the notches. It was rather fascinating. By now, Captain Sagan had begun the lecture. She
noticed that there was another woman, dressed in a more lady-like black gown, seated
before a strange metallic contraption. She looked as if she was playing pianoforte. The
contraption made clacking sounds. As Captain Sagan spoke in her strong voice, the
woman moved her hands quickly over the odd object, click-clacking away.

“That’s the vox-recorder,” Alethia explained as if she somehow sensed her

curiosity. “Captain Sagan makes sure her words are written down for laggards to peruse
in the future.” There was gentle humor in her words and she found herself smiling.

Captain Sagan was talking about the basics of bird flight, using detailed
drawings of bird skeletons. She settled down to listen, knowing somehow that the
academy was going to be an interesting place. She was going to fly and she knew it deep
inside her bones.
 13

Chapter Two
Finding Her Balance: Standing On Two Feet

The ground looked ominously far away from her dangling feet.

“If you keep on paying attention to your feet, Miss Riley,” the voice above
her boomed out sternly. “You will remain in the air until the end of the day!”

She hung onto the rope, feeling it rub against her already-sore palms. She
forced herself to move upwards, focus on the voice above her. The wind tugged at her
fiercely, pulling at her breeches and making her feel extremely naked… cold. She
swayed, because the rope was swaying, because the leo-fin was swaying gently in the
incoming wind current. She could hear the leo-fin sing its own unique song. Shaped like
the lion fish, a fish from the distant tropics, it had captured her imagination ever since she
saw it land in Dorset.

Or rather, its creak-creak-creak voice as it flew suspended in mid-air for

the flightmen’s basic training. That creak voice was the result of its engines working hard
to keep the entire craft airborne, combined with the lift of air currents.

“Rainbows,” Alethia would say during meal times in the Dining Hall.
“They speak in rainbows.”

Rainbows. How she wished she could see one now. Not while she was
dangling in the middle of the sky, feet wishing for terra firma. Maybe, she was not
destined to fly anymore.
 14

“Pay attention, Miss Riley!” The voice boomed out again. Stenton, their
instructor.

She looked up, almost lost her grip and quickly clung onto the rope, her
heart pounding in her chest. Come on, come on, she goaded herself. She called up images
of a shriveled harridan shrieking verbal abuse at her and it got her most motivated. She
began to move slowly and when she faltered, stricken with exhaustion, she would think
of the shrieking harridan and she would have energy.

It was a sense of immense relief when Stenton pulled her into the
compartment area of the leo-fin and she collapsed onto the floor. Her hands were red with
new blisters and she felt as if she had run a mile without stopping. Her arms ached
terribly.

“Less tarrying, Miss Riley,” Stenton said, not unkindly. “More focus on
your task.”

She nodded, knowing that she had accomplished her own personal best.
As for her personal demons, she still needed that extra energy to repel them away.

~*~

“Heard that you almost fell from the leo-fin.”

She met Alethia during the mid-day meal. How Alethia got to know about
her disastrous training session was a mystery. Then again, the academy was closely knit
and news spread easily.
 15

The fair-haired girl navigated around with a walking stick. She also used
her hands to touch the surfaces around her. She was uncanny though – she was adept at
knowing spatial direction. In College Sable, she was nicknamed “Ghost” by a sarcastic
student and the name seemed to have caught on. She seemed to shrug off the nickname
nonchalantly. Katherine knew that she was actually quite hurt by that rude comment.

The mid-day meal was a hearty vegetable stew with freshly baked bread.
Most of College Sable sat at their designated tables. Katherine and Alethia sat at their
own spots. Katherine soaked the bread thoroughly with the savory stew. It reminded her
of her mother’s cooking.

“I almost did. But Stenton was a cruel taskmaster and made me climb the
rope in a jiffy.” She said, chewing on the bread.

“Stenton is well-known for his cruelty. But he is actually quite a kind

man.” Alethia’s voice was always soft, gentle. Katherine had never heard her raise it in
anger.

Katherine glanced at her blisters, still raw from the morning’s climb. They
would heal in time. No doubt, there would be more in the future. She was not so sure
about her ankle. It was painful when she walked. Stenton had already made note of it. So
did Doctor Ash, the academy’s resident physician.

By Jove, she really wanted the ankle to be well. Inwardly, she cursed the
person who caused it, only to pause. It was bad enough to curse. Her mother did say
something about curses coming back to haunt people like spirits of old.

“Katherine?”
 16

Alethia’s voice broke her reverie.

“You are unusually solemn,” the girl continued and Katherine could see a
slight frown creasing the smooth pale brow. The sightless eyes were forever open. Yet,
Katherine knew that Alethia could easily feel her emotions.

“I am just thinking, that’s all.” Katherine said, realizing her excuse

sounded flat and unconvincing. Later, Alethia would sit down with her again and probe it
out of her in her gentle, unassuming manner.

She wondered if she was indeed adapting well to the Flight Academy. The
lessons were agreeable – more so than a small Dorset class-room - and she was learning
everyday about flight and the basics of it. There was time for rest and for work – the
Pilotmaster and lecturers made sure of that. A tired pilot, they said, makes a careless
pilot. The Great Manor was a splendid building. There was hot and cold water in their
dormitories, a luxury – she knew – especially in autumn and winter. There was a
hydraulic pump-core working underneath the Great Manor, powering the electricity that
in turn powered the lamps and other sources of light in the Manor. It was said that the
Manor was a Marvel for its age and there were many people who wanted to do the same
for their own endeavors.

There was First Light when the lights came on at the break of dawn,
waking the students from their slumber. After First Light and breakfast, the morning
began with Athletics and other exercises. Lessons began promptly after Athletics and
continued until late afternoon, near Tea. Last Light was turned on before bed and it was a
time for students to rest, play games and converse with their friends.

She had to agree that she enjoyed the academy, more so when she saw the
leo-fins in their glory and to be so close to them. She would only fly next year, “when
you find your balance, young lady!” Captain Sagan told her once, kindly but firmly
enough for her to take note of the lecturer’s words.
 17

She knew she was simply awful at balancing. Stenton thought she had a
problem with her inner ear. She just simply could not balance well on the beams. A
problem, she felt her heart sinking, at the helm of a leo-fin.

“Katherine,” Alethia’s voice was more persistent. “Katherine?”

“Oh!” Katherine shook herself and finished her by-now cold stew.

~*~

When Last Light illuminated the Great Manor, Katherine found herself at
the Exercise Hall, staring thoughtfully at the beams.

The beams criss-crossed each other and were designed to teach poise and
equilibrium. For her, they were … obstacles. Frustrating, harrowing obstacles. She saw
the rest doing it with various degrees of grace and poise and she felt like a lumbering cow
whenever she stood on one of the beams.

In the dim light, she touched the beam, already polished smooth by
countless soles and hands. She lifted herself up onto the wooden apparatus, feeling it
creak ominously beneath her bare feet. She inhaled deeply and began to walk, placing her
right foot before her left carefully. She lifted her arms to give her enough balance.

At first, it was fine. She was doing remarkably well and Stenton, if he saw
her, would have been pleased.

Then, her ankle, that accursed damned ankle, gave.

 18

She fell awkwardly onto the cushioning mats, bloomers and all. For a
moment, she lay flat on her back, staring at the high ceiling, breathing quickly in the
darkness, glad nobody saw her embarrassment. Far away, she could hear jocular music,
some people playing the violin and the pianoforte. There was some singing and general
laughter.

And she was flat on her sore back, her hands still stinging with the
morning’s yield of blisters and her ankle throbbing dismally. If she could cry, she would.
But she did not. Captain Sagan would have choice words to say if she did see her in this
present predicament.

Something about balance, she thought gloomily. Somewhere in her head, a

shriveled old woman laughed harshly like a blighted harpy.

~*~

She was back in that cramped classroom again. Back with the insipid
simpering girls who would have been her friends but were not, would never be. Their
minds were always on lace and how to catch the eye of the nearest farm-boy. Hers were
mathematics and flying. Always flying.

They were whispering and watching her side-ways, while she sat next to
the window. She could see the rare blue skies, glorious and inviting, without being
obscured by the black smokes from the nearby factory.

She appeared.
 19

Uptight, wearing a prim dress and a pair of proper black shoes, the old
woman walked into the room. Her face was creased, her nose hooked and her eyes were
like cold gimlets. Her hair had long gone white and there was no use trying to guess her
actual age. She always held a brown belt, “for strict discipline”, she would say proudly.

“Good morning, Miss Sharpton,” the girls sang sweetly.

“Katherine!” Her voice was shrill.

“Good morning,” Katherine said quietly.

Miss Sharpton glared at her, basilisk-like. Katherine knew she loved the
simpering idiots, because they were “lady-like”. She laughed. These girls would know
only Dorset for the rest of their lives. Not her, Katherine Riley.

“Katherine Riley,” the old woman’s voice was icicle-cold. “Explain to the
class what balance is.”

Now, it was wrong. All wrong. What kind of question was that? She did
not know how to explain balance. Nor did she understand balance. Physics? Physical
balance? Mental balance? What kind of balance?

She gasped as the old harridan’s eyes flamed red. Katherine shook her
head hard, trying to wake herself up. This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream.

The old harridan stalked towards her, witch-thin and witch-terrible. She
had her belt ready and Katherine was quite well acquainted with the belt. Her ankles bore
previous scars.
 20

“So, Miss Riley,” the old witch snarled. “What is balance?” Her bony
fingers twitched, as if in wicked anticipation.

“Balance is…” Katherine stammered, suddenly at a loss. The tittering in

the background had a cruel edge to it. Everything around her went dark, except for Miss
Sharpton, whose visage filled her entire vision.

“What is balance?” Miss Sharpton demanded. “Miss Riley, do not tarry

with your answer!”

“Balance is,” Katherine took in a deep breath, knowing that deep down,
even in the dream, she was shaking like an aspen tree. “Balance is learning to stand on
two feet.” The answer came forth from her mouth unbidden.

“Wrong!” Miss Sharpton crowed triumphantly and down came the brown
belt, hitting Katherine at her right arm. It stung like fire, even in the dream…

She woke up with a start in the moonlight. The bed-sheets were damp with
her perspiration. She was surprised that everyone else was sleeping soundly. Her arm
smarted with phantom pain.

Alethia sat up on her bed.

“I heard you shouting,” the girl explained. Alethia was a light sleeper.
“Did you have a nightmare?” She patted the area around her, as if trying to get her
bearings.

“Yes,” Katherine said, half-apologetic for waking the Forrester girl up.
“Please go back to bed.”
 21

Alethia seemed to open her mouth to say something, changed her mind
and lay back down again. The moonlight cast a faint white glow on her pale hair. Soon,
Katherine heard her breathing regularly, meaning that she had finally slept.

Katherine slowly sank back into her own goose-down bed, her heartbeats
finally ceasing their mad drumming. It was a bad dream. A nightmare. Yet, she
remembered what she said in the dream, to the nightmarish Miss Sharpton. And there was
truth in it.
 22

Chapter Three:
Balance Of The World: An Interlude

The balance of the world was not just the balance of an antiquated globe
left behind by history. It was not a fixed world, with arcane words and ancient creatures
with “There Be Dragons” marked on perceived dangerous areas. It was always shifting,
like the shifting clouds and currents. Continents were shifting boundaries with the Powers
making conquests everywhere. In the Far East. In the Indies. In the Spice Islands.

If the antiquated globe spun like a child’s top, it would not change the
world’s continents and countries. Nor its diverse politics.

Especially the politics, the Asian man contemplated thoughtfully as he

placed his hand on the old globe, starring at the lovingly crafted words “Middle
Kingdom”, feeling a pang in his heart. He had not been home for many years, having
considered himself a political migrant and left Shanghai for all its worth.

And the Qing emperor is laying claims in the Indies, he mused quietly.
Not a gutless man, this Qing emperor, and definitely not under the Dowager’s thumb.
The winds might change with this man.

He strode over to his worktable, currently piled under by stacks of

registration forms, blueprints and flight schedules. He felt his age today. He was only
fifty and yet he felt a hundred. It must be the students, he thought with wry humor. Seeing
the youths in their classes and at the Flying Field reminded him of his own exuberant and
often reckless youth.
 23

If I would have studied hard for the Imperial Examinations, he chuckled to

himself, sorting out the paperwork. He had a lecture in about an hour’s time – he had the
clock to remind him. I would have been made a magistrate. But then again, I would be
stuck behind some musty desk, with fawning cronies and corruption in the civil service.

His mother would be proud if he was made a magistrate or even a

governor of a province. She would forgive him then, for the troubles he had caused her
when he was a child. He liked to experiment with gunpowder, gleaned from the
firecrackers used for the festivals. She probably had not forgiven him for the flying
gunpowder ship.

Old Liu was particularly angry, he recalled the old retainer’s face,
reddened from furious shouting and half-blackened with soot from the gunpowder ship
which exploded mid-air, right in the middle of the family courtyard, much to everyone’s
consternation and horror. Old Liu looked just like Kwan Kong, the red-and-black faced
god of justice.

His sisters hated the smoke and tried to fan it away, more concerned for
their silk garments. His father was not impressed. His mother appeared as if she was
about to faint. The servants gaped and some hid their laughter. The main body of the
ship, modeled after a Chinese junk, broke apart, mid-flight, and fell onto the main dish, a
roasted pig procured by Old Liu. It was a Yuan Xiao dinner with invited guests and a
slew of festivities to celebrate the end of the Lunar New Year period to follow soon after.
Of course, he had to go spoil it all. After the festivities, he was scolded and caned by his
father.

He was ten and already bored of the world.

 24

Of course, Old Liu was probably dead by now. It had been years. For him,
he had cut off his queue of hair, mark of a Qing man, and left for England, vowing never
to return.

There was a discrete knock on the door. He knew that knock and smiled.
Before long, the door creaked open and Captain Sagan walked in, proud like a red-haired
lioness.

“You will be late for your lecture,” she said without preamble. Such a
woman and such a character. She was attired in her characteristic shirt and riding
breeches. The suffragists loved her. Her Majesty, the Queen herself, had heard of her
exploits too.

“I know, I know,” he said and fetched his notes from the table. He would
organize it later. Oh, time was of the essence and he knew it all too well.

Ah, the balance of the world, his world, was right at the moment. London
was the center of commerce and invention, both fueling each other, much like his
friendship with Captain Sagan. His mother would be shocked. A friendship with a foreign
woman, a “red-haired devil”? It would have offended her delicate sensibilities. But she
was Shanghainese, born into a world of privilege. Her world was a world of lazy
mahjong sessions and serene embroidery, sheltered from the real Shanghai, itself
attracting people of all races and sorts.

We exist in many worlds, he thought as he exited his room with Captain

Sagan beside him and strode purposefully to the auditorium. It is how we balance the
worlds. But the winds of the world are fickle.
 25

Chapter Four
Finding Her Balance: Walking Aware

The air was suitably chilly for an early-morning Athletics. There was fog
rolling in from the Flying Field, a fleecy sheet coating just about everything and making
flying lessons for the final-year ensign class impossible.

Stenton made them all stand in a large circle, including Alethia who
shivered in the cold. They had their jumpers on but the Autumn cold was indeed bone-
deep. The students hopped from foot to foot, trying to keep themselves warm. There
would be a lot of howling and complaining later. But now it was not the time to.
Stenton’s sharp tongue would whip them into shape.

Katherine’s skin broke out in goose pimples. She hated Autumn, even
when she was back in Dorset. The house was always clammy, the cold having seeped
into the very bricks and stayed there like a stubborn ice wall. She would pile on several
layers of blankets and the cold would still permeate through. Little Alice, her sister, hated
it and often fell ill with winter colds.

“You must be wondering why you are all standing in a circle,” Stenton
began. He was a stocky man, in his late thirties, his salt-and-pepper hair close-cropped to
the skull. He was a Cockney man by birth and he was proud of it.

“We are going to do an exercise,” he continued, watching the students and

their discomfort in the chill air with amusement in his eyes. “I want everyone to start
walking in three paces, at your own will, within this circle.”
 26

The students eyed one another and then at Stenton who grinned back.
“Walk normally, breathe normally, making sure you do not come into contact with your
peers.”

Katherine darted a glance at Alethia anxiously. For this exercise, the blind
girl would have found it difficult in doing so. But the girl showed no sign of anxiety or
indeed nervousness, standing with a faint smile on her lips.

“You can begin … now!” Stenton whistled sharply and the students began
to shuffle, pace and walk, each in his or her own style of movement. Three paces, Stenton
reminded them, three paces.

The strands of fog made perception fair tricky, clouding in-coming traffic
and playing games with the eyes. Katherine tried to breathe normally, listening to her
heart, trying hard not to knock into her classmates. Someone brushed too closely to her
and it was Thomas Von Dyke who grinned at her wickedly and moved away, like a
dancer. Everyone was shifting around her, each in his own world but slowly becoming
aware of the others. Even Alethia moved remarkably well, steering herself with her
walking stick.

Katherine was aware of the currents around her, the shifting flows and
eddies. For a few breaths, she paused, perceptive of the dance and the dancers. Then,
someone approached her and she neatly stepped away without missing a beat. The fog
simply added to the flow, becoming part of it, dispersing when one of the students moved
through it and merging back again seamlessly.

Is flying like that? She wondered, listening to her heartbeats. Knowing the
flows and currents of the air? Like a bird? Or knowing who I am?
 27

She was reminded of the nightmare she had a while back and she
shuddered, almost losing her concentration when Thomas passed her again. She caught
herself and swirled away, almost hitting another boy who glared at her indignantly.

The dance carried on, everyone moving – by now – easily. At the

sidelines, Stenton watched pleased.

~*~

“That is a fine exercise!” Thomas commented as they retired to the

dormitories to refresh themselves before the afternoon classes. His German accent was
almost gone with the number of years spent in London, only a faint hint of it showing
when he became excited.

“It is,” Katherine nodded, feeling the exercise still lingering in her bones.
Alethia walked beside her.

“You almost knocked into me twice,” the boy laughed cheekily. He was
almost nineteen. At times, Katherine swore he acted even younger than his real age. She
was the oldest amongst the three, having reached the maximum age of registration for the
academy. She was passing glad she made it into the academy. Passing glad …

“Hmph,” she retorted back and Thomas shrugged. He was in a jolly good
mood. Alethia merely smiled, no doubt understanding the nuances in the conversation.

Now Alethia’s professed vocational training astounded her. She was not
training to be a pilot. Instead, she was training to be a controller, the person tasked to give
directions to the leo-fin pilot. Now how she was going to do so remained a mystery, even
for Katherine. Alethia’s senses of perception were uncanny; she claimed to hear the leo-
 28

fins by color and was hence – or she said – able to direct the leo-fin when it took off or
landed.

“I do not mind working with you,” she once told Katherine privately. “If
we both graduate from the academy first!”

Alethia sounded confident and she seemed to know herself well. She
seemed so solid, so self-assured. So aware, even with her disability. Katherine had to
admit that she admired the blind girl.

“Off with you,” Katherine mock-scolded Thomas who bowed cockily and
peeled off to the nearest washroom. When he was gone, she breathed a sigh of relief. “He
is such a frustrating lad!”

~*~

Doctor James Ash was a busy man. Not only did he have to look after the
health of the entire student cohort, he was also part of the Faculty. Biology was the
subject, even though his own specialty was general surgery.

It was common to see the bearded tall gentleman stalking down the
corridors of the Manor, simultaneously physician and teacher. He would check on the
students, especially those who were sick and were in quarantine, regularly, making they
had their ample rest. Likewise, he would supervise his students in the laboratories.
 29

He was a busy man. One would expect him to be scatterbrained, the very
image of an university professor. He was not. He was sharp. He was acerbic. Mind you,
he just cut young Joshua Baker into fine shreds for being tardy in his homework. Mister
Baker was an intelligent young man. He just frittered his time away with his laziness. He
would have words to say to Pilotmaster Lee. And as Tutor-in-charge of College Azure, he
needed to make sure the students were in tip-top condition, academically and physically.

Now why was he so concerned about a simple ankle? He was constantly

on the move. Yet, a simple ankle was causing him some a degree of concern.

It was not just torn tendons and broken skin. It involved the whole person.
Common sense, in the form of adequate nutrition and rest, would help remedy the ankle’s
problem. If he could get that into the head of the said person with the problem ankle, he
would.

She did not tell him how the injury was caused or inflicted. And by what,
she was not forthcoming. As he observed her quietly as a calm clinician should, the ankle
seemed to be getting worse, not better. Of course, with all the exertion she was putting on
it.

He would recommend bed rest. Barring that, simple surgery. Other than
these options, it was not just an imbalance of humours. It was a psychological reason.

And no, he was definitely not going to the nonsense of phrenology. Lumps
on the skull were not going to tell him about her mind. Lumps were lumps. Not real
problems.

If she is aware of this fact, he mused, looking sternly at a few students

who quickly went back to their schoolwork. If she wants to be a pilot, that is.
 30

~*~

Katherine dreamt again. This time, she found herself moving around with
Miss Sharpton. Avoiding the ancient harridan became a dance of shifting eddies and
currents. The woman would try to hit her with the brown belt and she would evade it
simply by sidestepping or moving away quickly.

It was a pleasant dream, because the dream Miss Sharpton grew

increasingly furious and annoyed with her failures to hit Miss Riley. Katherine slept on
without waking up.

It was First Light when everyone was jolted awake by a loud rumble. It
felt as if the earth was quaking in fear, rumbling and groaning away in travail. Alethia
cried out, greatly alarmed by the sound and how sorely it impacted her senses. Katherine
fell out from her bed, nearly spraining her already-aggravated ankle.

London was burning.

 31

Chapter Five:
Maintaining Equilibrium

By noon, everyone clustered near the auditorium, waiting for more news.
A major factory, situated near London central, had exploded. It was a factory processing
metals and ores. Alethia said that there was an explosion of red and orange in her head,
just when the jolt hit the academy. It scared her to the core and her face was still ashen.

Captain Sagan regrouped her College and gave them words of comfort and
encouragement. It was an Age of Invention and Discovery. But nobody said anything
about Safety and Health. The air smelled distinctly of burning and of metal.

The leo-fins had been dispatched to help with the firefighting. London
burned with a ghastly yellow-green light, turning the layer of smog into something out
from Hell. There were the faint sounds of bells as water-bearing teams rushed to
extinguish the raging fire.

For a while, lectures were suspended as some of the lecturers had gone to
pilot the leo-fins. Even Captain Sagan took her leave and left with her leo-fin to help
combat the fire.

The academy throbbed with undercurrents of disquiet and fear. There was
a sense of desolation in the academy grounds and in the Manor while the whole of
London was in turmoil. Fortunately, no more explosions followed and by late night, the
fire was contained.
 32

Everyone – even the cook and her maids – kept vigil, watching the skies
for the returning leo-fins. In the cold Autumn night, students huddled together in small
groups, sitting around gas lamps and watching their breaths plume white in the air.
Alethia was the most affected – her father was in London central. She perched, white and
silent, beside Katherine who draped a blanket around her thin shoulders and only prayed
for the best.

Suddenly, Alethia became ramrod straight and said, “Rainbows. They are
back.”

Immediately, someone shouted and pointed at the skies. “They are back!
They are back!”

Eyes peered into the foggy darkness lit intermittently with flashes of
yellow-green. There were bright spots in the sky, like stars. The stars gradually became
brighter and brighter, until they became the form of lamps on leo-fins. A flight of leo-
fins, all six of them, appeared, bold as courage, and lifting everyone’s spirits instantly.
Everyone cheered and watched the leo-fins land in a disciplined V-formation on the
Flying Field.

Doctor Ash strode forward, medical bag in hand, in case of any injury on
the part of the pilots. The first to appear was Pilotmaster Lee, pulling his dark goggles off
from his tanned face tiredly. The second was Captain Sagan who had her right arm in a
makeshift sling and causing a few pangs of horror in the breasts of her College students.
Ash spoke to the pilots quietly and examined Sagan’s arm with a careful eye, nodding as
he listened to her exhausted explanation.

A few other pilots followed slowly behind the more senior pilots, their
bodies showing signs of weariness. Their leather uniforms were covered with soot and
one or two looked as if they had very minor burns.
 33

Students surged forward to their lecturers, questions on their tongues,

eager to know what had happened. Lee’s face had a warm smile though.

“The Queen is safe. Buckingham Palace is far from the fire and Her
Majesty is away at Windsor.” He said, accepting a bowl of hot clear broth from Cook
thankfully.

Alethia pushed herself forward. “Sir?”

“ Miss Forrester, your father is safe,” Sagan’s voice was calm and Alethia’s
furrowed brow became smooth.

After this brief interlude, the pilots were led back to the Manor by Doctor
Ash, no doubt for further questions and examinations. Katherine tugged Alethia gently on
the arm. It was past Last Light and she was starting to feel really sleepy. The wave of
excitement was finally fading away.

It was then she got sight of a familiar face, amongst the few pilots
straggling from behind.

“Eddington!” Katherine breathed and the familiar face turned to face her,
surprise writ on the handsome features.

~*~

“It was very hot, like hell-fire. We had to fly directly above the flames,
just to pitch the water in. It was quite a challenge! Wes got himself burned when he flew
too closely to the fire but it was a minor burn.”
 34

Richard Eddington sat with a mug filled with warm cider and a bowl of
beef stew, courtesy from Cook. It was noontime when Katherine had the opportunity to
meet him. The lectures and lessons were back in schedule.

He had scrubbed up well and was looking like his old dapper self. He had
changed his uniform for a simple brown coat and trousers, looking like a relaxed
gentleman out on an afternoon jaunt. Only the dark shadows around his eyes spoke
eloquently of his exhaustion.

They had met before. It felt like another lifetime. In fact, Eddington had
flown her over from Dorset to London.

“The fire was hard to contain. It was a raging beast. But by Jove, we
tamed the beast!” Eddington said with a bright grin and drank the cider deeply.

“You made it sound as if it was a walk in the park!” Katherine laughed.

“Well, it is part of a pilot’s job, doing chores and running errands, even
something as big as this fire.” Eddington tasted the stew and began to shove it down with
gusto. “Just look at you. You look different!”

Katherine felt self-conscious and stared at her booted feet. Her face
blushed, a slow heat pooling in her cheeks.

“You have become more … self-secure.” Katherine did not like

Eddington’s expression as he gazed at her appreciatively. “Definitely more self-secure.”

“Richard Eddington!” She snapped at him. Within her chest, something

blossomed, something like joy.
 35

The man laughed and went back to his beef stew. Katherine sat quietly,
watching him. A shadow fell across the table and it was Captain Sagan, her arm still in
the sling.

“Now, Mister Eddington,” Sagan was half-amused, half-stern. “It is

unseemly of you to sit with female students.”

“Captain Sagan, madame!” Eddington stood up and snapped to attention.

His eyes though gleamed with mischief. “I was once a student!”

“Not anymore, young scoundrel,” Sagan’s tone remained stern, even

though her lips curled up slightly. “You are a proper pilot now. Should you be on a flight
run by now?”

“Aw,” he rubbed his jaw. “A tired pilot makes a careless pilot.”

“Do not be glib,” Sagan shook her head. “Just for a hour and no more.”
She saluted and walked away slowly.

Katherine stared at him. “You are impossible.” She stood up, preparing for
the afternoon lectures. She was about to leave with her dignity still intact when he spoke.

“So, we will meet again?”

~*~
 36

The activities before Last Light buzzed mainly about the London factory
fire, everyone with their own theories of the origins of the fire. Some said that the factory
was an ammunitions factory and something caught fire in that, causing the inevitable
explosion. Some said that the fire was just a careless mistake, caused by negligence.
Everyone became quiet and wondered to their selves if the company who owned the
factory was to be shut down. The broadsheet writers and the union movements would
have aired their irate complaints by now.

Alethia retired early, drained by the aftereffects of the fire. Katherine

made her way out of the Manor, to catch some fresh air, suddenly finding the dormitory
hall too warm and stifling to her liking.

Richard Eddington left in an hour, exactly as he had promised Captain

Sagan. Katherine saw his leo-fin lift off and disappear into the distance. She was
surprised to feel a sense of bittersweet melancholia and suppressed the feeling quickly.

It amazed her that she could still see snatches of stars in the night sky.
London was normally cloudier than Dorset, because of the greater numbers of factories
and refineries. Dorset had one factory and even then, the smoke obscured the sky
occasionally. She looked up. It was a clear night, exceedingly rare. It seemed as if the
heavens pitied London and gave her a starry night to cheer her waning spirits.

She stood, inhaling deeply. The London fire was shocking. However, by
the end of the year, people would have moved on and the fire would have become just a
memory, something to talk about during salon gatherings. “People are more concerned
when their bellies are concerned,” her mother once told her in one of her rare
conversational moments.

Katherine gazed at the stars while the constellations spun their slow orbits
around her.
 37

Chapter Six
A Moment of Gravity

The next few weeks were frenetic and filled with activities, as if the
academy plunged back into routine to rid itself of the overhanging anxiety brought on by
the fire. Over in London, there was uproar and argument over the damages from the fire.
The broadsheets and papers breathed indignation and threatened to expose the culprit
who caused the fire. It was also edging towards Winter with the weather becoming
considerably colder. The first snowfall came, a day after All Hallows’ Eve. All outdoor
training stopped with most Athletics activities being confined to the Exercise Hall.

With Winter came a sense of gravity. The Great Manor was solemn and
quiet. Everyone walked in thick coats and scarves, shuffling about in their boots. Winter
also ushered in a period of Examinations. The games had stopped during Last Light with
students going back to their books.

Katherine found that she loved the solitude provided by this wintry time.
Wrapped in a warm scarf and a comfortable woollen jumper, she studied by gaslight. She
loved Mathematics, barely tolerated Biology and was intrigued by Physics. Engineer
Morley thought well of her and said that she would make a fine engineer.

She studied with Alethia during the designated study times. The blind girl
read by running her fingertips over raised notches in special books. It is Braille, she
explained to a curious Katherine once. Braille is designed for the blind as a kind of
tactile alphabet. We can feel our letters.
 38

Then, Examinations descended upon them like a sudden rush of wings.

Cook commented how mouse-quiet everyone was at mealtimes and how her soups were
ignored by tired and pallid students. “They will lap it up like eager puppies once
Examinations are over!” She declared to Captain Sagan after a desultory turnout during
Tea.

For Katherine, the Examinations did not faze her. They felt like extended
homework, timed by harsh taskmasters. During this period, her dreams involved flying
quill-pens and overflowing inkpots. To her relief, Miss Sharpton did not make an
appearance and she slept relatively undisturbed.

~*~

“Do you plan to go back to Dorset?” Alethia said, soon after their last
Examination subject. “Are you celebrating Yule?”

Katherine was in high spirits after this paper. The questions were easier
than she’d thought. However, Alethia’s question shocked her. She had not planned to go
back to Dorset. She did not have the courage to face her parents.

“I am going to stay here during the Yule holidays,” she said quietly.

Alethia tilted her head to one side like a bird. After an uncomfortable
silence, she smiled and said, “You are going to spend Yule with me. You are going to
visit London.”

“No… I …” Katherine shook her head, overwhelmed by Alethia’s

generous offer.
 39

“The Great Manor is going to be exceedingly boring,” the girl continued

and placed her hand gently on Katherine’s arm. “You are going to taste the best baked
turkey in the world.” In the cold chill of a winter’s afternoon, Katherine’s heart was
warmed by a simple offer of hospitality.

~*~

The Examinations results were released, pasted on large wooden boards

outside the Administravia. Students thronged before the boards, searching for their
names. Someone had clearly and painstakingly arranged and written down all names in
alphabetical order and with the attached grades. After a fair bit of good-natured jostling
and pushing, Katherine edged her way to the board under the letter ‘R’. She scanned the
board intently.

Found her name: RILEY, KATHERINE. Written in quaint and neat black
ink.

With trembling finger, she traced her name and the grades. Athletics –
Alpha. Basics of Flight – Beta. Humanities – Beta. Engineering – Alpha. Languages –
Beta, Mathematics – Alpha. Her heart dipped. Science – Delta.

But she passed and she was thankful. That would mean another year at the
academy and a chance for her to fly. Deep inside, she felt guilty that her parents were
paying straight from their pockets.

She pushed herself away from the board and headed for the courtyard
where Alethia and Thomas waited.
 40

“How did you fare?” Thomas grinned when she approached. He had
passed most of his subjects with good grades and he loved comparing his performance
with Katherine.

“I passed,” Katherine said simply and shrugged. Alethia laughed at her

friend’s sardonic tone. The fair-haired girl had excellent grades but she did not like to
compete with others and therefore had remained silent.

“Aw,” Thomas pouted like a little boy. Katherine made a face and they
both laughed. It was the End of Term and the beginning of the Yule holidays.

~*~

London was definitely different from Dorset.

As the horse-drawn carriage made its way through the busy London
streets, Katherine stared at the bustling crowds of people and the number of carriages and
vehicles. Steam rose from various vents, swirling together with the light fog and parting
as carriages ferried their passengers around. She could see people standing around lit
fires, taking in the much-needed heat. Chestnut-sellers were doing brisk business;
Katherine’s mouth watered. She loved roasted chestnuts, oh deliciously hot nuggets,
especially during the chill of winter.

Above her, she knew, were a few leo-fins, no doubt carrying cargo and
passengers. She wondered if Eddington was up there and she blushed, hiding her face
behind her thick scarf. Alethia, sitting opposite her, did not say anything. She was dressed
in a sober brown coat and her slender hands were snug in fur.
 41

And there were so many more buildings! They were all around her, stately
buildings, closely packed buildings, smaller houses in rows. Of course, there was
Westminster Abbey with its gothic grandeur and the Tower of London looking ominous
in the London fog. Not to mention the clock tower Big Ben, a giant in the midst of giants.
She had not forgotten the factories too. They blew spumes of smoke, visible columns of
white and grey issuing forth from long chimneys. The memory of the London fire was
still fresh in her mind.

When the carriage passed by the Thames, she marveled at the river barges
steaming their way up and down. She could hear their haunting horns echo in the evening
darkness. Somewhere she knew were the larger ships coming in to unload their exotic
cargo, clad in steel: heralds for a different age of commerce.

From her warm seat in the carriage, swaying gently as the horses trotted
down cobblestone streets, she watched the women in their elegant gowns and thick winter
muffs as they stepped daintily on pavements covered with dirty snow. There were also
women who wore breeches, like Captain Sagan – and they were laughing cheerfully as
they strode together down the street, Yuletide packages in their arms. It was indeed a
grand age for women.

She rested her chin on her fist, watching London rush past her in a
pastiche of sounds and images.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Alethia’s soft voice broke the silence and
Katherine turned to look at the blind girl.

“Just thinking,” Katherine said quietly.

“London can be quite overwhelming,” Alethia smiled. “It is called a city

for a reason.”
 42

Katherine smiled back, knowing that Alethia had somehow acknowledged

her smile.

“ You will like my father,” the fair-haired girl said, grimacing slightly as the
carriage suffered a jolt as it dipped into a pothole. They both heard an apologetic “Sorry,
ma’am!” from the coach-driver and they laughed. “He spends a lot of his time in his
workshop. Just be careful not to step on his inventions.”

Just then, the carriage slowed to a halt. Alethia’s face instantly broke into
a radiant smile. Katherine could see a plump older woman in prim clothing and an apron
standing outside a mahogany-colored door, carrying a glowing lamp.

“We are home,” Alethia said. “Mrs Potts!”

 43

Chapter Seven
A Moment Of Lift

The Forresters’ house struck Katherine as extremely intriguing. The

moment she walked into the warm interior from the chilly outside, she was met with a
study, of sorts, replete with shelves of books and a plain-looking settee. As she walked in
further, she could see a large brown door marked “Workshop” with solid black ink on the
left. She could hear faint banging and metallic sounds.

The right side of the house was dimmed, lit only with an electric lamp.
She could see something glittering – winkwinkwink – and could hear a soft tinkling when
a slight breeze whispered through the house. She found herself curious but resisted
exploring the house immediately. She was, after all, Alethia’s guest.

Mrs Potts – Alethia’s nanny – showed her the guest room, a comfortably
appointed chamber with a goose-down bed and thick warm blankets. There was a table
with a Ming porcelain bowl (“For the washing of hands”, explained Mrs Potts to her
curious young visitor) and a jug of water (“”For drinking”.)

Alethia bid her goodnight and was guided back to her own room by the
older woman. With a sigh, Katherine closed the door and observed her surroundings. It
was definitely more comfortable than her room in Dorset. She quickly slipped off her
clothing and into a wool shift provided by Mrs Potts for the night.
 44

The goose-bed bed was magnificent. Soft and almost inducing her to sleep
immediately. Her mind was still crowded with images of her travels through the London
streets. She lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling. London was slowly slipping into
slumber.

~*~

She awoke, to the smells of breakfast wafting into the chamber. She did
her morning ablutions, dressed and found her way down to the kitchen where Mrs Potts
shoo-ed her away good-naturedly and bid her stay in the study room. Grinning, she
wandered around the house. She remembered the faint tinkling sound she’d heard last
night and made her way to the source.

Light from the emerging dawn sun was glistening off crystals. Or clear
glass of some sort. She stopped in her tracks and simply stared. She was looking at row
after rows of crystal shapes, mostly birds and winged shapes, hanging from the ceiling.
They filled the entire area. Like delicate wind chimes, they gave forth a sweet tinkling
sound.

It was a beautiful sight.

“It is my garden of crystals,” Alethia’s voice startled her and she

wondered how the blind girl was able to locate her. “It is my favorite place.”

“It is beautiful,” Katherine admitted, lingering for a moment to look at the

crystal shapes again.
 45

“Yes, it is,” Alethia said with a soft smile on her lips. “Come. There is
breakfast on the table.”

Breakfast was hearty scrambled eggs, with freshly baked scones. All from
our own garden, Mr Forrester declared proudly. He was a tall man with fair hair and a
shocking bush of a moustache. His eyes twinkled merrily when he spoke, much to
Katherine’s growing sense of curiosity. Alethia edged ever so closer to her and said that
she would elaborate further later in the day.

~*~

Mister Forrester retreated into his workshop to work on his new automata
after breakfast while Mrs Potts prepared the Yule dinner in the kitchen, together with
Marjorie, a maid. Alethia drew Katherine aside, to the crystal garden.

“My father believes in growing our own food,” Alethia began and
Katherine blinked, in amazement and total disbelief.

“Surely not in this weather?”

“Come. Let me show you.” Alethia led her puzzled friend to a door, close
to the the kitchen. She opened it. Katherine expected it to be extremely cold but the air
meeting her face was warm.

She stepped out into a summer’s day.

 46

“Basic sun-lamp and strong netting to keep the cold and garden pests
away,” Alethia explained in the background while Katherine looked around, shocked.
There were vegetables. Wheat. Oats. Clucking informed her that there were chicken.
Plump white plover hens pecking away at seeds. “Our neighbors think we are lunatics.
But the idea is successful.” A large flower-like lamp shone down upon the vegetables and
assorted crops.

“The turkey has to be bought,” the blind girl said ruefully. “That is our
annual indulgence. It is Yule after all. Mrs Potts saves all the feathers and turns them into
decorations.”

Katherine shook her head, almost spinning with the influx of new ideas
and concepts. There was a summer’s garden right under her nose and flourishing well,
even though she knew it was actually winter beyond the netting and the strange sun-lamp.
It was definitely a marvelous invention.

Throughout the day, she had tiny tin-men underfoot as well as steel-
puppies nuzzling her ankles in strangely canine affection. Sun-fliers, fragilely made like
the hummingbirds from South America, darted about, their metal wings beating rapidly.
She allowed one to alight on her finger, only to have it whiz away in a blur of bronze
wings. The steel-puppies – metallic bulldogs – bowed and wanted to play, their cogs
whirling away in excitement while the tin-men marched around, fetching workshop
material for Mr Forrester and causing merriment amongst the watchers.

She decided she had grown to like the Forresters.

~*~
 47

Katherine played a game of Fox and Geese with Mister Forrester before
the Yule dinner proper. Alethia sat quietly on the settee, “listening” to the game-play. All
of them could smell the tantalizing aromas coming from the kitchen and hear the cheerful
voices of Mrs Potts and Marjorie as they worked over the last-minute preparations. There
was an air of anticipation in the house. Outside the window, they could hear the voices of
carolers making their way down the street. It was the eve of Yule and Katherine could not
help but think about her parents and little sister in Dorset. Would they miss her during
this time?

Mrs Potts stepped into the study and announced that the Yule dinner was
ready. Katherine led Alethia to the dining room where Marjorie was placing dinner plates
on the large wooden table. It was a glorious spread with golden-brown mince pies, a
basket of candied fruits and boiled brussel sprouts with a good dollop of creamy butter.
They seated themselves with Mr Forrester at the head of the table. He laughed with mirth
and had Mrs Potts bring in the turkey.

They joked and laughed as they ate, savoring the splendidly cooked turkey
and sampling the mince pies. Katherine had some sweet port that streamed down her
throat like warm fire. Soon, Mrs Potts and Marjorie joined them at the table and the
humor grew exponentially with the flow of good food and delectable wine.

It was a good Yule dinner, complete with fancifully shaped ices and mints.
Mrs Potts made them cups of hot mulled wine, spiced with cinnamon and anise, and
plates of freshly-baked fruit cake stuffed with orange peel and raisins, after which they all
complained (good-naturedly) that they were full and could not eat anymore.

As she sat on the settee with a delicious warm sensation filling her body,
Katherine held her cup of mulled wine close and felt happy. Perhaps it was all the good
 48

food and pleasant company with the Forrester family; she experienced a sense of
contentment, something she had not encountered ever since she had left Dorset.

She knew that she could not replace her family with a new one. Yet, the
Forresters were pleasant and diligent folk of grace and good humor, a quality she realized
that dour Dorset sorely lacked
 49

Flight
 50

Chapter One
Fledgling

Cadet Katherine Riley of House Sable struggled to keep the blimp-fin under
control; it pitched and rolled in the prevailing winds, feeling more like a bucking horse
than a functional flier purpose-built for the Academy. She fought the controls and the
controls fought back harder, resisting her attempts to balance the vessel.

She felt her heart sinking. This training flight was also a test flight, with the
Academy’s teachers acting as official examiners. She knew Pilotmaster Lee and Captain
Karlida Sagan were watching below, on the relative safety of the Flying Field grounds.
Probably jotting down notes and marking her performance as less than satisfactory. Her
thoughts ran dire for a brief moment, fueling her lack of self-confidence. She breathed in
deeply and tried more once.

The blimp-fin, without the charm and beauty of the leo-fin, rolled hard to the right
and Katherine steadied herself. The winds were strong today. Better than a calm day, she
mused grimly, wrestling with the controls once more and this time, the blimp-fin obeyed
and stabilized.

Her ankle throbbed with the strain and she wondered if she had to put ice on it.
The pain just would not go away. As she steered the blimp-fin on its designated course,
she let one part of her mind dwell on the strange conversation she had with Doctor James
Ash earlier in the morning, when the dour-faced man caught her before she made her way
to the Flying Field.
 51

He had talked to her about her ankle, that it was not merely a physical injury but a
psychological one. It had affected her, a niggling persistent problem; it would continue to
persist to hurt her, unless she chose to move on from the pain. She was a little wary of the
physician’s words, no matter how truly concerned he came across. Who made him a
phrenologist? Yet, as she mulled on the topic, she knew that she was being petty. The
man was a doctor and he did have the welfare of the students at heart. And she knew he
was also an excellent Tutor-in-charge of College Azure; he did care for the students. But
why did he single him out?

Somewhere in her mind, a harsh cackle could be heard. The cackle made her heart
cringe instinctively. And the throb in her ankle grew to a sharp pain. Not this again, she
raged quietly. Oh hush, Miss Sharpton! She pushed the mental image of her old nemesis
away and focused on landing the blimp-fin. Perspiration was trickling down her back in a
constant stream.

She was here at the Academy to excel. To become a leo-fin pilot. She was not
going to let some hoary old schoolmistress stop her.

She could see the Flying Field now, with its crowd of tiny people now growing
larger and larger as she brought the blimp-fin down. There was some faint cheering and it
grew louder as she landed the vessel with an audible thud.

For a moment, she simply rested her head against the controls and breathed
slowly. Her heartbeat was going back to normalcy. Her knees felt like water. She had
flown training flights before but this one was so different. It would mark her transition
from Cadet to Intermediate Pilot-In-Training. If she failed, all her efforts would go to
waste and she would slink back to Dorset with her tail between her legs. No. She would
not want that.
 52

As she opened the door, letting the fresh morning air cool her skin and fill her
lungs, she could see Pilotmaster Lee and Captain Sagan conferring amongst themselves,
their heads inclined towards each other in intense discussion. Captain Sagan looked
animated, gesturing and showing her notes to Lee who shook his head and said
something which made the House Tutor for College Sable, Katherine’s House, more
animated, even forceful.

That is it, Katherine thought as she limped out of the blimp-fin. I am done for.
Her heart lifted at the sight of her friends rushing to greet. Alethia was there. Even
Thomas, pompous and competitive Thomas, was walking up to her with a big grin on his
fair face.

“A little shaky there,” the boy said to Katherine, referring to the blimp-fin’s loss
of balance. “But you recovered right soon after!”

“The winds were strong today,” Alethia said mildly. The blind girl could have
‘seen’ the colors as she had explained once to Katherine. “It was a challenge, no doubt.”

“Well, Captain Sagan seems to be arguing for you,” Thomas pointed out. He
could be so blunt and cruel at times. He was always constantly looking out for flaws in
Katherine, no matter how well she did in her studies and her training.

Alethia squeezed Katherine’s hand once, reassuringly. The results would be made
known publicly, right after lunch.

~*~
 53

Lunch was an anxious affair, with surreptitious glances at the Administrativa

building where the results would be posted for all to see. Today was College Sable’s turn
with many of its students for the test flights.

Cook had made vegetable stew with fluffy white rice and Katherine ate it with
false gusto. She was that nervous.

No more Dorset, she cried silently. No more mocking. No more tears.

“You did well, Katherine,” Alethia’s voice shook her from her reverie. “You just
worry too much.”

“I just do not want to go back,” Katherine said quietly, solemnly. “Not now.
Never.”

Alethia’s forehead creased in a frown. “Is Miss Sharpton really that horrible?”

Katherine could hear the cackling and the cracking of the whip. And the tittering
of the girls in the cramped Dorset school-room.

“Yes,” she found herself hunching down. Her ankle ached dully. She really
needed to put ice and ointment on it.

“Katherine,” her friend’s voice was gentle. “It has been two years. Surely she has
changed? People do change, you know.”

A bitter, biting and sarcastic reply almost came out of Katherine’s mouth. Alethia
meant well. She had always meant well, being so mild and gentle, a salve to her troubled
soul. She stifled it down and swallowed her stew instead.
 54

“Look,” someone shouted and there was a flurry of excited voices in the Hall.
“They just put up the board.”

Katherine’s heart lurched. It was time.

~*~

Captain Karlida Sagan nursed a cup of Lady Grey, still faintly steaming and
aromatic, reminiscent of home’s comforts. She stood at the window, watching the
students stream from the Great Manor to the Administrativa. Their thoughts would be so
tumultuous, she sipped her tea, I was.

Frantically scanning for her name on the board…

With a sigh, she turned around and faced the gentleman in the room. She smiled
at him warmly, tenderly. They had a heated argument a hour ago, debating on the fate of
certain students. She hated doing this vital part of assessment, even though she knew it
would differentiate the wheat from the chaff.

“You were exceedingly harsh on Katherine Riley,” she began and Pilotmaster Lee
looked at her with a stern expression on his face.

“She was exhibiting anxiety,” Lee said curtly. The memory of their argument was
still raw, fresh. “A careless pilot makes a dead pilot.”

“For Jove’s sake,” Karlida put her cup down on the side-table next to the window.
“It is their first test-flight. And mind you, Lee, the winds were strong today. She did
exceptionally well, controlling the blimp-fin. Many of our students had luckier days with
calm winds. Imagine them tossed into a real situation.”
 55

“You do have a point,” Lee replied, his words still tense, and went back to his
reports.

Karlida strode to him and sat down right in front of him, forcing him to look at
her. “Lee, how long have I known you for?” Something in her tone made him glance at
her, momentarily startled. He gave a small smile and placed his right hand on her knee,
an expression of tenderness, of trust.

“More than a decade,” he said softly.

“How many times was I known to be wrong in my judgment,” Karlida continued,

responding to his smile and his words with a wry grin.

“You know I have always trusted your judgment, Karlida.”

“True.” Karlida nodded and stood up once more. “I am glad we have both reached
an agreement.” She walked back to the window.

Lee rose from his chair and joined her. “I am just concerned about biased
perceptions…”

“… that Katherine is in my House?” She chuckled. “I have thought about that

too.” She said nothing else and remained silent.

~*~
 56

It was evening when the students finally made their way back to the Great Manor.
After the public announcement of results, it was back to lectures and classes. The evening
air was tinged with an undercurrent of chill: Autumn was arriving and the trees in the
Academy were already donning their vivid autumnal colors of orange and red. Even the
steepled Administrativa was covered with crimson leaves, rippling in the breeze.

Katherine found herself walking alone on the path leading to the Great Manor.
She passed. She was now officially an Intermediate Pilot-In-Training. She should be
feeling happy or even relieved. Yet, no matter how she tried to feel joy, there was a
nagging sense of failure. Alethia would say that she did well and it was good.

I am my worst critic and enemy, Katherine could hear cheerful laughter and
chatter from the Great Manor. Perhaps Doctor Ash was right. It was a psychological
problem. My mind’s problem. How do I make it go away?

She shivered as the breeze turned cold and hurried on, glad for the imminent
welcome warmth in the Manor. She passed a tree, now almost bare of leaves, looking
tragically gaunt in the evening light. There was a nest, empty of birds. Something dark on
the grass beneath the tree drew her eye. As she moved closer, it moved.

It was a tiny goldfinch fledgling, looking as if it had fallen from the tree. It
chirped when she knelt down. The little bird was almost fully fledged, with its feathers
showing signs of its adult colors of golden brown and bright yellow.

Katherine picked the fledgling up, cupping it carefully in her hands. It squirmed
restlessly and made soft chirping protests. One of its wings appeared to be crooked and
Katherine knew it might just be a broken wing.

With a sigh and a rush of uncommon compassion in her chest, she brought the
fledgling indoors.
 57

Chapter Two
Hardening The Wings

The news of the Queen’s Golden Jubilee came via telegraph code and was
received with great excitement. Her Majesty had invited delegates from all the nations of
the Known World to participate in the celebrations. Britannia would have its own Aerial
Fleet to show off to the visiting ambassadors and their own flying machines. It was truly
a stirring piece of news and it went like wild fire throughout the Great Manor. Groups
and clusters of students huddled together, talking about it.

Indeed there was already talk about a new kind of flying vessel to be launched at
the Great Gathering, as it was termed by the broadsheet commentators and journalists.
The identity of the inventor was a mystery and so was the design of this new flying
vessel.

The Academy was to send a small contingent to join the illustrious Aerial Fleet
with the brightest and the best cadet pilots and handlers selected from the four Colleges
of Sable, Azure, Orr and Vert.

~*~

Alethia was one of the fortunate few to be chosen from College Sable and there
was much felicitation going around the dormitory. Katherine cheered and whooped; she
was initially disappointed that she did not make the cut. But it was for the “brightest and
the best” students the Academy could offer and Alethia was one of the brightest, the most
gifted.
 58

“My father will be there too,” Alethia said laughing breathlessly as Katherine
spun her around the room. Paul Forrester was a gifted eccentric who adored his daughter.
Katherine had often seen the wonderful inventions in the Forresters’ house whenever she
visited them for Yuletide. The inventors would be there, of course; their inventions would
be showcased in a great parade of magnificent flying fins, blimps and other air-borne
vessels from various nations.

Soon the two young ladies sat down on their beds to catch their breath and to rest.
Katherine checked the little fledgling in its little cage. It was eating well and the feathers
were looking healthy. The eyes were bright, shining. Sadly, the injured wing remained
slightly twisted and she fretted. She had named it Tito and had grown fond of it. Captain
Sagan had already given permission; Katherine would have to free the fledgling once it
was healed and matured.

“The wings look like they are hardening,” Katherine examined Tito closely. The
little goldfinch chirped and waited impatiently for its juicy worm.

“It has to fly one day,” Alethia cocked her head to listen to the chirping.

“It is the wing I am worried about,” Katherine murmured, feeding Tito a fat white
grub she found in Cook’s vegetable garden.

“Is it not broken, isn’t it?” Her pale-haired friend came over, feeling her way to
the table where the cage was.

“I certainly hope not,” Katherine watched Tito hop around in a lively circle. She
swore that she had seen the little bird stretch its wings before.
 59

“Stenton should know. He is quite knowledgeable about birds.” Alethia suggested

and smiled as Tito chirped curiously at her. “He is such a charming little goldfinch. All
white, like a candle’s glow.”

~*~

Elsewhere in the Administrativa building, Lady Judith Westmoreland was

hurrying about, preparing notes for an important meeting just announced out of the blue.
She was dressed in a fashionable blue dress and comfortable heeled boots; she was a
favorite with he first-year cadets, not only of her cheerful disposition but of her kind heart
as well. She would be good-humoredly sarcastic, never heavy-handed in her teaching and
the younger students loved her.

She readied her vox-reader and was about to carry it, all heavy load and all, when
she met Stenton coming her way.

“Have you heard about the meeting?” Stenton began, catching his breath. He had
come running from the Flying Field at the news of the meeting.

“Yes. Sounds urgent, I believe.” Lady Westmoreland nodded and lifted the vox-
reader carefully. “I hazard a guess that it has something to do with the Golden Jubilee.”

They walked briskly to the meeting chamber where the other lecturers and
teachers were already milling about.

“Some were saying,” Stenton nodded to a few of his friends and opened the door
for Lady Westmoreland, “that the Jubilee was meant to be political.”
 60

Judith glanced at him while she set the machine up. “It is always political,
Stenton. Everything is political.”

She was a well-read suffragist and had come across (and collected) numerous
tracts, including her personal favorite, Mary Wollstonecraft’s A Vindication of the Rights
of Woman. There were new ideas and concepts coming in, thanks to the explosion of the
popularity of the printing press. With the nations converging on London a few months’
time, she foresaw an explosion of ideas, some of them potentially negative and
dangerous. She normally kept these thoughts to herself and contemplated sharing them
with Karlida privately over tea and warm scones.

“Talk is rife about the new flying design,” Stenton helped to hand out notes while
the group of lecturers flowed in, taking their places and muttering in groups. “It is
supposed to be revolutionary.”

“I see,” Lady Westmoreland inclined her head politely. “But talk is talk.”

Then Pilotmaster Lee appeared, stern and cold, and the meeting began in earnest.
 61

Chapter Three
Dynamics

It was going to be Her Majesty’s Aerial Fleet, a proud assembly of her finest fins
and other aerodynamic marvels. It was going to be a great display of Britannia’s
ingenuity and talent – and Paul Forrester mused as he scrutinized the blue prints before
him closely – and military prowess as well. As much as he hated war and politics, he
knew that the Queen was keen to declare to the world that Britannia was a strong military
nation, even in the New Age of Science and Logic.

He had read many historical texts and knew that wars, bloody and destructive as
they were, were products of dynamics. Like the cog-wheels in his machines and
inventions, these dynamics depended on each other in a deadly symbiosis of needs,
desires and interests.

The blue prints were not lying. The clear lines were there, drawn, defined. He
managed to get a copy from his colleague Smith who obtained it from the inventor
designing the ship.

Are we going to be minnows in a vast ocean? Forrester stared at the shape of the
vessel. Everyone would just end up eating one another.

Mrs Pott appeared with a tray of tea and some homemade oatmeal cookies. The
fresh sweet smell filled his workshop. It was a comforting scent, reminding him of the
warm kitchen.
 62

“Just received Alethia’s letter from the Academy.” She flourished an envelope
dramatically. It was the color of parchment, sealed with red wax.

Alethia. His precious daughter. He looked away from the damning blue prints
and thanked the housekeeper warmly. She had looked after his little girl ever since she
was a baby, pulled from her mother’s stomach to save her life. She was the only mother
Alethia had known in her whole childhood. She would be turning twenty soon, no longer
his little girl, but a young woman.

His heart sank when he read the letter. She was one of the chosen few to take part
in the Great Gathering. He should be brimming with fatherly pride. Yet… yet, seeing the
blue prints and knowing what kind of vessels would be launched made him more
perturbed.

He kept seeing her in front of him. Pale, almost white hair, smooth-skinned,
looking as if she was fragile. She was not. She was no porcelain doll. She was made of
stronger stuff, all steel inside. When she was just a toddler, people would make
comments about her blindness, that he should be pampering and coddling her. She was
not an invalid, as he always told himself. Never. She had her mother’s fierce
determination, a fiery spirit, though she did not display it often.

It would be a Great Gathering. Of what manner of greatness, Paul Forrester did

not want to think about. With an heavy heart, he went back to the blue prints and started
to make notes about it.

~*~
 63

Far away from the machinations of London, Cornwall was a quiet county and
Victor very much preferred it to remain that well. He was only a fisherman, from a long
line of fishermen. The sea was in his blood and he was more than happy to spend his
mornings in his boat and netting fish.

There was some talk in the marketplace, where the fishermen would gather and
sort out their catch, about the Queen’s Golden Jubilee. God bless Her Majesty. And life
would still go on. His wife, Martha, had just given birth to a boy, his fifth child. Food on
the table and clean clothes to wear were more important than courtly pomp and
pageantry.

Oh bloody hell, the net was exceedingly heavy today. Heavier than his usual catch
which he would easily haul with his considerably strong right hand. Must be something
big – a large salmon, perhaps – caught in the net. A fat salmon with roe would feed his
family well or fetch a few shillings from the market. Either way, it was good.

He pulled the net, heaved it into the boat dripping with seawater and writhing
with live fish. Looked like a sizeable catch. As expected, there was something large
bulging the net. He leaned forward to look at it…

… only to stare into baleful eyes, the color of black polished stone. And a
crescent-grin filled with toothy malice.

Victor jumped back. He should be accustomed to the sight of sharks. But this one
was an odd blighter, with a long horn protruding from its head. And what a strange tail. It
was more serpent than shark. He prodded it; it was already dead, probably of exertion,
crimson blood trickling from its gills.
 64

A serpent shark. Now that would scare his children, though his oldest – Henry –
might just relish the tale as all pre-adolescent boys would when it comes to the macabre
and the strange.

He yanked it to one side of the boat, noting how heavy it was, though streamlined.
It must have been beautiful in water. This random thought startled Victor and he laughed
at himself for being such a sentimental fool. Back to work.

~*~

The streets of London teemed with her citizens. There were boys holding the
day’s broadsheets, shouting to attract business. Fashionable ladies and well-dressed
gentlemen, dapper in well-tailored coats and pants, walked down Hyde Park. By now, the
word that there would be a Golden Jubilee and a Great Gathering had spread throughout
the city like wild fire. Extravagantly painted posters were pasted in prominent areas, so
that people would take note of the date and the time.

Gossip was rampant in the salons, in the coffeehouses and in Kew Gardens where
spectators had gathered to watch the blooming of yet another exquisite tropical orchid
species. Who were the nations invited? Japan? Austria? France? The protectorates of the
British East India Company? What kind of flying marvels would be showcased? What
kind of Fleet was Her Majesty putting together? Was it solely Her Majesty’s idea or was
it by her ambitious Chamberlain and his cronies?

One thing was for sure: they could hardly wait to see the new flying vessels. A
new design, purportedly by a secret inventor. It would be grand. Magnificent.
 65

Chapter Four
Earning The Wings

She was in the same blimp-fin again, its controls familiar to the touch. For this
training run, the winds were favorable – calm, without bustling gusts, considering it was
now Autumn and the wintry currents were arriving soon. She self-consciously touched
the half-wing brooch on her left breast, the badge of an Intermediate Pilot-In-Training.
Captain Sagan pinned it on her chest in a private ceremony and whispered quiet words of
encouragement like “Work harder.”

Beside her, Misato Kanaka took her place as navigator. She was an exchange
student from Meiji Japan, roughly around Katherine’s age. Her jet-black hair was pulled
back in a severe bun and she wore the same kind of uniform as Katherine: light brown,
the color of a senior student. On her left shoulder was the House emblem: she was
assigned College Sable. Misato had the same quiet mildness as Alethia but when it came
to games like lacrosse or even gymnastics, she excelled and positively thrived.

“Check the wind gauge,” Katherine said, keeping her eye on their goal: a red-
stripped flag. It was a training flight, with an element of competition. They had to collect
ribbon-ed rings along the way. Misato was issued a pole so that she could collect the
rings positioned at certain locations.

“Wind gauge normal. Wind is easterly.” Misato reported dutifully. They were
coming up to a set of three rings and Misato readied her pole.
 66

A flash of grey passed by beneath them. The passage of another blimp-fin. The
blast of air left by its wake rocked Katherine’s own vessel and Misato stumbled, shouting
something in Japanese. She sounded alarmed and rightly so. It was an illegal move and it
had already gotten the rival blimp-fin ahead of them.

“You alright?” Katherine asked the shaken Misato who nodded. That was not a
nice way to fly. In fact, it was not a safe way to fly either, not thinking about safety at all.
Thomas Von Dyke had gotten too cocky for his own good. She powered the blimp-fin
forward, furious.

Thomas and his navigator – Edward – were already in the act of collecting the
rings – our rings, Katherine thought angrily – when she piloted her blimp-fin towards the
errant vessel. With a growl, she nudged it against the other blimp-fin, knocking it out of
its position. She opened the pothole and shouted, “You do not have to cheat, Thomas Von
Dyke! You nearly got us killed!”

The rings scattered, fell. Edwards almost lost his balance and hung on for dear
life. Thomas’s face emerged, ruddy with anger. Katherine had enough of Thomas and his
tendency to needle her all the time. With a quick word to Misato to hang on, she pushed
forth and her blimp-fin barreled forward, approaching another marker with two rings. A
look back saw Thomas’s blimp-fin pursuing her.

“Ready the pole,” Katherine bit out and Misato stood at the door. They reached
the marker and with a deft flick of her wrist, Misato scooped the two rings up with the
pole. The two girls grinned triumphantly and added the two rings to the existing pool of
four.

Thomas’s blimp-fin thundered past them, misjudging the distance. Katherine

could hear faint rude curses. Good. She got them.
 67

When they landed the blimp-fin, Katherine waited for the inevitable: Thomas
storming up to her, all indignant anger.

“Edward lost his footing!” Thomas shouted at her. He was as tall as her, seeing
eye-to-eye. He was so close that she could smell his breath redolent of onions.

Katherine looked at him squarely, coolly. “You knocked us off our position,
Thomas Von Dyke. Tit for tat.”

With a guttural roar, Thomas launched himself at Katherine who sidestepped

easily and the young man fell face-first into the grass.

“Admit it, Thomas,” Katherine remained cold, unmoved. “You cheated. You
moved ahead of us. It was an illegal move and you knew it. Have you not thought about
Edward’s safety? Your own safety?”

“Safety?” Thomas’s face and uniform were stained green. His eyes were bright
with unshed tears. “I tell you safety!” He leapt towards Katherine, his hands grappling for
her throat. Edward yelled and held onto the livid youth with his arms.

“Peace, Thomas!” Edward was saying anxiously, his face almost tearing. “Do you
want us to get Solitary? You are friends, remember?”

Captain Sagan was striding up to them, a statuesque Athenian figure dressed in

khaki. The expression on her face brought everything to an uneasy halt.
 68

~*~

Katherine sat in the Solitary Room. Thomas was somewhere else, in a similar
chamber, cooling off. Beige walls, a small cot and a square window. She rubbed her face
tiredly. They had already explained verbatim to Captain Sagan who then announced she
would deliberate on her decision.

She touched her half-wing badge sadly. She might end up losing it. She should
not have lost her temper as well or taunted Thomas. He was her friend. But, by Jove, that
boy was trouble! She shook her head and tried to rest, calm her nerves.

The door clanked, opened and Captain Sagan stood at the doorway, her face
impassive.

“You will keep your half-wing,” the Tutor-in-charge of House Sable said firmly.
“Cadet Kanaka had told me what had really transpired. It would seem that Cadet Von
Dyke made an illegal pass.”

“He did, madam,” Katherine said, feeling angry once more, seeing the other
blimp-fin nudge past hers in her mind’s eye. The clear eyes of her teacher made her think
twice and she subsided, closing her eyes.

“Cadet Von Dyke is a fellow of a competitive nature. This does not however
excuse his behavior. He would have killed not only himself but Cadet Hannigan, you and
Cadet Kanaka.” Captain Sagan continued, her voice grave. “However, you should not be
provoked as well, Katherine Riley.”
 69

Katherine felt unwelcome hot tears in her eyes and she blinked them away,
annoyed at the unexpected rush of emotion, as if she was still a little girl, standing in
front of Miss Sharpton. “I am sorry, madam. It is just that Thomas makes me so… angry
all the time.”

“Von Dyke, unfortunately, fights with anyone for glory. A good trait, perhaps, to
have in combat. I am not sure if this trait has gotten him more friends or enemies. As a
pilot, you have to be careful. It is right to feel anger. But anger at the wheel of the leo-fin
is as dangerous as an uncontrolled cannon. You put your own life at stake, Katherine
Riley.”

Captain Sagan turned as if to go. “You can leave Solitary now.”

“Madam!” Katherine stood up. “How about Thomas? What will happen to him?”

Captain Karlida Sagan smiled a rueful smile. “He will face the appropriate
punishment, Katherine Riley. Now go, before I change my mind.”

~*~

The first person Katherine saw when she stepped into the bright sunshine was
Richard Eddington walking down the same path as she was. Her heart skipped a beat,
lurched and resumed its normal beating once more. He was still the same Eddington she
had met a few years back, older now with some white strands in his hair – he was ageing
prematurely. He was in full uniform, helmet, goggles and all. It was a surprise to see him
once more. As a full-fledged pilot, he was always on duty, delivering cargo and
passengers. To see him around at the Academy was astonishing. Perhaps, he had
delivered something to one of the lecturers.
 70

“Good afternoon,” Eddington bowed. “Fancy meeting you here.” He looked up.
“Solitary? What happened?” Katherine could see concern writ large on his handsome
face.

“I got into a fight,” Katherine grimaced at the memory and recalled Captain
Sagan’s words, her heart sinking once more.

“A fight?” Eddington’s eyes went wide. “With who, pray tell?”

“Thomas Von Dyke.” She knew her tone sounded sullen and Eddington picked up
on that. His face was sympathetic.

“That lad needs a good whipping, I reckon. What made you two fight?”

Not again. She had to explain the whole damned thing all over Eddington who
listened attentively to her sorry tale.

“It is not entirely your fault, Riley. He made an illegal move and I have seen
enough nitwits do the same thing now as a pilot. Some of them end up injured. I think
one has his legs crushed.” Eddington concluded, nodding. “Stupid pride. Makes one
cocky and careless. And brainless. ”

“You sound just like Captain Sagan,” Katherine had to smile.

“Pilots have to stick together. We have seen too many acts of folly.” Eddington’s
facial features softened as if he was remembering something in his past. Suddenly, he
chuckled and grinned roguishly. “Fancy a walk in the park, my lady? You could use
some fresh air, after Solitary.”

He held his hand, like a gentleman asking a lady for a dance in the ballroom. She
laughed, her dark worries gone for the moment.
 71

~*~

They had a leisurely stroll in the Academy’s park, talking about pilot things and
other interesting topics. When Eddington had to go, Katherine felt a pang of regret once
more.

“Richard?” She dared use his given name. And he turned to her, with a gentle
smile on his good-looking face.

“May our paths cross once more,” Richard Eddington said quietly and pressed a
kiss on her hand. “You work hard on being a Pilot-In-Training now.”

“And you? Off to save damsels in distress or haul cargo?” Katherine knew her
face was glowing and she did not hide it.

“That is a pilot’s job,” Eddington grinned once more. “Au revoir.”

~*~
 72

Ghastly, ghastly, ghastly.

These words repeated in the inventor’s mind as he made the finishing touches to
the model in front of him. Larger than the leo-fin and streamlined, it dominated the entire
workshop space. He had to acquire an unused warehouse for this project.

Did Lady Calwell gasp out with horror and remark that it was ghastly? She had
flung up her lace kerchief with some drama, shielding her eyes decorously at the sight of
the grey monstrosity before her.

Well, the inventor thought grimly, it has the desired effect on people. Is that not
the main purpose? To inspire fear and horror?

He personally named it The Beast and come the Great Gathering, there would be
many more Beasts to terrorize the sky and probably other nations.

So much for the New Age. Did Leonardo Da Vinci ever go through such mental
anguish, such spiritual torment?

He added a few more strokes of glue and stood back to examine his handiwork.
The Beast was magnificent, no doubt about it. Its function, however, was not of beauty or
even of graceful design. A Fleet of these Beasts would awe the rest of the nations
gathered. Not sure if they had something up their sleeves as well. There was often an air
of competition amongst the nations. He had heard word that a group of inventors was
busy building something in the far-off Straits Settlement of Singapore. It would take a
month to ship their invention over. The Great Gathering would soon arrive with all its
glory.
 73

Chapter Five
Taking Wing

By now, the preparations for the Great Gathering were in full swing. Katherine
found herself in the background crew working to get the leo-fins as well as the blimp-fins
ready. She was given belated instructions to follow the group on that special day itself.
How ironic, she thought, polishing the panels of a leo-fin in the sheltered hangar.

Thomas Von Dyke had been released from Solitary after a week. He was now
avoiding her and she liked it the way it was. No more heckling from this noisome young
man.

Katherine shivered. It was almost halfway through Autumn. Tito was now fully-
fledged, brightly yellow and full of energy. The wings though were not working as
expected. She would have to coax Tito to fly or at least leave the confines of the cage.

Her dreams were filled with wintry chill, interspersed with the pleasant glow of
spring, filled with Richard Eddington’s heartening presence. She continued to excel in
her flight training and without Thomas impeding her, she found free rein and expression.
She soared.

~*~
 74

Pilotmaster Lee pursed his lips thoughtfully and put the letter down. It was passed
to him by a trainee pilot, courtesy from a group of collectors and inventors who had
chosen to remain anonymous. The letter voiced their anxiety regarding the Great
Gathering and that they feared it used for nefarious and unwholesome purposes.

He closed his eyes briefly. They hinted somewhat of a plot by anarchists to

commit something dark and ugly on that auspicious day. Why they sent the letter to him
was a surprise and a puzzle.

His Academy was no military encampment or installation. It was to train students

to fly and to navigate the skies. Not to fight as soldiers. His Flight Academy was a
school. To enlighten young minds.

He picked up a small delicate wedge of mooncake pastry, filled with sweet lotus
paste and pine nuts, and nibbled at it, enjoying its sweetness and the nutty crunch. The
mooncake was delivered, with three other in an ornate lacquered box, by hand from a
fellow Chinese baker who had made his home in London. It would soon be full moon.
Mid-Autumn. It was at this time his thoughts flew back to home. Father must be ancient
now. So would be his mother. His sisters. Hopefully married with broods of children to
keep them occupied. There would be lanterns and amusing riddles. It was a time for
family.

Lee signed aloud. His family was here now, in London. With Karlida. With his
students. Yet he realized that it was never easy to have a clean break from the past.
 75

What would happen if he had a child? A son. Mixed race, half-Chinese and half-
English, with his father’s eyes and his mother’s hair. Playing with a dragon kite or a
helicopter toy – a bamboo dragonfly – a little engineer at heart, spinning the light
whirligig apparatus in the air, in bright summer days? Oh, these were such pleasant
daydreams, fit for a middle-aged man who was suddenly reminded of his own physical
mortality. What kind of legacy would I give my son or daughter?

Now if Karlida would just agree to marriage…

He laughed softly to himself. She was not one to settle down that easily.

Now the letter. It had such ominous import. That alone worried him and sent
thoughts of home and family flying back into the secret recesses of memory. He was not
going to send his students as a military contingent. However, the name Aerial Fleet had
already made a solid impression in the hearts and minds of Londoners. The might of
Britannia.

~*~

By the end of the month, the contingents started arriving, in large or small groups,
depending on the size of the nation invited to the Gathering. Steamships puffed up the
Thames or made their berths near the coasts, bringers of men and of machines. Trains
delivered hordes of visitors and released wooden boxes filled with gifts and more
artifacts.
 76

Meiji Japan arrived first with some degree of pomp and circumstance, quickly
followed by Imperial Qing China who overdid the pageantry with extravagant displays of
drumbeats and dragon dances. The Londoners lapped up the show – it was a fine
spectacle. They watched the delegations parade down the roads as they made their ways
to their accommodations allocated to them by their host, the Queen herself.

Other nations were less overt in their displays, preferring more staid and stately
appearances. Their moments of glory would come, in the Great Gathering itself. All their
ships were already in warehouses near the Thames, heavily guarded by vigilant troops.

Of course London had her own arsenal of new ships, hastily constructed for the
Event. The new vessels sat, silent in a secret location, like large predators waiting to
pounce. There were five of these predatory vessels, with the prototype being the First.
They would take wing, emissaries for the Glory of Britannia and the New Age.
 77

Chapter Six
The Great Gathering

“Look at those airships!” Misato Kanaka’s voice woke Katherine from a half-
drowse. They were in a train commissioned by the Academy and they were heading
towards London. In full formal regalia with braid and dark pants, the students crowded at
the window, amazed at the sight of the four huge airships hovering in the sky like whales.
They were merchant airships, designed by the business and merchants guilds, decorated
with brightly colored pennants and streamers.

Their own leo-fins and blimp-fins had already gone before them and were now in
storage, ready to be activated once the Great Gathering was in progress. Alethia sat in her
seat, in a contemplative trance. Katherine knew that she was seeing her colors once more.

They steamed into stately Paddington Station not long after noon and were guided
to their steam-engined cars where they were brought swiftly to a small hotel. Katherine
watched London life pass by before her as the car sped its way down the roads. London
always captivated her imagination. There were still horse-drawn carriages making their
staid way down the streets. A festival atmosphere had galvanized the city who not so long
ago was struck by a horrendous fire. She had sprung back to life once more, showing how
innately resilient she was. Cities were built, destroyed and re-built constantly. Katherine
heard from Alethia that when diggers excavated a piece of land holding abandoned
buildings, they revealed layers upon layers of civilization, dating back to the Roman
Empire. It was all very fascinating.
 78

Their hotel rooms were sumptuously appointed, with fine upholstery and Ming
vases with the signature blue designs. Soft goose-down beds and hot-water facilities were
amply provided. They would rest. It would be a long day tomorrow.

~*~

Early morning saw the Gathering begin in earnest with the airships and blimps
taking to the air like large and small animals, be it cetacean or avian. There was an
audible drumming as their impellers and rotor-blades churned the air and the ships made
their way slowly to the central meeting point in regal wedge formations.

Spectators had gathered to watch the Great Gathering. Soaring in the sky were the
lion-faced golden Japanese ships waving flags with the chrysanthemum emblem of the
Meiji Emperor. They were close to the Chinese dragon-ships fitted with twin rotor-
blades, sending blackish smoke into the sky as if the dragons were alive and roaring; the
Chinese ships tried to jockey for position and there was constant shifting as the ships did
their mid-air dance of power with the other groups. The most eye-catching were the ones
designed by the Austrian contingent – large polished carracks with stag antlers for
mastheads, exuding an oddly charming medieval flavor. The smaller British protectorate
ships, mainly the ones from Malaya, appeared like stiletto-shaped vessels, sharp-bowed
and built obviously for speed. Compared to the larger ships, they resembled more like a
shoal of mackerel, swimming beside bigger marine animals. The other nations straggled
behind, either by prudent choice or lack of engine capabilities; smaller flying yachts
competed with steam-powered schooners for position. All the ships also took the
opportunity to drop gifts and souvenirs to the awed crowds who reached out to grab them
as they fell. Fresh red and pink roses, light-weight children’s toys (in the shape of tops
and kites, even simple bamboo flutes) and pamphlets boasting the greatness of their
country. It was a multi-sensory experience and the Londoners soaked the atmosphere up
with immense enthusiasm and aplomb, adding to the carnival spirit in colorful and vivid
gowns and handsome coats.
 79

The Academy’s own contingent lifted off soon after the larger nations launched
their vessels. They had to wait for the signal so that the Aerial Fleet could assemble.
Katherine could only watch from the ground, together with the rest of the repair crews. It
was still an awe-inspiring sight with all the air-ships congregating in the sky above her.
As a precaution, they kept one blimp-fin on the ground and she guarded it closely. It was
her blimp-fin, the one she often used for training flights and runs. Pilotmaster Lee was
aloft with the rest of the chosen Academy pilots and handlers.

Then, there was the sound of a cannon firing close to Buckingham Palace: their
signal. Everyone started pointing to the sky, chatting excitedly. The sounds rushed over
Katherine like a huge tidal wave. The onlookers started cheering.

They had appeared. The new vessels. There were five of them and they were
exceedingly intimidating monsters. Pointed horns protruding from heads shaped like
sharks’, long bodies in which batteries of weapons lined the flanges. They even had teeth,
pointed and menacing. Rumor had it that they were designed with a type of shark –
goblin shark, they were saying – in mind.

“Good God, what are those things?” Someone swore next to her. He sounded
shocked.

“The new air-ships,” Katherine came to a startling realization, half-awed and half-
disturbed by the undisguised aggression in the form of the ships. The half-moon leers.
The teeth.

The Union Jack flew proudly on these new shark ships, beside the leo-fins and the
blimp-fins who were then joined by the merchant crafts. The Aerial Fleet was now fully
present, dwarfing the rest of the Gathering. The cheering grew louder.
 80

The Queen herself was in one of the shark vessels and Katherine noticed that the
leo-fins were crowded around one particular vessel, seemingly larger than the rest of its
ghastly brethren, looking as if they were acting as bodyguards.

It was indeed a grand occasion, filled with the desired pageantry Londoners so
loved. Her Majesty got to see her Fleet as well as the gathered nations. It was something
everyone would remember for a long time.

There was a loud boom: somewhere a cannon had fired.

~*~

Lee performed immediate evasive maneuvers the moment the cannonball

impacted one of the shark ships and it started to list dangerously to the left. Not the
Queen’s, he thought thankfully and his leo-fin shuddered spasmodically, resisting,
protesting at the unfamiliar movement.

“Protect Her Majesty!” He shouted into the vox, unsure if the students could hear
him. Everywhere, ships were in disarray, breaking their formations as they tried to evade
the danger. The sky was too crowded. His heart hammered in his chest. The letter spoke
true.

He fancied hearing startled and shocked screams and shouts coming from the leo-
fins and blimp-fins around him. Poor students. Thick in the deep of things. Now it is up to
you now, to survive as true pilots would!

He swerved his leo-fin to the right and it creaked alarmingly. Then, out of
nowhere, he spied a blimp-fin, nondescript in color, coming up to the shark ship carrying
Her Majesty. He recognized it from his own Flight Academy.
 81

~*~

In the resulting chaos that followed the cannon shot, Katherine could remember
running to the blimp-fin and powering it up. Its hydraulics thrummed beneath her booted
feet as it lifted vertically. All she knew she was piloting it towards the larger shark-
shaped vessel.

When she neared the ship, she could see turmoil in the ship as people tried to
protect themselves and a matronly-looking woman dressed in state regalia, gleaming with
jewelry and medals. The door to the vessel was flung wide open – a bad mistake, she
thought – and piloted the blimp-fin alongside the faltering vessel. The air was rushing in,
stirring everything – dresses, gowns, and coats – into frantic flapping.

“Climb onboard if you want to live,” she shouted or thought she shouted. Wind
was whipping into the blimp-fin, ripping her words away. The woman in the finery
looked at her carefully; she appeared unperturbed and unafraid by the turmoil around her.
Her bearing was haughty and she looked as if she could never smile.

“Of course, I want to live, child,” she said with a tone of slight irritation and made
her way into the blimp-fin, surprisingly nimble-footed for her apparent physical age. Her
followers flooded in after her, looking faint and drained of blood. They sounded like a
gaggle of confused geese.

The blimp-fin protested with the extra weight and flew stoically before landing on
an empty area vacated by panicking onlookers who fled the moment they heard the
cannon and saw that the ships were in trouble.

Katherine panted for air and leaned against the controls. The adrenaline rush left
her system then, leaving her weak. Behind her was a babble of confused and worried
adult voices. She turned back and saw the older woman gazing at her intently.
 82

“What is your name, child?” The woman’s voice was deep, patrician. Careful
modulated and dry but now hinting of humor.

“Katherine. Katherine Riley from the Flight Academy, madam.”

“You showed immense courage, Katherine Riley.” This time, the woman smiled a
brief warm smile, nodded and stepped out of the blimp-fin, surrounded by her courtly
retinue. It was then Katherine realized that the woman was Her Majesty, the Queen.

She sank to her knees, trembling and sobbing into her hands. Her head spun. Her
ankle was throbbing once more. Was still throbbing when Lee had to lift her bodily up
from the floor and bring her back to the hotel room.

~*~

“You saved Her Majesty, fancy that!” Alethia commented cheerfully, unscathed
by the ordeal. All the ships, big and small, had managed to regain their balance and go
back into formation with some measure of fortitude. The Great Gathering was not a
failure, Her Majesty had declared proudly in a safe place. It must go on. The perpetrators
had already been caught and now awaiting her mercy.

Outside their hotel room, fire works blossomed in the sky like giant flowers. The
boom-boom-boom shook the window-frame of the hotel room. There were the sounds of
singing and music; there was rejoicing in the streets.

Katherine sank deeper into her bed, buried under the blankets. She was still
amazed at her own temerity. Her ankle had ceased its throbbing after Lee had
administered a cooling ointment on it.
 83

“You did something good, Katherine!” Alethia was saying. “But you wallowing
in your bed is not good.”

The hotel door opened to admit Pilotmaster Lee in formal wear.

“Get dressed in your best uniform, Pilot,” he said briskly. “The Queen desires an
audience with you.”

~*~

She was ushered into a private chamber, one that was lavishly adorned with
ornate tapestries and Persian carpets. An exquisitely made chandelier hung from the
ceiling, casting myriad diamonds on the wall. Somewhere, there was chamber music and
sounds of an on-going party. Genteel laughter, from men and womens. The clink of
glasses.

“Come in, Katherine.” The familiar voice greeted her. The Queen was seated
comfortably on a small throne, beside the window. A young lady-in-waiting stood close
to her, watching attentively. Her Majesty was wearing more subdued colors this time,
navy-blue trimmed with white fur. Sapphires glittered on her neck. Her be-ringed hands
were busy crocheting.

“Majesty,” Katherine curtsied, feeling her ankle almost give. She stood up stiffly
and waited for the Queen’s response.

“Your bravery is really heartening, child,” the Queen placed whatever she was
making into a quaint little basket next to her. “A bright thing, out of the dark smear and
disgrace the assassins tried to make of today’s celebrations.”
 84

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Katherine looked at her boots shyly.

“Look up, child. I am not in your boots.” The Queen’s voice had a tinge of humor
and annoyance. Katherine tilted up her head hurriedly, only to look into Her Majesty’s
bright and intent eyes.

“You are hampered by something in your mind,” Her Majesty continued,

signaling her lady-in-waiting with a gloved hand; the woman then slipped out quietly via
a side-door. “Whatever it is, child, you need to get rid of this obstacle. Look at you. You
are standing with your shoulders hunched. There you go, looking at your feet again.”

Katherine swallowed and forced herself to look at the Queen whose face bore –
surprisingly – sadness.

“You have a lioness’s heart. But it is sorely hidden by fear at the moment. Be
strong, child. This advice is all I can give you.”

The lady-in-waiting returned swiftly with a small mahogany box, which she
handed to the Queen gracefully with a curtsy.

“I am presenting you this gift, as a token of my appreciation. Without your timely

intervention, I would have been killed and the assassins achieved their evil goal.” The
Queen beckoned Katherine forward and the young woman knelt, accepting the gift.
“Wear it well.”

The Queen gathered her gown and got up from her chair carefully. The lady-in-
waiting opened the side-door and the sounds of the party grew louder. “Take care, young
Katherine.” She nodded graciously, inclined her head once and was led into the other
chamber by her escort.
 85

It was only back in the privacy of the carriage Katherine plucked up enough
courage to open the box. Inside, nestled on fine red velvet cloth, was a diamond brooch in
the shape of a butterfly.

~*~

The next day, the Queen rode down the streets triumphantly, to the accolades and
adoration of her subjects who waved flags and were pleased that their Queen was safe.
The broadsheet commentators had already given a name to the Great Gathering: The
Jubilee Plot. She had once again become a popular monarch, having risen like a brilliant
phoenix from the dark ashes of attempted assassination and possible death. As she rode in
her carriage, waving to her subjects, she thought of one young girl and prayed, privately,
in her heart of hearts.

The delegations were feted extravagantly and had their own parades, showcasing
their smaller ships and crafts. Some of the delegations stoutly pledged their allegiance to
the Queen and had selected ships join her Aerial Fleet. It was a glorious and memorable
end to the Great Gathering, with the crowds swelling the banks of the Thames to watch
the cavalcade of ships and other vessels take to the sky once more. The fireworks lit the
skies once more, in the evening, marking the end of the Golden Jubilee. People could
now speculate who the anarchists were and had great discussions about the Gathering and
politics.

Katherine and the rest of the Academy delegates returned back to the Academy.
The Great Gathering was over. She wore the diamond brooch on her uniform, a reminder
of her lioness’s heart and her desire to fly.
 86

Chapter Seven
Flight
(A Brief Interlude)

Autumn soon gave way to Winter and the entire school grounds, including the
Great Manor and the Administrativa, were covered with a thick coating of white snow.
Katherine Riley wore her fur-lined brown coat and walked to the library, intending to do
some reading,

It had been a busy month after they had returned from the Great Gathering. More
studies and training flights were intensified. Tito was a fully-grown adult and had flown
off. His wings did work, after all. He left behind a yellow feather, which Katherine kept
as a keepsake. She hoped he found enough food for Winter though.

Alethia had invited her to stay with her during the Yule holiday season. It was a
joyous prospect that Katherine cherished immensely. Spending time with the Forresters
made her heart sing. The garden of crystals. Mr Forrester’s inventions. Mrs Potts’
cooking. By now, they were already finishing their studies at the Academy. Katherine
was close to graduation, closer to becoming a fully qualified pilot.

The night before she left for London with Alethia Forrester, she had a final dream
with Miss Sharpton. The old witch was sitting in the schoolroom, alone in the darkness.
Katherine could see the dream figure of her old nemesis had shriveled to almost a skeletal
state, making her look more like a cadaver. Less real. Instead of feeling fear, she felt pity
instead.
 87

“What are you going to do to me?” The voice was quavering, ancient. Whining
like a frightened child. “Hit me?” Challenging, but the voice was weak.

Katherine said simply: “I am going to let you go.”

And the dream figure of Miss Sharpton quickly dissolved into sand blown away
by an invisible breeze. The schoolroom turned bright as a summer’s day and merged into
an open sky.

~*~

When Spring arrived, Katherine was ready to take her final test flight. She wore
her diamond butterfly on her left breast, beneath her half-wing badge.

It was not a blimp-fin but a proper leo-fin, its fins and flanges shimmering in the
sun. It was unbelievably large and so beautiful. As beautiful as the time she first saw one
in the sky. It was an uplifting and exuberant feeling, to be standing so close to a real leo-
fin. After the Great Gathering, she knew that the leo-fin was just a flying machine. A tool
designed to fly. Not the fairy-tale flying creature she had seen in Dorset a long time. Yet,
knowing this fact had only strengthened her resolve. Placing her gloved hand on the
panels and feeling it thrum beneath her, Katherine readied herself.

Captain Sagan lifted her right hand and gave her sign of approval. Katherine
saluted sharply and stepped into the leo-fin.

She touched her butterfly brooch and her badge once, for luck and for courage.
She was taking flight, eager for the glorious spring sky.
 88

Epilogue
New Horizons

Dear Father and Mother,

I hope you are well.

I am now a Pilot, manning one of the large leo-fins. My tasks are quite simple, carrying
cargos for two London spice merchants and occasionally passengers. I graduated from
the Academy one year ago and I have enjoyed flying immensely. It must be the wind
brushing against my skin, the feel of freedom. I used to long for it when I was in Dorset.

My friend Alethia Forrester is my handler and controller. She manages the schedules
exceedingly well, even though she has been born blind. She has not let her infirmity affect
her.

We have traveled to so many places in England. We flew once to Scotland and it was a
cold place, but beautiful. I have enclosed some lace clothing in this letter for my little
sister. I hope she likes it. She loves lace.

I have also met a fellow Pilot by the name of Richard Eddington. Yes, he was the one
who brought me to London. If you have any ill will against him, I apologize on his behalf.
I really wanted to go to the Academy and study to become a Pilot. Now Eddington is my
close companion. He has not asked my hand in marriage yet. I do not think I am ready
for it. The sky is so wide and free. I feel as if I can fly forever. It is just my leo-fin and
myself.
 89

I know that Dorset is exceedingly different from London. London is a big city, filled with
thousands of people. Do you know we had a Golden Jubilee and there was a Great
Gathering? I hope you had heard about it. It was a grand event with so many nations
taking part. There is the Queen’s Aerial Fleet now. I think I will be piloting one of the
Sharks. It is a new design and it is intended to protect Britannia from external harm. I
have to wait for Pilotmaster Lee and Commander Karlida Sagan to approve my
application.

What is the same, I feel, is the sky. Dorset’s sky is the same as London’s. You can simply
soar in the clouds. Everything is so small when you fly.

I know that Richard shares my sentiments. He is a Pilot like me. We live for the sky. We
love flying. You need a large heart for this sort of endeavor. A lioness’s heart. Once you
have tasted freedom, you will never be the same again. Something changed me for the
better. I am a different person. I used to be so gripped by fear, even my extremities hurt
and I could not move. A wise woman once told me to remove that obstacle in my mind
and I did. I cannot let fear and terror rule my life forever. Being afraid is not a good
thing, not for the future.

You must be overwhelmed by my overt declarations about flying. I love flying and it is
part of my being. Please understand this, Father and Mother.

Forgive me for dwelling too much on my own life! How is Dorset? How is my little
sister? Most of all, how are you? Please visit London. It is a beautiful place with many
things to see. Just say the word and I will personally fetch you.

Oh. Another thing. How is Miss Sharpton? I have not seen her for many years now. I
hope she is doing well.

Your loving daughter,

Katherine
 90

List of Dramatis Personae

Alethia Forrester is a blind girl. A child prodigy and synaesthete. She is mature beyond
her years. Born in London. She is in the academy, not as a cadet pilot but as one of the
controllers/handlers – her extra-sensory gifts help her perceive the positions of the leo-
fins)

Katherine Riley is the main protagonist/character. Wants freedom. Loves flying and
flight. Best/good friend of Alethia. Born in Dorset – parents are middle-class workers
(mother a washerwoman and father a dock-worker).

Captain Karlida Sagan is partly inspired by Carl Sagan. She is one of the original five
female pilots and teaches the Basics of Flight module at the academy. She is the House
Tutor for College Sable. A role model for Katherine. She is about 35.

Pilotmaster Lee is an Asian/Chinese man. He is middle-aged but still very fit. He

oversees the academy and teaches one of the Engineering modules. [Note: This Victorian
England is less racist than our world’s Victorian England but racism still exists in some
pockets of society. He and Sagan are lovers.

Richard Eddington is Katherine’s friend and then lover. One of the pilots. A dashing
fellow with liberal ideas.

Paul Forrester is a minor inventor/tinker. An eccentric but kind-hearted man. He has

more unorthodox ideas than his peers. One of his many projects is to construct a larger
sun-flier. Another project is to input human consciousness into a flying contraption (ie,
telepathy/thought-driven flight). How it is done is up to everyone else’s imagination.
Advocates growing of own food. Compared to the Rileys, the Forresters are wealthier,
though they are not as rich as the landed aristocrats.
 91

Mrs Potts is the Forresters’ nanny and governess. She also cooks for them. Brought
Alethia up and is close to the girl. Is good-humoredly amused and bemused by her
employer’s eccentricities.

Lady Judith Westmoreland is Captain Sagan’s teaching assistant and she works the vox-
reader during the lectures. Typical Victorian lady but with a wicked sense of humor and
an intense love for astronomy and history (which she teaches the first-years).

Engineer Morley maintains the manor’s core and also teaches one of the Engineering
modules. A gruff man with a heart of gold, he has a soft spot for Lady Westmoreland.

Doctor James Ash is the academy’s resident doctor and a lecturer for Science (Biology).
Acerbic, dour at first glance but actually compassionate. Tries to heal Katherine’s ankle.

Trainer Stenton is one of the academy’s fitness trainers. Gruff, tough and wants his
trainees to turn out well.

Thomas Von Dyke is a boy by German extraction and has lived in England for a long
time. Part of College Sable – Katherine’s friend and occasional rival. Blonde-haired,
blue-eyed. A little cocky.

Joshua Baker is a boy from College Azure.

Wes is one of the pilots. He is Richard’s friend.

Edward Hannigan is a boy from College Sable.

Misato Kanaka is an exchange student from Meiji Japan, assigned to College Sable.
 92

Cook is simply Cook. She is the main cook for the Great Manor and has her own
vegetable garden.

Artifices

The leo-fin is a machine, plain and simple. The pilot of course has to understand the
intricacies of the leo-fin, as a flying machine. Flies on either helium or hydrogen. A
beautiful machine, constructed to look like the lion fish. It precedes modern concepts of
the zeppelin and the airplane (Wright Brothers).

The sun-flier is one of Paul Forrester’s myriad inventions. It is basically a small bird-like
robot (cogs and gears), powered by solar energy. The sun-flier is sometimes used for
short distance messages (inspired, no doubt, by the carrier pigeons).

The steel puppies are mechanical/robotic dogs. They look like mastiffs or bulldogs,
constructed out of gears and cogs.

The gyro-scopes are leg-powered. But only occasionally seen. Precedes the helicopter.

The tin-men are Paul Forrester’s creations. Toy soldier sized. No actual function, except
for entertainment.

The blimp-fins are ordinary fliers. Used for training purposes at the academy. Purely
functional.
 93

There is a nine-year gap between Alethia’s story in A Garden of Crystals and the present
story. The leo-fins have become common and more advanced than the ones encountered
in AGOC. Their features have become more streamlined, as the collectors and inventors
keep on making changes to their design.

The Queen formed Her Majesty’s Aerial Fleet, including the leo-fins under this particular
designation. So, the leo-fins serve both commercial and military purposes. Later, as
England grows in power (during the time period where Katherine Riley obtains her
wings), the Aerial Fleet expands to include the goblin sharks, a more streamlined and
deadlier version of the leo-fin, purely built for war. As one of the ladies who saw the
prototype for the first time has gasped in shock, the goblin shark is truly “ghastly”.

Colleges of the Flight Academy ( Académie De Vol)

Sable (Right) – Bird Wings

Azure (Left) - Cogs
Orr (Right) - Propellers
Vert (Left) - Comet.
 94

Courses offered at the Flight Academy:

Basics of flight.
Mechanics of flight.
Athletics.
Engineering.
Mathematics.
Science.
Humanities (History/Geography/Classics).
Languages (French, Italian, Russian and Han Mandarin Chinese).

The Flight Academy has a cathedral-inspired main building where the auditorium (where
the main lectures are conducted) and the Administrativa (main office) is situated. This
main building is the nerve center of the Academy.

Directly facing this building is the great manor (“Great Manor”) housing the classrooms,
minor lecture halls and dormitories as well as the main dining hall where the seasonal
celebrations are held and normal meals are conducted. The manor has an internal heating
system, operated by an intricate underground hydraulics core. It has hot and cold water –
and the bathrooms have their own taps and tubs. It has electricity (powered by the core).

The Flying Field is where all the exercises – flying and athletics – are carried out. The
Field has a small building where training leo-fins, gyro-scopes and other flight-related
apparatus are kept.

The House Colleges/designations are named after the terms used in heraldry. There are
also symbols attached – College blazons/badges (please see ‘Colleges of the Flight
Academy’).
 95

The Academy prides itself as the epitome of enlightened education. Most of the students
are middle-class and above. It takes in both sexes. Attracts the attention of suffragists and
their detractors (the conservatives).

The collectors and inventors

The collectors are the inventors and the researchers – the elite and intelligentsia. They
collect antiques and things metal, transforming them into useful artifacts/artifices. The
upper echelon of the collectors includes gentlemen like Thomas Edison and Nikolai
Tesla. The lower echelon includes people like Alethia’s father, Paul Forrester.

Science dominates this steampunk Victorian world. It is the new mantra and religion for a
world suddenly gripped by the Industrial Revolution and the imperial conquests in Asia.
There are flying craft, electricity and new inventions, replacing the old world. Economic
motives and impulses have been tightly interwoven into the fabric of this world. Trade
has opened new avenues and possibilities, allowing people from various cultures to
migrate to England and vice versa. The British East India Company still holds power – a
group of collectors dominates the decision-making body of the Company and creates
inventions from a base in Southeast Asia (Singapore). Less virulently racist than our-
world’s Victorian England – it would seem that Science is a direct descendant of the
Italian Renaissance, championing the ideas of Logic, Reason and Creativity, as well as
tolerance.

For the collectors, they believe they embody this new spirit and are ardent advocates of
the new creed. For them, this is the dawn of The New Age, where man’s spirit will soar
with his (or her) intellect and better the world with progress.
 96

Of course, politics is at odds with the New Age and the governments (of the countries in
power) are constantly looking out for ways to be better than their neighbors, co-operation
be damned and paying only lip-service to conventions. The inventions end up being used
as tools or weapons, much to the horror of the collectors.
 97

The Garden of Crystals

In my father’s house, there is a garden. And in this garden are crystals of all shapes and
sizes, hanging from the ceiling.

They are actually glass baubles, expertly blown into whimsical shapes of swans, robins,
ducks and sunbirds by my father’s good friend.

They are cool to the touch, a sensation of coldbeautyflowerlight when my fingers caress
the surface. I listen to them sing in the breeze, sweet skyblue voices. I revel. I laugh.

I am blind.

~*~

My mother died after she gave life to me. It was a chilly winter’s night, near the Solstice,
as told by Mrs Pott, my nanny. I was born in the middle of the Industrial Revolution, to a
“collector” (as my father would like to call himself). I was almost called Nike but soon,
my name became Alethia.

Collectors gather antiques, large or small, esoteric or mundane. I could tell my father
have brought in new items by their sounds. They either rumble, groan or chitter – in my
mind, they become color bursts, like flowers.

My father is one of the more lesser-known collectors. He is - by their standards - only a

tinkler, not an inventor. He collects things, dismantles them and rebuilds them into
artifices, as he calls them good-humoredly. I have heard the sharp yellow yelps of tiny
tin-men bouncing across his worktable, the comical pink splotches of the larger and more
cumbersome steel puppies and occasionally the clear lightgreen of a sun-flier.
 98

I know that there are larger things in the sky, other than our little sun-fliers whizzing like
green stars in the house. My father’s friends have built other marvels like leo-fins, large
flying ships shaped like lion fishes. Mrs Potts says that they look magnificent in the
London skies, the sun on their iridescent wings and tail fin. I know they are beautiful
because I can hear them sing like whales with long rainbow songs that swirl endlessly.
There are also the gyro-scopes, powered by leg energy. But they are only occasionally
seen as flying them takes a lot of energy on the part of the flier.

The leo-fins stay afloat like puffer fish, explained my father once when I asked him over
a fine dinner of clam chowder and freshly baked rye bread. My father believes in growing
and making our own food. They have helium inside their bellies.

At the moment, the leo-fins transport light cargo and their pilots, under the employ of my
father’s friends, are paid well for their service. They are good for short distance flights
and are known to even ferry people once a while.

The ones who transport heavy cargo are the trains. Huge, metallic smelling and murkily-
colored like dark clouds, they rumble across England. I hear them rattle down the tracks
and sometimes, they make the garden of crystals shake frantically. I do not like them.
They are a necessary evil.

~*~

Instead of hurtling down the tracks, we can fly, my father says excitedly. I listen with
amusement. My fingers touch the glass baubles. I do not know what colors they come in
– only that they are cool beneath my fingertips and their voices are calming skyblue.

Why, father? I ask quietly. I am only nine. Mrs Pott complains in her amber-brown voice
that I am too serious for a girl of my age.
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Why? Why, we can fly over seas, oceans, lands. Imagine going to the Oriental in a large
sun-flier! My father is clearly excited. He loves inventing. I can hear his blue prints move
hurriedly on the table; they crackle like popping seeds.

You will need a lot of sun, I say laughing. My fingers glide over a smooth swan.

Our sun is an inexhaustible source of energy, there is almost a pout in my father’s reply.
Truly, he can be quite a charming child sometimes.

We pause as one of the trains roar past, rattling our ceiling lamps. Something in our
house fizzles like an angry slash of red.

Wiring, my father mutters and I listen to his footsteps fading away as he trots away to
deal with the wiring problem.

I continue walking in my garden of crystals, thinking – suddenly – of flying birds.

~*~

Imagine an artifice that can flap its wings, my father tells me in the morning when I wake
up. Mornings bring in a mute whisper of colors as the sounds of morning ripple around
me.

Your sun-flier can do that, I say, a little peevishly. Mrs Pott brings me my breakfast. I
smell eggs.

No, no, no, my father’s voice is exasperated. Imagine your consciousness in that artifice.

Mrs Pott mutters “crazy inventor” before stepping away.

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Imagine that you can soar with the artifice, leaving your body on earth, my father
continues.

Now, this sends a shiver down my spine. It is unheard-of. It is almost … sorcery. Then
again, for the men, the inventors, Science and Reason are the new gods. My father would
become an outcast for his ideas.

Yet…

I bite into my egg, feeling the yoke run down my throat. My utensils are a silver tink on
the porcelain.

My father goes back into his workshop to think about his new artifice. I walk slowly to
my garden of crystals.

I feel a rush of adrenaline. My hands brush against the glass crystals in a moment of fury.
They crash in a multitude of bright colors.

~*~

If I were a bird, I say to my father as we retire for the evening. He has his sniffer of port
in his hand. He is tired. His breathing is slow. He has spent the day in conference with his
collector friends. If I were a bird, I would be a sunbird.

A sunbird? His words are a gentle smile. My father is slow to anger and quick with
humor to smooth things over.

So that I can see the sun, I find myself standing next to the window. Outside, London
steams and breathes. I can hear voices, different voices interweaving with each other.
Horse-drawn carriages clatter on cobblestones. Very soon, steam-cars would replace
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them and the horses would either put to pastures or killed for gruel. A long swirl of
rainbow colors passes overhead as a leo-fin, doing night-duty, floats in the sky.

Alethia, my father’s voice is husky brown, as if he is trying to contain his emotions.

But I know my own limitations, father, I say and goes over to him. I rest my head against
his chest and I feel his hand pat my head softly.

If I could soar like a bird in my mind, I am content. I see the world in colors and if I
could do that in my mind, I am pleased. I am a sunbird, in my own garden.

Saying that, I walk away, back to my garden of crystals.

There, I weep.
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Lee Hsu’s Ship

The young boy watched the dragonflies dart about like ephemeral fairies in the summer
haze, their transparent wings abuzz. At some angles, the transparent wings became multi-
colored as they caught the sunlight and turned everything to a breathless moment of
wonder. It was warm, this summer, and glorious, turning everything in the garden into
dusty gold and shimmering heat. He was glad to be indoors, inside the cool study room.
Yet a part of him longed to be out in the sunlight, catching the dragonflies in their flight.

He turned a bit reluctantly to his books. After a while, he was once again engrossed, his
imagination afire with all the histories of engineering designs and marvels. Zhang Heng’s
earthquake detector. Gunpowder. Naval feats. Gears and pulley systems. How his young
thirsty mind absorbed everything in, enriching his inner landscape. He grabbed a charcoal
stick, pilfered from the kitchen when the cooks were not looking, and began to sketch
furiously on a piece of parchment paper, taken from his father’s calligraphy room. A
design took shape, a collection of lines and curves and scribbled notations. Because he
was only nine, some came out as crude arrows and more shapes. They helped him
visually though.

His long queue of hair flopped over as he tried to make himself comfortable while
hunched over his design and he flipped it back irritably. He wanted to remove it, cut it off
– it was bothersome and extremely archaic. His father would whip him if he did. His
mother would end up crying in one of her dramatic fits and he would feel bad about it.

A few more scratches of his charcoal stick, a quick scribble of his personal name at the
margin, and the design was finally done. It was time to start collecting the things needed
to make the ship.

~*~
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It was the eve before Yuan Xiao, the 15th day of the Chinese New Year. The household
was gripped in a fever of culinary preparation, the servants running in and out of the
kitchen, the cooks procuring fresh ingredients for the big banquet feast on the day itself.
It was going to be a big festive event, attended by many guests who were by now
comfortably ensconced in their guest rooms. There were going to be fireworks as well.

Old Liu, old faithful retainer, left early in the morning to purchase a roast pig, done by a
famous chef who specialized in all manner of roast meat. His talent was in the production
of finely glazed, roasted-to-perfection, whole pig with tender flesh. His talent had
brought fame and many of the aristocratic families made their orders early.

Lee Hsu’s day started early too, with his nanny fussing about him and making him wear a
new set of clothes purposely bought for the occasion. It was made of fine brocade and
silk, to show off his family’s wealth. She even brought in new shoes too. He squirmed
uncomfortably, sensitive to the crinkly texture of the jifu and pants. When his nanny was
finally satisfied at his overall appearance, he made a quick relieved dash to his study
room where he found much solace in his ship.

All he needed now was more gunpowder. He carefully lifted out the little box in which he
had studiously and meticulously collected all the gunpowder he needed. Most of the
sharp-smelling black stuff came from firecracker tubes secretly brought in during the
many New Year celebrations. He could get more firecracker tubes but the strings of the
fiery-red cylinders were all kept in a protected area, destined to be used at the end of
Yuan Xiao. Getting them would prove to be a challenge. Old Liu won’t allow it. The old
man would end up chasing him around with a stick, no matter how much he loved his
master’s inquisitive son. The Yuan Xiao celebrations were the highlight of the year, next
to the Mid-Autumn Festival.

Lee Hsu frowned. Perhaps he had to make do with the current batch of gunpowder. It was
enough for a brief flight. Ah, his ship. Fashioned after a Chinese junk, about twice the
 104

length of his arm (which was quite small, because he was still a growing boy), lovingly
and painstakingly lacquered vermilion red. He added in the tiny sails as well, for the sake
of authenticity. But the pride of the project would be in the eventual lift-off and flight.

He could hear sporadic laughter as the guests had awakened and were dining on freshly
made soup dumplings and fragrant Pu Er tea. His family was generous when it came to
food. When the hairy crabs were in season, the family and invited guests would be treated
to platters of steamed crustaceans rich in milt and rose, topped off with a sweet ginger tea
brew to mitigate the effects of excess ‘heat’.

He tinkered a little more on his ship and realized, in his heart, that he was a privileged
boy, born into a wealthy family. An aristocratic family, a voice reminded him firmly. His
family had provided generations of court officials. His father was currently a senior
magistrate and had hoped that his only son would follow his footsteps.

But Lee Hsu had resisted that path from day one. He wanted more. He had heard so much
about the lands beyond the Middle Kingdom. He had heard about the Enlightenment and
how it was so powerful. Barbarians or not, he wanted to visit those lands of the
Enlightenment and see for himself how great they were. There were many scientists and
engineers, people who worked with their minds and their hands to come up with new
designs. The Middle Kingdom had many great and influential thinkers. But surely, the
barbarians had their own gifted men and women too. Even at the tender age of nine, he
wanted to interact, to exchange ideas. It was a special dream of his but kept secretly
inside his heart.

Lee Hsu went back to his ship, feeling its shape under his hands. It was ready to fly.

~*~

Yuan Xiao arrived with the explosion of firecrackers peppering the courtyard and turning
the ground red with pieces of red paper. The smell of burning gunpowder filled the air, at
 105

once sharp and acrid. The thick smoke hung around for a while, before being dispersed
by a light breeze. It was also chilly; even the servants were wearing a few layers of
clothing to keep themselves warm.

Lee Hsu had to wear yet another set of new clothes and he grumbled while his nanny, an
middle-aged woman with a cheerful disposition, combed his hair (an act he found deeply
embarrassing – he could do it himself) and braided it deftly. This time, it was a blue
brocade top with a well-made pair of pants, lined with wool to provide warmth. His
nanny adored him, more than his real mother who was by now playing her precious
mahjong and nagging at his sisters. They would of course be dressed in beautiful silk
garments. His mother minced when she walked. She had bound feet and her shoes were
tiny and exquisitely made. His sisters were made to go through the pain when they were
little girls. They couldn’t run and jump like the other girls he had seen outside his family
home.

As it was an important family gathering, Lee Hsu had to greet the guests together with his
family. The salutations were all done in a staid and polite manner, perfectly detached and
even dispassionate. The guests were mostly relatives from both sides of the family and
there were many familial terms used as signs of respect. By the time he reached
Thirteenth Maternal Aunt, Lee Hsu had become so bored he had to control his urge not to
run out of the room and back to his ship.

Then it was the lunch banquet, served early so that dinner would be a punctual affair. Lee
Hsu slipped away after the second course had been served, thankful that in the general
cacophony of chatter, nobody noticed him leaving the table. He sneaked back into his
study and admired his ship. He had not given a name to the ship yet, though he was half
inclined to call it “Lee’s Ship”.

Someone coughed at the door and Lee Hsu started, seeing the familiar silhouette of Old
Liu. He swallowed, preparing himself for a tongue-lashing.
 106

Old Liu was holding a bowl of noodles in his gnarled hands. From the smell and look of
it, it was still piping hot and fragrant with sesame oil and shallots.

“You need to eat, young master,” Old Liu said and handed him the bowl (still warm) and
a pair of ivory chopsticks. “I noticed you leaving the table.”

Lee Hsu accepted the bowl of noodles mutely and nodded. Old Liu normally left him
alone to his own devices and did not say anything about his countless projects. With a
small smile and a nod, Old Liu bowed and walked down the corridor to help out with the
festivities. The boy watched him leave, suddenly feeling a pang of regret.

He finished the noodles, savoring the smoothness of the buckwheat strands. The cooks
made them by hand and they were exquisite fresh. He placed the empty bowl and oily
chopsticks on the floor, sighed to himself and went back to put the finishing touches on
the ship. As he worked quietly and diligently, he could hear Chinese traditional opera –
his family had invited a well-known troupe to perform. It was Butterfly Lovers, probably
his mother’s choice.

With steady hands, Lee Hsu poured the gunpowder in using an impromptu ‘funnel’, a
cone shaped out of paper. He had the matches ready. His project was going to take flight
later in the evening. He patted his ship, feeling proud of himself. He wanted so much to
be one of the illustrious great thinkers.

Lee Hsu straightened and drew himself to his full height. From where he was standing, he
could see out into the courtyard, being on the second floor of his family house. He would
be launching his ship from this particular angle. He crept to the parapet and peered out.
The servants were clearing the dishes and cleaning the tables for the banquet later in the
evening. Most of his relatives had retired into their chambers to rest and prepare
themselves for more festivities. The Chinese opera singers had already finished their act
and were removing their make-up. As he watched, the hua dan – the young maiden – was
 107

removing the vivid pink from her cheeks – and a young man emerged. A couple of them
were lounging around, gossiping and smoking pipe.

His ship was ready. Lee Hsu checked it again until he was fully satisfied. Smiling to
himself, he washed his face and his hands in the basin provided in his study. The water
was cool on his skin.

~*~

Lee Hsu always loved watching the crowds thronging outside his family house. It was
evening and the streets were packed with strollers and vendors. They jostled for space,
the sellers advertising their wares amongst the gaily-dressed couples and groups out to
admire the rising full moon and the brightly lit lanterns. He inhaled in the diverse aromas
of food: the savory tang of soup dumplings, the freshly steamed buns and even the
sweetness of melted sugar. Somewhere in the crowd was an artist making fragile animal
shapes out of melted sugar or malt. His mouth watered; he loved this particular sweet
confection. There were also other sweet treats: tanghulu, caramel-coated hawthorn or
crabapple on skewers.

Yuan Xiao was slowly reaching its peak. The moon had risen and was a large round jade
plate in the sky. He basked in its brightness, hearing more laughter and conversation
coming from his family courtyard. Quickly, he readied his ship before trooping down the
stairs to join his family and relatives for the dinner banquet.

Once again, the cooks had outdone themselves with the food. There were consommés,
cold dishes artistically decorated with carved radishes and laden with thinly sliced goose
and other kinds of roast meat. Plates of steamed carp drenched in soya sauce and liberally
covered with shredded spring onions warred for attention with prawns broiled in white
cooking wine. The main dish – the roast pig- waited in the kitchen, ready to be carried
out by the cooks themselves. It was a grand culinary event, eagerly awaited by the whole
family.
 108

His sisters wore their new silk garments, mincing along on their tiny feet. They followed
his mother who, as the family matriarch, took center-stage, welcoming the guests
personally. His father emerged from his large study room, dressed in his finery and
mingled around the tables. As the banquet proceeded, good wine was passed around and
salutations were made, albeit a little drunkenly and with great aplomb. There would be
some sore heads next morning.

Lee Hsu could hardly keep down his food, no matter how delicious it was. He washed
down the fresh carp meat with tea and wolfed down the rice cake slices before excusing
himself. He made his way up the stairs alone, not knowing that Old Liu was watching
him intently with intense eyes.

He realized, with a start, that his ship was heavy. He heaved it into his arms and carried
it, as if it was a little puppy, next to the parapet. The dinner banquet was still in progress,
the new course having been served – fresh river clams swimming in their own juices.
There were sounds of appreciation as the guests tucked in immediately, sucking at the
juices and the sweet meat.

He waited until the clams were all eaten, their empty shells opened up like butterfly
wings and cluttered on the tables, before deciding to launch his ship. His heart began to
thump like a drum. He took the matches out and lit one. It sparkled into life and he fed it
into the gunpowder. His ship started to make crackling sounds – it buckled and appeared
as if it was about to take off.

There was a burst of laughter and applause from the courtyard: the roast pig, regal on a
large palanquin fashioned out of a rectangular plank, festooned with yellow
chrysanthemum, was finally carried out by the grinning cooks.

It was then the ship decided to give off really vivid sparks before leaping off the parapet
like some live red fish. Lee Hsu’s heart plunged as his ship plunged, lifted as it lifted and
 109

soared above the astonished guests and family members who gasped at the amount of
dark smoke issued by the strange contraption flying above their heads. He saw his sisters
fanning the smoke away with their silk handkerchiefs frantically. His mother looked as if
she was about to faint and rightly so. And his father was furious, his face turning as black
as the smoke itself.

The ship exploded in mid-air.

It was a frightful sound, as loud as a cannon going off, perhaps even louder. Soot and
gunpowder cascaded down and coated everyone with it. As everybody watched, stunned
and petrified, the halved body of the ship fell and crashed into the roast pig which in turn
went up in smoke as well.

The shocked silence erupted into shouting. Old Liu came charging at him, his crinkled
face covered with the black soot and terrible as Kuan Kong himself. The retainer grabbed
him roughly by the arms and Lee Hsu started crying because of the harsh treatment and
the shock. Old Liu shouted and screamed at him, dragging him down the stairs where his
father waited, his visage as frightening as the god of hell himself.

“Idiot!” His father roared and yanked Lee Hsu by his ear. The pain worsened and the boy
cried even louder. His ship had failed. He had failed. And now, his family was disgraced,
because of him. “Imbecile!”

In front of the assembled guests, still coated with black soot, and a ruined roast pig, the
magistrate dragged Lee Hsu into his study room where he gave his son a sound beating
with a willow stick.

~*~

The sting smarted and lingered. Lee Hsu sniffed and rubbed his tender nose swollen from
the sobbing. He sat gingerly in his study, thankful of the relative darkness. He was
 110

hungry; his father had refused to give him dinner. Before him was the design of his ship
and he touched it, for some reassurance.

Outside, he knew, life went on. The servants were tittering away while they removed the
tables and scrubbed the courtyard of any traces of food and black soot. After a few days,
the soot would be gone and his exploding ship would just be a memory. The rest of his
relatives, after recovering from their shock and cleaning themselves, went off to enjoy the
fireworks, the lanterns and to gaze at the moon. His father was fuming, his mother
despondent. His sisters simply shook their heads at him; they were much older than him
and he was a little child in their eyes.

A familiar cough, a scrape of shoes before the footsteps faded away. Lee Hsu winced as
he got up from the floor. The willow stick had done its job well. He opened the door,
only to find a bowl of dessert – gingko nuts and two tiny hardboiled quail eggs in a clear
syrup.

For a moment, he stood, staring at the bowl. Old Liu. He stooped down and retrieved the
bowl. The dessert was sweet, the soft gingko nuts and eggs a welcome respite to a hungry
stomach.

Yet, for all the pleasure in eating, he grew bitter and angry. He wanted to yell and kick
things. Most of all, he wanted to leave his family home and go elsewhere. His father
won’t understand, nor his genteel mother. His sisters? They were more concerned with
their embroidery and the newest trends in clothes. He suddenly felt alone and lonely.

Fresh hot tears brimmed in his eyes. He wiped them away, annoyed at their appearance.
His heart burned in his chest. Once he reached sixteen, he would leave.

Meanwhile, a stray dragonfly, gossamer wings opalescent under the moonlight, rested
unnoticed on one of the wooden pillars.
 111

Phoenix With A Purpose

 112

Table Of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine
 113

Chapter Ten

Part Two: Ascension

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven
 114

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Appendix

Acknowledgements

About the Author

 115

A Phoenix With Purpose

Prologue: Curbing The Flame

The abbess lifted her horn-rimmed glasses and gazed thoughtfully at the young
woman standing before her simple desk. She glanced at the letter in her hand, read it
carefully and looked at the slim figure standing uncomfortably in front of her. With a
sigh, she spoke:

“So, your mother, Her Imperial Majesty, has sent you here to control your nei
huo.”

“Yes, madam,” the young woman replied politely, watching the old woman clad
in a simple white pao. The abbess’s sanctum was a sparsely furnished room with a desk,
two shelves of books and a basin of water for hand washing. Beyond the large window,
the young woman could see lush greenery and the occasional sparkle of water – a
waterfall cascaded down a steep cliff, pooling noisily into a clear lake. She had taken
note of it as she was heading up the mountain.

“In the letter, your mother has instructed me to either curb or reduce your nei huo,
your phoenix flame. Because it has apparently caused problems.” The abbess continued.
Her white hair glittered in the late-morning light. Her voice was parchment-paper dry.

The young woman winced and nodded assent. She had caused problems. Her
temper was out of control, scaring her sisters. Her youngest brother bore the brunt of her
fire and the poor boy had run crying to their mother, the Empress, who was then busy
holding court and had to deal with a wailing little prince-ling of the Phoenix Court.
 116

Her phoenix flame was roaring loudly, probably made worse by the onset of
puberty. She cringed and felt terrible inside. The phoenix flame, the ability to turn
woman to phoenix, jumped generations. She experienced a rush of annoyance: Why me?
The rest of her sisters carried the recessive gene.

The abbess chuckled suddenly. “I trained your mother personally, Your Highness.
She was sent by her mother, your grandmother the Dowager. For similar reasons.” She
got up gracefully from her chair, a smallish woman but her aura spoke of subtle power.
“Enough of idle chit-chat. You will be sent to your room. Training begins at dawn.”

***

“Look at me,” the young girl laughed gleefully and let the phoenix flame out,
filling her entire being with an actinic fire. Her arms turned into wings of white-hot light
and the entire courtyard flared up with the sudden illumination. The immaculately
trimmed flowering shrubs flickered as if they caught fire.

“Your Highness,” her nanny shielded her eyes and spoke soothingly. “You might
end up hurting someone.”

At those solemn words, the young girl pulled back the flame and the light went
out, as if extinguished. She was only seven then, having newly discovered her ability.
Phoenix flame. It was glorious. It was like soaring up into the sky and dancing on the
clouds.

***
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Training indeed began at dawn. The young woman was woken up by a resonant
bell-tone and she sat up, startled, on her stiff rattan bed. It was still cold and dark. Around
her, she could hear the entire nunnery stirring. There were footsteps hurrying down
outside her room and female voices raised in genteel chatter. It was a strange
environment, so different from the opulence of the Phoenix Court, that she was hit by a
sudden burst of homesickness. As she placed her bare feet on the floor, she shuddered
involuntarily, because it felt like a winter’s day.

Reluctantly, she joined the other acolytes in their morning ablutions, bathing in
the ice-cold water and wearing the plain white shift that chafed her skin to no end.
Breakfast was hot mountain rice and plain bean curd cubes. Hardly filling, she thought
irritated but pretended to eat with gusto when the abbess walked past her.

The acolytes were put through a series of calisthenics, complex moves which
made the young woman perspire and wobble in her steps. The worst came when they
were instructed to stand in a particular stance: hands steepled as if in prayer and standing
on one foot. The other women made it look so easy.

She cursed inwardly and felt her phoenix flame come to life. Her entire form
flickered with an unseen heat wave and the senior acolyte, overseeing the exercise, quite
simply threw ice water onto the princess. The shock of the cold liquid snapped her out of
the imminent flare-up; the water dripped down her shift, her hair was all wet. She was
never that embarrassed in her life.

By the end of the day, the young woman was sufficiently humiliated and she
withdraw into herself, wishing that she was back at the Court, in her comfortable
chambers and eating delicious food. The dreams at night were of flying and burning
bright as the afternoon sun.
 118

***

“What is the purpose of the nei huo?” The young girl asked her mother one
evening, when the Imperial family retreated to the cool gardens to admire the fragrant
flowers and to escape the summer heat.

Her mother, Empress Ze Tian, regarded her with kohled eyes and a soft smile.
“The purpose is to instruct us. That we, of the phoenix blood, are true to ourselves. Not
many of us could possess and control such power within.”

The young girl considered the reply quietly. She had seen her mother transform
into a orange-sun phoenix, fiery red wings which licked the air like live fire and turned
everything to pure heat. It was during a conference, with the delegations from the other
Alliance Planets. She remembered that there was a fair bit of bickering and nothing
seemed to be moving. The negotiations were stuck while the delegates postured and
quarreled among themselves. Her mother had grown frustrated and her shift to phoenix
was a wake-up call to the Alliance Planets to focus on the real matter at hand.

***

As she grew older and bigger, so did her phoenix flame. It burned inside her like a
furnace, causing her to sleep naked at times or bathe in cisterns filled with cold water.
Her temper also grew, to the consternation of her mother.

“My dear princess Min Feng,” Empress Ze Tian beckoned to her adolescent
daughter after a particularly bad temper tantrum, consisting of broken vases and pottery.
“You need to learn how to curb your flame. A phoenix in mindless rage is an useless
phoenix.”

“Your Majesty,” the Empress’s Chamberlain interjected in worriedly. “We cannot

continue dousing her with cold water.”
 119

Empress Ze Tian eyed her daughter intently. She was growing tall and slender,
beautiful even. Her black hair was streaked with burnished gold, a sure sign that she was
over-using her phoenix flame. She stood sullenly, ready for another reprimand.

“One day, Min Feng,” the Empress’s use of her intimate name surprised the girl
and she immediately straightened, standing at attention. “You have to realize that your
phoenix flame is a gift, passed down from mother to daughter. Use it not in moments of
anger.” The Empress did another surprising thing: she kissed her daughter’s forehead
affectionately.

***

The training continued, day by day. The food remained the same – cold and
bland. She was getting very tired with the cold-water treatment. Resentment set in like a
sore tooth. She bristled, restless in mood and obnoxious in attitude.

“I refuse to accept this any further!” She declared hotly, halfway through a
meditation session aimed to silence the static in the mind. She stormed out of the class,
leaving the rest of the acolytes gaping at her.

She stalked out of the nunnery, feeling heat rise from her skin like a shimmering
wave. She craved action. She craved flying. She wanted to get out of this wretched place.
With a cry of release, she spread her arms and called forth the phoenix flame –

-- And she flared up, like a nebula, pulsating and glowing with immense power.
She gave voice and it was a phoenix’s cry, high and undulating. The heat burned bright,
relentless. She gloried in it, dancing in and with the fire. She moved her wings and they
crackled like electricity. Unleashed, all her frustration and anxiety poured out, making the
flames roar even louder, more violent, drowning out the voices around her.
 120

There were people shouting at her to stop. Frantic voices were screaming.

“Cease!”

This voice had the force of a blizzard and it hit her hard, fire against ice. She
screamed, losing control.

“Cease!”

The blizzard voice again. And this time, it had the effect of an ice wall, smacking
the young phoenix-woman dead center. She fell from the sky and hit the ground.

Later, as she swam in and out of fevered consciousness, she glimpsed the abbess’s
stern face.

Then a shroud of cold wrapped around her and she descended into oblivion.

***

She awoke, suspended in clear water.

Falling water thundered about her and she realized, with a gasp, that she was tied
and kept afloat in the pool. The water was frigid, fed straight from the mountains. She
shivered – they had stripped her of her clothing. Instinctively, she reached for her
phoenix flame, only to find that it had been reduced to an ember. She recoiled in instant
fear and shock, sobbing.

“You almost burned the nunnery down, your Highness.”

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The abbess sat on a rattan chair on the edge of the pool. Her expression was
inscrutable, but Min Feng could feel her anger. A glacial anger, firmly controlled at the
moment.

“I am… sorry,” the young woman said sincerely and she remembered so many
“sorries”, so many apologies. Contrition merged with regret.

“Apologies are not enough,” the abbess said, shaking her head slowly, ruefully.
“When the damage has already been wrought.”

The young woman felt tears emerge from her eyes, streaming down her wet face.
The water was frigid, numbing her bones. She wanted so much to get out of the water and
dry herself. Warm herself and wear clothes. And she was ashamed.

“What can I do?” She whispered faintly and the abbess heard her.

“Curb your flame. Learn how to control it.” The old woman replied and lifted the
young woman out of the water with her chi. She covered the shivering girl in a thick
towel and led her away from the Crystal Pool tenderly.

“Now your actual training will begin.”

***

As they walked away from the Crystal Pool, Min Feng could see the ugly black
burn marks on the ground, the wilted trees with charred branches and melted statues with
drooping features. She closed her eyes and let her tears fall unchecked. She would have
killed someone with her phoenix flame. No. Temper tantrum. She could not restrain her
nei huo. She remembered broken shards, scattered on a marbled floor.

It was an awful revelation. It rocked her instantly to her core.

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***

The abbess started her on basic meditation. Focusing on her nei huo, her inner
flame. She was taught how to visualize placing boundaries around the fire, banking it and
still maintaining its heat. She could see the embers within her, glowing a bright pink.
Under the guidance of the abbess, she began to cultivate it, calm it and control it.

As her training continued, she grew accustomed to the bland food served in the
main dining hall and even grew fond of the sweetness of the bean curds. Her water was
the cool fresh water from the Crystal Pool. Her irritation disappeared and was replaced
with calm. She soon slept well enough on the rough hard bed. She could balance herself
with the numerous meditative poses.

Her dreams were of gentle repose, of a phoenix perched and gazing

contemplatively at the moons.

By the fourth month, the young woman walked as quietly and as steadily as the
rest of the acolytes, heads bowed in silent contemplation. Her movements were gentle,
unhurried. Her phoenix flame was a soft candle fire inside, present yet not wild and
destructive.

By the fifth month, the abbess decided to put the princess of the Phoenix Court to the test.

***

It was the Month of Dry Heat and the nunnery was unbearably warm. Somewhere
below the mountains, farmers were preparing rice dumplings, steaming them in huge
pots. As an gesture of goodwill, the farmers would send up a basketful of dumplings to
the nunnery so that they too could partake of the summer richness.
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The young princess of the Phoenix Court ate with the rest of the acolytes, a part of
them now. They had the dumplings as a special meal and she savored the delicious
glutinous rice, reminded somewhat of extravagant and even fanciful rice dumplings at the
Court.

It was after the rare treat when the abbess summoned her to her inner sanctum.
She padded softly into the room, noticing that the abbess was standing beside the
window, looking concerned.

“I have a task for you,” the abbess’s voice was deep now, with worry. “The spring
waters seem to have run dry and the Crystal Pool has not been fresh for a while now.”
Indeed, when the princess looked out of the window, the waterfall seemed to have
dwindled to a trickle and the Pool was still.

“I want you to go up to the mountains and check if the springs are blocked.”

The young woman bowed respectfully and accepted the imperative.

***

By the Heavens, it is hot!

The princess wiped perspiration off her face as she attempted to climb the
increasingly steep slope. She had been harassed by a living mist of biting flies, her
sleeves torn by brambles and her footing confounded by treacherous rocks. For a while,
she had admired the breathtaking views, taking in the sights and sounds of the mountain.
There were trees, pine trees, transplanted so long ago by her ancestors; they were heavy
with ripe cones. Birdsong filtered through the canopy and occasionally, she heard the
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hunting cough of some mountain neo-lynx, no doubt pursuing prey in the shadows. The
flies beset her the moment she began her ascent up the mountain slope. Her hands ended
up grazing the thorns of trailing brambles and red cuts criss-crossed her skin. As she
neared the springs or so she thought, she tripped easily. Rocks came out from nowhere,
blocking her feet. They were already smarting with prolonged and unfamiliar use.

She grit her teeth and drew on her reserves. She avoided her phoenix flame. It
remained a steady and silent glow inside her. Rocks scattered around her and she pulled
herself, using her upper body strength. She strained to hear the tell tale sound of a spring.
The sound of bubbling or gurgling, perhaps. None. It was silent.

With some effort, she finally reached the top. Wearily, she took some time to
catch her breath and to take in her surroundings. This was where the springs were
supposed to be, flowing forth and down the mountain to splash into the crystal-clear pool
below. What she saw was hard earth, parched beyond measure.

She searched the area for possible spring sources, following her instincts. She
came across a pile of huge rocks. There was a hint of water seeping forth from the earth
near the rocks. She touched it to confirm it. It was soft with mud and as she pressed into
it, water quickly filled the indentation. Cool, clear water. She pawed at the mud and more
water flowed out; she dipped her hand in and quenched her thirst.

The young woman, the princess of the Phoenix Court, drew up her sleeves then
and lifted a rock with her bare hands. It was infernally heavy. She carried it to one side
and moved onto the next. Her hands grew blistered, bruised. Her calves hurt, unused to
the strain. As she worked hard under the hot sun, her frustrations, long thought banished,
crept back. She tried to push them away and erected more filters, mentals shields just as
the abbess had taught her.

Another rock. Her back grew sore and she was in dire need of more refreshing
water. The fire inside her grew brighter. Shocked, she tried to calm herself down. She
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recalled the fateful incident a few months when she damaged the nunnery. Her frustration
was fueling the phoenix fire.

Yet it was so tempting, like a beautiful fire ready to be used, at her command. It
was part of her and right now, as she sloughed through the rocks, it demanded to be let
free again. No more fetters, it seemed to whisper. No more boundaries. Free me. I can
blast the rocks away and unblock the spring.

Images of her mother, flame-bright and majestic, came into her mind. She was the
scion of a long line of phoenix-blooded folk. It was her birthright to be phoenix, to claim
that energy, that power.

Her fingers began to glow, giving forth tiny balls of golden light at the tips.
Dessicated earth turned liquid. She could feel her hair crackle.

Free me/you. I can remove the rocks. I can unblock the spring.

“You are part of me, phoenix flame,” she argued fiercely. “I am not going to let
you control me.”

The golden light flowed up her arms, humming down her body in an intensely
pleasurable flood of sensations. Oh heavens, she wanted it so much!

With cold determination, the princess circled the phoenix flame with barriers of
ice. She welcomed the cool gentle touch of the meditation, firmly pushing the flame
away. The phoenix flame flashed once, twice – and then it was hushed, its ferocious light
dimmed. For a moment.

She trembled, from the adrenaline rush. Her head bent in humility, she continued
removing the rocks. She had to help her abbess and the nunnery. They needed the fresh
running water more than her.
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***

From the bottom of the cliff, the abbess kept watch, her cotton hood covering her
head, looking as if she was deep in a meditative trance. She tried to feel a sense of
optimism. As the afternoon grew into evening, she saw that the water was still not
flowing. The cliff was dry. The Crystal Pool was smooth as a mirror.

She feared that the test had come to naught.

She remembered another young woman, in another lifetime. Edgy and flushed
with her newfound abilities, standing before her, the abbess of Ermei. Same slender
figure, high cheekbones, aristocratic and haughty, made more so by the arrogance of
youth and the privilege of imperial royalty and bloodlines. Like mother, like daughter?
Had the training not worked? How was she going to explain to her former pupil that her
daughter had failed? “Please help me to curb or reduce her nei huo, Reverend Mother.
Your faithful student in gratitude.” The words in the letter held so much hope.

The sound of water dripping broke the silence. The abbess frowned to herself and
stared hard. A thin but constant stream of water was making a series of concentric circles
on the otherwise even surface of the Crystal Pool. As she watched, her heart gradually
beating faster, the stream grew strong, more vigorous.

With a rumbling roar, torrential water poured down, foaming into the pool. The
abbess lifted her face up to feel the cool mist. In the light of the setting sun, tiny rainbow
arcs formed in the spray.

She smiled. Somewhere, somehow, a young woman had curbed the flame.
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Chapter One

When the Empress of the Phoenix Court, matriarchal ruler of the Alliance Planets,
gave birth to her first daughter, the royal midwives took blood samples from the blood-
covered newborn and ran routine tests. The princess was healthy, immensely so – and she
carried the gene that would turn human to phoenix. The midwives brought the good news
to the resting Empress who, tired after an exhausting labor, simply nodded and drowsed,
the little princess in the crook of her right arm.

The gene carried the phoenix flame, the vital spark triggering the fantastic
transformation from human to a mythological bird created from fire. No one knew how
the gene came about, only that it was passed down from mother to daughter, from a
matrilineal bloodline stretching way back to Old Terra. What people knew was that
certain women could shape-shift into glorious birds of light and energy, and the gene
could jump generations.

Stories and myths grew around this genetic gift, an almost magical aura
surrounding the Phoenix Court which, in itself, was purely Imperial and political in
nature, run by women and female relatives. These lordly women sent their starships
across the galaxies, founding and strengthening the Alliance Planets, a conglomeration of
planets and colonies formed after the Dispersal from Old Terra, with inter-marriages and
pacts. As they spread their influence like large cosmic wings, so did the myths and
legends of phoenixes.
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The newborn princess, scion of an ancient bloodline, did not know all of these
yet. Her life was filled with sweet milk from her mother’s breasts and warm comfortable
blankets, with caring and vigilant nannies who kept an eye on her all the time. Yet, subtle
hints of her phoenix flame were there: tiny dancing flames, like those of lit candles,
floated above her tiny slumbering form. The nannies marveled at this. Perhaps, one day,
she would grow into a woman like her mother, the Empress.

***

“For the Heavens’ sake, could you please wait for me?”

The pony-tailed girl, wearing a thick beige vest and trousers for it was Autumn,
urged her mount forward. Her attention was focused on the rider in front of her, cantering
away as if there was nary a care in the world. All she could hear was teasing laughter and
she bit her lip, frustrated. She kicked her bay neo-equus lightly and it picked up speed, its
ears back with its own irritation.

Finally, she did manage to catch up with the other rider who rode a chestnut neo-
equus with clear Arabian features and caffeine-dark mane. It snorted and pawed the earth,
eager to be off again, so much like its rider that the girl forgot about her own annoyance
and started laughing. It was so hard to get angry with her cousin.

“You love to race, don’t you?” She raised her voice so that the other rider could
hear her. Where they were, sound traveled, because it was a beautiful tract of Imperial
land, created specifically for neo-equus sports. Tall trees bordered the tract, the green-
yellow leaves rustling and some already cascading down like golden rain. The sky was
pale blue, the air crisp. It was a lovely day, perfect for riding. Pretty soon, it would be
cold and life would be cloistered within Courtly walls.
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Her cousin removed her helmet and shook her hair. It was glossy and black,
streaked with gold; it framed a face with refined cheekbones and oblique brown eyes.
Beneath the heavy riding gear was a slender figure, hardened by constant activity.

“So do you, Bei.” The girl answered lazily and grinned, patting her chestnut neo-
equus affectionately.

“You are impossible,” Bei said shaking her head and removing her ponytail,
letting her own hair fall about her shoulders. They were away from any Courtly
environment and were pleased to take advantage of the freedom. The breeze stirred Bei’s
reddish-brown hair – she was a cousin from the maternal side of the family, her father
being a duke. Her mother was the Empress’s younger sister. The red came from her
father’s side which was more Caucasoid in features and temperament. She herself had
arrived from her own home-planet of Solaris to visit her favorite cousin and best friend,
the princess Min Feng. They were about the same age and shared most of their childhood
together, while their mothers were off either acting as magistrates or rulers of planets.

They allowed their steeds to munch the sweet grass at leisure while they took in
the sights and sounds. It was wonderfully quiet here, filled only with birdsong and the
occasional sounds of smaller hunting predators like minx-cats or aim-hawks. A small
stream gurgled nearby, a soft susurrus of water.

Min Feng adored this piece of land. It was her only place of true solitude, without
any interruption from her Courtly life. She smiled to herself, raking her hair casually.
Perhaps, she had a bit of the Ermei mountains in her still, a faint echo of training under
the watchful eye of a strict abbess. She envied Bei somewhat. Bei had the recessive gene
– she would not turn into a phoenix. Unlike her with the phoenix flame crackling within
her like live fire, now currently well disciplined with icy control. Of course, none could
compare to the pure joy of being a phoenix and she knew that.
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The breeze had a hint of burning wood and another more tantalizing scent.
Someone was roasting chestnuts, a tasty treat for the colder months ahead. Min Feng’s
chestnut moved restlessly; he was a young colt, already big for his size.

“Ready to head back?” Min Feng glanced at her cousin who nodded. They nudged
their neo-equii with light kicks on the flanks and made their way back to the Imperial
stables.

***

Empress Ze Tian forced her nascent frustration down and reread the long missive
sent by the envoy from Verdant IV. The farmers had refused to raise their agricultural
input for the next year, stating that the poor contribution was due to a combination of
factors: drought and disease. The river wheat production had been aversely affected and
they urged the Phoenix Court to be sympathetic to their predicament. Verdant IV
supplied the non-agricultural worlds with much needed staples. A decrease in their rice
production might mean that other agricultural worlds – Curios and Curios II – would end
up bearing the pressure.

Her own phoenix fire flared briefly into life, a burst of vivid orange flame. She
was always orange when she shifted to phoenix. Orange was her life-color, she had
mused before, when she had time for herself. She looked within, calmed the flickering
phoenix fire. No use getting furious with the farmers of Verdant IV. They were really
facing a bad year, compounded with forces they could not control. Ze Tian considered the
missive. She had strongly encouraged them to use weather controls to blunt the effects of
the climate on their crops as well as introducing disease-resistant crop species. But the
farmers were from the traditional – Old Terran – mindset. She felt conflicted now,
because she would rather prefer they keep their traditional way of life and yet adopt more
effective methods of agriculture.
 131

She would have to convince the envoys from Curios and Curios II to increase
their production and still be able to feed their own people. When she was much younger,
having just ascended to the throne, she was a firm advocate of self-sufficiency and she
made an example of that, growing her own food in the Imperial gardens. Her subjects,
however, seemed to have their own minds about doing things. A few planets adopted her
method and became independent in the long run. Others took more time and became
more resistant to change.

The Empress sipped some flower tea from her cup, savoring the sweet taste in her
mouth. The flowers were harvested and dried from the Imperial gardens. Sold, too,
apparently, according to Chamberlain Song, in the satellite markets near the Imperial
Grounds.

Girlish laughter drifted in from the courtyard. The two girls were back from their
riding excursion. Young Duchess Bei de Channey, daughter of her sister Ze Wei and her
consort Duke Garius de Channey – a good companion and foil for her often-impulsive
daughter. Solaris was a good staunch ally. Most of her sisters married the sons and male
relatives of the ruling governments of the Alliance Planets. Their children all carried the
distinctive bloodline, the Phoenix Court bloodline. Already, two nieces bore the phoenix
flame within them. It was a cause for felicitation.

Oddly enough, the phoenix flame was a mixed blessing for her daughter. It was a
glorious gift and at times, an unpleasant bane. More so when Min Feng was approaching
her age of majority. She was indeed growing up quickly. Tall, intelligent and brave – and
impetuous. She was sent to the Ermei nunnery two years ago and she seemed calmer
now, though her temper would appear occasionally.

Fire and ice, the Empress thought. Fire and ice. Opposites and in tandem with
one another. Too much of one would cause destruction.
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She recalled the cold baths ordered by the Ermei abbess, a formidable woman
who had taught many daughters from the Phoenix Court. Remembering those times made
Ze Tian chuckle softly. It had been an embarrassing time for herself and her own mother,
the Dowager now in comfortable retirement and still watching the Phoenix Court. It no
doubt had been embarrassing for Min Feng too.

Now the girl moved with a sense of calm purpose, reinforced by the meditations
done in private. But how long would the meditations hold? Min Feng was restless, a
young adult aching to see the world and beyond. She could not hold onto her daughter for
long.

Ah, young phoenix, your future awaits you, Ze Tian mused quietly. The fire beats
strong inside you and you are a sword being forged. How the sword is used is up to you
in the end

An idea blossomed in her mind and she leaned back against her rosewood chair. It
was time for the princess to learn a thing or two about the real world. She had to talk to
her consort, Duke Zhang.
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Chapter Two

The telltale signs of shifting-to-phoenix – the actinic bright flashes of light –

woke Min Feng up from a sleep littered with strange dreams of canine-headed women
and their howling songs of sorrow. She grumbled, grabbed her silk robe and flung it
around her bare shoulders, noticing that the warmth in her chambers had faded away,
leaving behind autumnal chill.

Childish laughter punctuated the flashes of light. Her youngest sister.

She flung the windows open and was immediately dazzled by the blazing pink-
orange glow. A little phoenix danced in the air, above the courtyard. Lee Shin, her
sister’s nanny, looked on with a look of worry. Déjà vu hit her, remembrance of her own
childhood.

“Be careful, Min Xin! You just might end up blinding Lee Shin and me!”

The pink phoenix landed in a spray of sparkles, leaving Min Feng with floaters in
her eyes. She rubbed them resignedly and when she opened them again, her little sister,
all smiles and bright eyes, stood where the phoenix was.

“Did you like it? Did you see me in flight?” Min Xin was literally jumping up and
down with excitement. “I was great, was I? Look at my wings!”

Min Feng had to laugh. She doted on her little sister. “I did. Next time, try to dim
your light a little. People need their eyes to see.”
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Min Xin giggled. She was born five years ago, after which the Empress declared
that she had enough of childbearing. Being the youngest, she was indulged and pampered
by her nanny as well as their father, Duke Zhang, himself a marquis and in charge of the
military training for the Imperial Fleet.

Lee Shin ushered her charge indoors and Min Feng could hear the little girl’s
giggles bubbling along the corridor. She was such a happy child.

With a sign, the first princess of the Phoenix Court turned around and made her
way to the inner chambers so that she could bathe and prepare for a new day. Watching
her sister in phoenix form had woken a strange and poignant yearning in her.

Zither music, from the main Court itself, added a doleful undercurrent in the
atmosphere.

***
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Chapter Three

The Firebird’s Tale

The Firebird gazed sadly at the figure of the prince walking away with his
beautiful bride, accompanied by his fiercely loyal wolf. The bride, a beautiful princess
with sun-red hair and fair complexion, held a large glittering feather in her delicate
hand. It glowed like a miniature star.

The sadness grew in the Firebird’s chest. She would miss the prince. He was such
a courageous young man and fortunate enough to have met the princess who was able to
defeat the evil witch. They were meant for each other. And herself? She was only a
secondary character in the story, the bringer of good hope and luck, the banisher of
darkness and evil.

In the end, she had only herself for comfort and for love. Her bloodline was rare.
Most men would shy away from her brilliance. The prince did not. He was an exception.
Her future looked bleak, un-bright like her feathers. She felt as if the sun was leaving her
body. When she knew that the prince and his bride had already left the area, probably to
a happy marriage, she changed.

Where the glorious flame-feathered Firebird once stood was a woman, dark of
hair and chiseled cheekbones. She hailed from the borderlands, between China and
Russia. Self-consciously, she touched her robes, woven with her clan’s patterns. Perhaps,
it was just a journey back to her clan village and face a silent night, alone.
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She began to pick her way through the forest. It was safe for her, because the
animals knew what she was and dared not approach her. She sighed softly and sang:

Alone, I walk-
My wings clipped, my soul
Gone.
Alone, I walk-
My eyes weep, my voice
Gone.
Alone, I walk-
My steps drag, my joy
Gone.

A twig snapped, breaking her semi-trance. She raised her right hand now
wreathed in a swirling ball of sun-fire. “Who goes there?” She snapped, feeling braver
than she was inside.

A handsome man, older than the prince, but still patrician in his features,
appeared. He was dressed in hunting leathers and he held an elegant crossbow.

“I am sorry, my lady. I seem to have startled you.” His voice was warm, like
sun-warmed honey. Amber and rich. She savored it.

“I am Prince Albard,” he introduced himself and bowed deep. The Firebird

woman smiled warmly. She could look forward to the future now.

- The Book of Phoenii, The Firebird’s Tale.

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Chapter Four

The Phoenix Court was nestled in the middle of a large interlinked network of
buildings and smaller apartments for the servants and workers. Like a labyrinth, it formed
a criss-cross of bridges and roads, with the Court itself as the nerve center and central
meeting place for the Empress to hold audiences with the numerous envoys and
delegates. There were gardens and courtyards, lakes and riding fields within this large
city, itself surrounded and protected by titanium walls. A small starship port even existed,
permitting entry of lighter spacecraft like sleds and schooners. It was said that all roads
led to the Phoenix Court: there was a main Road taken by the distinguished visitors as
well as minor merchants who might want to seek an audience with the Empress or one of
her household officials.

Around the walled city clustered the markets plying goods ranging from major
food crops and vegetables, including the famous Phoenix Court flower tea and essentials
such as clothing and bedding. The Left Quadrant market was well-known for its eclectic
and multi-cultural food items, eagerly sampled by both Phoenix Court inhabitants and
tourists alike, the only difference being that the Phoenix Court inhabitants could make
orders from the individual merchants and have them delivered to the Court straightaway.
The food hailed from Old Terra’s diverse ethnic races and the culinary exchanges and
marriages that had developed throughout the generations. The aromas were delicious and
heady, the cries of the sellers creating a cacophony of noises. To the casual glance, the
Left Quadrant was reminiscent of an ancient souk.

The more adventurous Imperial family members would don “common” and
mingle with the crowd. It was a time-honored tradition. They would merge with the
throngs of ordinary people and sample the Left Quadrant as it was, without the protection
of surly bodyguards and the artificiality of Courtly courtesy.
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Princess Min Feng pulled the cowl over her dark-gold hair and stepped across the
small land bridge joining the Left Quadrant to the back door of the Imperial kitchen. She
could already hear the merchants advertising their wares. She really wanted to try the
Amerindian fry bread and the broiled Moroccan snails, a guilty pleasure of hers.

T he crowds swallowed her up and she allowed it, letting the irresistible undertow
pull her into the flow and ebb of the moving sea of humanity and humanoids. Her eyes
took in the vibrant colors of the Left Quadrant, her nose the fragrances of the cooked and
raw food. The bowls of broiled snails beckoned to her and she bought a small bowl
whereby she enthusiastically slurped the soft rubbery flesh and sipped the spicy broth.
Then she made a stop at the store selling candied hawthorn and purchased some for Min
Xin. The tide drew her in again and she drifted along, admiring the different wares and
flavors of Old Terra.

At last she found herself at the fry bread stall and it had its fair share of regular
customers. A large pot filled with oil crackled, with a few fry bread floating and closely
watched by a teenage boy around her age, perhaps older. A middle-aged woman, her
black hair braided and trailing down her back, bantered with the customers while deftly
wrapping the fry bread in paper and handing the packages out without missing a beat.

“Hey, bird-girl,” the teenage boy greeted Min Feng with a grin and a twinkle in
his eyes. He had raven-black hair and dusky skin. He had an athletic build, clad in a
simple blue shirt and brown trousers.

Min Feng frowned at him. Bird-girl. He hardly knew her.

“I am not a bird-girl,” she said imperiously and no less offended. The boy laughed
and apologized. His eyes were intent on her though. But they seemed more of the
“interested” sort than malice or ill will.
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“I am sorry,” he said, handing her a package of fry bread, still hot from the oil.
She gave him the money and he kept it in a large metal box already bursting with the
day’s work. “It is just that you give me the impression of a bird. Like an eagle or a hawk.
Something winged.”

“Oh,” she breathed. He was remarkably perceptive. And handsome too, she
realized with some heat in her cheeks. She had certainly noticed that.

“I am Javen,” he held out his hand. “Javen.Windwalker. Navajo tribe, from the planet
Mesa.”

Min Feng considered him for a moment, unsure of her own response. She smiled
and touched his hand back. It was a little greasy. “Thorne. Earnestine Thorne. I live
around here.” She understood that Javen could only see her face and it was a face that
could belong to a girl from a merchant family. To him, she was not the princess of the
Phoenix Court and subsequent heir to the throne.

It was a refreshing change.

“Thank you, but I do have to go,” Min Feng half-lied. The masquerade had made
her a little nervous and exhilarated.

“Glad to have met you, Thorne,” Javen smiled warmly and the middle-aged
woman rapped out an annoyed scolding at him. He went back to watching the pot.

The princess melted back into the throngs of people. It was reaching mid-day and
the crowds were bound to get intense. She inhaled the aroma of the fry bread and
remembered the face of a good-looking young man. Unnoticed, she slipped back into the
Imperial kitchen, marking the end of her day out as a “common”.
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Her dreams later that night had plains and mesas, baked red and dry under the hot
sun, with hawks soaring on the thermals.

***

Private audiences with your consort/husband should be made special, without

airs and stringent protocols.

These thoughts ran through Empress Ze Tian’s mind as she waited for Duke
Zhang to arrive. To distract herself, she added more detail to the embroidered kerchief
she was making. An Empress needed to have wholesome hobbies. Her mother was
known for her origami cranes. Good way, the old Dowager had said once, to channel
your stress into something beautiful and constructive.

A resonant voice announced the arrival of Duke Zhang and she kept her needle
and kerchief into a large lacquered box ringed with little carved phoenixes in flight. A tall
man, wearing the severe garb of the Imperial military, strode in, his cloak draped on his
left arm. He had steel-grey hair, cut close to his skull. His facial features were aquiline,
cold towards his subordinates and only kept warm towards his loved ones.

“Your Majesty,” he bowed in the protocol stated for greeting the Empress. Ze
Tian winced. They were being watched by their bodyguards and maids-in-waiting. It was
all an act and they both knew it. Played along with it. They had been married long
enough to dispense with such pleasantries.

“Good afternoon, my consort,” she replied, loud enough for the listening ears to
hear. Duke Zhang had a ghost of a smile on his thin lips.

As always, she waved her servants away and the chamber was once again truly
private, a place where husband and wife could talk in peace.
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“Lukas,” Ze Tian said, without preamble. “We need to send our daughter on an
apprentice-ship.”

Duke Zhang looked at her closely. He knew which daughter she was referring to.
He had his concerns too. The girl was growing fast. His heart contracted tightly.
“Remember, my love, that she was not too happy when you sent her to the Ermei
nunnery.”

“It was needed,” Ze Tian retorted back. “Her temper got the better of her. It was
not becoming of a princess of the Phoenix Court.”

“Like someone I once knew,” Lukas Zhang smiled now and it changed his face,
made it friendlier, approachable.

“Please do not change the subject,” the Empress glared at him mock-fiercely and
she chuckled. “But I honestly feel that she needs to see the world.”

“You could send her to Fourth Aunt’s ship as an attaché,” her consort suggested,
sipping a bit of light tea, his favorite – Oolong. “As far as I know, her ship is due for re-
fitting and supplies in a month. She is also quite welcome to apprentices.”

“Fourth Aunt,” Ze Tian pursed her lips and became thoughtful. “That would mean
Min Feng have to go through a week or two of basic military training. That ship is not a
leisure craft. She will have to go in as a mere cadet.”

“I will arrange it,” Duke Lukas Zhang took out his digital stylus and noted it
down quickly.

Ze Tian felt a pang of relief as well as a surge of … sadness. This trip would be a
rite of passage. Her little phoenix would now truly fledge.
 142

Lukas noticed her expression and walked up to her, placing a gentle hand on her
shoulder. “It is needed, isn’t it?”

“Should it be any easier for her?” Ze Tian gazed back sorrowfully at her husband
and they stood together, drawing comfort from one another.

***

Young Javen Windwalker helped his aunt pack up for the night, cleaning the large
oil-slicked pot, taking care not to burn his fingers. He learned the lesson the hard way
once. While his aunt did the accounts, he placed everything – pots, plates and paper
packages – back into the plastic box they used to transport the cooking utensils and
assorted paraphernalia. They would soon retire back to the little apartment they had
rented for their stay at the Imperial City.

He missed the night sky of Mesa, where it seemed to stretch forever. Here, there
were buildings blocking the heavens and he could not see the constellations through the
layer of thin smog. A promise is a promise, he told himself mentally. He promised his
mother to help her sister. After a year or two, he would enroll himself at the Mesa
Academy. He wanted to be a healer, a doctor like his father currently serving as a
physician in the Imperial Fleet. He had not seen his father for ages now, though he did
receive letters and gifts.

He looked at his hands, still a little greasy from the day’s activities. A medicine
man’s hands, the aunts used to tell him. No, he did not want to pick herbs and fragrant
sage for the rest of his life. The world was out there, waiting for him to explore. He was
nineteen, already a man in the eyes of his mother and aunts.

And ah, Earnestine Thorne. What a strange girl, with such a presence about and
in her. She intrigued him. And such an unforgettable face! Impassive, with hints of fire.
She seemed deep, with many layers within her.
 143

Perhaps, she would appear tomorrow. He began to hum an old warrior’s dance
song to himself.
 144

Chapter Five

Earnestine Thorne did appear again, buying some of the delicious fry bread. They
ended up talking and Javen brought the girl to a quiet place that he had discovered: a
grass slope facing a canal. They exchanged little stories, anecdotes and jokes, attempting
to know each other without letting on too much. Javen told her about the legends passed
down by his ancestors, about Coyote and Raven.

The meetings grew more regular and they would sit on the grass slope, watching
the purple river herons fish in the shallow canal. Earnestine Thorne seemed happier and
relaxed. They shared fry bread and fresh peaches. Sometimes, Javen would bring a flask
of horchata, a specialty made by his aunt.

One day, Earnestine was late and Javen Windwalker wondered why. She
appeared hours later, looking flushed and evidently trying to control her anger. She
schooled her expression to that of relative calm when she saw him, smiled and shook her
head when he asked her about it. This time, they nibbled on crepes filled with finely
chopped peanuts and sugar. Earnestine remained ill at ease and her vivid face clouded
with hidden emotions. She managed to finish her food and simply sat, observing the
flocks of white doves roosting on the cable lines above their heads.

“I am not able to see you after next week,” she said suddenly, unhidden. Javen felt
surprised but he listened quietly. “I am… my family is leaving the Imperial city. I am
being sent off to… a school.”

Javen had the unexpected vision of a great bird spreading its wings and blinked.
Did she have a totem or animal guide?
 145

“We can still keep in contact,” Javen tried to reassure Earnestine who only smiled
wanly.

“The school … is quite restrictive when it comes to personal correspondences,”

she sighed and brushed the bits of peanut and sugar off her lap.

“I am sure we can communicate again if our paths cross.”

Earnestine gave him that rueful tired smile once more and did not say anything
else.

***

Min Feng yanked off her hood the moment she entered back into Imperial
grounds. Her heart seethed in turmoil. Almost instantly, her fingers sparked white. Some
of the guards manning the gates certainly saw the phenomenon and came rushing to her.

“Your Highness, do you need help?” The commander saluted smartly. She had to
wave him away, blunting her snappishness with a half-smile and a negative shake of her
head.

She fled back into her own chambers where she removed her robes and hood. The
garments pooled around her feet and she kicked off her boots. Must her esteemed parents
always send her away? Was she such a disturbance and irritation in their lives?

She fought down the urge to shift into phoenix. Her phoenix flame, her nei huo,
roared within its icy shields, demanding to be let out. She had to breathe in and out,
calming herself down. It was too dangerous to shift indoors, inside her chambers.
 146

As Earnestine Thorne, she had developed a friendship with the Amerindian boy
Javen. As Earnestine and Min Feng, she certainly experienced something more than
friendship. When she bid her farewell to Javen, she could see the regret and
disappointment in his eyes. It was all too unbearable for her.

In the Court, she had no confidant. Save for Bei who had since left for her home
planet. Talking to her cousin via the cumbersome machines paled in comparison to
having her physically beside her, holding her hand in mute sympathy. Little Min Xin was
too young to understand her older sister and Min Feng was not close to her siblings. Even
her youngest brother, Min De, was more interested in warships and war games, taking no
part in her life whatsoever. And what would Bei say regarding this matter anyway?

Talking to her mother was out of the question, since the Empress was the main
cause of her problem.

It was supposed to be an apprentice-ship onboard a starship captained by one of

her grand aunts. She ought to be excited about it. She might end up being a captain of her
own ship one day. Except that she was not.

None at all.

Min Feng felt as if she was about to implode and go super-nova. Instead, she sank
to the floor and tasted bitter tears.

***

A slim dark figure slipped out from the kitchen backdoor, clad in nondescript
cloths and shielding its face with a veil. It was past midnight and still, the silence only
broken by the shuffle of soldier boots and the occasional whinny from the stables. The
figure had evaded the sounds as much as it had evaded the soldiers and guards patrolling
the area.
 147

The dark figure carried nothing, save for a small bag. It stayed with the shadows,
following its instincts and an address. The Left Quadrant had closed for the night and
there were only a few people, mostly cleaners, combing the area and scouring the ground
with hot water and disinfectant.

Closer and closer. A simple white metal door. A furtive knock. No answer.
Louder knocks, almost desperate. A masculine voice, sleep-drenched, muttered
something. The door opened, light spilling forth like sun rays. The boy’s eyes widened.

“Earnestine!”

“Let me in. Please.”

“Earnestine!”

A sleepy woman’s voice could be heard, asking what was wrong and who was at
the door.

“I will explain later. Let me in.”

With a heavy sigh, Javen Windwalker opened the door wider and let the princess
of the Phoenix Court in.
 148

Chapter Six

When he was growing up on the Mesa colony, all gangly limbs and hyperactive
mind, his mother and his aunts used to talk to him constantly – when he was not running
through the desert with the rest of the Mesa boys – that he must always walk in Beauty
and that he must set an example to his fellow brothers and sister so that they too might
walk in Beauty as well. Hozhoni.

At the moment, he was not walking in Beauty, because he did not feel harmonious
at all. In front of him sat the girl, hunched over, hiding her face with her hands. So much
for hozhoni. Everything right now was out of whack and out of balance. He clearly felt as
if he had lost his equilibrium. Should he return her back to her family, probably beset
with anxiety at the disappearance of their daughter? It was the right thing to do, wasn’t it?

She explained, in halting words, that she had a disagreement with her family and
had run away to escape her family’s wrath. What was she fleeing from? Her family cared
for her, didn’t they?

His aunt coughed, signaling for attention. She had roused herself out from her bed
and upon seeing the girl, poured warm corn soup into a bowl and bade her eat. His family
always extended their hospitality, even to strangers.

“Who is this strange girl?” His aunt asked in a low voice, not trying to disturb the
visitor. “Her face looks vaguely familiar.”

Javen could not lie to his aunt. “She is the girl whom I have been talking to, Aunt
Betta. Merchant family.”
 149

His aunt placed her right hand on her forehead. “Her family must be so worried!”
She gasped. “And you said that she had argued with her parents.”

Javen nodded, feeling uncomfortable at the way Aunt Betta was looking at him.

“My dear boy,” Betta exhaled slowly, eyeing the girl not unkindly. “You are
indeed your father’s son. Healer’s heart. Something in you felt the compassion and
welcomed her in. But I see she have her own problems. What are you going to do about
it?”

“I…”

“Javen, we do have a business to run. And this girl needs her family, no matter
how much she says she hates them now. I do not want the authorities knocking on our
door for harboring a runaway.” Aunt Betta wrapped her Dine blankets around her and
went back to bed.

Hozhoni.

***

Despite of Aunt Betta’s misgivings, Javen had Earnestine sit behind their shop
while they readied the wares for the new day. It was a dicey thing to do. Aunt Betta
obviously was uneasy about it but she said nothing, putting her professional face on for
the customers. She had Javen prepare the fry bread dough, supervising him as she always
did. Earnestine - the strange girl - helped out a little with the corn flour. She was still
covering her face.
 150

The morning crowds appeared the moment the Left Quadrant was declared open.
The merchants hawked their goods and the aromas filled the air once more. Javen moved,
like clockwork, pouring oil into the large steel pot, helping his aunt with the payments
and spare change, light banter with regular faces and new customers. It was a familiar
dance and he lost himself in it for a precious moment. He had Earnestine watch over the
oil. It must be kept at a certain temperature, so that the bread could fry nicely and without
getting burned. It was very hot and he could see her perspiring and moping her face with
her veil.

He really had to bring her back to her family.

***

The alarm was raised when the maidservants announced that they could not find
Min Feng. She had not appeared for the morning breakfast. When they went to check her
chambers, it was empty. Her clothes were strewn on the floor. Her bed was empty and
cold. At first, they thought that she had gone for an early morning riding exercise. Yet
when they checked with the stable grooms and helper-boys, they shook their head. Her
favorite chestnut neo-equus colt was happily munching on his alfalfa and oats. In his
stall. They searched for her in the gardens, thinking that she might have gone strolling.
None. She was not in the gardens, smelling her beloved jasmine flowers.

They informed the Empress who dropped her chopsticks in shock and got up
swiftly from her seat, ignoring her breakfast. Little Min Xin, not knowing what had
happened but she knew that her big sister was not around, started to cry, quickly hushed
by her nanny.
 151

The alarm became an extensive search and the urgent call was made to the police
services who dutifully added a digital facsimile of the princess to their Missing Persons
data-bank. Because Min Feng was the apparent heir to the Phoenix Court, the alert was a
Code Red and the visual message was sent to all enforcers in the City and beyond.

The Empress, grieving, shifted to phoenix-form and combed the area herself.

***

An orange phoenix, the color of flame, was spotted in the sky and everyone
paused to look at the wonderful sight. The bright bird, sun-fierce, seemed to be looking
for something.

“Did you see that?” Aunt Betta sounded awed, her business briefly unguarded, as
she watched the creature soar overhead. She did not see Earnestine squirm uneasily and
hunch deeper, making herself as small as possible.

Javen had to admire the grace of the phoenix in flight. He was reminded of the
Thunderbird.

“One of the Imperial members,” he said softly. “Amazing.” Instinctively and not
even sure why, he glanced at Earnestine who became more silent, almost mute. Is the
orange phoenix looking for you, my strange girl? And he was surprised at that thought.
He had to get back to the fry bread.

It was in the act of turning when he tripped over a wire leading to the stove heater,
He flung out his right hand to support his fall, touched the rim of the hot-oil pot… that
tilted sharply, splashing the blistering oil…
 152

… onto Earnestine who screamed in agony, clutching and tearing at her face.
There was the horrid smell of burning flesh as the girl rolled on the ground, sobbing and
covering her face. For a heart-stopping moment, her face seemed wreathed in white
flame…

People were shouting. His aunt was at once scolding him and trying to right the
pot. Hot oil sizzled all over, redolent of fry bread.

Javen rushed to Earnestine’s side. By now, the girl was reduced to a state of
whimpering. He gently pulled her stiff hands away from her face and suffered a shock at
the sight of the obvious blister across her lips and her left cheek. He was totally at fault
and he bit his own lip, helping her up. It was a good thing, out of the overwhelmingly bad
situation, that he knew some rudimentary burn treatment, all thanks to his father’s
medical textbooks.

***

She is still around, the orange phoenix who was the Empress cried. I can still feel
her. Where is she? Where are you, my dear daughter?

Min Feng screamed inside, stifling her own physical voice. Her mental voice
continued to shriek. It burned. Oh the heavens, it really burned. She sobbed
uncontrollably while gentle hands lifted her up. Javen. He was trying to help her. Her veil
was plastered to her face, partially melted into her flesh. He was trying to peel it off…

And she blacked out from the sheer pain, spinning into the void.

***
 153

Javen worked as calmly and meticulously as he envisioned what a physician, a

healer, would in such a situation. The burns were not bad, but severe enough to leave
scars when they eventually healed. Earnestine collapsed the moment he attempted to
remove the veil from her face. The shock from the pain was that great. He had the
antiseptic, the saline wash and rolls of clean bandages and gauze, taken from the medical
kit he insisted to be brought along for the trip to the Imperial City.

Angry crimson and swollen splotches marred her striking face. Her lips bore
blisters, reminiscent of the skin of a fried fish, bubbling up. He cleaned the burns with
antiseptic and saline, noting that the hot oil had dissolved skin. The trick now was to
prevent infection from taking place. He swallowed, feeling a tight grip of guilt
constricting his throat. With some degree of determination, he bandaged her face, making
sure that her raw skin had some breathing space. He would have to check the progress of
healing regularly.

The only thing now was to let her sleep and rest. She slept fitfully, twitching, her
body no doubt experiencing some pain feedback. He washed his hands, done with the
treatment.

He went out into the den area of the little apartment and sat down heavily. His
aunt stayed at their stall in the Left Quadrant. He wished, wistfully, for home, for Mesa
and its large open expanse of desert land. If he were there, he would be running off the
churning emotions and feelings inside his head. She had to go back to her family once
she was better.

Hozhoni.
 154

With beauty, may I walk.

With beauty before me, may I walk.
With beauty behind me, may I walk.
With beauty above me, may I walk.
With beauty all around me, may I walk.
 155

Chapter Seven

By evening, the three-dimensional holograph image of Her Royal Highness,

Princess Min Feng of the Phoenix Court, daughter of the Empress Ze Tian, had appeared
in all available vid-booths and digi-posters. There was one in every Quadrant of the
markets, flashing the visual information every five minutes. Concerned citizens watched
the holograph of the princess: her features proper and arrogant, clad in shimmering
finery.

Betta felt her age tonight. She was getting old. Her joints ached and exhaustion
was lead in her bones. Soon, she would end up joining the elders on Mesa. Her nerves
were still frayed, partly because of the incident in the morning. Her nephew had promptly
treated the girl. The burns looked serious to her and the girl was crying so much because
of the searing pain. Strange as she was, the girl had a beautiful face, now disfigured by an
act of carelessness. She knew her sister, Javen’s mother, would have words with her.

The digi-poster was showing the very life-like copy of the missing Imperial
princess, slowly turning around. Betta examined the facial appearance carefully. She did
remind her of someone. The strange girl.

The strange girl who claimed that she was a merchant’s daughter and was now
currently lying injured in their little rented apartment, her face sullied by scorching oil.

It was an uncanny resemblance, almost like her twin.

Unless.
 156

Betta had not become a successful trader by sheer luck. She was experienced
enough to add the events and incidents together. What had her dear nephew gotten
himself into? He was not stupid. He was a smart kid, destined to become someone great
like his doctor, may the spirits bless his soul.

She had to chuckle. Javen was so like her sister when she was younger, in her
teenage years. And his father. Both passionate people, with strong views and fixed ideas.
Idealistic and altruistic in nature. She was not surprised he was drawn to the strange girl
like a moth to a flame. He was about that age too, to start looking at girls. She
remembered a little boy, darkened by the sun, scrambling down the cliffs, his hair tousled
and covered with sand. He was always showing what he had discovered: Mesan
scorpions, weird bugs and bundles of wild sage that he gifted to her, willingly and so
open-hearted. Almost a son to her, as she did not have any children of her own.

She slapped her thighs and focused on the business at hand. She needed to talk to
both Javen and the strange girl as soon as possible.

***

It was the pain that woke Min Feng up. A smarting raw pain starting from her
jaw, right up to the left side of her face. She automatically reached up and touched
rustling bandage and gauze. It felt damp. The memory of what had happened flooded
back, as lethal as the hot oil itself, and she groaned aloud.

“Hey, don’t touch the bandage,” Javin’s voice was beside her and she gazed up at
his brown eyes. “Let the burns heal naturally. Here, let me check the bandages…”

She closed her eyes. Her mother must be frantic by now. And probably a search
had been launched.
 157

“The burns are not infected at the moment, which is a good sign,” Javin said and
placed something cool in her hand. It was a glass of water with a straw. It was after a few
sips that she realized she had a very parched throat and was immediately grateful for the
water.

“You need to rest a couple of days,” the young man continued, putting the glass
away on the bedside table. “Don’t want to let your family worry that much about you.”

“My family…” She choked on the rest of the words. The tiny rational voice in her
reprimanded her for her impulsiveness. She should have stayed in her chambers, listened
to her parents and apprenticed herself on her aunt’s ship. The price of her rebellion. Her
actions were culpable. And perhaps, the Ermei abbess and her mother had been correct
after all. She let her impulsiveness get the better of her again. The last time she did that,
she was tied up and suspended in a pool of ice water.

The price of her rebellion.

“You need to go back to your family, Earnestine,” Javin said quietly, gently.
“You can’t run away from them forever. Could you have talked to them and voiced your
own wishes? What do you want to do?”

The questions startled her, shook her truly awake. She did not know what she
wanted. She was a phoenix without a purpose.

It was a chill and sobering thought, far worse than the burns on her cheek. She did
not know what she wanted. No, an apprentice-ship on a starship did not appeal to her.
Nor the art of diplomacy, which, she knew, must be learned, as she would have to ascend
to the Phoenix Throne one day. Merchant. She liked the idea of traveling and selling
wares, something she ruefully acknowledged was not really orthodox. She had aunts and
cousins who could do that. They were natural traders, quick on their mental feet. Yet…
 158

She could be a merchant and she should work towards that goal. The fires of her
impulsive nature must be curbed. With the ice of cold consideration and deliberation. She
wanted to learn how to trade, how to procure items.

“Merchant…” She whispered and Javin looked at her strangely and with a fair bit
of concern. Was she experiencing pain from the burns? He reached for the burns lotion
and the cotton wool.

“Ah, you are awake.” Aunt Betta appeared at the doorway, bearing a tray of soup
and water. “We have to talk, strange girl. You and I. Javin, you too.”

***

“So the little phoenix has flown the coop,” the elderly woman with snow-white
hair in a carefully maintained bun said brusquely.

Ze Tian inhaled sharply, stung by the dry tone of her Fourth Aunt. She had spent
the whole day in a slow swirling panic. Min Feng was still around. She could feel her.
She had not gone far. Duke Zhang had sent his men to thoroughly search the City. He too
confided in her that he had an intuition that Min Feng was nearby.

“Trust me,” she responded in a like tone. “I can still find her. I can feel her nei
huo. It beats strong, Fourth Aunt.”

The image of Fourth Aunt, Admiral Medea, bore an amused smile, which did not
help Ze Tian’s current mood. Her ship, the Talons Rampant, was now on-route to the
Imperial planet.
 159

“What are you going to do to her once she’s been found, niece?” Medea eyeballed
her and the Empress felt like a little girl once more, receiving instructions from her aunts.
She hated that. It made her feel… juvenile. And she was a grown woman and the ruler of
the Alliance Planets for Heavens’ sake. “Bind her feet? Lock her in her room? Send her
to another remote nunnery?”

“Fourth Aunt…” Ze Tian did not like and need the merciless needling now. Out
of all her aunts, Medea had the bluntest personality and she ran a fairly tight ship.

“Did you ask her what she wanted?” The admiral continued relentlessly. “Or did
you just follow what your mother had done, when you were a youth?”

Ze Tian stared. Medea and her sister – the Dowager – did have some differences
in opinions and had sometimes come to verbal fisticuffs. Medea was very much a person
who believed in individual choice and the Dowager fought that bitterly.

“You didn’t, didn’t you?” Medea’s dry tone was back, stronger than ever. The
admiral rubbed her temples, a sign of emotion. “Heavens’ bells, you should have known
better. Feng is no longer a child, to be coddled or to be put away if she misbehaves. Have
you ever talked to her about her own needs? She is almost a grown woman.”

“Fourth Aunt, if you stop lecturing…” Ze Tian knew her voice was raised. Her
phoenix fire flickered, once, twice.

Medea burst out laughing, a low contralto. “No, no, not lecturing, my dear
Empress-niece. Just the plain and simple truth. As I have told your mother a thousand
times…” She turned, as if she was going through important document files. “Medea.
Out.” And the screen was soon replaced by the emblem of the Phoenix Court, a phoenix
in flight.
 160

Ze Tian leaned back against her chair, exasperated and aware that her Fourth Aunt
was right.

Oh, Min Feng. Where are you? What are you doing?

A single tear curved down her face.

Hope was a precious thing.

 161

Chapter Eight

The Phoenix Who Was A Chicken

There is a story, a childhood story told to generations of children. It is about the

Phoenix who was a chicken. The story talks about this barnyard cockerel who is a kind
soul. He is helpful, kind-hearted and lends a wing to anyone who needs help, animal or
human. But he wonders about his Life Purpose. One day, he finds himself staring at the
sky and lo! there is a beautiful creature, a beautiful bird with opalescent flowing wings
and feathers, gliding through the blue sky gracefully. The beauty of this bird calls out to
the cockerel who feels a sense of affinity with it. But the chicken dismisses it as fanciful
imagination...

Then, one day, the cockerel has to help someone put out a huge fire. He runs into the
burning house, looking for people trapped within the burning furnace... and he finds
himself trapped by flaming beams. Closer and closer the fiery tongues draw near. The
chicken feels himself burning up and he closes his eyes, praying for death...

... and he finds himself changing, his ordinary feathers turning a burnished gold... He is
surprised...

A beautiful bird emerges from the fire, his wings brilliant opalescence. The chicken has
been transformed.

Extremely surprised, the ex-chicken looks at his magnificent new body. Just then, the
beautiful bird, one of the celestial phoenixes, the one he had seen earlier, appears. It is a
'she' and she greets him warmly. Together, they fly towards the sunrise.

--- The Book of Phoenii, “The Phoenix Who Was A Chicken”.

 162

Chapter Nine

Min Feng swallowed nervously as she began her journey back to her family, the
Navajo young man Javen Windwalker beside her, a solid presence. Behind them strolled
Aunt Betta, forming the rear of this trio of individuals. In front of them loomed the
daunting obsidian gates of the Phoenix Court. For a moment, Min Feng, heir of the
Phoenix Throne, paused. I never knew that the gates looked so intimidating…

It had been almost a week when she finally worked up her courage and decided,
once and for all, to return to the Phoenix Court. Aunt Betta had sat down with her and
talked for a long time. The astute middle-aged woman had seen through her disguise, her
masquerade; she simply posed a few questions to the amazed princess who was
Earnestine Thorne no longer. Javen had remained in his seat, shocked and a little
betrayed. She could not blame him.

“I just want honest answers, Your Highness,” Aunt Betta has said. No airs, no
mincing around with words. Plain speech, though gently delivered. “Do you want to go
back to the Phoenix Court? What do you plan to do after this adventure?”

Javen could be heard clearing his throat, wanting to interject but was silenced by
his aunt who regarded the princess with calm eyes. Min Feng, her face smarting with the
burns, absorbed the questions and mulled them over. When she finally reached her own
inner conclusions, she replied with a subdued voice: “I want to go back to the Phoenix
Court. And – she glanced at Javen and then at Aunt Betta – I plan to bring the two of you
along with me.”

Aunt Betta’s only word was “Ah” before she nodded and leaned back against her
seat, her eyes twinkling.
 163

“I would also want to learn a more of your trade,” Min Feng had continued
carefully. “Give me two days, at your stall, before I return to the Phoenix Court.”

“Deal,” Aunt Betta replied and Javen gaped, looking at the two women, one
young and one older (and hopefully, wiser). Aunt Betta later left the room, satisfied.
There was an awkward silence in the room, punctuated only by breathing. Min Feng
peered at Javen through her bandage, not knowing what to say, except a “Sorry.”

“You should have told me the truth,” Javen’s voice bore a tinge of anger.

“I am a princess of the Phoenix Court, Javen. I cannot go around as a normal

person.” The words came out, more bitter than she had intended. “What is normal for
you, to be able to walk around freely, is not for me. In some ways, I envy you. The only
way I can walk around as a “common” is to wear a mask and adopt a false name.”

She closed her eyes, exhaustion settling in. Already, she could feel her burns
healing. That was one secret legacy of the phoenix flame.

She did not hear Javen leaving the room.

***

For two days, she roused herself from the bed and started learning the art of
trading from Aunt Betta. Javen did not speak to her for a few hours as she worked the till
and made fry bread dough. A couple of times, she saw the imposing black uniforms of
her father’s soldiers mingling with the crowds, sticking out like sore thumbs. They were
looking for her. Her face, bandaged and disfigured, remained masked to the public eye.
Aunt Betta simply introduced her to a few curious customers as her niece who “was
mute” and “was eager to help her aunt.”
 164

There was definitely the art of diplomacy at play, watching people’s reactions and
judging their characters. Sometimes, other merchants would approach Aunt Betta to trade
for extra flour and oil in exchange for other essentials. It was not merely the business of
selling fry bread and corn meal. Min Feng saw other aspects of the Left Quadrant at play:
the ways of merchants and the devious art of trading. It seemed that Aunt Betta was an
important and respected figure in the Left Quadrant. She was a crafty negotiator, as sharp
as her own aunts and relatives who held key economic positions in various Alliance
planets. Aunt Betta was at once warm and incisive, without compromising on her friendly
personality. In one day alone, she could arrange for new shipments of flour and oil – and
from the best suppliers – and settle a few deals with the local merchants (for medicine
and clothing). She observed the Navajo woman as a mute girl, her last disguise –
hopefully – for years to come.

As she made the fry bread and monitored the oil, she discovered that her phoenix
flame, her nei huo, was also responding to the subtle changes around her. It was sensitive
to the undercurrents of emotions and moods. With honest people, it would not react, just
a steady quiet burn. With people with shifty eyes and artificial smiles, it would change in
color – from white to a pulsating red.

By the end of day two, Javen finally spoke to her and she was glad. He held her
hand and sat with her while the day’s customers dwindled and they had a bit of breathing
space.

***

The three travelers stood before the black gates. This is it, Min Feng thought to
herself. She walked forward to the two guards manning the gates. She recognized them
from her father’s guards unit. With Javen and Aunt Betta trailing behind her, she stated
who she was.
 165

One of the pair glared at her. Bandaged face, almost ugly. Her clothes were dusty
after the walk from the Left Quadrant.

“Let me through,” her voice carried a sense of command, prompting Javen to lift
his eyebrow, seeing another side of Min Feng. “I am the Princess Min Feng, heir apparent
and first in line to the Phoenix Throne.”

The two guards barked in mocking laughter.

“You are deluded, miss,” the one with ginger hair and a jutting square jaw spat,
exchanging glances with his partner. Not another lunatic, his look said contemptuously.

“No, Guards Edward and Malik,” she said coolly. “Let me through. Do you not
know that my Imperial Mother and my father are both worried about my disappearance?”

The ginger-haired one called Edward squinted at her. “How do you know my
name?”

Min Feng had to slap down a surge in her phoenix flame. How did her father
manage to recruit such nincompoops?

Javen Windwalker shifted uneasily behind her.

“I am Princess Min Feng,” she said finally, coming to a final solution for this
meaningless charade in her mind. “You may let me and my friends through. If not,
prepare to be surprised.”

Lunatic, Edward’s eyes were accusing her. Daggers. Malik was not so sure
though, his movements uncertain.
 166

I am a phoenix with a purpose, Min Feng sighed and let the phoenix out.
Everything in the immediate surroundings flickered with white light as a phoenix, as
brilliant as lightning, took the place of the girl. There was the smell of burning ozone and
the sound of crackling.

With some effort, the phoenix shifted back to human female.

Edward and Malik had eyes as round as jade plates. Their hair stood on end from
the static. She glanced back at her two companions. Javen was nodding his head. Aunt
Betta’s mouth was arranged in an O.

Without any word, the two guards activated the gate controls. As the huge doors
groaned open, Min Feng stepped through. In front of her, the long road beckoned. This
would be the real test.

***

“Your Majesty!” Mei Hu, one of the youngest maids-in-waiting, ran up the stairs
leading to Ze Tian’s private audience chamber. “The princess… Her Highness… She is
back!”

It was a somber morning that day. Ze Tian’s mood had been growing increasingly
bleak. For a week now, her emotions roller-coastered, from impossible highs to dismal
lows. There had been reports, usually from eyewitnesses, of a girl resembling Min Feng.
In fact, some daring people brought in their own “Min Fengs”, only to be rejected most
violently and angrily. She loathed people who jested with her feelings. These foolish
people did not know that the only thing that differentiated the real Min Feng from all the
impersonators was her phoenix flame, her powerful nei huo. It would have blazed out as
bright as a beacon. She had held onto the hope that somewhere, Min Feng’s fire was
burning fiercely.
 167

“Not another impersonator, I hope,” Empress Ze Tian said drily.

Mei Hu curtsied and shook her head. “No, Your Majesty. It is truly the princess.
The guards said that she turned phoenix.”

That would explain the unexpected spark inside her, before Mei Hu came running.
Hope rose with flaming wings. She set forth immediately, forcing the maid-in-waiting to
scramble after her.

***

Min Feng waited in the Main Audience chambers, noticing that the guards and
servants were behaving oddly. Shock, aghast, disgust, relief, elation. To her credit, Aunt
Betta and Javen remained cool and collected.

Two of her maidservants were beside themselves with indecision. On one hand,
they wanted to bring her directly to the Imperial Physician. On the other, they were not
too sure if she was the real Princess Min Feng and they dithered in the wings, wringing
their hands.

There was a hush, a sudden attentiveness and the roll of drums. Then her mother
appeared. Empress Ze Tian in her normal-day finery, her face thickly made-up with white
powder, rouge and lip-paint. Her black hair was stringed with pearls and emeralds, her
favorite semi-precious stones. They glittered in the light.

“Min Feng?” Ze Tian’s voice was throaty, thick with emotion, words lodged in-
between.

“Mother…” Words left her and she knelt down, contrition filling her being.
 168

Perfume, the fragrance of orange blossoms. A gentle cool hand caressed her face.
“What happened to your face, my daughter?” Worry, concern and fear.

“Hot oil,” Min Feng gazed right into her mother’s eyes. Liquid glimmered. Tears.
“I will explain to you in due time.”

“Min Feng,” the Empress said softly. “Min Feng.” She stiffened, seeing Aunt
Betta and Javen as if for the first time. “Who are they?” Curiosity warred with
uncertainty and suspicion in the Empress’s voice.

“They are my friends, Mother,” the princess replied truthfully and Javen
straightened, bowed politely. Betta followed suit. “They have been helping me. Do not
worry, Mother. They mean no harm.”

“I see,” Ze Tian muttered, relaxing a little. She motioned curtly to her guards.
“Call off the search. The princess has returned.” She cupped Min Feng’s cheek tenderly,
the one unblemished by the burns. “We will have your burns looked into immediately. As
for your friends… Mei Hu and Mei Hua, please show our guests their quarters.” She
bowed slightly to Javen and his aunt. “I apologize for my abrupt behavior. We will talk
once more, after you have sufficient rest.”

Min Feng’s maids - their indecision having suddenly evaporated - breathed a sigh
of relief and quickly bundled her out of the Main Audience chambers, leaving Javen and
his aunt in the Main Audience.

***
 169

Chapter Ten

“I would like to congratulate whoever did the initial treatment of your burns,” the
acerbic tone of Imperial Physician Yee broke Min Feng’s reverie. She had submitted
herself to his thorough administration. The Imperial Physician was detached, clinical and
efficient: the very model of Imperial medicine. He prided himself on that. While he
examined her, she retreated back into herself, observing her surroundings as a third
person. would After the twins Mei Hu and Mei Hua had escorted back into her chambers,
numbness washed over. Back to the Phoenix Court. Back to her old life.

“The burns are healing very well,” Yee continued, washing his hands in a basin of
clean water. “Rudimentary. But good enough to stave off infection.”

Min Feng stirred, shook her head, feeling the crinkly gauze on her face. It would
be there for a while. “His name is Javen Windwalker.”

“Oh?” Physician Yee’s eyebrow bobbed up. “Interesting. Now, you need rest. No
touching of your burns. Common sense talking here, Your Highness. I will return to
change your gauze.”

He did an elaborate bow, bending low from his waist: protocol for senior court
officials. With a whisper of his embroidered court sandals, he exited, barking something
at the two waiting maids who timorously approached their mistress and bade her follow
them to the hot bath they had prepared for her. The water was deliciously warm, filled
with the essence of rose of attar and liberally covered with jasmine and rose petals,
freshly picked from the gardens. Min Feng slipped into the bath, groaning with pleasure
in spite of her own inner mental turmoil. Mei Hu and Mei Hua took extra care not to wet
the gauze while they sponged the princess with luffa scrubs and rubbed moisturizing oil
on her skin.
 170

I need to speak with my mother, Min Feng thought, restlessly, as the twin maids
washed her hair with nimble practiced fingers. I need to speak my mind.

Mei Hu and Mei Hua brought a large towel and a silk robe, wrapping the towel
around Min Feng’s body. The silk robe was later draped about her shoulders as she
stepped away from the warm bath. The two sisters worked quietly, their actions mirroring
each other. They were mirror twins and the daughters of one of the Empress’s many
distant relatives. It was an honor for them and their family to serve their illustrious
cousins.

Satisfied that the princess was finally dried, the two began to dress her in
embroidered brocade robes, sky blue with cherry blossom patterns. They styled her hair
deftly, working in tandem, pinning the long gold-streaked hair with ornate clips and
weaving mother-of-pearl in. When they were done, they cooed and showed their mistress
her reflection with a burnished bronze mirror.

No more Earnestine Thorne in her dark clothes and identity-hiding veil. The two
girls had already removed and disposed of those garments. Min Feng was now a proper
princess of the Phoenix Court, in state finery, glittering with jewelry. The only thing that
the twin sister-maids did not do was to put make-up on her face, further putting barriers
between her and the world.

***
 171

Javen peered out of the window, seeing only the jasmine-laden shrubs and
manicured green lawns, unlike the wilderness of his home world. He had found the
attention of the servants a little unsettling. On Mesa, everyone was independent and had
no servants to help them clean messes up or prepare bathwater for them. One of the
maids-in-waiting had to literally push him into the bath. He could have protested, but for
Min Feng’s sake, he kept his mouth shut and took a quick bath, splashing the scented
water onto his body. An obligatory show, to prove to the hovering anxious servants that
he was indeed taking a bath.

They had even prepared new navy-blue robes and pants for him. Neatly folded,
still perfumed from the Imperial laundry, the clothes were placed on the bed, another
pieces of extravagant furniture, covered with exquisite silk sheets.

Another world, he eyed the robes with a certain degree of distaste. No wonder
Min Feng acted the way she did. I would do the same thing too.

It also brought home how different their worlds were.

He heard exclamations in Navajo. Aunt Betta was in the adjoining chamber. He

placed the robes and pants back onto the bed and went to look for her. She was standing
in her own chambers, dressed in a simple but expensive pao – a dark jade-green with a
black hem. The maids must have done some searching of their own, for the pao fit
perfectly.

“Pure silk, nephew!” Aunt Betta said breathlessly the moment he walked in.
“Imperial-bred silkworms fed on organic mulberry leaves. And look at this - how soft
and smooth it feels!” She was already imagining how lucrative Imperial silk would be on
the joint-world markets. His aunt. The perennial merchant.
 172

He chuckled, amused by his aunt’s reaction. All these riches were strange and
uncommon to them. It is the Phoenix Court, you silly! It is the home of the Empress, the
ruler of the Alliance Planets! A place you shouldn’t be at in the first place! He told
himself and these thoughts immediately sobered him up.

And the fresh memory of Min Feng… turning into the white phoenix.
Thunderbird. Bird-girl. His initial impressions were uncannily intuitive and spot-on. That
much… power contained in one slender girl frightened him. It was said that only women
born of the Phoenix Court could turn into phoenixes. Min Feng was one of them. One of
the phoenix-women.

A lordly retainer, in severe Imperial uniform, stepped in and bowed courteously.

“Her Imperial Highness, the Empress of the Phoenix Court, has requested for your
presence in her private audience chamber. Please follow me.”

Javen looked at his aunt who inclined her head politely. His head spun with the
images of phoenixes who were women who were phoenixes.

***

The Empress Ze Tian, having refreshed and recomposed herself, settled regally on
her throne-chair in her private audience chamber. Imperial Physician Yee had reported to
her that the burns were not life threatening and were healing rapidly, thanks to the
phoenix flame gene. The scars would remain, a lingering reminder of a moment of folly.
Min Feng being alive and well… and standing before her was a huge relief. She thanked
her ancestors immensely.
 173

Retainers announced the simultaneous arrivals of both Princess Min Feng and her
two guests, the Najavo traders. Ze Tian had done some reading and research on the two,
delving into the bio databases fed into her work-computer. They were clean, honest folk.
Merchants from Mesa, selling food at the Left Quadrant. She had to smile. She used to
sneak out too for some of the delectable street food being sold at the Quadrant. My
daughter is too much like me, she mused watching her child emerge from one wing, the
two merchants from another. Too much like me.

Min Feng’s maids-in-waiting had evidently pampered and bathed her. She was
now out of the dusty “common” garb and back in her finery, looking slim and royal and
restless. She was still wearing gauze over her burns. The young man accompanying the
plumb jovial woman – his aunt – was looking at Min Feng with open eyes. Disbelief, awe
and appreciation. Ze Tian did not require a manual on love to inform her that the lad was
fond of Min Feng. The same went for Min Feng.

She had to hide her smile behind her hand. This would get truly interesting. Not
sure about the potential for heartbreak and other love-related teenage malaises. Her
daughter, she knew, was truly growing up. Parental love and attachment did not want to
let go. Yet, judging by the body language of Min Feng and the young man, it was clear to
Ze Tian that she had to. One day.

Min Feng bowed deeply, flanked by her twin sister-maids. The two merchants did
the same as well.

“Sit,” Ze Tian motioned the hovering maids and servants away. They padded out
in a whisper of silk. Min Feng sank into a rosewood chair carved by master artisans. For
a brief moment, Javen and Aunt Betta appeared unsure, before settling into similar chairs,
looking ill at ease.
 174

“I would like to thank both of you for looking after Min Feng,” Ze Tian
proceeded, breaking the awkward silence and directing her voice at Javen and Aunt
Betta.

“It has been a pleasure,” Aunt Betta answered gracefully, before Javen could even
open his mouth.

Ze Tian had a small smile on her face. Min Feng stirred and sat up, her figure
unconsciously regal.

“Mother,” the princess said, her voice as clear as Ze Tian and carried an edge. “I
would like to speak my mind.”

There was a tiny susurrus of tension, like a subtle heat wave. Javen and Aunt
Betta became more still.

“Mother, I would like to become a merchant, for my apprentice-ship,” Min Feng

said slowly, carefully. Finally, she had said it, expressed it. The burden on her shoulders
lifted.

“A merchant,” Empress Ze Tian regarded her daughter with an expression Javen

realized reminded him of a hawk looking at a prairie dog. Bird-women. Not singing
songbirds in ornamental gilded cages.. These birds are wild and sharp-taloned.

“Yes, Mother. A merchant. I would like to follow the Windwalkers for a year or
so, so that I could learn the art and trade.”

Javen saw Min Feng’s tiny smile, as if she was trying to reassure him. His heart
pounded.
 175

The Empress was silent, her face calm, cool. Suddenly, she began to laugh, a
merry sound. “I am glad, daughter, that you spoke directly and without fear. I had wanted
to ask you about your needs.”

Javen was struck by the revelation that the Empress and her daughter were close.
That the Empress visibly loved the princess and cared about her. This rare show of real
emotion, away from Courtly protocol, startled him.

“Mother…” Min Feng opened her mouth and closed it again.

Ze Tian lifted a hand, signaling that she wanted to continue. “I have my

conditions. Firstly, I would want a report, twice a month, about your performance.
Secondly, Madame Betta Windwalker, I would like your opinions regarding my
daughter’s performance. Please be honest and frank. It is an apprentice-ship after all.”

Min Feng could hardly believe her ears. No reprimand. No stern scolding. Her mother
actually agreed to what she had said. The words she had so arduously prepared faded
away.

“Thank you, Mother,” she breathed.

“Now if you excuse us, I would like to talk to Madame Windwalker in private.”
Ze Tian said and that was it: the audience was over. Javen and Min Feng were effectively
dismissed.

***
 176

They strolled in silence, the jasmine flowers fragrant around them like a perfumed
wall. Indeed it was a walled garden, the noise and bustle of ordinary Court life kept away.
It was a place where the Imperial family would go to, if they wanted a moment of serene
contemplation and peace of mind. It was almost evening and the sun was setting, casting
a peach tone to the foliage.

Javen Windwalker was the first one to speak. “So, you are going to follow my
aunt.”

The princess beside him – heir apparent, Javen, heir apparent! – simply nodded.
She paused to sniff at the jasmine flowers.

“I would be enrolling at the Mesa Academy,” the young Navajo man said. “I am
going to read medicine.”

Min Feng turned around and faced him. He had such a strong face, a vivid face.
“Are you going to be a doctor?”

“Yes. General physician. Or a surgeon. I wanted to be a healer when I was a kid.

My father is one. Carrying on the family tradition, I guess.”

“And I will be apprenticing under your aunt,” Min Feng grinned and had to
wince, because the facial movement disturbed the burns and they were still awfully
tender.

Silence once more. A soft hint of jasmine and orange blossom – and Min Feng
had positioned herself in front of the young man. Her posture was shy. Her eyes were
intent though. Bright, hopeful.

Javen found his right hand raised, about to caress her face. The princess saw that
and smiled.
 177

“You are one intriguing bird-girl,” he placed his hand, curved, on her right cheek.
The contact was so precious, so intimate, that Min Feng stored the memory into her mind,
knowing that she would savor it in her quiet moments for days, months to come.
“Princess, apprentice and phoenix. You have many layers.”

They gazed at each other, daring not to speak. Then, laughing, they both pulled
away and carried on walking.

That day, Min Feng soared, proud and singing.

A phoenix with a purpose.

 178

Part Two:
Ascension

Chapter One

They climbed the sun-baked boulders, carefully avoiding the spiky succulents and
cacti nestled in the crevices. Above them spun the summer-hot sun, aflame in a robin-
blue sky. A few white clouds scudded across the sky. The wind was hot and dry. Yet they
did not seem to mind, bearing their backpacks.
 179

The Mesan landscape was pure desert, dotted with its distinctive land formations
that gave its name. When the Navajo nation came and settled, they were struck by the
familiarity of this landscape to the one they had left behind on Old Terra. Of course,
some parts of Mesa had been terra-formed to make it more hospitable, more so than the
first Alliance planet Mars. For the people of Mesa, the place was sacred land. A home. A
sanctuary.

“Almost there,” Javen Windwalker wiped his brow and stood on the boulder with
a sure-footedness born out of years of running through the desert as a boy. He loved
Mesa and drank in the sights, renewing that love. He had just returned from spending a
semester at Mesa Academy and he was eager to make the most of the vacation. “Just a
few more rocks and we reach the slot canyon.”

His companion had her distinctive black-and-gold hair tied in a loose ponytail.
This time, it was more black than gold. Her face glistened with a mist of perspiration,
beads of water on her upper lip. She was laughing though, licking the perspiration away.
She had a plain white shirt one with brown khaki shorts. Sensible walking shoes as the
aunts had advised her. No use running bare-foot and encountering the less-than-
harmonious critters like scorpions or a particularly defensive bug with a nasty
disposition.

Somewhere, she was a princess, the first daughter of the Empress, heir apparent to
the Phoenix Throne. Here, she was simply Min Feng or Min, as the aunts had taken to
calling her, having adopted her in as one of their own. She had dropped all Courtly airs.
Mesa did that to many people who visited it and ended up staying for good.

They continued their careful scramble down this time, entering into a valley of
shrub-land filled with small trees and a shallow running stream. As they reached the
 180

bottom, the boulders rose up beside them like silent sentinels. Javen took some time to
show Min Feng a few plants. Wild mulberry grew here and they were ripe, staining their
fingers with a vivid purple. Mesquite pods littered the dry earth, crackling beneath their
shoes. They followed the stream; it led to a cavern.

“Mind your head,” Javen grinned and ducked in confidently, Min Feng following
more cautiously. The cavern was low and damp, with hint of moisture. At first they
stooped as they walked, admiring the cave art done all over the rock walls. Hand prints.
Figures of cattle and antelope. Javen explained that they were not ancient art; it was made
by an artist trying to evoke the memories of the past. People still loved the cave art and
made pilgrimages to the cavern. “Keep on walking,” the young man encouraged his
companion.

The cavern soon widened and grew larger. Min Feng straightened her back, only
to find that she was surrounded by waves of pink, orange and salmon. Rock waves,
curving, flowing around her. A slot canyon! There was the sound of running water in the
distance. The place was magical. Warm, silent and pulsating with life. Light lanced
through the ceiling, diffusing on the soft earth.

“Follow me,” Javen chuckled at the look of wonder on Min Feng’s face. She had
never seen slot canyons before and definitely not his slot canyon. She had already spent
half a year or so on Mesa, mostly in the urban areas, as she followed his Aunt Betta as a
merchant apprentice. She had not, however, ventured out into the desert lands.

And there she was, placing her hand on the smoothed rock, touching,
remembering. The slot canyon was his personal hiding place, away from his aunts who
could be a little intrusive sometimes, when it came to personal stuff. He had always
retreated here when he was growing out of his pre-teenage years and rode out the pain of
puberty in the gentle warmth of the slot canyon. He wanted to show Min Feng something
else.
 181

The flowing walls converged into a pool of crystal-clear water. Above it was a
dome formed of flame-colored rocks. Their footsteps echoed in the natural chamber.
Javen was immediately heartened at the sight of his pool. He had not seen it since he
started his semester at the Academy. It was fed with spring water and it had never run dry
nor become stale.

Min Feng was standing next to him, her expression wistful, as if she was
remembering something else. She did tell him about her experiences at a nunnery. He
looked at her face, especially the left cheek. Faint white scars criss-crossed otherwise
smooth skin. It took some time for the wounds to heal. She would remember the hot oil
and the pain forever.

“This is beautiful,” Min Feng broke the silence with a soft reverential voice.

“I used to come here often,” Javen put his backpack down and sat on the earth,
feeling its delicious softness on his hands. He pulled off his shoes and relaxed, gazing up
at the dome.

Min Feng sighed appreciatively, doing the same. For a while, they just sat and
listened to the sound of water and the whispering echoes. Then Min Feng stood up and
peeled her shirt off. She was only wearing a skin-colored brasserie. With a laugh, she
stepped into the water. Javen knew that the pool was only waist-deep and the water a
pleasant cool temperature. He removed his own shirt and joined her. They splashed at
each other, the chamber reverberating with their giggles and shouts. Min Feng dipped her
entire body in, soundlessly slipping into the water, blowing bubbles before emerging with
a gasp.
 182

With a start, Javen realized that they had moved closer to each other, their bare
skin touching, a pleasant electric contact. He had to admit that Min Feng was attractive.
He swallowed, watching her chest heave and glisten with water. She shifted, suddenly
aware that he was looking at her. They moved a little closer, until they were facing each
other. Almost shyly, they stole a quick kiss on the lips before pulling away.

They came out of the water and toweled themselves dry before resting on the
earth and letting the mild heat dry their skin and clothes. It was a companionable silence
they both enjoyed.

***

Aunt Betta rubbed her tired eyes. Accounting, in other names, was still
accounting. This was one part of trading she did not really enjoy. It was a necessary evil,
she told her often, even when the numbers did not add up and turn into gibberish after
multiple calculations. She was a perfectionist, wanting her numbers to be perfect.
Numbers seemed to have minds and spirits of their own. A miscalculation, an error,
would mean that she would have to go through it all over again. Sometimes, just
sometimes, enough was enough. She thumbed the digi-ledger close and took a long sip at
her dark coffee, a special blend from Tertullian VI. Even relaxed, she mentally
rummaged through the things she had to do. Ah, Min Feng’s report. There it lay, a small
digi-pad.

She was glad that the princess was settling down well. Betta had gotten over the
fact that the girl could turn into something out of the stories, the legends. But she was no
yee naaldlooshii. Not a malevolent skin walker, the stuff of nightmares. Firstly, yee
naaldlooshii were mostly male and followed the Witchery Way, the Corpse-poison
Way. Secondly, the girl’s inner power was benign and a result from their bloodline.
 183

It was true that yee naaldlooshii could be both male and female. Males
seemed to be more numerous. The aunts instinctively came to trust the girl as she
had. She had not done any transformation, any shifting, for some time now. When
she first arrived, the aunts were all concerned and counseled Betta. They had heard,
as they always had, about the girl’s phoenix-power. Their mother had brought them
up on not only the history but the stories and myths. A people without stories is a
people without culture, without history, their mother would say while she pounded
corn meal and minded the sisters. There were families on Mesa who were afraid to
talk about the skin walkers, because they feared these creatures would come after
them. Mother saw no harm in informing all the sisters. Each family, she would often
add, had their own stories of the yee naaldlooshii.

Min Feng was a girl born with a genetic ability. That was it. Betta was not
trained in science and she could not give a logical answer for that. As for Min Feng,
she had performed well as an apprentice, learning and observing quietly. Asking
questions when they were needed. They left the Imperial City soon after she
returned to the Phoenix Court, traveling in their merchant freighter the Pueblo Star
to various Alliance Planets: the Verdant agricultural worlds to maintain cordial ties,
Tertullian VI to negotiate for olive oil, wine and coffee berries, and Solaris to renew
water treaties. The Empress Ze Tian had privately made Betta Master Trader and
guardian of her oldest daughter. “Watch over her,” the Empress had said to her
privately, in her audience chamber.

Betta had reluctantly given up her fry bread business and let one of her
cousins take over. From what she had received, the stall was still going strong and
attracting a steady crowd of customers.
 184

“Are you still making up the numbers?” A warm voice startled Betta and she
glared at her sister Joanna who had just came back from work at the local hospital.
She was a midwife and women often came to her for advice on women’s health
issues.

It was an ongoing joke between the two of them, ever since Betta started
trading and Joanne a nurse. Her glare turned into a smile. “Long day at work?”

“Three women giving birth at the same time and only one midwife on duty?”
Joanne resembled Betta, only slimmer and with darker hair. “But the babies were
delivered fine, screaming and healthy.” She grinned, like her son. “Javen?”

“Out with Min at the rocks.” Betta sipped her now-cold coffee, grimacing at
the sour taste. She picked up Min Feng’s report.

“That boy,” Joanne grumbled, removing her black flat-heeled work shoes.
“Left all his textbooks all over his room. And he wants to be a doctor like Michael.”

“He’s still growing,” Betta said mildly, in the Dine language. “Give him some
time. He has medicine to worry about. He has girl issues to worry about. You can’t
expect him to work them all out together.”

“You side with him too much,” Joanne retorted back. Her expression
softened. “I feel as if I have not watched him grow up.”

Betta finished her coffee. Special blend or not, it had left an unpleasant tang
in her mouth. She wanted some fresh spring water to clear that taste. “He has been
a good young man. Better than the wannabe braves in our town dancing up a storm
and doing nothing else, except to gripe about the Good Old Days. Javen has chosen
to become a doctor. And that’s a good thing.”
 185

Joanne threw up her hands in mock defeat. Then the two sisters broke into
deep belly laughs.

Chapter Two

On a small isolated planet, still part of the umbrella Alliance, a mini-revolt was
happening.

This planet was considered non-agricultural and non-commercial. It existed solely

because of its small colony of Old Terra immigrants who had bravely staked out their
livelihood on a planet best described as a hunk of rock with seams of crystals and nothing
else. Mining was the mainstay. Mining was finite.

Away from the glamour of the Alliance Planets with their rich politics and even
richer resources, Artia grew somewhere, drawing in a stream of miners and their families.
Gritty, hard-bitten and grim, they managed to establish holdings. Prominent families rose
up and one such family, the Stern-Aus, began to plot an aggressive incursion into
Alliance politics.
 186

Julian Stern-Aus pondered about this while he stood in the observatory, staring
into the basalt rock landscape. There were no plants outside. No greenery. They would
simply die in the unforgiving atmosphere. Many families had their gardens indoors
instead. These oases were their personal pride and joy and an overt declaration of their
wealth. The Stern-Aus family had constructed a modest greenhouse, an Ark of greenery,
in the midst of all this steel and rock.

Let other planets scoff at them. The esteemed and all-powerful Phoenix Court had
obviously forgotten about them. To the wealthy bloated administrators of the Alliance
Planets, Artia was a backwater planet, ranked as a lowly planetoid. Yet, they had
prevailed, overcoming all sorts of difficulties. His Artia was proud, a place where brave
and courageous pioneers had made their presence known. The quartz crystals they had
ripped from the planet’s flesh were integrated into their impressive starships as part of the
energy cores. Only one such planet provided such an important service: Artia.

His Artia. His home.

Julian was not considered handsome by human standards. Across his jaw was an
angry scar gouging through the skin, inflicted by jagged metal, a freak accident in his
family mine. His hair was pale, almost white. His skin was the product of generations of
coping with Artia’s atmosphere: pallid as a cave-dweller fish. It was a miracle that he was
not born blind. Many of his peers and friends were. His pupils were red and he hid his
eyes behind a dark visor. He was happy that he had most of his faculties and limbs intact
and functioning. Childhood mortality was high on Artia.

The sliding door of the greenhouse hissed sibilantly and an androgynous-looking

figure strolled in, clad in a black tightskin. Julian inclined his head as if in greeting. Fei
responded by steepling fei hands together. When fei spoke, fei voice was a neutral voice,
neither male nor female.
 187

“Are you ready for the mission?” Julian asked. Fei was human, though unisexual
and hermaphrodite in nature. The obsidian hair was braided and coiled around the head.
The face was feminine and not. The eyes captured his attention first, when he started his
assassin core with fei as Number One. Cold, distant and dark as space.

“Yes, my lord,” fei nodded assent. Fei own true name was Yrant. But Yrant was
no simple fai, the courtesan caste from which fei was born and grew up in. Let fai ditter
in meaningless social pursuits and amorous play. Yrant was an assassin, like the rest of
fei squad. Wielder of dagger, blade and needle. Dancer of shadows.

“Remember your target,” Julian said firmly, reaching over and clasping Yrant’s
chin with his right hand. He planted a harsh kiss on the moon-colored lips and let go just
as brutally, ruthlessly.

Yrant did not wipe the taste of Julian’s saliva off fei lips. A frigid “I will, my
lord.” Nodding curtly, Yrant slinked towards the door, leaving a cold wake behind fei.

Julian smiled, a goblin shark’s smile. He had more schemes to make. With a sigh,
he strolled between aisles after aisles of container plants, reminders of glories past.

***
Bei de Channey found herself in the middle of an argument. A political argument
involving her father and an emissary from Artis. Artia? The name of the planet was
inconsequential. The emissary was a pale-skinned gentleman wearing a severe maroon
skin-tight one-piece and surrounded by a voluminous cloak embroidered with silver
threads. The pattern of some … flower winked periodically at her, glittering as if with
sequins.
 188

Her father, Duke Garius of Solaris, was nearing the end of his patience, but
putting a lid on his temper as he listened to the emissary list down the “ills of the Phoenix
Court”. She knew, somewhat, that expectations had not been met and the emissary
conveyed the disappointment of his people most strongly in his words. He did not mince
them. He was more a miner than a diplomat. But she could feel his anger, like a hot aura
around him. Very similar to an imminent phoenix-shift, though she knew he could just
explode out of sheer rage.

The emissary growled something along the lines of “Artia is not supporting the
Court”, which meant no more supplies of energy quartz. He bowed stiffly and wheeled
around, storming out of the audience chamber.

“Father?” Bei’s voice, in the unnatural silence that had descended upon the
chamber, was tiny, hesitant.

Garius de Channey’s face was unreadable. He turned to his only daughter and
said, simply. “This is the way how the world works, Bei. Remember that.”

Chapter Three

Her dreams had always involved memories of her childhood, of frolicking

through the fragrant gardens and gazing at the lavender-colored water lilies growing in
the pond outside her bedroom chamber. In those dreams, she was happier, a child once
more, with none of the worry and concern she now harbored as a young adult. She
transformed into her phoenix-form more freely, less fettered by adult discipline and
constraint.
 189

Lately, a new landscape had found its way into her dreaming world. Dry desert
plains, with cacti and thorny succulents. Mesas and unique rock shapes, outlined against a
vivid blue sky. Silver-leaved shrubs, mulberry, a clear running stream in the bottom of a
rocky creek. Waves of pink and red, flowing stone, carved by millennia of erosion by
water. She did not transform into phoenix that readily in this new landscape. Her phoenix
flame was a steady burn inside her as she stood on the boulders and watching the sun set
in a myriad of pastel shades. Or that she would be running past tall cacti, her legs
working effortlessly, as she trained her body to become accustomed to the physical
surroundings.

When she woke up, she was not in her bedchambers back in a faraway world of
wealth and royalty. Her bed was simple and comfortable. Her room was furnished
sparingly, with basic amenities such as a table, a chair and a bookshelf she had lined with
favorite books she had brought along with her. No maids-in-waiting standing attentively,
ready to jump in and help.

She was only Min Feng here. Aunt Betta’s apprentice. Layers had fallen off her.
She had shed. She rather liked this new self.

Mornings followed a certain routine. After a breakfast, she had to go through the
new communiqués, filter out the important from the ordinary, jot down the lists of items
sent in by the network of merchants and traders. She would then follow Aunt Betta
around as her personal aide, sitting in for the negotiations and learning lessons of
diplomacy. Aunt Betta would then let her negotiate for minor trading matters, as practical
work. She had, to date, effected one deal with local merchants for the delivery of
essentials in exchange for machine parts, and a second deal for medical supplies to be
transported to a remote part of Mesa. She had listened to Betta’s advice and to the
changing colors of her phoenix flame. So far, her phoenix flame had remained a constant
white.
 190

A crucial aspect about trading was the ability to listen. Not only to verbal words,
but to the even more subtle nuances of body language and moods. Body language was
actually trickier, because some merchants were wily and were able to mask themselves
well. There was an Old Terran saying: poker face. She needed to master that. Wearing
your emotions on your sleeve was not desirable in the world of trade. She was beginning
to see how similar trading and statecraft were, and she admired her mother even more.

By the end of the day, she would retire to her room and compose letters and
reports. She missed Bei. She wanted to see her mother and little Min Xin who was by
now growing up quickly.

She would sink into her dreams, accompanied by the mellow voices and songs of
the aunts, drifting in from the family courtyard.

***
In the dream, she was running again. This time, it was the gurgling stream,
flanked by the orange-tinged rocks and the aromatic shrubs. Her feet stirred up tiny puffs
of dust. She knew that she had her khakis and shoes. She was always wearing them in the
dreams.

Inexplicably, as dreams sometimes are, she was within the slot canyon,
surrounded, embraced by the waves of stone. They pulsed gently in the unseen sunlight
and she luxuriated in the glow, the warmth. The stones seemed to whisper to her stories.
Tales. In non-words. Sensations like a touch, a caress down her spine. She sat down on
the soft soil and listened to the canyon sing to her.

“You know you have to come to terms with your phoenix flame,” said Aunt Betta
who had suddenly appeared in the dream.

“I know,” she replied.

 191

“Has he come to terms with it?” Javen asked as he joined Aunt Betta. The dream
figures often took familiar forms and shapes. She had grown used to them.

It was a good question.

The two dream figures disappeared and the wordless song came back, wrapping
around her like a loving shawl.

She found herself staring at the ceiling, clutching her blanket. One thing was for
sure: she had to talk to Javen.

***

Chapter Five
On Beds of Frankincense and Myrrh
 192

The woman peered anxiously at the sky, feeling the perspiration curl down her
back in a delicate thread. Her cotton chemise felt damp. It was the hottest day. Everything
was sun-baked, crackling. Even the Nile crocodiles – Dua Sobek! – were immobilized
into a state of catatonia, their fanged jaws wide open while tiny birds picked at their teeth
for scraps.

She had prepared the beds of spices and herbs. Frankincense, myrrh, sandalwood,
willow. Lit with fire, they had begun burning and the intense fragrances wafted skywards.
A bright flash of light, like the sun coming down to land. A bird-shape soared in the sky,
gradually spiraling down in lazy circles, until it landed gracefully: a long-legged bird,
like a purple heron, crowned with two long feathers. The eyes gleamed with a star-like
quality. The feathers were tipped with sun-fire.

“I am here,” the Bennu said in a sweet fluting voice. “Have you prepared the
beds?”

The woman bowed, touched by the Bennu’s beauty.

The Bennu stepped elegantly to the beds of spices still smoldering away with
ruby-red embers. Without a sound, she hopped onto the beds and promptly sat down, as if
to roost. The smoke grew thick, the fragrances stronger. The feathers sparked and soon,
the Bennu was engulfed in a fast-burning white fire. The woman shielded her eyes and
when she opened them again, the Bennu was gone. In its place was a young woman,
smooth of skin, bright eyes like stars at night. She wore only a plain chemise and was
already dusting the ashes off her body fastidiously with a look of gentle distaste on her
sharp face.

“And we repeat this every year,” the young woman said dryly when the other
woman approached her with a cotton veil. She wore it quietly, draping it around her head.
The piles of spices sent puffs of aromatic smoke. She sneezed.
 193

“The people demand it,” the other woman explained matter-of-factly, helping the
young woman up to her feet. “They want the continuity of legends.”

“Ah, I see, I see.”

The two women walked away from the funerary pyre. The young woman, the
former Bennu, glanced at her companion and said archly, “Next time you do it.”
--- The Book of Phoenii, On Beds of Frankincense and Myrrh.

Chapter Six

The Empress’s rage was a living fire and the court officials – both senior and
junior – felt it most as she sat, impassive on the surface, on her ornate Phoenix Throne
with its gold-gilded phoenix rampant armrests. Even her trusted Chamberlain found
himself leaning away, so great was her anger. It hummed in the air, a tense heat-shimmer.
“Artia has refused to ship more quartz crystals,” the Empress’s terse voice snapped, a
lightning crackle. “The audacity of the Artian emissary!” The heat-shimmer spiked and
the court officials looked at each other worriedly.
 194

“He has announced that Artia has cut off diplomatic ties with the Phoenix Court,”
the Chamberlain said, his voice calmer, more controlled. “This just came in, Your
Majesty.”

Empress Ze Tian fumed, her fingers drumming the armrest in an agitated staccato
beat. She spoke then, her voice less terse but still laced with wrath. “Send an envoy to
Artia. Have him escorted and accompanied with four Fleet war-cruisers. We have to
negotiate with no uncertain terms.”

The court officials were shocked. It was uncommon for the Empress to resort to
armed aggression. This case must have touched some raw nerve in her.

***
Yrant slipped through the immigration/customs fairly easily. Fei was nondescript,
blending seamlessly into the crowd, flowing with them. Fei was used to it, having done so
countless times and utilizing a childhood habit. Merge in the shadows, where the lights
were the dimmest, so that people would not see fei. In the perfumed secret world of the
courtesan caste, where fantasies were woven with desires, fei watched, observed the fai
and their coquettish ways, their layered gossamer gowns. One of them would be fei
biological fao, what the gendered races would call “mother”. Fai could choose to be
either fao or fa, when they entertained their guests. Fei was a choice to be both.

Fei remembered how fai laughed at fei, at fei choice. That was the single thing
that rankled in fei chest. A young child, feeling unwelcome with fei own people. The hurt
was still there, lodged deep like a serrated knife.
 195

When Julian Stern-Aus showed up and bought fei, fai did not wail as they would
do to others who were sold, bartered or exchanged for something. Yrant simply walked
away and began a new life.

Fei moved closer to the Imperial City, joining the multitude of merchants, traders
and ordinary citizens. They would think fei was a tourist, agape in wonder at the fabled
Imperial City.

***
She was a young girl then, having returned from the nunnery and proven to her
mother that she was able to control that burning fire inside her. Proud and pleased with
herself, she managed to convince her mother to let her tour the Alliance Planets before
she started her important apprentice-ship onboard a Fleet ship commanded by one of her
older cousins. Her mother, the then-Empress of the Phoenix Court, reluctantly agreed.
She found herself in Artia and it was a cold inhospitable place, dotted only with holdings
carved deep inside the hills. One of the richer families welcomed her in and let her stay
for a week or so. The whole place felt claustrophobic. Seized by intense cabin fever and
tired of the quartz mining, she wandered the myriad tunnels of the family holding and
chanced upon their indoor greenhouse, lush with plants, jeweled with regular watering
from the automated sprinklers.

Walking wonderingly through the greenhouse, touching the cool fronds and
feeling the mist on her face, she did not see the boy until she bumped into him. He
whipped around, startlingly fast, his face fixed in a vicious scowl. He relaxed when he
saw her backing away, apologetically. Her eyes were wide. They later struck up a
conversation. He was the eldest son of her host family and was enjoying the tranquility in
the family private garden. Soon, it was clear that he had grown infatuated with her. He
would give her gifts, little bouquets and bunches of dew-fresh flowers and fern fronds
picked from the conservatory. She would politely refuse the gifts and silently regret the
stricken look on his face. She was destined and groomed for another path.
 196

Now, older and a mother, she looked back at those memories and wondered why
she had reacted so viscerally and aggressively to the Artian emissary’s actions. What was
done was done. The Phoenix Court’s words were final. Diplomacy was coupled with the
use of armed deterrence. Statecraft was cold, unfeeling.

Ze Tian closed her eyes and only saw the wounded and hurt expression on the
face of an Artian boy. And lightly fragrant bouquets redolent with the scents of water and
earth.

***
Yrant garroted one of the minor kitchen servants with thin metal sha-wire and
nonchalantly dumped the body in one of the many storm drains of the Imperial City. Fei
had removed the clothing first, donning it. Fei should shed it once fei mission was
accomplished. The clothing, an elegant blue pao and black pants, would code fei female.
Fei did not care about gender roles. They were just masks, ready to be worn and then
discarded when the time was up.

There was orderly chaos in the kitchen when Yrant padded in. Hot steam plumed
in the air, issuing forth from various stations manned by harried servants. There were
sounds of chatter and of chopping. The smells were overwhelming. All heat and steam. A
young chef was decorating a dish with a carved edible figurine of a bird in flight. Two
women were slicing fresh sea-carp into paper-thin petals, placing them onto fine
porcelain plates to be served raw with a savory dip. Steamers with sweet and savory
pastries were lowered into the cookers. A group of apprentice cooks was mixing sauces,
ladling thin soy into delicate sauce bowls and blending spices into glutinous pastes.

The portly head chef saw Yrant and yelled something about cutting the
vegetables. Yrant only smiled, picked up a sharp knife and began slicing the green leafy
stalks slowly.
 197

***
Julian Stern-Aus received Yrant’s communiqué just when he was about to attend
a small function hosted by another Artian family. Touched down, blending in, masks on
masks, said the communiqué and it was enough to reassure Julian.

A hungry smile twisted his lips while he adjusted his suit and made sure that his
cloak matched the rest of his finery ensemble. Yrant would do fei job. Fei always did.
Even in the darkness of the bedchambers where there were no inhibitions.

A red light flashed urgently on his personal comp. He leaned over with a languid
hand and pressed the ‘retrieve’ key. He glanced at the words and reread them again.
He slammed the comp shut.

Four war-cruisers were heading towards Artia.

And indeed, the silver ships emerged from a spinning interstellar whirlpool, four
sleek-shaped and armed leviathans moving in like killer orcas of old, intent on the hunt.

Chapter Seven

Min Feng needed to grab hold of Javen before he headed back to Mesa Academy
for another semester. He had been busy ever since they came back from his slot canyon,
helping his mother harvest bundles of desert sage and assorted herbs. She made a point of
looking out for him once she had finished her chores for the day and if Aunt Betta was
willing, was free to walk around the small town they were living in. The dreams had been
troubling her. Javen had been tight-lipped when it came to her nei huo and shied away
from talking about it when she tried to broach the topic everytime.

She had to make him understand that the nei huo was not a disease to be scared
of. Nor was it destructive enough to turn her into some mythological monster. It was a
 198

gift, as many of her aunts and her mother would say, and not something to be feared. And
like all gifts, it had to be kept and treasured. It was also part of who she was. Her
heritage. She could not deny her heritage as much as he could his.

He had seen her shift before and it had no doubt etched a permanent mark in him.
Part of him knew what she was. He was that intuitive. Another part however denied it and
put it away. Out of mind, out of sight, as Bei would say. She was not going to walk
around with an imagined stigma.

She chanced upon Javen hanging the herbs out to dry. His back was facing her as
he carefully hung the crinkly bundles on the wooden racks. The evocative smell of sage
pervaded the air.

“Javen?” Min Feng said and she smiled when he turned around. He was bare-
chested and she was well aware of the sinewy musculature beneath his brown skin. Oh,
yes. That. So far they had only kissed and held hands.

“Min,” he smiled, flashing even white teeth, before he took a swig at a bottle of
water. “You done with your studies for the day?”

She nodded and searched for words in her head. She thought she came prepared.
Apparently, the words had all absconded, leaving her lost and bewildered.

“We need to talk,” she began and mentally knocked herself. Now, that sounded
tooserious, didn’t it? She was a trader. A merchant, for Heavens’ sake. She should have
the gift of words. At the moment, the art of persuasion eluded her.

“Is anything wrong?” Javen asked, his face worried. “Are you all right?”

“No, no. I am fine. I just need to talk about my phoenix flame.”

 199

There. The invisible shields immediately rose up like barricades. Javen clamped
his lips together and turned resolutely back to the herbs rack.

“Javen, you are not going to run away from this issue, because it concerns me and
is a part of me,” Min Feng pressed on determinedly. “I am not a monster. The phoenix
flame is my heritage. My ancestors had it. My family has it. I have it.”

He did not say anything. The bundles bobbed in the breeze, sending intermittent
whispers of fragrance.

“It is not a disease, not a blood disorder,” Min Feng could see the chords on his
back tightening. “You are training to be a doctor. You should know.”

Javen glanced at her sharply. “It is the unknowns I am worried about, Min.”

“That I would end up hurting someone.” She said flatly.

He turned back to the herbs. Min Feng stepped forward and placed her hand on
his bare back. She could feel muscles twitching spasmodically beneath her palm.

“I admit that when I was at the nunnery, I almost burned it down. The statues all
melted. I charred the entire exercise ground. But I am changed now. I have controlled it,
Javen. Please do not be afraid of me.” That last sentence was a silent plea. Please look at
me, Javen. Look at me. I am standing right in front of you. I am real.

“Min…” Javen’s reply was softer than she’d expected. “I am not… afraid of you.
I am afraid of the power inside you.”

Silence. It hung between them like a laden weight. Gently, tentatively, Min Feng
rested her head against the warm skin smelling of the sun and spicy cologne. His scent,
 200

she thought. I will always remember it. He did not stiffen and for that, she was glad. It
was better than outright rejection.

“I know you are no monster. I am just… afraid of the consequences if it is out of

control. That’s all.” His voice was like honey. Amber-gold. She drank it up.

“A part of me,” she murmured and she knew he heard her. “A part of me.”

“I know.”

“I am. No pretense. No hiding. And you haven’t seen me shift for a while now.”

She carefully circled his torso with her arms. Javen swallowed and clasped her
hands, pressed them against his chest.

“I promised myself that I would not hurt anyone. Anyone. Not even you.” She
touched the skin before her with tender lips. “Not even you.”
Are you sure? Unspoken words. Javen did not respond. Min Feng inhaled his
musk. She had said her piece. She was surprising how drained she’d felt. She gently
tugged at his hands, pulling her arms away.

“I won’t hurt you.” She said. A promise. A vow. Without a sound, she walked
away.

Javen waited until her footsteps had faded away before turning around. He held a
sage bundle in his hand. “No, Min. I am afraid you might end up hurting yourself.”

Just then, one of the sage bundles became loose and scattered in the breeze. The
desert air current whipped the dry twigs into little swirling eddies.

***
 201

Yrant listened to the conversations just as fei had done when fei was a child. So
rich, so layered, so informative. Fei stored them avidly, for later use. Very tasty.

The kitchen was such a valuable place. The things being served in there… and it
was not only the food. Gossip. Vents. Rants. Especially gossip. Tiny little tantalizing
hooks, revealing bits about their speakers and the one they were talking about. Fai was
well known for their gossip and the many intrigues it would and did transpire. Gossip
would lead to fai joining with other fai in social alliances or being sold at the market as
chattel.

So, so. Apparently, warships had been sent to Artia. Hints of a potential
conflagration? Oh, the Empress loved this particular dish. Note taken. She liked the
crystal buns with the chopped chives? Oh, definitely! She has requested it again. Good,
good! Ah, I will remember this. The princess Min Feng has been gone for a long time.
Yes. The heir-apparent. Another layer. This is delicious.

Fei added a pinch of sea salt into the broth fei was making. It was a seafood broth,
with cooked clams opened up like little pink butterflies and red crustaceans with bristly
feelers and claws.

The cook beside fei regarded fei curiously. “You are new.”

“I just joined the kitchen. I came from the rural town of – going through memory
data – Yashid.” Yrant answered and fei was pleased that the cook – a good-looking
young man – was satisfied with fei answer. Fei knew that fei had come across as female
and the young man was responding to the perceived femininity. Shy boyish admiration.
Not like Julian’s frank and very masculine sexual appraisal. Yrant frowned. Fei hated
thinking about personal things when fei was working on a mission. Very distracting.

***
 202

The four Imperial Fleet ships remained motionless above Artia while the Phoenix
Court envoy argued his case with the administrator of the planet. Lady Elizabeth Stern-
Aus was obstinate and refused to budge. While the envoy tried to explain the Phoenix
Court’s actions, the lady administrator had already made up her own mind. Beside her,
her son offered words of advice. The envoy found his presence oddly disturbing.

Chapter Eight

Like all new visitors to Artia, the envoy had an instant dislike of the place.
Sunless, extremely industrial, the awful feeling of being hemmed in all directions. He
could hardly wait to return back to the Imperial City, where at least the air was not stale
and he could feel free.
 203

The Artians were strange, no doubt products of this unforgiving world. Most of
them had pale skin; many were albinos. No sun, a world in perpetual darkness. How
terrible. Even the formidable-looking Lady Stern-Aus had milky skin and hair a washed-
out blonde. Or was it already white? The envoy knew that, as a diplomat trained to
conduct cordial and civil relations with other planets or races, he had to be empathetic to
their needs and hear them out. Dialogue was crucial. Yet, he confessed that the physical
appearance of the Artians perturbed him to a great degree. Perhaps, indeed, the Phoenix
Court had truly ignored these seemingly fragile people. He truly believed that the Artians
would turn around and re-establish the quartz supply route. He should convince the
Empress that the Artians deserved something better like an array of solar panels to bring
in more light and brighten the whole place up with cheer.

His accommodations were suitably lavish, given such a spartan environment. The
Artians loved to flaunt their wealth indoors. His room had red velvet chairs and a large
velvet bed with fur rugs as blankets. They had provided him with a silver tray replete
with a decanter of red wine and three crystal wine goblets. Now, the envoy enjoyed fine
things and he poured some of the red wine into one of the goblet, admiring the color of
the wine as it swirled down into the glass. He lifted it up, sniffed it appreciatively. It was
good wine, definitely aged, with hints of cherries and chocolate. A fine dessert wine, he
noted with pleasure and sipped at it. Delightful with a plate of figs and nuts.

The wine went down his throat like smooth warm malt. The hints of cherry and
cocoa grew stronger and he savored it, closing his eyes with a soft sigh…

Only to feel the malt turn into icy anti-coolant in his stomach. He gasped as the
feeling of extreme cold spread from his gut and to his limbs. It happened so quickly that
he did not even know he had fallen onto the floor. The goblet fell and crashed, spilling its
blood-red contents onto the rugs. The cold soon became fiery agony.

Poison.
 204

He forced himself to crawl to his comp, his limbs already dead to the world. He
had to tell the commanding officer about the treachery. Groaning, he flailed about,
disgusted and horrified at the non-response of his hands. He knew, by now, that he was
dying. Just one more inch…

***

Alert and relaxed, Captain Helena Zhangzi sat on her bridge chair. Her crew was
operating like a finely tuned orchestra around her. Quiet, diligent in their tasks, the only
chatter professional conversations between the several officers as they confirmed their
readings to one another. Her ship - the Raptor - served as the flagship. The three other
warships – the Eagle, the Hawk and the Falcon – formed the rest of the Bird-of-Prey
squadron-fleet. They orbited around the mining planet, silently observing.

Envoy Tung was taking a especially long time to report in. Helena pursed her lips.
The negotiations should have been done by now.

“Madam,” one of the communications ensigns said suddenly. “A coded message

from Envoy Tung.”

Her heart leapt. Old experienced hunter she was, she experienced a chilling
premonition of something distinctively wrong. Her skin shivered, just as it would do
before she went into combat. Before he left for Artia, Tung had informed her about
potential dangers and how he had certain codes for specific threats. He was such an
interesting diplomat. He was also ex-Fleet, according to her files.

“What did the code message say?” She glared at the communications ensign who
had since gone a little too quiet for her liking. He gulped and answered in two words:
 205

“Hull breached.”

Helena Zhangzi spun instantly into action. There was treachery afoot on Artia and
Envoy Tung was probably dead by now. She would mourn later, much later. Now, it was
war.

***

Justin nudged the corpse with his booted foot. The plant poison had worked
effectively, thanks to years spent in the greenhouse and learning about the plants that heal
and kill. Knowledge of herbalism was an asset. The envoy resembled a day-old corpse,
limbs rigid with rigor mortis, though he was only dead for a couple of hours. Fascinating,
some plants were. And how deadly, how beautiful and dangerous.

By now, he knew that the ships above must have gotten the message. Typical.

He whispered something into his hand-held communicator.

***

The first ship that received the direct hit from the energy beam was the Falcon.
The silver behemoth blossomed into a sunburst of super-heated chaff. Death had been
instantaneous.

The Raptor, the Hawk and the Eagle immediately went into evasive maneuvers,
swerving to avoid collision and another energy beam from the planet.

Captain Zhangzi cursed and swore as her precious ship buckled and groaned in
pain, her metal shields unused to such sudden maneuvers. The energy beam had came
from nowhere and struck the Falcon dead center. She clenched her teeth, furious. She
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ordered the gun turrets to be focused on the planet and The Raptor rang as she fired two
light beams down. On the view-screen, two large fire-flowers appeared in rapid
succession.

“Captain!” Her weapons officer cried out in terror. The Raptor moaned.

Another energy beam…

And this time, the Raptor turned into a fiery burning bird, like its phoenix-kin,
sending a death-scream into the endless night.

***

The retaliation had been brief and two satellite dishes were hit. Justin snarled in
savage joy. He could see the rain of glowing debris cascading down from the sky, like a
shower of meteors.

So, so. How would Ze Tian react now?

***

Min Feng started awake. She had dreamt of ships exploding and people
screaming. Molten debris in a star burst, ships dying and in torment. Something was not
quite right. She breathed shallowly, trying to get her heart back to normal.

Mother. The thought came unbidden. Mother.

Her slumbering phoenix fire stirred into life.

I need to go back to the Phoenix Court.

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Chapter Nine

A Kimono of Peacock Feathers

Hitomi knelt neatly on the rush tatami, a picture of serene beauty. Her hair had
been brushed into a lustrous shine, a river of black ink curling down her back. Her face
was powdered white, with a dab of crimson on her lips.

It was her kimono that had attracted envious glances. Crafted by the finest Heian
kimono maker, it shimmered in many colors, like the tail feathers of the peacock. Her
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long sleeves flared out, arranged beautifully by her maids. Beneath the rich garment were
the layers of inner kimonos, subtler in shade and bringing the vividness of the peacock
feather hues most startlingly.

“Oh look, a wonder in the sky!” One of the maids exclaimed, manicured hand on
trembling lips. Hitomi craned her neck slightly, catching sight of something bright and
flying in the spring sky.

“A Ho-Ho!” Another maid joined in the exultation. The appearance of a Ho-Ho

was an auspicious omen. It was the harbinger of good news. Soon, the news arrived on
running feet: the birth of the Emperor’s son.

Hitomi cringed inwardly. She did not want to be a concubine. Her father, a minor
samurai, had sent her to the palace in the hope that she – and her family – would win
favor with the Emperor. No. She did not want to spend her youth bearing children, year
after year. She was above such drudgery.

“I want to go to the gardens,” she declared and the maids obeyed, helping her up
to her feet because the kimono was heavy. Her heart, however, was light.

Once there, in the garden and surrounded by the pink cherry-blossom trees, she
dismissed the maids. They went away, muttering about “that strange concubine”.

She laughed merrily and spread her arms, the peacock feather colors flashing in
the sun. She would fly away, like her sister the Ho-Ho.

--- The Book of Phoenii, A Kimono of Peacock Feathers.

 209

Chapter Ten

Word of the destruction of the Raptor and the Falcon blew in like a winter gale
and turned the atmosphere in the Imperial banquet hall to frost and icicles. The Empress’s
anger was not the furnace blast the retainers had expected or imagined. Instead, she was
an ice queen with controlled rage. Hers was the kind of cold that burned.

The Hawk and the Eagle had managed to flee the assault and limped back to
report the sorry aftermath. Captain Helena Zhangzi was one of the Empress’s numerous
cousins and one whom she was close to when they were little girls. The loss of the
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esteemed captain froze her blood and hardened her heart. She did not want to dwell on
the loss of lives, all the crewmembers onboard the two doomed ships. That would hurt
even more.

Envoy Tung had died. Done in by treachery.

Empress Ze Tian had to think before she could react to this insult. Inhaling
deeply, she remembered the mantra taught to her by the stern abbess of Ermei.
Remember to count your heartbeats, the abbess had instructed her. They are real. Like
your breathing is real. Remember this!

Calm gradually returned to her body and she took a sip of the flower tea to
compose her. Her family, her children, looked at her for her response, for her guidance.
The younger girls looked frightened. It was their first real exposure to the harsh world.
Her consort-husband could only nod. He had seen it before. If I could ease you into
statecraft gently, I would, she thought watching her daughters and sorely missing her
eldest. At faraway Mesa, her life was at least cushioned from all these shocks.

No. Min Feng has to know.

She was about to call out to one of the servants when she realized – with horror –
that she could not speak. Her throat constricted and her voice choked. Then, she was
choking. There was something in the tea or in the food. She was being done in just like
Envoy Tung. The Imperial Kitchen had always checked for strange substances and was
highly effective in rooting out the dubious. What had slipped through? What went
wrong?

No! I am not going to let this happen! No! She tried to tap into her phoenix flame,
only to find that she was blocked by darkness. Her eyes were still open, she could still
see. Her beloved Duke Zhang was rushing over to her, hands reaching out to her. We
need to catch the culprit… the assassin!
 211

With an inward scream, she clung onto hope, as she descended down into a silent
lightless void.

The Empress fell into a catatonic state, crumbling like a traditional paper doll in
her chair, as her family shouted frantically for the Imperial Physician.

***

“Whoa. What’s wrong?” Javen Windwalker held Min Feng up with his strong
hands. She was walking fine, until she simply collapsed, folding in onto herself. They
were on their way to the modest Mesa Space Port. Min Feng had insisted she needed to
travel back to her family as soon as possible.

She remained limp for a while, gradually gaining some sense of consciousness
and coherence. She came to, blinking her eyes. Her face looked drained of blood. “I…
don’t know. I felt this… blinding flash of pain, right inside my skull. It must have
knocked me out.”

“Hell, it did.” Javen muttered and rubbed her temples to get the blood circulation
going. “Are you sure you are fit to travel?”

Min Feng straightened, her expression suddenly determined. Focused. “I have to

go back to my family. I think something is not quite…”

Another wave of pain. More like a vise of pain around her head. She winced. But
it was less acute than the first one. She sucked in air slowly, her hand on her forehead. It
was damp with perspiration.

“That’s it. You are staying.” Javen said firmly, holding onto her.
 212

The princess pushed his hands away. “I am going.”

Javen fought down his own anxiety. “Are you sure you are able to handle it? You
need to get this thing checked out as soon as possible. Like today.”

Min Feng shook her head. Mesa Space Port loomed just ahead and her transport –
the Pueblo Star - waited for her.

“Something is not quite right. I just know it.” She walked faster, dreading another
unexpected wave of agony. Thankfully, it did not come.

Watching her right now, Javen discovered, with a jolt, the princess had grown up.
Matured. Her face reminded him of her mother, the Empress of the Phoenix Court.

***

Yrant stayed in the shadows, while the Phoenix Court erupted into a flurry of
activity. Guards were being sent to search for the assassin. All the servants, senior and
junior, were interrogated and body-searched for incriminating clues and evidence. The
pervading mood was tense, interwoven with anger and urgency.

Fei had failed. The Empress still lived, but barely. She remained in a frozen state
of suspended animation. Catatonia. Alive and yet not. Had fei not checked the right
amount of poison to use? Fei had always been precise, meticulous. Fei kills were always
clean and fei victims remained dead.
 213

Fei would have administered the killing blow, cutting the vital windpipe. Now it
was too late. The entire Imperial Grounds swarmed with guards and security personnel.
Fei escape could be a challenge. Snarling, fei stripped off the pao and pants, fei disguise
for this whole failed mission.

“Why are you hiding here?” A male voice. Fei forced back fei body into the
pillar, trying to disappear into the dark. The voice was familiar. The young cook. He had
become fond of fei. “Are you scared?” How did he manage to see fei?

Stereotypical male. Wanting to protect a helpless female. Fei could see his
handsome face peering into the darkness, trying to look for fei. What a child he is.

Fei reached out, grabbed the soft exposed throat and squeezed. The young man
did not even gasp. He all but sank onto the ground soundlessly. Fei bent down, still
bathed in shadows, inspecting fei handiwork. The eyes were open, accusatory.

I am a snake, child. You can’t sleep with snakes, because we bite.

Fei removed the uniform, still warm with body heat. Slipped them on. They were
larger than fei slender frame. But it would work, the disguise would work. For a while.

Hid the body in a nook. They would find it a few days later, naked and slightly
decomposed.

Yrant scanned the Imperial Grounds. The guards would not rest until they had
found the assassin. Fei.

I am a snake. And I will bite when I am cornered.

What did Justin Stern-Aus call fei? A glorious sundew. Carnivorous plant, pretty
to look at. Dangerous to insects.
 214

Fei found fei gaze wander over to the body. He was such a young boy. A child.
Pure in mind and soul. Fei was disturbed that fei was unnerved by this particular death.

***

The communiqué could have arrived by now! Justin wanted to break things. He
wanted to know if Yrant had completed fei mission.

Would his planning go down the drain?

All for one woman and spurned desire. I promised myself that I would take you
down and destroy the things you hold onto dearest.

He laughed at himself and to the universe at large. Fortuna, art thou the goddess
of cruelty.

***

Min Feng, where are you? A lone voice wept. Min Feng, come home now.
Chapter Eleven

She had to turn away for a brief second to hide the rush of hot tears before
looking up and staring at the face of the woman who had given her life. She appeared as
if she was sleeping, her eyes closed, so serene. The only thing that jarred the image was
the life-support system beeping quietly in the already-sepulchral bedchambers: tubes and
wires providing a semblance of artificial life. The Imperial Physician told her in an
unusual subdued tone that she was in a catatonic coma, caused by an “orally ingested”
neurological poison. It was a miracle that she was still alive, her brains and heart
functioning.
 215

Once in a while, her eyes would twitch or show signs of flickering. Yet they still
remained obdurately shut and the Empress slumbered on in an unnatural sleep, oblivious
to the world around her.

Min Feng had arrived to an Imperial City suddenly thick with security personnel,
with the guards and officers of the elite security squads barricading every access and
egress. While on the Pueblo Star, she had experienced two more waves of pain, but not
as bad as the first one. She had also found her bed-sheets scorched. Her nei huo was
surely agitated. The captain of the Pueblo Star had informed her that a small fleet-squad
of warships had been assaulted by aggressive energy beams from Artia and that – she had
to sit down in shock when Captain Martinez continued solemnly – the Empress had been
the object of a failed assassination and fallen gravely ill as a result.

The moment she alighted from the merchant vessel, she was immediately whisked
away by grim-faced security staff who escorted her to a black flitter-car no doubt armed
to the teeth. She only sat mutely as the spires and buildings of the Imperial City rushed
past, her mind dealing with the din of culture shock. It had been two years or more. Her
body was used to the uncomplicated desert world of Mesa. Coming back home startled
her. So much steel and plastic around, no more the sandy plains with succulent cacti and
the imposing mesas which gave the planet its name.

Her grandmother, the Dowager, met her and brought her to the Empress’s private
bedchambers. The Dowager’s face was lined with untold and unvoiced worry. “Am-ma,”
Min Feng could only say.

“Hush, child,” the Dowager replied, her voice a pale shadow of her old one. “Go
in.”

So, there she stood, gazing at the face of the Empress with an odd mix of
detachment, anger and frustration. The physicians and their aides hovered nearby. She
preferred the heat of the anger and reached inwards, feeling its warmth, its life.
 216

“The assassin is still within the Imperial Grounds,” she heard herself saying with
steel. The Dowager, standing behind her, inhaled sharply.

“They have released the scent-hounds,” her grandmother said, touching her
shoulder gently.

Oh am-ma, I am no longer a child. Min Feng thought sadly.

“This assassin must have an adept in the arts of hiding,” she smiled at her
grandmother. It was a lack-lustre smile, bereft of humor.

And dangerous by now, like a cornered desert scorpion. Ready to sting when
provoked.

“Where are my siblings?” Min Feng asked, turning away from the sight of the
Empress lying down so helpless.

“Under security’s protection,” the Dowager stared at her intently and she realized
that am-ma was looking for the old Min Feng. She reached out and embraced her
grandmother. I am here. I am still here. But I am different now.

***

Yrant lurked.

Fei had done so countless times. When fei was a child. When fei grew up.

It was a second skin to fei. Already present when fei watched two fao fight each
other for the favor of a wealthy client. Already existing when fei eave-dropped at the
negotiations between a flesh-seller and a fa for the purchase of another fai.
 217

The Imperial Grounds were artistically intricate. Like a labyrinth, with secret
corners, cul-de-sacs and dead ends. There were dark places fei could secrete fei into. It
appealed to fei heart for subterfuge. True that they had released trained canines to flush
fei out, but fei was going to lead them around in circles.

Yrant could hear girlish laughter. Fei must be directly under the quarters of the
Imperial children. Amazing. Even in a situation fraught of immense danger, the girls
were still laughing. An uncommon stab of jealousy lanced through fei heart. Fei had not
laughed for a long time. Not after fei had left the fai.

An older voice, an older woman’s voice. The girls shrieked with apparent joy,
their footfalls beating on the floorboards above fei.

***

The girls surrounded her, embracing her excitedly, especially little Min Xin who
was by now seven. Min Feng was awash with emotions, as she bent over to kiss her
sisters and hold them in her arms. It had been so long since she had seen them.

The security personnel were as vigilant as ever, guarding the door to the
children’s bedchambers. Yet Min Feng could not feel… did not feel safe. Something
prickled at her, a nagging sensation nibbling at the edge of her mind. Not quite right, not
quite right, not quite right. After spending nights at the desert plains, one had learnt how
to listen for any oddity.

Her phoenix flame wavered, turned a shade of red.

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Min Feng gently pulled away the arms of Min Le, one of the older girls,
perplexed at the change in color. There were only her sisters and herself in the
bedchambers, save for the coterie of security officers at the door. She began to stalk
around the room, while her sisters looked at her curiously. She raised a finger to her lips
and the girls immediately obeyed.

There was a particular spot under her feet where her phoenix flame pulsed red
once more. It was strange and…

She signaled silently to Min Le who nodded and left to call the guards.

***

There was a sudden drop in noise level. Silence. No more laughter and giggling.
Fei felt fei heart tighten, fei nerves about to react – fight or flight. Even the footfalls had
gotten softer.

Fei crouched, ready to retaliate back.

***

The security personnel fanned out from the bedchambers, some of them edging
towards the basement which was technically empty… and a good place to hide…

Min Feng experienced the upward rush of fire. The girls gathered together,
holding onto each other, their nannies trying to console them while looking as if they
needed some consoling of their own.

There was a shout and the sounds of gun safeties being uncapped. Another shout,
this time a fierce scream and a thump!
 219

***

Fei knocked down the first security officer who tried to manhandle fei with a cry
and made to sprint forward. The guards had fei encircled and fei snarled, truly a trapped
beast now.

One of them, a stocky man built like a soldier, raised his gun and fired a laser
beam at fei.

Fei froze, fei limbs and nerves immobilized. Only fei eyes burned with hatred as
the security personnel closed in with handcuffs and wrap-netting. If fei could reach into
the pockets and retrieve that one final syringe… What irony!

***

Princess Min Feng saw the assassin the moment the security personnel led
him/her out of his/her hiding place. She felt instant revulsion and pity. Androgynous,
feminine but also oddly masculine at the same time. An angular jaw, such defiant eyes.
Slender, dancer’s frame and build. Clad in a workman’s uniform, obviously a little too
large for the wearer who looked like walking hate.

“A fai,” the head of the security stated brusquely, his eyes steely-cold. “Courtesan
caste, from the planet Onn.”

A hermaphrodite race of humans. She had only seen fai in educational text-pads.
 220

“Who sent you?” She said. The jaws remained shut. The eyes raged with hateful
fire. “Who sent you?” Min Feng’s phoenix flame sparked once, twice, and became a
burning inferno within her.

Silence. The fai glared at her when she approached. The men around the fai
closed ranks.

“Who employed you to assassinate the Empress?” Min Feng felt the heat wave
permeate out and through her skin. And welcomed it.

There was a subtle movement, a flick of an elegant finger. Min Feng caught it and
slammed the finger down with uncommon ferocity. A syringe clattered onto the floor.

“A syringe, your Highness. Filled with a liquid.” Another security officer picked
it with a gloved hand.

The heat turned wild fire. Min Feng grabbed the fai’s arm, not knowing the
security officers had backed away, and that she herself was surrounded by an aura of
flickering white like incandescent aurora borealis.

“Who sent you?” Min Feng bit out and her fingers left blisters on the fai’s pale
skin. And still the fai refused to speak, though the pain must have been terrible.

The blisters soon became burn marks as the fire grew and the woman holding
Yrant turned into a glowing figure, wreathed with tongues of white fire. There was a
smell of scorched wood and plastic. And the fire continued growing, larger, hotter.

Yrant the fei began to scream as fei body caught fire and bits of fei flesh began to
cook and fall off in charred bits. A voice came from this fiery being, straight out from
some nightmare world. It had wings. It bore the voice of the princess.
 221

“Who sent you?”

Charred flesh turned to black ash. Yrant could not even struggle, held in helpless
thrall by the terrible beauty before fei.

Then Yrant’s only response was to scream and fei screams filled the surroundings
with a haunting poignancy.

***

Min Feng came to in the arms of her father, Duke Zhang.

“The fai confessed,” he said in a soothing voice. She found herself still in the
same place where they had caught the assassin. “We now know who sent the fai.”

She could see security and medical staff scouring the surroundings clean of
debris.

“The fai expired,” Duke Zhang said simply and left it at that.

“Hopefully, with the contents of the syringe, we can find some sort of antidote,”
he continued as Min Feng wrestled with what she had done. I killed the fai. I killed the
fai. “The Imperial Physician is confident that he can reverse the effects of the poison. It is
apparently traced back to the planet Artia. A rare poison, distilled from a plant.”

“Artia…” Min Feng whispered and started to tremble.

“You did well, daughter.” Duke Zhang hugged her comfortingly.

No, father, I killed the fai. I killed a person.

 222

Chapter Twelve

It has been said that when the Phoenix Court sent another armada to the planet
Artia, the inhabitants of the mining planet quickly surrendered and adhered to the terms
laid out by the Glorious Phoenix Court, the bulwark of the Alliance Planets.

The arrival of the armada at Artia was true. However, the doughty Artians did not
immediately surrender to the Phoenix Court. The fleet had other plans. First, it was the
arrest of a certain prominent member of the Stern-Aus family. When the security
personnel burst into his bedchambers, he resisted arrest for two hours, shouting that he
was innocent and that he was being framed. However, after the pleas of his mother, Lady
Stern-Aus, he unwillingly gave himself up and was led into the warship designated the
 223

“prison barge”. As a precaution, the entire Stern-Aus family was similarly arrested and
placed on a separate ship, to be further investigated for their part in the perfidy that had
brought down the Empress. The two partisan families of the Stern-Auses were also
questioned and sent to the same ship. They were now awaiting judgment in their role as
supporters of Artia’s most influential family.

After seeing entire clans arrested for the treacherous crime, the other families
convened and allowed the Phoenix Court delegation in, for a round of negotiations. They
themselves had suffered during the first encounter with the fleet-squadron, having their
vital equipment blown apart by the energy beams. They were apparently shocked to find
that the Stern-Auses had built defensive armaments and strenuously rejected the
assertions that they had a role to play in the construction as well.

The envoy who was sent to negotiate with Duke Garius de Channey was a
partisan of the Stern-Aus family. When the security personnel demanded entry into his
underground house, the man killed himself by hanging from the rafters. He was defiant,
until the end.

When everything had settled, the main representative from the Phoenix Court
arrived. It was whispered amongst the gathered family heads that she was the Crown
Princess, taking the place of her esteemed mother, Her Majesty. Quiet, clad in subdued
blue colors and wearing a simple and yet elaborate headdress, she came, escorted by her
father, the Consort of the Empress and one of her aunts. The family heads marveled how
young she looked and how adult her bearing was. Her face had a hint of sorrow, a
poignant gravity none of them saw but could not understand. An invisible weight seemed
to rest on her shoulders.

Yet when she sat down, she smiled warmly and began the negotiations by saying
“Let’s all start on a clean page.”

***
 224

The negotiations were more grueling than she’d expected. The discussions grew
heated at times and the main speakers had to take time to rest and ponder on their next
move. The Artian contingent laid their expectations out on the table, revealing
generations of hurt and broken dreams. Their emotions were raw, honest.

Crown Princess Min Feng had a brief respite, walking through the Stern-Aus
greenhouse to clear her mind. The diversity of the plants found in the indoor garden was
amazing. Ferns. Succulents. Flowering plants with alluring aromas, reminiscent of
twilight in the Imperial Gardens. Vegetables grown to fit families, all lush and leafy-
green. She stooped to examine a shiny red tomato, her troubles only temporarily
forgotten. This place was heavenly, obviously made to act as a sanctuary. It certainly
soothed her nerves. It had probably done the same for the Stern-Aus family.

She drifted away from the vegetable section and wandered down the aisle of herbs
and medicinal plants. Someone in the family was evidently interested in herbs and had
collected a whole variety of them. Reality nudged at her. Someone did research on the
herbs and derived dangerous substances from them. The herbs looked so innocuous,
emerald jewelry glistening with dew.

Min Feng stood still for a blessed moment and breathed in the earthy sappy
fragrance. She had retreated into herself during the journey to Artia, sequestering in her
own private bed-cabin. She had yet to come to terms with the death of the fai and that she
had a major hand in it. She wanted to protect her family, her mother. All that came out
through the rage, fuelling the phoenix flame until it burned too brightly, too fiercely.
Stories had already been woven about her deed, courtesy of the security guards present
during that fateful day. She wanted to put a stop to these stories – they had a tendency to
 225

be blown out of proportion. Her father checked her and said no. These stories boosted the
morale of the guards and in turn the citizens of the Imperial City.

She did not want to become a legend.

Her timer beeped and she smoothed her gown. Time for another round of
negotiations. This time, there would be a breakthrough.

***

They managed to work a treaty out. The Artians agreed to re-establish their
supply of crystals and in return, the Phoenix Court would give them the recognition they
deserved. Solar panels would be brought in, for auxiliary sources of energy to power their
homes. They had stated very firmly that the crystals in the mines were finite and could
not have lasted long. So, the Phoenix Court agreed to find another sustainable energy
source for the crystals powering the energy cores of their starships. Likewise, an Institute
would be set up for students of both Artia and the rest of the Alliance Planets to learn
from each other. Knowing that many of the Artian youths were albinos or near-albinos,
the Phoenix Court and Artia promised to instill respect and tolerance. So, with an ultra-
violet seal on special parchment paper, Artia’s obscurity was removed and it rejoined the
Alliance Planet as a full-fledged member. Sighs of relief could be heard around the table.
The negotiations were over.

The suggestions for a sustainable energy source and the Institute were made by
the Crown Princess whose calm during the talks was admirable. She had thought it
through, just as her teacher Aunt Betta had taught her. She delivered her ideas and
formulated her words with sincerity, while gauging the body language of the Artian
family heads.

Later in the week the Artian family heads threw a small state function for the
Phoenix Court delegation. It was a modest affair but well-attended and filled with
 226

optimism. The Crown Princess politely refused any offer of wine and simply smiled,
preferring to stand next to the ceiling-to-floor window and stare into the sparkling
expanse of space. She was more concerned about the recovery of the Empress and tactful
folk gave her due space.

Chapter Thirteen

The Empress regained consciousness a week later. Her responses were still
extremely weak and the Imperial Physicians were concerned at her slurred speech,
pointing to potential nerve damage in her brain and the possibility of a stroke. Her right
side was stronger than her left; the Physicians were checking if the muscles were slack or
feeble. So far it was only the slurring of speech that constituted their major concern.

Min Feng visited her daily, taking turns with the Dowager and the rest of the
Imperial siblings. The interaction seemed to rejuvenate the Empress and she made
attempts to smile as well.
 227

“I heard… what… you did…” The Empress told Min Feng once, her voice
fragile, soft. “You …did… to pro…tect… Never… doubt… your… gift.”

Min Feng kissed her mother’s limp hand. “I know.” But it doesn’t change the
fact. I still killed someone.

“Well…done. You are… a …good… diplomat.” The Empress struggled to look

directly at her daughter, her eyes intent and intense.

“Rest, mother,” Min Feng caught the stern eye of the nurse-in-charge who was
determined to make sure her patient get sufficient rest.

The Dowager had quietly drawn her aside once and said with no uncertain terms
that if her mother could not recover that quickly, she might have to ascend the Phoenix
Throne. The prospect was sobering enough. She had to meditate on it and still could not
find any form of comfort or solace. She wished that she had more training. She wished to
see Javen. She wished… and still her possible ascension frightened her.

“You are the heir apparent to the Throne,” the Dowager had whispered to her and
her eyes were hard like flint. “It is your path, Min Feng.”

Javen.

She gazed at the Empress now sleeping peacefully on her bed. How am I going to
step into her shoes?

Min Feng breathed a slow lungful of air. I will do it. I am the daughter of the
Empress and bearer of the phoenix flame. I am a phoenix. With purpose. With my family
around me, I will do it and do it well.
 228

The audacity of those thoughts startled her and she chuckled aloud, eliciting a
concerned glance from the nurse.

Chapter Fourteen

Javen Windwalker had heard the news of the failed assassination of the Empress
from Aunt Betta and reinforced by his mother and the rest of his aunts. They also
informed that Min was now acting Empress, as the Empress seemed unable to recover
from it immediately.

It took some time to absorb the import of the news, especially the part where Min
was now acting Empress.
 229

I am going to miss you, Javen thought with a sharp pang in his heart and
remembered her laughter. Her joy at the sight of the slot canyon and the clear water pool.
The smell of her skin on his. Her voice.

His textbooks waited for him. He thumbed the personal mail reader. A whole list
of communiqués from faculty staff and from his classmates downloaded swiftly, all
demanding to be read. Perhaps reading through mail would distract him and give him
some time to think.

A familiar name popped out at him and his spirits rose.

Want to go back to the slot canyon? I miss the pool. A bath in it will be great.

Min Feng was coming back.

 230

Appendix

About The Phoenix Court

The Phoenix Court was a matriarchal Imperial family set in a distant future. The Empress
who ruled predominantly in a closely-knit Alliance of Planets (Alliance Planets) was
descended from a long line of women – the Court itself was matrilineal with generations
of mothers and daughters passing down the ancestral bloodline and knowledge to each
succeeding generation.
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The bloodline was also extraordinary as it included the gene that enabled women to
transform from human female to a mythological avian creature – the Phoenix. The gene
was dominant in one generation and recessive in another. In the current storyline, only
few women – the Empress, Princesses Min Feng and Min Xin – carried the dominant
gene. The rest, including the sons, had the recessive gene.

The Court was modeled after Imperial Qing in the 19th century. In terms of administrative
style and governance, female family members and relatives were sent to govern the
planets and were in charge of key administrative positions, including captaincy of
starships and warships in the Imperial Fleet. Men played important roles too: they served
as consorts to the Empress or to the various Phoenix Court women, as well as governing
and providing leadership roles to military positions, planetary governments and auxiliary
Imperial families.

Characters

Princess Min Feng – The main character and protagonist. Masqueraded as Earnestine
Thorne.
Princess Min Xin. – The youngest sister of Min Feng.
Princess Min Le – One of the sisters, older than Min Xin.
Empress Ze Tian. – The Empress of the Phoenix Court and the mother of Min Feng and
Min Xin.
Duke Lukas Zhang – The consort of Empress Ze Tian and the father of the Phoenix Court
children.
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Admiral Medea – Fourth Aunt of Empress Ze Tian and grand aunt of Princess Min Feng.
Captain Helena Zhangzi – Cousin of Empress Ze Tian and captain of the Raptor.
Deceased.

Bei de Channey – Cousin of Princess Min Feng, from the planet Solaris. A duchess.

Mei Hu and Mei Hua – Mirror-twins and maids-in-waiting to Min Feng. Also distant
cousins/relatives.
Edward and Malik – Guards.
Envoy Tung – Diplomat sent to the planet Artia. Deceased.

Javen Windwalker – A Navajo/Dine boy from the planet Mesa.

Aunt Betta – A Navajo/Dine woman trader-merchant from the planet Mesa. Javen’s aunt.

The abbess – Abbess of a nunnery in the Ermei Mountains.

Julian Stern-Aus – Eldest son of the Stern-Aus clan.

Elizabeth Stern-Aus – Matriarch and mother of the Stern-Aus clan.

Yrant – hermaphrodite assassin from the planet Onn.

Glossary

Aim-hawk – a kind of bird-of-prey, similar to a hawk but larger in size.

Artia – Mining planet.

Imperial City – The planet where the Phoenix Court resides.

Minx-cat – a felinoid predator.

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Onn – Pleasure planet.

Neo-equus – a new breed of horses, mixed with Arabian and Thoroughbred genes. They
are touted to be hardier and more tractable.

Solaris – Partisan planet of the Phoenix Court.

The Left Quadrant – A famous part of the Markets selling foodstuff from the Alliance
Planets.

The names of the Phoenix Court Imperial family are all in Mandarin Chinese, partly
because of their dominant Han (Chinese) racial type and in keeping with the traditions of
Imperial Qing. The racial types are actually, in reality, more varied and the characters are
more Eurasian when it comes to race and ethnicity.

Fai, fao, fa and fei – Gender-neutral pronouns from the planet Onn. – used by the
hermaphroditic courtesan caste.
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About The Author

Joyce Chng is married, with two beautiful little girls and a wonderful
husband. She resides in Singapore with her family. She enjoys medieval
history, science fiction and fantasy, medieval longsword, gardening, and all
things esoteric.