Page 61 of The Poet Empress
“Psst. Terren. You still awake?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve come up with the first half of a poem. Want to help me complete it?”
“Yeah!”
In the mountains, where there is only wind,
A little sparrow flies far from her nest.
A thousand li traveled, braving the cold,
For one look beyond the farthest crest.
36A BURNING STAR
The next morning, Maro took Terren around the fortress. They bid hello to the cooks and the sentries, the men repairing its stone walls. They lit incense at the shrine dedicated to the Shouyuan Emperor and Prince Han, who had retaken the pass on the same campaign they had lost their lives on. Then they climbed up the guard tower, so that Terren and his friends could have a look at the Eriet Mountains’ jagged peaks and stunning vistas, at all that unending snow under a red-scorched dawn.
Maro drew his brother under his cloak and pointed towards the horizon. “That peak over there—I’ve always thought it looked like the head of a dragonhorse.”
Terren leaned his cheek on his brother’s shoulder, breaths coming out in white puffs. “It does!”
“And that one next to it—that’s the titan hero who rides it,” Maro said, conspiratorially, the way they used to whisper secrets to each other from atop golden pagodas. “And look over there, across the snow, the big one. That’s the demon king they’re about to fight. Those craggy overhangs are its brows.”
Terren’s eyes widened. “It has horns, too! Scary ones, rising out from just behind its head. Ones he intends to use against the titan hero.”
Maro laughed. “I see it! I see it!”
“Do you think he’ll win? Can he really slay the demon king?”
“’Course he will. Evil always gets defeated in the end, doesn’t it?”
They shared a quick lunch after that—of steamed wheat buns, mountain grouse, and white radish soup—and then Maro took him to the Salt Road.
“It’s about a quarter of the way done,” Maro declared, proud. They stood at the east side of the Long Peace Mountain, not far from the fortress, where a tunnel had opened up like a long, verdant dragon. Willow leaves and ivies draped lush over its stone walls. Flowers bloomed, impossibly, from amidst the ice and frozen stone—anemones and orchids and lots and lots of chrysanthemums.
“You did this?” Terren’s eyes went wide with admiration, which made Maro feel like he was glowing.
“Of course! Who else?” He led the way inside.
Lanterns lit the path at regular intervals, the character for?/Yan flickering gold on their round bellies. The first commodity to be traded once the tunnel was completed, the imperial edict had mentioned, was scheduled to be salt. It would be an homage to the early days of the Yongkai era, as well as an auspicious sign for the dynasty’s future. Barrels of it stood waiting in the palace’s storerooms for the Salt Road’s grand opening, alongside shelves full of the emperor’s Blessings, to make even more.
We await news of your successwas the edict’s concluding sentence. Meaning the nation was counting on Maro.
At the end of the tunnel, his support was already waiting for him. His tutors and Doctor Shu, a few trusted servants from the Dawn Pavilion, some high-ranking soldiers. Commander Remi frowned when he saw Terren there as well, but upon seeing how Maro clung to him, he reluctantly let him stay.
With his brother around, Maro was the happiest he had been in a long time. I could tell from the way the journal entries shifted in tone, the word choices becoming more joyful, the brushstrokes light like clouds.
Terren is my equal,he wrote, during one of his many moments of sentimentality.My tutors, my elders, Mother, Father—I must look up to them. Everyone else must look up to me. Even Little Rain and Siming call me “Your Highness”!
But my brother, with a sigil like mine—he is my only equal.
For the next few months, Terren went with him to the tunnel as Maro carved through the mountain, bit by harrowing bit. Terren was not there every day—sometimes he had to study with his own tutors, or perform filial duties for his mother, Lady Autumn—but he went whenever he could. Maro was far too focused on his own work to engage in conversation, butjust knowing Terren was by his side, reading a book or practicing calligraphy, made everything better. Even his headaches became easier to ignore.
He was reminded of peach trees and sunlit afternoons.
After a long day of using his magic, Maro was usually too tired to play. Sometimes he was even too tired to eat dinner and went directly to bed. Those days, Terren was the one to tuck his older brother into bed and blow out the last lantern. “Good night, Maro.”
