Ashwin lay motionless on the bed, pale and unresponsive as the day they had dragged his unconscious body into the flat – although the pale part probably had more to do with him being a winged freak than with the condition of his health. Ruban sighed. He supposed he should stop obsessing over that particular fact. It wasn't doing his already disturbed mental equilibrium any favours.
Besides, he had had the chance to ditch the guy. And the heavens knew, he had been tempted. So very sorely tempted. He had almost walked off with Hiya that night, after the check-up; almost left Ashwin unconscious in that alley, to do with himself as he pleased. There was nothing he had wanted more in those few minutes than to forget about the entire incident. To forget about Ashwin and all that he represented – Ruban's stupidity, his failure to notice the obvious, his wilful fucking blindness towards everything that wasn't what he wanted to see.
Ruban should have known that things weren't as they seemed. From the very beginning, Ashwin had been stronger, sharper, more knowledgeable than he had any reason to be. On the day of the SifCo attack, Tauheen had spoken to him like a long-lost acquaintance, if not a friend. Not to mention Reivaa's constant taunts from the moment they were face to face with her.
Ruban should have put two and two together a long time ago. But he hadn't, because just this once, he had thought that the universe had genuinely cut him a break. Because somewhere in the back of his mind, he had wanted Ashwin to be who he said he was – an ally he could rely on in a time of need. A friend, an equal whom he could trust. And every time he looked at Ashwin lying motionless on the bed, it was a bitter, mocking reminder of just what a pathetic idiot he had been.
But he had retraced his steps to the alley – a decision he would forever blame on the effects of too much morphine in his system – and dragged the unconscious Aeriel onto the main road, throwing him unceremoniously into the cab he had hailed to take them home.
So really, Ruban had made his own awkward, Aeriel-infested bed, and he supposed he shouldn't complain now that he had to lie in it. At least the wings hadn't made a reappearance after that night at Zikyang over forty-eight hours ago, which was a mercy, however small. Ruban wasn't entirely sure how he would react to that visual reminder of Ashwin's lies, his true nature. The reminder that Ashwin was the one thing that Ruban hated more than anything else in the universe, and that he had been fool enough to think of that monster as his friend. Ruban would probably try to kill him again, and he was fairly certain that that would upset Hiya.
Hiya lay curled up on the bed beside the Aeriel, reading a storybook out loud – whether for Ashwin's benefit or her own, Ruban wasn't sure. The girl had refused to leave Ashwin's side for any length of time since she had woken up in the flat the day after Zikyang, and he didn't have the heart to scold her for it. Not after he had come so close to losing her.
Seating himself in the balcony with a cup of much-needed coffee, Ruban wondered if he was making a mistake by not sending her back home. He had told Subhas that he was taking the girl to the Surai Fair over the weekend, and his uncle had agreed readily enough. The fair wasn't due for another week, but Subhas would not know that.
It was clear as day, at this point, that the IAW had been compromised. Someone on the inside was feeding information to the Aeriels, and Ruban had no idea who it could be. There was no reason to involve his uncle until he had something more concrete to go on than a really strong hunch – plausible deniability had its uses so long as you could maintain it.
But until he knew where the leak was coming from, the Kinoh Residence wasn't a safe place for Hiya to be. They had tried to take her once, they could try it again. She was a source of leverage over one of the most powerful men in the IAW, perhaps in the whole country, and he didn't doubt that the Aeriels would leave no stone unturned to get their hands on her. No, he wanted Hiya where he could keep an eye on her, protect her if need be. And if that meant letting her read Black Beauty to an unconscious Aeriel, well, it was just something he would have to learn to live with.
The phone rang. "Ruban Kinoh speaking."
"Ruban! How are you? How're Hiya and Ashwin? Is he awake yet? Are you alright?" Simani's anxious voice came through the line. "Didn't I tell you to call me every few hours?"
Ruban cringed. Simani knew about Zikyang, of course. Everyone did. It would have been impossible to hide the fact that an entire forest had burned nearly to the ground overnight; or that Ruban's car had been on the site of the incident, along with the charred corpses of four Aeriels. The media had attributed all the kills to him, which was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it helped cover up Ashwin's role in the whole thing more easily than he had anticipated. And a curse because he had been inundated with requests for interviews and appearances from every reporter and producer in the city – not excluding the redoubtable Casia Washi, who now seemed to believe she had an exclusive copyright on any scrap of news that involved him or Ashwin.
"I'm fine, Sim. Stop worrying about me, will you? Ashwin's still out but Hiya's keeping him company with Black Beauty and whatnot. How's the investigation coming along?"
She also knew about his injury – it wasn't the sort of thing you could hide from your own partner, after all. He ached with the desire to tell her everything – about Ashwin and Reivaa and all the goddamned Aeriels and all their goddamned schemes. And it wasn't that he didn't trust her. She was one of the only people alive – apart from his uncle – whom he would trust with his life without a second thought. But knowing the truth would put Simani at risk – both from the Aeriels and from within the IAW itself – and he wouldn't allow that until he at least had an inkling of what was really going on. At the moment, nothing about this case made any sense to him, and things only got more complicated the more he thought about them. He needed more information before he could share the truth with Simani and Vikram.
Besides, if he was being honest with himself, Ruban wasn't entirely sure how to tell his partner that there was an unconscious Aeriel on his bed with a wing ripped to shreds, who had rather casually killed his own kind to save him and Hiya. He hardly knew how to process that himself.
Simani sighed. "We hardly know what we're looking for, Ruban. One of the Aeriels who attacked you at Zikyang was identified as Saekaa. It was one of Tauheen's closest lieutenants and one of the Aeriels Ashwin had said could use flare-blasts. The rest we couldn't identify. Might just be they'd never been in the system. Apart from that there was Reivaa, of course. But there was hardly enough left of her for an identification – not that she'd ever been in the system. I wish I could've seen her wings, though. Were they really like in the picture?"
"Yes, really." Ruban could feel a headache coming on, and he pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose, stifling a groan. "Look, Sim, I'll call you later, alright? There're some things I need to see to–"
"Don't push yourself too much, Ruban. You should be resting right now. Your injury–"
"Is getting better, okay? I told you, Sim. Stop worrying about me. It's just a little research. I'll be fine."
"It's always just-a-little-something with you. Promise me you won't do anything reckless, Ruban. Please. And promise me you'll keep me posted. And give my love to Hiya. I'll come around the flat as soon as I can."
"I promise. And I will. See you 'round Sim."
He needed some fresh air, Ruban decided. Not to mention some fresh perspective, if he could find it. And staying cooped up in the flat certainly wasn't doing him any good. Talking to Simani had made him realise how far into his own head he had retreated. It wasn't his strong suit – introspection. Ruban knew himself well enough to know that he was a doer, not a thinker. He was far more comfortable with action than with ideas, especially ones as vague as the things that currently crowded his mind.
He walked to the sink to rinse out his cup. The limp was getting better by the day; the doctors said he'd be back to normal by the end of the week. He barely even needed painkillers anymore.
Bracken, he decided. Bracken was where he would go. Dawad was the man he needed to talk to. He would know about the subject, certainly much more than Ruban did. Perhaps he would even be able to shed some light on the mystery that was Ashwin. Plus, he was a foreigner living in Vandram on a work visa – as far away from the IAW and any sort of classified information as it was humanly possible to be. In a strange way, this made him more trustworthy than any of Ruban's compatriots at the moment.
His pulse quickened with the sense of newfound purpose. All this time, this was what he had needed – a direction, an opening. And now he had it.
"I'll be back in a couple of hours," he said, looking in on Hiya. The girl had abandoned the book and had now shifted her attention to a Rubik's cube that looked like it was one forceful twist away from falling to pieces.
Her tongue stuck out between her teeth in singular absorption, Hiya nodded vaguely, not looking up at Ruban.
"There're some snacks in the fridge if you're hungry. I'll make lunch after I get back. And call me immediately if Ashwin shows any signs of waking up, do you understand me?"
"Uh-huh."
"This is not a joke, Hiya. And it's not optional. I mean it. You call me if he so much as breathes funny, roger that?" he said, using the slang he knew would get the girl's attention.
"Roger that!" Hiya said, looking up from her cube and nodding enthusiastically. "You'll bring cake?"
"I always bring cake."
***
"–And then they were all on fire, all three of them, before they just…fell out of the air, I suppose. They fell into the forest, and if there was anything left of them before that, well, the forest-fire took care of the rest. It was like a blazing abyss below us – I could barely believe we had survived it ourselves." Ruban exhaled, sitting back in his chair. It felt good to finally talk about it, to simply say the whole thing out loud to someone who would not doubt his sanity for saying the things he did. He had no idea what Dawad thought of his story, but at least he believed him, even understood his dilemma, or at least part of it anyway.
"The way I see it, Ruban," Dawad said from his seat across the table, taking a gentle sip of his tea. "You should be thankful for the whole thing. You got all that you wanted, did you not? Hiya is alive and safe, as are you, and four Aeriels dead, all of it credited to you. I must confess I fail to see the reason for your agitation."
"Don't play games with me prof. Not now. You know exactly what's bothering me. He killed four Aeriels – four of his own kind – and for what? He had no reason for it but to save us, to save a couple of humans. And this wasn't the first time he'd done something like that either. He did the same thing at Ghorib, though I couldn't tell you that at the time.
"Why would an Aeriel do that, do any of it? What could he possibly have had to gain by saving us? What is he doing here anyway, pretending to be a Zainian delegate? From what I've observed so far, he seems to be working at cross-purposes with Tauheen. But why? Why would an Aeriel defy its queen? I didn't even know that was possible. And how the hell do we come into this convoluted fucking picture? Help me out here, prof. You know more about this stuff than anybody else I could think of. What am I missing here? Because from where I am standing, none of this makes any kind of sense."
Dawad's green eyes twinkled, the laugh-lines around them crinkling his ebony skin. "That's a lot of questions, my dear boy. Let me answer them with a question of my own. Had it been a human, instead of an Aeriel, that had kidnapped Hiya, had threatened her life, what would you have done to them?"
"I'd shoot the son of a bitch, of course."
"And yet you cannot fathom why an Aeriel would attack its own kind under the same circumstances?"
Ruban stifled a groan of frustration. "Stop talking in circles, prof. You know that analogy doesn't mean a thing. Aeriels aren't…people. They don't feel things like human beings. You're trying to tell me an Aeriel turned on its own kind just because it couldn't stand to see a human child being murdered? I suppose the next thing you'll say is that the creature has finally rediscovered its hidden maternal instincts and is ready to let go of its evil ways all for the love of a human kid."
Dawad sighed, setting his empty cup softly down on the table. Belatedly, Ruban reached for his own tea. It had gone cold.
"If you are raised in a prison, my boy, you will grow up thinking all men are criminals. That does not mean that that is the truth, however. Not everything that seems apparent is really so."
Ruban glared at his old teacher. "Was that supposed to convey some profound philosophical truth? Because if it was, I've got to tell you prof, you're not very good at this."
Dawad laughed, a deep, rumbling sound of unsuppressed mirth. "As impatient as ever, aren't we? I see you haven't changed much since the days you roamed the halls of this hallowed institution spreading havoc and mayhem."
"To be fair, most of that was courtesy of Simani and her gang of psychopaths. They just dragged me along for the kicks most of the time."
"As you say," Dawad agreed easily enough, pouring himself another cup of tea. "Let me ask you this, Ruban. Six hundred years ago, humanity rebelled against the Aeriels, defeated them and drove them from the earth and into Vaan. Well, most of them, anyway. A few of the stubborn ones stayed behind, and have been causing trouble for us humans ever since – mostly with acts of terrorism and sporadic violence, though these do sometimes escalate into more coordinated battles between the races. Although there hasn't been a proper pitched battle between humans and Aeriels in almost a century – mostly due to the technological advancements achieved by humanity in that time – there has been a noticeable uptick in terrorist attacks in recent years, especially the last couple of decades."
Ruban nodded. He didn't know what else he was expected to do. None of what Dawad had just said constituted a question, and most of it was general knowledge. He just hoped the old man was actually leading somewhere useful with all of this. But then, for all that Dawad could be convoluted, Ruban had never known the man to be pointless. That thought, if nothing else, kept him in his chair as Dawad took his time finishing off his second cup of tea.
"So six hundred years ago – in a war that spanned the globe but culminated right here in the city of Ragah, which then housed the Aeriel monarchy – the human race defeated their Aeriel rulers and freed the planet of their tyranny. Freed the planet of a race a hundred times stronger and faster and more resilient than themselves. An immortal race of godlike beings that could absorb and manipulate the energy of the sun itself. Now ask yourself, Ruban. How exactly did we manage a thing like that?"
"Because the humans invented sifblades, of course. They discovered the only substance on earth that could sap the energy of an Aeriel faster than it could be replenished. Humans got hold of the only thing that could kill an Aeriel and made it into a lethal weapon. After that, the outcome of the war was a foregone conclusion." It came out almost like a piece of recitation, a ballad that had been drilled into their memories since they were old enough to walk, since the first day of school. "Is there a point to this?"
"There are multiple points to this, the first being one of common sense, which we seem to have traded for an ego boost somewhere along the way. After centuries of research in thousands of laboratories around the world, the modern sifblade still cannot kill an X-class Aeriel with a single stroke. Which is why Hunters fight in teams of four, as I'm sure you'd know. You need multiple hits to take down a single X-class with state-of-the-art sifblades – the product of six centuries of technological development. Now imagine the sifblades used by the human armies who fought during the Rebellion – if you can at all call such a ragtag bunch an army. Those things were nothing like modern sifblades. They were cruder than the toys they hand civilians in those ridiculous 'self-defence' classes – nothing any self-respecting Hunter would be caught dead with.
"The humans outnumbered the Aeriels, yes. But not by half the numbers we have now. Most of the Aeriels fled to Vaan and the human population has multiplied by leaps and bounds over the centuries. And despite all of this, with all our numbers and all our technology, we are still unable to conquer the few Aeriels that stayed behind on earth. So you tell me, my boy: how did a bunch of untrained revolutionaries overthrow an empire of tyrannical demigods, wielding weapons scarcely more powerful than modern toys?"
Ruban shifted in his chair, his mouth drawing into a line as he narrowed his eyes at the professor. He didn't know why, but Dawad's questions were making him uncomfortable. "What're you saying then, prof? How did the Founding Fathers drive the Aeriels from earth?"
A corner of Dawad's mouth quirked up into the ghost of a smile. "That's the point, my lad. They didn't. The Aeriels just left."
Ruban gaped at him. "What?"
"Well, most of them, anyway. As you can see, there are always a few exceptions."
Ruban couldn't help it, he laughed. "So…what? You're saying the Rebellion never happened? That everything we know of human history today is one elaborate lie? Some kind of super-detailed, globe-spanning long con pulled on us by…who? Our forefathers?"
Dawad frowned at him as though he were a particularly dim-witted child. So he was the one being childish here, was he?
"Of course not, Ruban. Obviously there was a Rebellion. One in which the humans, led by the Founding Fathers, fought very valiantly. It was a war which they won. All I'm saying is that the Rebellion wasn't a war between humans and Aeriels. It was a war between the humans and Tauheen, backed by a few of her close associates. Nobody else gave a damn."
"Are you even trying to make sense at this point?"
Dawad drew in a deep breath, as if bracing himself to deliver a long lecture. Ruban recognised the gesture from the numerous hours spent taking notes in the various classrooms of Bracken, trying vainly to keep up with the seemingly endless volley of random thoughts interwoven with obscure trivia that comprised most of the Kanbarian academic's discourses. He had to link his fingers together to keep them from reaching for a notebook.
"I know you'll find this hard to believe, my boy. And considering the experiences you've had – that we've all had, to one extent or another – I don't blame you. But I've spent my life studying Aeriel history and culture, and here's the thing. Aeriels as a race are not predisposed to aggression. Or violence.
"Evolutionarily speaking, they never needed to be. I mean, it's not like they ever had anything to compete for. They were born with immortality – with all the resources they needed to survive and then some.
"They originated in Vaan. You know what it was called back in the day when humans were allowed access to it? Don't look so surprised, Ruban," the old man laughed. "There was a time when humans and Aeriels didn't hate each other, you know. It was called 'The Realm of Eternal Sunshine'. Not some fanciful description thought up by a poet, either. That's literally what it was – what it is – a dimension where the sun never sets.
"On earth, Aeriels were stronger, faster and more resilient than any other being in creation, including humanity. What predator did they have to fear, to fight off? They needed neither food nor water to survive. The only resource they did require – sunlight – was available in abundance in both the realms. They were literally born with the problem of plenty.
"What I'm trying to say is this. Aeriels were created stronger, faster, cleverer than humans; better than us in every way but one. The one thing that gave humanity an edge over the Aeriels. Can you guess what it was?"
Ruban shook his head. He wasn't sure he could have spoken if he had wanted to. He felt dizzy, overwhelmed.
"Ambition. Drive, passion, desire – whatever you choose to call it. The motivation to better ourselves, to improve our lot in life. The thing that drives all innovation, all technological and social development, and all conflict. The want for more: more than what we were given, the hand we were dealt by nature.
"The Aeriels…they were dealt a better hand than any other species in existence, so they never really developed those traits. They were born with everything, so they never learned to want for more, to want to improve themselves or their lot. They had no drive, no ambition; no real passion beyond the fulfilment of immediate hedonistic desires or aesthetic fancies.
"They weren't tyrannical rulers, Ruban. They were barely rulers at all," Dawad laughed, as if remembering an old joke.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ruban asked, trying to keep his spiralling thoughts under control.
"Aeriels appeared on earth shortly before the dawn of the agricultural age. In fact, much of the archaeological evidence we have from that time would suggest that the agricultural revolution – which ended the age of nomadic hunter-gatherers – was brought about largely with the help of the Aeriels. Being energy manipulators, they could to an extent affect the local weather conditions to facilitate cultivation. Now of course, it was the humans that did all the actual sowing and harvesting; no Aeriel would have the patience for that. During those days the Aeriels just sort of…floated in and out of the scene, I suppose. Lending a hand here and there when asked but staying largely out of human affairs.
"Then Zeifaa came to earth. She was the current queen of Vaan – the Aeriels being a matrilineal race – and the most powerful Aeriel humanity had seen up till that point. According to pre-rebellion folklore, she had the power to control the tides of the ocean. Now apparently, she really liked the earth when she got here and decided to settle down for a while. And 'for a while' by Aeriel standards can be quite a long while indeed.
"If the legends are to be believed, during Zeifaa's time on earth, one of the human tribes that had been driven from their home by another tribe asked her for help in finding a new place to settle. So she drove the sea away and raised the landmass we now call North Vandram – including Ragah – from under the water for the tribesmen to settle down; which they did with much fanfare.
"As you can imagine, this impressed the humans rather profoundly. And being humans, they of course deified her and asked her to be their ruler. And being an Aeriel, she of course thought that this would be a good bit of fun, and agreed. So they established the Aeriel Monarchy in Vandram – which later spread to span the globe – and the successive Aeriel Queens ruled both the races.
"Only they didn't. Not really. The Aeriels were not exactly the ruling type. Their idea of a 'queen' was very different from that of a human's, which both sides quickly discovered. They were – are – flighty, hedonistic creatures far more concerned with arranging the clouds to look pretty than with gathering revenue and quelling unrest. They had immense power, but no drive to actually utilise it for coherent, long-term goals. For all practical intents and purposes, humans have always been ruled by chieftains and overlords belonging to their own race. The successive Aeriel Queens were never anything more than figureheads; a role with which they were perfectly satisfied, as were the humans. Every now and then they would lend a hand when things got messy with wars or natural disasters, but that was really the extent of it. The Aeriels had no idea how to actually rule anybody, and were not interested in learning. The humans, for their part, were absolutely fine with that attitude."
"Sounds like a perfect fairy-tale," said Ruban impatiently. "So what went wrong?"
"Biology. That's what went wrong."
"What?"
Dawad sighed. "Do you know how Aeriels reproduce, my lad?"
"Of course," said Ruban, feeling vaguely insulted. He hadn't been that bad a student. "They reproduce through their feathers."
"That's correct. But only partly."
"What do you mean?"
"It's true that Aeriels usually reproduce asexually through their feathers. It's the most common practice. But it's not the only way they can reproduce. They can also reproduce sexually – with other Aeriels and with humans."
"W-what are you saying, prof?" Ruban stammered. He wasn't sure how much of this he believed. He wasn't sure how much of it he wanted to. "You're saying that Aeriels can…what? Have children with humans? That's impossible and you know it."
"You would think, wouldn't you? I mean, they're different species belonging to two different dimensions, for God's sake. But it seems like nature took her laws and decided to shove them up our collective asses when it came to designing Aeriels. They're reproductively compatible with humans, it would seem. And that compatibility is what fucked us all."
"So what do these Aeriel-human hybrids end up being? Aeriel or human?"
"Neither. And both. They're called vankrai, and they're the deadliest creatures in existence."
"Vankrai?" Ruban repeated, brow crinkling in vague remembrance. "Ashwin said something like that to Reivaa in Zikyang."
"I'm sure he did. That is what Reivaa was. A vankrai. A creature with the raw power of an Aeriel and the ambition and avarice of a human.
"Not to sound cliché, but vankrai were born with…great potential, in one way or another. They had the drive and the motivation, the ability to set and pursue long-term goals, that the Aeriels lacked. And with it they had the godlike powers that are natural to the inhabitants of Vaan. I suppose you could say they had the best of both worlds – or the worst."
"What do you mean the worst?" Ruban hadn't realised he was sitting up at the edge of his chair. When had that happened?
"Well, this is just a personal theory; nothing backing it up but my own funny little ideas, you understand. But the Aeriel psyche wasn't quite designed to handle the intensity of human emotions, I don't think.
"Not all of their lives were documented, of course, and there weren't many of them to begin with, so the sample-size for this hypothesis leaves something to be desired. But most vankrai seemed to be…overwhelmed…by the human side of their nature. They couldn't control it, couldn't really seem to get a handle on it. In one way or another, they tended to go off the rocker. Their humanity got the better of them, to the vexation of all concerned. A mad demigod hell-bent on 'saving the fish' or 'ending the reign of the evil mosquitos' is not a pretty sight.
"Of course, this wasn't always the case. And the vankrai performed great feats, achieved great things when it went right. But those instances were rarer than the alternative.
"Still, it didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. Vankrai were very rare – born once or maybe twice every few centuries – and were always heavily outnumbered by both Aeriels and humans. They never really posed a serious threat. Until, that is, Tauheen was born."
"Tauheen – as in the Aeriel Queen?" said Ruban incredulously. "She's half-human?"
"Didn't you see her eyes, Ruban? They weren't silver like an Aeriel's, were they? That's how you tell a vankrai from a feather-born Aeriel. The eyes. They're dark with flecks of silver – part human, part Aeriel."
"The best of both worlds…" Ruban murmured.
"Quite. No vankrai had ever been on the throne of Vaan – and by extension that of Vandram – before. Aeriel Queens ruled for centuries at a stretch, being immortal and all, until they got bored of the whole gig and just kind of…wandered off. Then the eldest female child of the last queen took her position and so it went.
"Well, the last Queen took a human lover – and her first female offspring, Tauheen, was born of that union. Nobody knows if she had any more children, and it wouldn't have mattered if she did. Tauheen was next in line. A few centuries after her birth – and after the birth of Tauheen's own children – her mother found another mortal paramour, but this time decided to pursue their budding romance on the Rayanal ranges north of Zaini. And that's where she went, leaving the throne to her daughter. The one who started and ended it all."
"I'm guessing it didn't go so well from there."
Dawad laughed. "You're a good guesser, my boy. Tauheen was a very powerful vankrai. And very…human, in some ways. And most importantly, she wasn't satisfied with being a figurehead ruler. She wanted real power, tangible authority. A very human desire, and very dangerous in something as powerful as an Aeriel. Especially one as powerful as her. But apart from being ambitious and quite single-minded about her goals, she had another human skill. She was very persuasive. A brilliant speaker and orator, really – the original demagogue. She gathered other vankrai around her, even a few feather-born Aeriels – a coterie of loyal followers – with promises of power and glory and all that other jazz.
"The rest of the story can be found in any history book of your choosing. She began imposing her will on her subjects, brutally subjugating those who opposed her. Playing the tyrannical dictator to a T, and mightily pissing off all the human lords who were utterly unused to such behaviour from the pretty Aeriels.
"She didn't bother the Aeriels too much. Even she couldn't take it if they decided to gang up against her, and she was smart enough to know it. So humanity bore the full brunt of her madness.
"About a century into her rule, as you rightly said, the humans discovered sif; now that they were actively looking for a way to get rid of the Aeriels. They fashioned the ores into crude daggers and started attacking Aeriels with it. Tauheen sent some of her followers to take care of these little uprisings, and they did, with exemplary brutality. This annoyed the humans even more, and the attacks escalated, gaining more supporters and slowly turning into what we now call the Rebellion.
"All this fighting annoyed the Aeriels, who were still more interested in making pretty designs on clouds than in world domination. And it was hard to do that sort of thing when the humans kept trying to stab them. So they packed up and retreated to Vaan, and locked the gates behind them, shutting Tauheen and her core group of psychopathic followers out of the Luminous Realms for causing all that trouble with the humans.
"Once there, they put Tauheen's firstborn, Safaa – also a vankrai, though one with significantly more self-control – on the throne of Vaan. And for the first time there were two Aeriel Queens, one on earth and one in Vaan.
"The Exiles retained power on earth for some time after the other Aeriels had left, but there were too few of them to withstand a worldwide uprising. The furthest territories started slipping out of their control, and then some of the ones closer to home. With each victory, the Rebels gained in confidence, and in supporters.
"Finally they reached Ragah, and there was the well-known storming of the palace. Tauheen was driven underground along with what was left of her followers, and Kanbar, Zaini and Vandram became independent countries with their own governments. Which is what they had always been in all but name, apart from the few decades of actual subjugation when Tauheen was at the height of her power. And as the saying goes, they all lived not-so-happily ever after."
"Even if everything you've just said is true – and I'm not saying it is – what on earth does Tauheen want with the reinforced sifblade formula now? And where the hell does Ashwin fit into this fucking convoluted picture?"
"I am a man, Ruban. A very intelligent and knowledgeable one, yes, but still only a mere mortal. I don't have a blueprint to the psyche of the Aeriel Queen, and I am most certainly not privy to her plans regarding your formula.
"As for this Ashwin, though…well, if I am right, I think you'll find that he wasn't lying to you completely after all. He really is a delegate, one sent specifically with the purpose of helping you foil Tauheen's plans, whatever they might be. Only he's not a delegate from Zaini, but from Vaan."
"A delegate from Vaan?" repeated Ruban blankly. He seemed to be doing that a lot these days.
"Well, one of Tauheen's aims – apart from the domination of earth – has always been to regain the throne of Vaan, secure entry into the Luminous Realms for herself and her followers once again. So it makes sense, does it not, that Queen Safaa would be as invested in trying to foil her mother's schemes as we are. Any success of Tauheen's plans could not but mean trouble for the denizens of Vaan, as well as those of earth."
Ruban put his throbbing head in his hands. "So Ashwin is…what? Safaa's man behind enemy lines?"
Dawad smiled. "I don't know, Ruban. I'm just saying that considering the circumstances, it seems like the most likely explanation, does it not? It certainly explains why he's helping you and working against Tauheen and the other Exiles."
"But-but he looked just like Reivaa. You know, when he was being an Aeriel and all."
"He looked like a vankrai?" Dawad asked, frowning.
"Uh, not like the dark eyes or anything. His eyes were white as fuck, I can attest to that," he shuddered. "But he had the two red marks on his wings. You know, like the mark on an X-class. Only they had one extra, both Reivaa and Ashwin. I had never seen anything like it, before that night in Zikyang."
"Ah I see." Dawad's lips quirked into a strange little smile. "It looks like you've met Prince Shwaan."
"Prince what?"
"Prince Shwaan, Ruban. You'll find mention of him in any run-of-the-mill history book dealing with the events of the Rebellion. By all accounts, he was just a child when it all went to hell, though. So there isn't as much information about him as there is about his sister, who played a more direct role in the departure of the Aeriels from earth. In any case, he was Tauheen's second child after Safaa, and a feather-born Aeriel."
"So he's not a vankrai?" Ruban asked, confused.
"No indeed, he is not. He is, however, Tauheen's son and Safaa's half-brother, which makes him a prince of Vaan and the only surviving member of the royal line apart from the two queens. Which again makes him the most likely candidate for being Safaa's second-in-command – which is what those two red marks indicate. Reivaa was Tauheen's most favoured lieutenant. And I suspect you have Safaa's younger brother sleeping on your bed as we speak."
***
Turning the knob of the door to Dawad's cabin, Ruban paused. "If it's not too much trouble, sir, may I ask you another question?"
"Of course. You can ask me as many questions as you want."
"If you knew all of this information all this time, how come you never said anything about it in class? Surely, it would be a part of your subject."
Dawad laughed, but there was an edge to it that Ruban had never heard before. "In class? Because I'd be in prison if I did, I suppose. And that if I was lucky. If not, I'd be hanged for treason."
Ruban's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Why do you think this information is not available in standard-issue textbooks, Ruban? It would be useful, don't you think, for a Hunter to know the difference between a regular Aeriel and a vankrai? To know the specific strengths and weaknesses of each? Why do you think the only information about vankrai available on the internet are vague conspiracy theories on message-boards of dubious repute?"
"I'm not sure what you're getting at, prof."
Dawad rubbed a withered hand over his face, sighing softly. "For millennia, Aeriels coexisted peacefully, even happily with humans. They influenced our music, our art and our architecture in ways that are still an indelible part of our culture, even if we've forgotten the origins of most of it. They taught and learned from humans, and we returned the favour. Even after centuries of renovations and redesigning, you can see strains of Aeriel architectural aesthetics woven through the walls of the IAW headquarters.
"And when things fell apart, it wasn't the fault of the Aeriels alone. It wasn't an Aeriel that sought to subjugate and enslave humanity – it was a vankrai. Equal parts Aeriel and human. It wasn't an Aeriel that was her most vicious and devoted lieutenant. Reivaa was, again, as much human as she was Aeriel. Humans, you see, bear as much responsibility for Tauheen's misdeeds as Aeriels do.
"But that doesn't make for a good war-narrative, does it? Not much by way of a thrilling bed-time story for the youngsters, of the victory of good over evil. Not the sort of thing you tell Hunters before you send them off to face death fighting superhuman terrorists – 'I mean sure, they're terrorists now, but they did help us with rice cultivation way back in the day'."
"It's the truth, though," Ruban said simply.
"It is, but an inconvenient one. I was hounded out of my own country for researching Vaan and the history of the Aeriels on earth. I went beyond the conventional study material, dug deeper. My government didn't like that.
"Ragah has a more open-minded academia, but there is a limit even to their leniency. I'm allowed to research pretty much anything I want as long as it stays within academic circles. But to stand up before a classroom full of would-be Hunters and tell them that the evil Aeriel Queen whom the Founding Fathers had overthrown had actually been half human? And that all the actual Aeriel monarchs before her had been perfectly benign figureheads who wouldn't understand the concept of tyranny if you put them through a graduate course on it?" The old man practically shook with laughter. "If there is a quicker way to the gallows, my boy, I do not know of it."
***
Ruban let himself into the flat, making for the kitchen to put the pastries away before he ran into Hiya. Before he could get anywhere near the refrigerator, though, a bright yellow paper-plane zipped past inches from his nose, followed by a larger one in fluorescent pink which landed rather gracefully on one of the blades of the rusty old ceiling fan. A high-pitched squeal filled the air, drawing his attention to the bedroom.
Hiya sprinted round and round the tiny single-bed, her outstretched fingers grabbing at the multicoloured planes that flew around the room like oversized confetti. Sitting with his back against the headboard, Ashwin added the last few flourishes to his latest creation – a magenta monstrosity resembling a Zainian fighter-jet from the last century – before releasing it into the air to cruise the bedroom with its mates. With a shrill whoop, Hiya jumped after the new arrival, tumbling over the bed in a dubious attempt to cross the room faster.
For a moment, Ruban thought he had travelled back in time. Ashwin looked nothing like the creature he had encountered in Zikyang and everything like the young man he had met at the IAW on Emancipation Day, all those months ago. His hair was back in its usual braid, falling over one shoulder like an intricately woven ceremonial drape. And his eyes were back to being midnight-black – as Zainian as they came – no hint of the alien white remaining in their charcoal depths. Ruban closed his eyes, trying to take it all in without driving himself mad. He almost wished he could go back to believing that illusion of normalcy. It would certainly make his life easier.
But Dawad's craggy voice rang in his ears, forcing him to tear himself from that pleasant reverie. Not everything that seems apparent is really so.
It would be so easy to turn away now – to hold on to the comfort of old prejudices that had driven him for so long, had given him strength and purpose.
Easy, and cowardly. Ruban sighed. He supposed he couldn't allow the damned Aeriel the satisfaction of seeing him run away. Ruban Kinoh was a lot of things, some of them not very nice. But he was not, had never been a coward. And he refused to let some goddamn princeling – whether from Zaini or Vaan – make him feel like one.
He cleared his throat.
"Baaaaaaaaaan!" a bundle of uncontained exuberance flew into his arms, forcing him to stagger back a few steps to try and keep his balance. "You brought cake!"
"I always bring cake."
"You're the bestest, Baan! Is it chocolate? It's chocolate!" Throwing her arms around his neck, Hiya pulled herself up to give him an excited peck on the cheek. Then she hopped down, snatched the bag of pastries from his hand and ran out of the room, flying into the kitchen presumably for extra icing. Well, so much for a healthy lunch.
"I thought I told you to call me the moment he woke up," Ruban called after her, catching the magenta fighter-jet between his fingers as it soared into his vicinity.
"I texted," Hiya shouted back with a put-upon huff. "Not my fault you don't check your messages, Baan."
Ruban rolled his eyes. He remembered his father often saying: kids these days, with a sagacious shake of the head. At the time he had thought the man was being melodramatic. At the ripe old age of twenty-six, he could totally relate.
***
"So, you're Prince Shwaan," he said, walking slowly into the room, his gait precise and deliberate. Ashwin said nothing, just stared at him with an expression somewhere between apprehension and amusement. "That's your name, isn't it?"
"If I say it is, will you feel compelled to stab me again?"
Ruban shrugged, nonchalant. "Depends."
Ashwin sighed. "I suppose it's just as well. I am Shwaan, yes. In the interest of full disclosure, though, I should warn you that if you do manage to kill me, my sister will have your head on a pike so fast you wouldn't know what hit you. She can be quite heavy-handed that way."
"Is that a threat?"
The Aeriel shook his head. "Quite the opposite. It can be rather embarrassing to have your sister swoop in to defend your posthumous honour after you've managed to screw up enough to wind up dead. I'd rather not put either of us through that ordeal, if it's all the same to you."
After a few seconds of contemplative silence, Ruban said: "I suppose we can work with that for the moment."
"Okay."
***