IGNORANCE
M.C.A. Hogarth

aunera [ au NEH rah ], (adjective) — Both a color (emerald green, very lush and deep, with a slight tint of blue) and a description of alien things, things that are not Ai-Naidari, from people and worlds to emotions and thoughts.

      It was good to be stripped on the market's pedestal... good to feel the crowd deepening around me. They were willing to look, to accept my public penance. Behind me, Shame tied me fast and a sigh rippled through the watchers... and we were one, oh at last, after my thoughtless arrogance had separated us, Noble from people. My head sank low enough to make the nape of my neck visible, and their gazes on me were a caress.
      When something disturbed that communion I raised my face. Shying away, the watchers had left a corridor through their ranks all the way to my Regal, accompanied by a figure far too short for any Ai-Naidari, and cloaked—aunerai?
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On the bright side, I started skipping around The Worth of a Shell and found myself reading it to the end. Aside from some minor copy-edits, I don't think I'll end up changing anything. I still believe this book. I can't wait to make it available.

      "I think we're safe," I said quietly.
      "Good!"
      "For now," I finished.
      We stood in silence, enveloped in the cool hand of the forest. Dlane gulped at the air, sounding alarmingly like she trying not to sob.
      "Ke anadi?"
      "Will it ever end?" she asked, the intonation that might have made it a question failing. "You've killed fourteen beasts and saved me from two searchers. How much longer can we be so lucky?"
      "This isn't luck, ke anadi," I said, pulling her into my arms and resuming our course down the stream. She did not resist.
      "And now without food or clothing or even your spear! How will we survive?"
      "As Jokka always have. Through skill and intelligence, and perhaps the will of the Trinity."
      "The Trinity," she said bitterly. "What Trinity? What gods?"
      "Hush, ke anadi, you're talking nonsense," I said. She could take many things from me, my anadi, but my faith in the Brightness, World and Void… that she would not have.
      Perhaps she sensed my rejection… whatever the case she rested against my chest without speaking. Her body was damp, and the soft hairs cloaking her feet had curled from the run. I found a rhythm and strode down the ravine, trying not to disturb the water.
      "Intelligence," Dlane murmured. "Always intelligence. If it is intelligence through which we survive, why do we destroy it in a third of our population?"
      I opened my mouth, then frowned. "We do not destroy intelligence, ke anadi."
      "Yes we do," Dlane said. "Breeding the anadi. It kills their minds."
      Exasperated, I asked, "And the alternative? Shall we get children on animals?"
      "In the end, that is exactly what we do," Dlane said. "And I would end up as intelligent and malleable as a ñedsu. Point me in a direction and give me a simple command, and wailing and moaning I follow."
      The image so revolted me I stumbled.
      "You see?"
      "What can I say?" I said. "What would you have us do? If we did not breed, we would grow old. There would be no laughter of the young to sustain us. The last of us would finally die and there would be no Jokka. The wind would chase clean the fields we tended, the towns we built, scour them from the earth, and it would be as if we never lived. What would the world be then?"
      "I don't know," Dlane said. "Would it matter? We would not be there to see it."
      "A world without Jokka!" I didn't stop because the motions had become mechanical, beyond my control. I walked because stopping, I would fall. "I cannot fathom it! Dlane… we are our race."
      "Why does it matter so much to you?" she asked, golden eyes rising to mine. I did not spare a glance for her; to do so would be to drown in the gold, to acknowledge her utter earnestness. To acknowledge that she could hold the death of our race in her mind with enough detachment to measure whether it was good or bad. "You will die, Thenet… and after that, you will know no more, or at least have no more concern with the Jokka."
      "How do you know?" I asked. "My death will not make me any less a Jokkad."
      "You'll be dead, Thenet. The only Jokku thing about you then will be your corpse, and even that will rot away and return to the earth," Dlane said.
      I almost dropped her.
      "When I die," I said, staring down at her, "I will be embraced by the World. It will help me to my feet and anoint me with the paint and long-cloth of the Earth and Wind. It will give me eyes of the Sky, so that I may hold the Brightness without blinking, and scales of stars that I may be held by the Void without shivering. With a spear I will hunt the unmaking spirits with all my comrades at my side, and make safe the World for the Jokka still living."
      Dlane said, "For all eternity."
      "For all eternity," I agreed.
      "How wearisome," Dlane said.

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SPITE
M.C.A. Hogarth

merethek [ MARE-eh-thehk ], (noun) — A ritual in which someone of lower caste-rank pledges fealty to one of higher, and both acknowledge their mutual duties, lord to vassal. During this ritual, the higher-ranked paints a ribbon pattern on the lower with a dye (or bleach). This dye fades over the course of a year, at which point the ritual is observed again. Only Thirukedi uses permanent dyes.

      The knocks before had been frantic, angry, desperate. They'd been accompanied by cajoling, by pleas, by remonstrations. None of them had pried me from hiding.
      This knock was slow.
      Was hard.
      Was inexorable.
      I knew I would give in to it. Knowing made me panic. I faced the corner and chewed on my knuckles.
      Silence.
      Again, the knock.
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CALLING
M.C.A. Hogarth

alurais [ ah loo RAYZ ], (noun) — loyalty, allegiance, adoration

      "Kor."
      The sound of his name raises his eyelids.
      "What day is it, Kor?"
      "It is the second day of my trial."
      I nod. "We are hardly begun, we two."
      "Yes, Thirukedi."
      "Why are we here, Kor?"
      "Because there is no Civilization without Shame, Thirukedi."
      I smile. "Why am I here?
      "Because there is no Shame without Civilization."
      "And you? Why are you here?"
      "Because I would serve You, and to serve You I must feel the touch of every tool I use on those I would Correct."
      "What day is it again, Kor?"
      "The second day of my trial, Thirukedi."
      "We two, we are hardly begun."
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PASSION
M.C.A. Hogarth

ama [ ah MAH ], (verb) — to long or yearn

      It is an Ai-Naidari ideal to love all people equally as manifestations of the same spirit: "aimeth", we say, "oneness." Most Ai-Naidar spend their lives struggling to balance oneness and more singular loves, but I am fortunate: all fathrikedi—Decorations, living statues, bed-warmers—are chosen for this ability to love without jealousy; it is the measure of our beauty, how completely we give ourselves to aimeth. I was twice-blessed, for as a mute I understood implicitly how words can obfuscate the spirit. So exemplary was my practice of aimeth, my Regal made a gift of me to Thirukedi Himself.
      But the moment I witnessed Shame's trial I was lost.
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CRADLE
M.C.A. Hogarth

atse [ ah TSEH ], (noun) — emotional outlets; anything that allows a person to relieve emotional stress in a safe, healthy and socially acceptable way.

      "Drink," my mother had said, interrupting my packing for my trip to the capital, where I was to undertake my first assignment for the family business.
      Wide-eyed, I accepted the cup from my eldest sister. "But this is until-a-better-time...!"
      "In case you hadn't noticed," my aunt said, "You'll be in town for the Tryst."
      "You can't possibly mean me to... but... the capital!"
      "For your first time?" my sister said, laughing. "Oh you must! What a story to tell!"
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HUBRIS
M.C.A. Hogarth

vauni haale [vauhn nee HAA leh], (noun) — an empty vessel used as a meditation aid; popularized by a historical poem that spoke of filling an empty vase with one's spirit so one could contemplate it from a remove.

      See, I have bad thoughts.
      I know, everyone has bad thoughts. But mine are really bad. Really really bad.
      So, I try to fix them. You know. Correct myself. So no one will notice. Sometimes I'm pretty good at it, the thoughts go away for a week. But most of the time they come back fast, so I do it again.
      I spend a lot of my life trying to fix myself.
      The good part about this is that no one knew. I ended up sick once because I left myself out in the rain and got a fever, but no one knew why I was out there (after that I started doing it in the place-of-contemplation, where I won't catch a chill). But then Father caught me with a whip I stole from the stables and they figured it out.
      It was REEEEEALLY quiet in the House after that.
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BURN-OUT
M.C.A. Hogarth

helun [ heh LOON ], (noun) — camaraderie, particularly among those in dangerous or difficult professions

      "You don't belong here," I said.
      Yes, I was so bad I was turning away students. And if he'd answered with defensiveness or anger...
      ...but he said, "I know."
      I scowled. "Why are you here, then?"
      "You're the only one who can teach me."
      "I'm not the only armsmaster in the city," I said.
      "No," he said. "But you're the best at what I need to know."
      "And what is that?" I asked, ears flattening.
      "Subduing the unarmed."
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TOLERANCE
M.C.A. Hogarth

manais [ mah NEYES ], (noun) — duties a lord owes to those in his or her charge

      "I have called you here because I need Correction," I said. "I submit myself to you for this."
      The osulkedi, the minister, studied me from across the room. He was hard as a spear; in his frost eyes I saw nothing but a considered evaluation, as if I were an interesting problem to be solved.
      "What is your sin, rathkedi?" he asked at last.
      I bowed my head. "I cannot bring myself to Correct my own, though I know it is my responsibility."
      One of his brows rose. "Why?"
      I looked away. "I... hate to make those in my charge uncomfortable."
      Again that regard. Then Shame nodded and said, "Very well. You will have what you ask."
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CRIMINAL NEGLIGENCE
M.C.A. Hogarth

mesiln [ meh SEELN ], (verb) — to submit

      My Regal hadn't allowed me to attend the funerals though the preparations had consumed the entire district. I'd been mewed in my manor, the threnodies seeping through the casing like fragments of a nightmare. And then He came and brought me here... to the box cut, yawing black. I glanced at his stern profile, then at the Guardians arranged behind us, silhouettes on the hill.
      I knew then he wouldn't force me.
      I went into the mine.
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