The gang was Sanie’s group of friends at the Academy, all graduating this year. Besides Solynn and herself, the gang included Gouffer the clown, Nadine the neurotic, Kati the beautiful, and Tin the husband. They were gathered at Chao’s Seafood Hut in the Fourth Ring to share a final celebratory dinner in the Empire’s capital.

The teapot was passed around, followed by sorghum wine.

“None of us are going to the demonstration tomorrow night?” Nadine opened the conversation. “Guess there’s a difference between socially active and social activism!”

“Actually, Tin and I plan to go, to show support for the republic,” said Solynn slowly.

Sanie turned to her in surprise. “Why? It’s spearheaded by the Tyistry Department—radicals without a drop of common sense. If they got the Tyistry Sects involved, you bet they’ll exchange more than words.”

She passed on the alcohol that Nadine handed her without pouring a drop for herself.

“You don’t have to come with us,” said Solynn, passing on the sorghum wine as well, “but Tin and I do intend to go.”

Sanie looked away. Tin rubbed the bridge of his nose, and Kati scrutinized her chopsticks. Why did Nadine have to bring up this topic? She’d spent too much time with corpses, studying human physiology.

“I propose a toast,” said Gouffer. He stood up and raised his cup. “A toast in three parts!”

“Drink first, or you’ll be a bore,” said Kati.

Nevertheless, she turned her attention to the bespectacled speaker.

“First, I toast you, my friends. I couldn’t have made it to today without your support.”

Sanie had never heard Gouffer sound so serious. He looked at each of his listeners in turn before continuing.

“I toast the Imperial Academy—she took us in as blunt iron, melted us in her furnace of inquiry, shaped us with her hammers of knowledge, and, tomorrow, she shall release us as capable weapons, sharp and fearless!”

“What a distasteful perspective!” remarked Kati. “Do leave the metaphors to Tin in the future.”

The scholar of politics smiled and said, “Let the man finish.”

“Finally, I toast the Pact of Five Nations for finally closing the curtains over the Third Tyistry War. This era of peace in the Centralian Empire shall be the scaffold on which we construct the world that our books have taught us to envision!”

Kati was quiet this time.

Gouffer continued, “I conclude by sharing with you a dream. As you know, I was studying radiotelegraphy, a means of encoding information into electromagnetic waves and transmitting them through space without a physical carrier. I plan to submit my work to the Empire for support to mass-produce this technology and distribute it for broad use. Imagine—a farmer in the southernmost valleys or a fisherman in the easternmost islands learns about changes in demand, immediately, as they occur in the Valley of Heroes. Imagine—the Imperial government hears about a flood, an earthquake and dispatches rescue forces without a delay. Why, the radiotelegraph could be the greatest revolution in our everyday lives since the oil lamp! A year ago, I believed that this dream of mine would stay just that—a dream. But now that the Empire no longer concentrates its resources on war, I can build this dream into reality. I add a fourth toast, a toast to our dreams! Cheers!”

“Cheers!” Five other cups were raised into the air.

“The ink on the Pact of Five has not yet dried, and already you are shedding nightmares for dreams,” grumbled Kati as she reached for the jug of sorghum wine. “I will need to loosen my tongue more before putting words to such aery thoughts.”

“My dream is a simple one,” said Sanie, setting down her cup of tea. “Although, like Gouffer’s, it relies on a foundation of peacetime. I shall visit the most beautiful places in existence throughout the Five Nations.”

“Romantic,” said Gouffer. “The Imperial scholar and the seaman—a modern love affair!”

Her degree from the Academy put Sanie several rungs higher than Kaleb on the social hierarchy. Sanie smiled at Gouffer’s naivety. If only the divide between her and her husband was as superficial as class.

Kati blew hard over the top of her cup, so that the hot tea splashed out and onto Gouffer, who yelped and leapt up.

“Love is blind to such social artifices,” said Kati with just enough lilt that she could have meant it.

“Kati, what is your dream?”

“I am not ready to say.”

“Solynn?”

Solynn gave Tin a quick peck on the lips. “I shall marry a great man.”

She then reached out to take Sanie’s hand. “And I shall exchange letters with my dearest friend to hear the tales of her voyages!”

“Solynn, you are the resin that binds us all!” Nadine cried out.

“At the price of her independence,” mumbled Sanie.

She turned to Tin. “How will you live up to this, ‘great man’?”

“You all know that I plan to take public office,” said Tin. “I will work towards a more prosperous and enlightened Centralia—for the commoners, civil servants, royalty and soldiers alike—and, in particular, for the next generation.”

As he spoke, Tin turned towards the woman in his arm, and placed his other hand tenderly over her lower abdomen.

A moment after this gesture, Kati squealed, Nadine widened her eyes, and Gouffer cried, “You are forgiven for refusing the wine!”

Now Sanie understood why Solynn and Tin were moved to idealistic pursuits such as the demonstration. She squeezed Solynn’s hand.

“Twenty-four weeks along,” said Solynn, trying to hide her grin under a handkerchief.

“There I thought you just had a big lunch!” teased Kati.

Solynn laughed. “That I did as well.”

She looked at Tin, who nodded back and said to the group, “Sanie, Gouffer, Kati, Nadine—you are our family away from family. We ask you to give us the honor of naming our first child.”

They answered with cries of “The honor is ours!” A new air of festivity rose upon them.

Per tradition, the four friends of the soon-to-be-parents each submitted a character in the Classical Language. Sanie chose the character rei, which meant “loyalty.”

They covered the four scraps of paper, each scripted with a character, with upturned cups. Solynn and Tin turned over two of the cups.

“Rei,” read Solynn.

“Sa,” read Tin. It was the first syllable of Sanie’s name and meant “enchanted” in the Classical Language.

As more congratulations were made to the young couple, Sanie turned over the other two cups. The remaining syllables were za, or “temperance,” and ine, or “forgiveness.”

Looking at her friends’ faces, flushed with sorghum wine and joy, Sanie felt a warmth rise from the pit of her belly to her throat, and for a moment, she wanted to cry out, “I’m having a baby too!”

She swallowed the words.

“Kati, are you ready with your dream?”

“It’s weird speaking of dreams so soon after the war’s end,” said Kati. “But if circumstances allow, I would like to establish a school of dance—”

“Headmistress Kati!” exclaimed Gouffer.

“—to elevate the profession—”

“Let me be your first student! Take me!” Gouffer stood up and put a foot on his chair.

“—and to spread greater appreciation of dance as an art form.”

“You will be courted by apprentices from all the Five Nations, and I’ll fight them off!” Gouffer put up his fists.

It had taken a year or so for Sanie to get used to the clown’s appeal, but now she laughed along with the rest and teased him and expressed her approval to Kati.

“Idiot.” Kati flushed. “Now it is Nadine’s turn!”

Nadine twitched several times before beginning to speak. “Figure out the Tyist’s physiology. I have already uncovered some differences between their bodies and ours. Without a pulse, without a beating heart, the substance of their Tyistry, which they call ‘source energy,’ flows in a steady stream as if pulled by tiny motors, delivering nutrients. The origin of source energy, where the streams coalesce in a dense network, which Tyists call their ‘Core,’ is not restricted to anatomical positions, but rather forms at the site of trauma. A rather severe trauma it takes to transform a human into a Tyist. As we all know, the creation of a new Tyist requires the provision of source energy by another—a grafting of sorts.

“But there is much that we still don't know. Why do so few succeed in this transformation? There must be a hereditary component, as one born to a family of Tyists will have a greater chance of becoming a Tyist shall it be attempted. How do they control the flow of source energy? How are the disorders of pain, anxiety, delusion and emotional numbness suffered by Tyists related to their powers? I supposed that was addressed by Sanie’s dissertation.”

Sanie felt both endearment and pity towards Nadine. Their friends quieted. They glanced at Sanie as if wary that she would subject them to a lecture as well.

“Mama!”

The group erupted with joyful cries once again as Sanie’s daughter tottered towards the table, followed by her husband, who was still in uniform.

She caught little Sorsei in her arms, while her companions stood up to greet Kaleb. After the formalities, after regret given that Kaleb missed the naming ceremony, and after Kaleb’s copious blessings to the parents-to-be and his assurance that he knew too few syllables of the Classical Language to contribute to the naming ceremony anyways, Kaleb finally sat down next to Sanie and propped Sorsei on his knees.

The group now complete, they called for the waiter. To the dismay of all, the Hut had none of its acclaimed sea fishes. The waiter apologized that the fishermen had just begun returning to sea, that it would take a few days before sea fishes would arrive at the capital. He offered the freshwater fishes instead.

“Why aren’t you in civilian attire?” Sanie frowned at Kaleb’s uniform. “The war is over.”

“Do let me wear it for a few more days,” said Kaleb with a grin that lifted his ears. “I’m a lowly sailor, but still I did my part fighting for our Emperor, son of Anshtar the sun god, against the barbarians.”

“We do not speak like that anymore,” chided Solynn gently. “Such labels on our fellow human beings are contrary to the spirit of the Pact of Five.”

But no one else protested against Kaleb’s language, and Gouffer and Tin began to ask him about the Eastern Sunlanders and Southern Treelanders that he encountered during the war. Sorsei showed Solynn her new shoes, which were embroidered with rabbits.

As Sanie observed the easy frankness with which Kaleb spoke to the group, she allowed herself a rare moment of contentment. She felt surer than ever that she had made the correct choice with Kaleb.

When she first introduced Kaleb to her friends, each of whom came from a family of scholars, they were prejudiced against his uneducated, labor-class roots. But soon, Kaleb’s charm and goodwill won them over, and it became Kaleb who cemented Sanie to the group, rather than the other way around. Yes, Kaleb would complete her. Kaleb was magnanimous enough to care for Sorsei, the offspring of another man, as his own. Kaleb held together the social networks that she needed. Kaleb was a capable man who would show her the corners of the world, because no matter which language people spoke or which animals they ate or how many wives or husbands they took, they were drawn to warmth, and Kaleb was warmth. Kaleb made up for the virtues she lacked.

Presently, the waiter returned to their table with the first course of their feast—shrimp skewers, eggplant in a sweet sauce, and steamed bass. But as the waiter gingerly lowered the dishes onto the table, Gouffer cried out.

“What in the name of Roren’s great toe is that?”

He was looking up into the sky towards the northeast. Some sort of projectile—it was too far away to tell what it was—flew in an arc through the air, landing with a distant boom.