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December 2, 2024 - January 7, 2025
they are sustenance and skill alone.
Aknel Amnardbat
Cutting the imago-line of Empire-besotted ambassadors out of the heart of Lsel was right;
It is the minds of a people that have to stay free.
They’re losing enough lines already—
to whatever enemy Teixcalaan is fighting
They can’t afford to lose more to...
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the black between the stars.
their heritage religious practice
“balancing,”
Syncretic Religious Forms
Teixcalaanli vessels.
Lsel ships.
COUNCILOR FOR THE PILOTS (DEKAKEL ONCHU)
the Science Ministry
Minister Ten Pearl,
collective proprioception
the Fifth Palm—armaments and research—
Shard-sight,
no Shard required.
Sixteen Moonrise
Peloa-2
Dreaming Citadel,
Porcelain Fragment Scorched
The usual collection of satellites was still in orbit—
Dreaming Citadel passed the darkened satellites. They were debris and nothing more,
Whatever is useful in them is what they wanted to take, she found herself thinking. The animating force. Whatever made them objects with a purpose and not discarded trash. That’s what they took.
She was aware that she was anthropomorphizing the threat, giving meaning and reason to what might very well be reasonless destruction. These aliens weren’t people. They weren’t even barbarians.
Even graveyards could be haunted by the things that made graves.
That was somewhere to start, in finding commonalities that might let them work together during this war.
She’d worn the blood of her first groundside kill across her forehead until it flaked off, that old ritual,
So many people. Cut open, mostly: not the clean death of energy weapons, though there were some of those scars too,
none of the spilled viscera had been chewed on. It had all just been—pulled out. Discards, then, not food.
They knew she was with them, watching. She hoped they found it a comfort,
The only reason all these people were dead, Nine Hibiscus realized, was that these aliens understood supply lines, and what to do with a single-resource colony.
They were hungry, then, these enemies of Teixcalaan:
How the hell am I going to talk to these things, even with an Information Ministry spook?
Three Seagrass
Mahit
an old man
a middle-age...
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the asekreta Three Seagrass,”

