Sang's Crossroads

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Sang's Crossroads

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The knock came at Sang’s door before noon, while she was cleaning her armour.

“It’s open,” Sang pointed out, rubbing carefully at a stain on her curaiss.

“I noticed,” Typhenon’s voice said. “Can I come in?” At Sang’s nod he stepped inside and knelt on the floor opposite her. At least he didn’t ask why she didn’t use the bed or a chair.

“So, when are we leaving?” Sang asked, glancing up from her work.

“I don’t know.”

“Did you settle the jade?”

“It’s getting settled.”

Meaning they couldn’t go anywhere until it was in hand, but Sang supposed they also had to wait on Kukulkan’s nezumi friend. She wasn’t necessarily eager to plunge back into the Shadowlands, but time was important. They had to move swiftly.

“What do you need?” she asked, setting her dô aside.

“Well, I have to go to an Epiach council tonight. I need a bodyguard of some description.”

Sang raised both brows. “Typhenon, you’ve already introduced me there as a queen. It would be a bit odd if I turned up as a bodyguard.”

“Just thought I’d ask. You know… offer.”

“Offer?”

“Offer. If nothing else it doesn’t look like I’ve ignored you completely or didn’t even think of considering you.”

She gave him a long look. She had to give him points for trying, even if he was inviting her to stand at attention and look dangerous for the duration of a tedious city meeting. “The offer is appreciated,” she said dryly, picking up the cuirass again.

Typhenon nodded, but didn’t get up. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“Sang?”

The bushi repressed a sigh and met the cleric’s gaze steadily. “Yes?”

“What’s wrong?” Typhenon asked, his voice more firm.

“I just said.”

“I don’t believe you.”

A slight narrowing of her eyes and hardening of her jaw were the only physical indications that Sang did not appreciate being called a liar, even if she’d been lying… which she hadn’t. She’d been perfectly fine until Typhenon had started pestering her.

“You are not required to believe me,” she said stiffly.

“Sang, what’s wrong? Please?”

“Why is it so important to you?” she demanded.

“Because I’m your friend!”

She stared at him, the cleric’s sudden assumption that she considered him her friend catching her off-guard. But, she reasoned quickly, southerners often used that word ‘friend’ to refer to just about any kind of associate or companion.

Or bodyguard.

“Fine,” she said, and didn’t even have time to draw breath before Typhenon offered to close the door. “There’s no one out there,” Sang shrugged, “and I don’t intend to talk about it anyway. I’ll concede that yes, there are things on my mind, and no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Sure?” he asked, disappointed.

“Yes.”

Typhenon sighed.

“What about you?” Sang asked, seizing the opportunity to shift the topic of conversation away from herself.

“Me?” Typhenon smiled briefly. “I feel like I’m beating my head against a wall.”

“Any reason why?”

Besides trying to talk to me, I mean?

“Everything seems to be spiralling happily out of control.”

“Doesn’t seem that bad.”

“You’re not the one in the middle of it.”

“Could be worse.”

“Oh?”

“You could be in Kukulkan’s shoes.”

He sighed again. “I know.” He glanced at the cuirass. “I’ll let you get back to cleaning your armour.”

“Look,” Sang said as he started to stand up, “if you really think your life is going to be threatened at this meeting then I can turn up if you want. Just let me know if I’ll need my armour ready by then.”

“I doubt anything like that will happen.”

“Just remember that if there is a meeting, Joseph might know about it.”

“I know.” He didn’t seem bothered.

“Well, let me know before you leave if you change your mind.”

He nodded. “And you let me know if you change your mind on that talky thing, too. Although I’m probably not going to hold my breath.”

“It’s not the right time,” Sang said as he left. “Give it a few more months,” she added under her breath as his footsteps receded down the corridor.

By then, either the threat would have passed or she wouldn’t be in a position to worry about it anymore.

**

The bulk of the day went by without anything significant happening. Cleaning her armour took longer than she’d anticipated. The accumulated dirt wasn’t so much of an issue as her wandering attention. Every couple of minutes she’d realise she was staring into the middle distance with her mind far from the task literally at hand. It was the eating dilemma all over again, only in armour form, and this time revolving around Typhenon.

When would he get the hint that she didn’t talk? What was the point of it? Spilling one’s verbal guts merely highlighted how weak one was. What kind of samurai would humiliate herself like that? None. They were supposed to endure, not snivel about how pathetic they were and how unfair life was. It was shameful enough that he and Maiko and Kukulkan had seen how badly Shae’el’s interlude had shaken her.

At least only Typhenon knew about the concubine, and that should not even be bothering her, she reminded herself savagely. Kaji had asked for one, Sang had agreed. That was the end of it.

Do I consider him a friend?

The thought troubled her. Sure, they had been travelling together for a few months now, on and off. They’d saved each other’s lives a few times. He’d come to her wedding. They’d developed, she thought, some kind of understanding of each other betwixt their disagreements. Even if he was impossible to deal with at times, he had always managed to pull through when she asked for his help. But he was harbouring R, and it was hard to consider him a friend when he was protecting that treacherous murderer. She couldn’t comprehend it.

Sang closed her eyes tight and pinched the bridge of her nose, growling softly. So he was her friend. What did it matter? It didn’t mean she’d talk.

“You’re so stubborn you don’t know what’s best for you!”

“I have done everything you’ve asked of me!”

“Everything except talk,” Sang mused softly to herself.

**

When her armour was cleaned to her satisfaction, she spent the rest of her time in the training room working out some kinks. It was dinner time before she knew it, and after leaving the Blade in her cell she made her way to the mess hall then sat down with some food with every intention of cleaning the plate no matter how long it took her. She’d only just started to eat when there was some sort of commotion from a nearby room. Sang was halfway to her feet before she realised that, despite a general rush of footsteps, there were no cries of alarm. When no sounds of fighting or shouts were forthcoming, she lowered herself to the bench and resumed the task of making herself eat, idly watching as the mess hall emptied of people curious to see what was going on. Pretty soon she was the only one in the room, which suited her perfectly. Her present mood preferred solitude. If she was fast enough she might be finished before anyone came back, and she wouldn’t have to endure any ‘eating for three’ remarks or other such nonsense.

She was making some headway when Maiko entered the room, accompanied by a robed, elderly man. The two of them crossed to a distant table, sat, and began talking intently in quiet voices. Sang kept her eyes on her plate. She couldn’t hear what was being discussed, but Maiko seemed to be doing most of the talking. After about five minutes they got up and left the same way they’d come in. The next time Sang lifted her eyes the man was back again, and approaching her table. She realised now that he bore a distinct resemblance to Theosteris, and knew there was only one person he could be. It also meant she could hazard a guess as to what he and Maiko had been speaking of.

He sat opposite her without invitation.

“My condolences on your loss,” Sang said. “He was a good man.”

“And he died protecting people,” Ephiates said.

“He did.”

“I can think of no better death.” He paused. “Except of contented old age. Though that is not a fate any of us will share, I think.”

Sang said nothing. She wasn’t sure how many Yu would prefer dying in bed to dying in battle. It was a debatable point, but not one she felt necessary to argue here and now.

“I have heard that you are a great lady of the Yu Kingdom.”

Bloody Maiko.

“I am,” Sang confirmed, but couldn’t help tacking on: “Recently. Is there something you need?”

“Simply to know why it is that you tarry here.”

Sang made a vague gesture with her fork. “I’m eating.”

“Do you come here often?”

“I am frequently in Typhenon’s company.”

“So it is not Kolskegg’s cuisine but Typhenon’s company that you keep here?”

Sang forbade her eyebrows to lift at that. “Possibly not the kind of company you are thinking of,” she said. “I travel with him.”

“I make no judgement of your relationship with Typhenon,” Ephiates assured her.

“Well, you mentioned him and Kolskegg in the same sentence,” Sang pointed out without even a shadow of a smile.

“He is an easy man to know well,” Ephiates conceded, then amended: “I should say he is an easy man to know, but a difficult man to know well. It is not Kolskegg I am curious about, though.” He regarded her thoughtfully. “So you would rank yourself one of Typhenon’s… companions?”

She was unable to decide if the slight pause in that question was incidental or implying something. “What do you mean by that?”

“You are unfamiliar with the word ‘companion’?”

“No, just the way you phrased that statement,” Sang said frankly.

“I’m not aware if the same is true in your kingdoms, but in Dimrost there is the notion of a band of warriors, a group of stalwart heroes working together. It is a theme that recurs numerous times through history and mythology in my lands, and the term used is a ‘companion’.”

“Then,” Sang said, “in that sense, ‘yes’.”

“Is Kolskegg’s cooking so heavenly, then, that you tarry here instead of accompanying him?” Ephiates asked.

“It’s his Temple,” Sang replied, hiding her confusion. “He goes many places where I don’t follow.”

Was she supposed to accompany him to the bathroom next?

“This is merely a time of rest before we proceed to our next destination,” she added.

“My arrival caused a fair bit of stir,” Ephiates pointed out.

“There was no battle,” Sang replied indifferently.

“You are pre-cognisant to that degree?”

“I could tell by the sound of the commotion,” Sang said, wondering when he’d get to the point—and if there even was one. “There was no conflict.”

“Did you not find it necessary to educate yourself?” the caster tried.

Sang shrugged. “I gathered I would learn what transpired sooner or later.”

“So your energies are precious to you.”

“I’m eating for three,” she almost drawled, figuring it’d be nice to say it to someone else for a change. “Kolskegg keeps telling me I should eat more. So does Typhenon, actually. And just about everyone else.”

Ephiates studied her for a moment longer, then finally seemed to give up. “Perhaps you should accompany me to the main hall. I have bestowed great gifts upon the Primarch. It would be fitting for you to be part of this moment.”

“Very well,” Sang said calmly, glancing briefly at her plate. There was still a great deal of food left on it.

“You do not sound enthusiastic,” he observed.

“Like I said, I’m sure I would learn what transpired sooner or later. But if this is some ceremony then I shall come.”

“I thought your people had a passion for tradition,” Ephiates said. “It is not some dusty ritual that you completed for posterity’s sake.”

“I am not among my people.”

“So it is your people’s rituals you are more passionate about.”

Ah… I understand now. It is Theos’ father after all. He’s trying to figure me out, that’s why he’s taking so long.

“My people’s traditions require that I attend,” Sang said.

“That sounds like a lack of passion. Are there any rituals you are passionate about?”

These days? Just one.

“Certainly.”

“I am a collector of ritual. Perhaps you could educate me some day.”

“Perhaps,” Sang said. “Some day.”

“Sooner rather than later, I hope. Come.”

They stood and he presumed to put an arm around her shoulder. Not a companionable arm, but more of a guide perhaps. Sang tried not to look discomfited, and they walked from the mess hall at a pace she considered more suited to a stroll through gardens.

“If I know Kolskegg well, he will take any opportunity for a ‘booze-up,” Ephiates remarked.

“Yes,” Sang agreed politely. “I am sure I will get my customary cup of juice.”

“If there is one thing Elonans do well, and there are many things Elonans do well, it is throw a party.”

Sang kept her eyes rather carefully focussed on the passage ahead. “They enjoy themselves, I’ve been told.”

“It’s what they do, what they encourage in others. I’ve always found the Elonan way to be laudable, but lacking focus. The idea of promoting enjoyment and a love of life is certainly a necessity, but one can find that in scholarly repose as easily as they can find it in wild revelry. In fact there are some sorts of people who would find more enjoyment in quiet pursuits.”

Sang made a non-committal sound. Kaji was not the scholarly type. A good part of her wanted to steer the conversation to safer grounds, but the rest was almost morbidly interested to see what kind of additional damage could be inflicted, how much more blood could well.

“Shared experience and ritual is what binds people together,” Ephiates went on.

She made another mumble which may or may not have been assent, mentally calculating how many more steps would carry them into the hall and deliberately avoiding all thought of what experiences her husband was ‘sharing’ right now.

“To an extent, people must wish to be bound.”

He did not want to be bound. He never did. He said so himself, after I learned who he really was, that his intentions for seeking me out in disguise ‘were not pure’.

I never asked him what he meant by that.

Sang folded her arms within her kimono sleeves and kept stern control over her features as they approached the threshold of the hall. A far part of her mind wondered if a word existed for a heart that had not only been broken, but for the pieces of it that were slowly and systematically being reduced to shattered splinters.

The Weight of Crowns

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When Ephiates and Sang entered the hall which everyone else had crowded into, Sang automatically turned for the rear of the room. Ephiates accompanied her to the back wall, inclined his head politely and left her there. Sang watched him walk with stately dignity towards the other side of the room where Typhenon stood near the altar, then turned her head to survey the gathered people. There was an air of curiosity and excitement in the crowd as they craned to see the items on the altar that Typhenon was inspecting. Sang couldn’t see Kukulkan or his giant friend, so presumed they hadn’t returned from their homeland yet. She hoped he was all right. Maiko was to one side of the crowd, keeping her eyes on the stairs that led up and out into the sewers. The distance between the two women was too far to be sure, but something in Maiko’s carriage seemed uncharacteristically stiff.

The crowd hushed as Ephiates reached the altar, but the hall did not fall into silence for a choral singing in an unknown tongue built up from an undefinable source. Ephiates picked up a folded snowy white cloth from the altar and faced Typhenon, motioning him to lean forwards. When the Primarch complied, the old man reached up and garbed him with what turned out to be a tabard, pure white save for the symbol of the Three picked out in gold across the chest. Typhenon’s belt unbuckled and redid itself over the new clothing. Ephiates then picked up another garment from the altar, swirling it out dramatically so the gathered assembly could see it was a cloak. Like the tabard it was white and it bore the familiar gold triangle on the back, but the lining was a dark matte gold. Ephiates draped the cloak around Typhenon’s shoulders and fastened it with a golden clasp, adjusting the fall of the hood. Next he picked up a white metal staff. Holding it out he spoke a strange word and the straight rod flowed and morphed like liquid until it had reshaped into a stout axe. Ephiates repeated the word and the axe shifted back to its original form. Holding the staff horizontally, the old man gave the staff into Typhenon’s hands.

A gold crown was the next thing Ephiates lifted from the altar, and Sang felt a prickle of unease at the thought this was some obscure religious coronation ceremony. There was a disconcerting crescendo from the invisible choir as the heavy circlet was set across Typhenon’s brow, another golden triangle now visible at the centre of his forehead.

“I present you with raiment fit for their vassal on earth,” Ephiates declared.

Typhenon straightened and turned to face the crowd, the light of the hall shining and glittering against the white and gold he now wore. Ephiates joined his hands before his chest in a triangular symbol, as did the rest of the gathering, and as one they bowed to the Primarch. Even Maiko did the triangle thing, Sang noticed dismally. For her own part, she inclined her head in a token gesture of respect. It was all she was willing to give.

The strange singing faded out to nothing and there was a second or two of silence before Kolskegg’s voice rang out.

“Well now that that’s over with, beers for everybody!”

“Except you!” Typhenon shouted to the red-bearded cleric as the congregation cheered. “We have a meeting to go to.”

“I can have one!” Kolskegg protested.

“No, you can have one when we get back,” Typhenon told him. “You can have two when we get back.”

“You’re on.”

“I still reckon I can beat you.”

Sang saw Maiko facepalm.

“You might have them on your side,” Kolskegg said, “but I’ve been doing this since before you were born.”

“I don’t care.”

Maiko facepalmed again.

The crowd, chattering and laughing enthusiastically, began to file out of the hall. Kolskegg left as well, excusing himself so he could pick up some things from his room. Ephiates, smiling in wry amusement at the predictable turn towards revelry and celebration, caught Sang’s gaze from across the hall and nodded to her before making his way from the room.

Sang decided she did not want to be anywhere near revelling Elonans, and she definitely wasn’t eager to continue the conversation with Ephiates. She pushed away from the wall and walked up the aisle towards Typhenon.

“So when is the meeting happening?” she asked him.

“We’ll have to leave pretty soon to get there,” he replied.

“I’ll get Lord Yu’s Blade.”

“Would you like help putting on your armour?” he asked as she turned away.

“You think I’ll need it?”

“Not all of it, but some would be good for the sake of appearances.”

Sang nodded her agreement, and a short time later was in the entrance hall with a lighter assortment of armour. The most notable lack were the curving blades that usually rose from behind her shoulders, and she had consciously left her hair unbound. Its increased length, the presence of the Blade, and the menpo concealing half her face might be enough to fool those who hadn’t associated with her much. Typhenon advised her the larger weapons would likely be taken aside when they entered the council room, but she would still have her wakizashi and dagger.

Kolskegg returned wearing a nondescript robe and a cloak with a deep hood. Glancing between Sang in her armour, Typhenon in the gifts Ephiates had presented, and Maiko (who looked good whatever she was wearing), the healer shook his head and said, “I feel underdressed.”

“You have the hair and the beard,” Typhenon told him as they started up the stairs to the sewer. “No one will ever be able to match those. At least around here.”

They went through the sewer and up into the night-darkened city. Few people were around, some travelling home, some guards on patrol. Sang noted the difference of the place from her first visit, where the population had been entirely human. Now there were orcs, goblins, even satyxis. Typhenon nodded politely to a few they passed, and Sang coolly ignored those who paused to eye Lord Yu’s Blade.

Red-liveried servants led them into the council chambers and guards opened doors for them. Cloaks were whisked away to be hung elsewhere, and a Silverstari serving woman approached Maiko and Sang for their weapons. She took Maiko’s hookswords graciously and Sang’s katana with exquisite courtesy and respect. The ritualistic overtones of her accepting part of Sang’s daisho were noticeably Chugi, and recognition of the style flashed a warning in her mind to check her sword was actually hers when she got it back.

Sang relinquished Lord Yu’s Blade to the woman next, and noticed a momentary flash of something across her face. She carried the weapon from the room almost like she was struggling to hold it.

They were led up to a large room with a round table. A few people were already there: Gorgrim, an orc Sang recognised from last time she was in attendance, two other orcs she did not, Euryganeia. who sat in her elevated chair, V, who lounged in a corner with a crystal goblet in hand. More people filtered in over the next few minutes, and Sang, conscious of her role, kept relatively close to Typhenon with her hand never far from her blade as he spoke with the a couple of people before the meeting started.

“I should be used to conversations in languages I can’t understand by now,” Maiko remarked in an undertone to Sang, while Typhenon spoke to the familiar orc in his own tongue.

Sang smiled, but it went unseen behind her menpo.

“How you been, old nut?” Gorgrim asked her after he’d finished chatting with Typhenon.

“Holding up,” Sang replied. “You?”

“Mm. Lots of talkin’.”

“Comes with this kind of territory.”

“Stands to reason,” the orc said, then shrugged. “I’m doin’ right by people.”

“Do you get tired of it?”

“Doin’ right by people?”

“No. Talk.”

“Better than bein’ hit,” he mused. “Arguably not better than hittin’, but better than bein’ hit.”

“Hopefully no one will get hit today.”

“Somebody always gets hit,” he said wryly.

“Well, so long as I’m the one doing the hitting then,” Sang said, and the orc chuckled appreciatively.

The meeting got underway after that and it went for about an hour. Sang remained standing a bit behind Typhenon’s chair and paid attention to the current issues plaguing Epiach for the pure purpose of not having to think on the issues plaguing herself. The largest problem facing the infant kingdom were the satyxis, a race of outlander warriors who were fleeing their own world to live in this one. The issue was that a growing number of satyxis were discontent with the grants of land and liberties that had been accorded them, and did not like the idea of pledging allegiance to Epiach. As some of them had settled east of the city, nearest Gowron’s marauding orcs, they were even becoming indiscriminate in who they attacked, even to targetting Epiach’s orcish guard patrols.

Ultimately a lot of ideas were floated and discussed, but nothing really settled on. Typhenon said he had an idea, but would have to discuss it with someone not at the meeting before it was viable. Sang wondered if it wouldn’t just be better to provide those satyxis who were unhappy a route to uninhabited lands where they could carve out their own kingdom. It seemed unwise to keep a discontented and growing settlement of skilled warriors nearby, especially if they were assaulting and killing proven allies. Epiach already had enough enemies beyond its borders, it didn’t need more within them.

She wondered idly how structured the satyxis society was, and if duels held any weight there. If they valued hitting over talking, it might be worth simply challenging their champions and winning their allegiance through trial of arms. Clearly gratitude was not going to do the trick, and she’d be quite willing to knock some sense into them. It didn’t occur to her for a second that she’d be unable to beat anything they tossed at her.

After the meeting, Typhenon, Kolskegg, Maiko and Sang went with Euryganeia to collect the jade. Sang had been having reservations regarding the quality of what Typhenon could arrange, as she had never heard of raw, untreated chunks of jade being used as protection from the Taint. The material was always expertly carved and smoothed and polished, passed through purification rituals and blessed by the kami. It even had to be mined and retrieved a certain way. She had no idea if any of that had any bearing on the potency of jade’s protection, but wasn’t sure we wanted to test it herself. It turned out she needn’t have worried, as the jade Euryganeia possessed had been left by the Chi during their brief attempted occupation of Epiach. It was the same jade they had been using to ward the pocket Shadowlands that had opened up within the city, unnecessary now, and a large number of the green fingers were stored in a carved and lacquered Chi chest.

“Sang?” Typhenon inquired, motioning for her to inspect the jade.

Sang stepped forward but didn’t have to get a closer look to nod her approval. “We’ll need one for each of the humans,” she said. “Kukulkan will not need any and he said his friend would not either.”

“Only one?”

“Only one.”

A single finger of jade could last several days before it blackened and crumbled. Considering it all degraded at the same rate no matter how it was stored it was useless to take more than one per person. And as they would be in and out fairly swiftly with the aid of magic, one finger apiece would be ample.

“What about Kukulkan’s wife?” Typhenon asked.

“If she is of his species, she will not be protected by jade.”

Typhenon nodded. “We will need four,” he said to Euryganeia.

“Four?” Sang queried.

“Adneil,” Typhenon said.

“Does he actually need it?”

“Kukulkan mentioned once before that he had no Taint,” Maiko said.

“That could be because he doesn’t get Tainted,” Sang replied.

Maiko’s gaze hardened. “Things may have changed since then.”

“I prefer to err on the side of caution,” Typhenon agreed.

“It would not be an unappreciated gesture.”

Sang inclined her head and stepped back without additional comment. In all honesty she had completely forgotten about R when she’d said they’d need jade for each of the ‘humans’. Had she remembered him, however, she couldn’t truthfully say for sure that she would have included him in her tally.

“Can we please have four?” Typhenon asked Euryganeia.

“I want to meet with the ruler of the Shyless Empire,” she replied after a moment.

“I don’t think it’s my place to organise something like that,” he cautioned.

“It may be the place of the person on whose behalf you are going on this errand. I will not have Epiach’s resources misused. I would like to see at least a nominal benefit come to the city from this.”

Sang kept a neutral face. She suspected Garreth’s wife wasn’t all that concerned about handing the jade over, but was willing to use the situation to make her request. She was probably facing a certain amount of political pressure, what with Dimrosian enemies in the west, orcs in the east, and now the satyxis.

I wonder if she misses Garreth, with him gone all the time…

“May I have a word?” Maiko said in the brief silence that followed.

“In private?” Euryganeia asked.

“No, that’s not necessary. As strange at this will sound, do you know if you nation has many cooks who are good with sweets?”

“Yes?”

“Because I have an inkling that sugar based sweets are starting to become fairly popular in the kingdom of Jin due to the recent fashion as set by the king. One could make a killing with the control of the right market.”

Euryganeia looked thoughtful. “I’ll have people look into it. Speak to me when you return.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Typhenon added.

The lady nodded. “I have work to do.” She selected four fingers of jade. Each had a hole drilled into one end and a protective symbol etched on both sides. She gave them to Typhenon, who thanked her and passed them to Sang. Sang carefully slid them into a secure section of her obi.

They were shown out after that. Sang was not so crass as to inspect her katana as soon as it was returned to her, and waited until they’d gone aways into the city before drawing it from the saya. With Lord Yu’s Blade occupying one hand she took a little more care in drawing the sword than she would normally do, and when the weapon cleared its case a small scrap of rice paper tumbled out with it and fluttered to the road.

Sang halted, surprised, and had to sheath her katana before she could pick up the paper. It was not a bit of detritus that had somehow gotten into the scabbard, but neatly folded. She made to catch up with the others while she worked at unfolding what turned out to be a note. The strip of paper bore a string of characters in High Silverstari:

“We are still watching, Queen of the Yu.”

There was a soft sound, like escaping fumes, and the paper crisped and burned in her gloved fingers. It had vanished in the space of a second. Sang stared at the empty space, feeling oddly bemused, before realising the others had stopped and were looking back at her, Typhenon with a confused expression.

“Are you okay?” Maiko asked quickly.

“I’m fine,” Sang said easily. She lowered her hand. “Gauntlets tend to protect the fingers from that kind of thing.”

“What was it?” Typhenon asked.

“A message.”

“Not a friendly one?” the cleric guessed.

Sang considered. “It wasn’t an unfriendly one.”

“Ah.” Typhenon paused, gave Maiko a sidelong glance, then asked slyly, “Was it about seaweed?”

“Typhenon,” Maiko said warningly.

“Why would it say anything about seaweed?” Sang asked, bewildered.

“Ask Maiko.”

“Typhenon!”

“Yes?” the cleric asked innocently. Maiko levelled him with a gaze that virtually reduced him to scuffing his feet on the road, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry. Never mind.”

“If you really want to know,” Maiko said to Sang, “I received a love letter today. It’s not really Typhenon’s place to go around saying this.”

“You have an admirer within the Temple?” Sang asked.

Maiko shook her head. “No, it was from a member of the Jin nobility. Although from the quality of the poems there, one could easily mistake it for a member of nobility that is trying very hard to sound like a member of the Jin nobility.”

Sang felt a spark of genuine humour tease her lips. “And it mentioned seaweed?”

“Poems, as I mentioned. Lots of ocean references. That’s about the only positive descriptive word I can use.”

“Why didn’t you keep it?” Sang asked. It was almost sounding bad enough to be worth perusing.

“It wasn’t a written message.”

“It was a singing message?”

“Thankfully, no.”

“Maiko,” Typhenon said suddenly, “if I’m your brother, isn’t it my place to pick on you?”

“As my younger brother, no.”

“Younger?” Typhenon objected, his voice sliding up two octaves. “Who said I’m younger?”

“You just said it yourself,” Maiko replied, the amusement in her eyes belying her perfectly straight face.

“Hey!”

“Just with your tone of voice.”

“How old are you?”

“You don’t ask a lady her age, Typhenon,” Sang said primly.

“No offence, but Maiko ain’t no lady.”

Maiko drew herself up importantly. “I’ll have you know I bear the title of Lady Admiral of the Fleet of Glorious Recovery and Lady Governor of the Island of Wuhai.”

“And?” Typhenon challenged.

“I’m twice the lady you are, despite your soul.”

Typhenon winced. “That was low.”

Sang smirked to herself and absently listened to the two of them bicker good-naturedly as they all made their way back towards the Temple, but the further they walked, the less attention she paid to their banter.

She had completely forgotten about the Chugi. Soshi Tarou had first warned her about them; he’d been told by his kinsmen to watch her, but had shown her the missive containing his orders. Whether or not this had been a simple ploy to gain her trust and keep close to her she would never know, for he had been killed helping her slay a liche in Tokai. After that, what with Typhenon being captured by Thyrul and everything that happened afterwards, the Chugi had simply vanished from her concerns.

“Watch Kuni Sang, and if her actions aren’t in the best interests of the Empire, kill her.”

As if she didn’t have enough on her mind right now…

The festivities in the Temple would no doubt be in full swing by the time they got back. Elonans enjoying themselves. R would probably be pampering himself in Typhenon’s private bath while he attuned to Theosteris’ spellbook and regained power.

At that point in time, Sang would have preferred to enter the Shadowlands alone than return to the Temple of the Three.

last edited on 1244351734|%e %b %Y, %H:%M %Z|agohover by Shadow of Light + show more

A Single Arrow

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Pleading weariness, Sang retired to her cell as soon as they got back to the Temple. No one tried to stop her. She was tired after the previous fitful night. She was still hungry too, but wasn’t about to enter a hall full of revelling Elonans to get some more food. She’d just have to eat a big breakfast in the morning. She wouldn’t have minded some tea before sleeping either, just to relax.

Everything seems to be spiralling happily out of control all right…

She stripped off her armour piece by piece, laying it aside in an ordered pile. The fingers of jade she weighed thoughtfully in her hands, wondering how to store them. There was even ritual surrounding that, and the proper methods couldn’t be followed here. She pondered for a little while, then lay Lord Yu’s Blade flat on the floor and aligned each of the four jade pieces to the wooden haft. Even the Yu shugenja wouldn’t be able to form a tactful argument against this, she thought with satisfaction.

A knock came at the partially open door.

“Yes?” Sang said, keeping a bite of exasperation from her voice. It was probably someone coming to ask why she wasn’t joining in the festivities.

But the door was opened by Ephiates. A small lacquered tea chest was held in one hand.

…these gods either really hate me, or they have a particularly warped sense of humour. I’m thinking both.

She couldn’t tell him to go away. She couldn’t even protest that she was about to sleep. The Yu may be considered the most coarse of the Silverstari kingdoms, but she had no intention of being dismissive or disrespectful of Theosteris’ father. Elders were not shrugged off, particularly not an elder who’d lost his son saving her life, amongst others.

“Do you mind taking tea with me?” Ephiates asked.

The pause before Sang’s reply stretched out a bit longer than some might have considered polite. “This is a poor place for any kind of tea ceremony,” she answered eventually. That she meant the Temple in general rather than just her cell was lost on the old man.

“Then perhaps we should adjourn to a better place.”

Unable to think of a polite way to refuse, Sang got up and accompanied Ephiates into the corridor. He chose the training room and knelt on the floor, Silverstari fashion. Sang knelt opposite, setting her ever-present daisho aside as he opened the box and began unpacking the contents. A white teapot with a blue design, four cups (he left two in the box) and a tea caddy. The scent of the loose leaves wafted on the air as soon as the caddy was opened, but Sang couldn’t discern what kind of tea it was just by its smell. Ephiates measured some of the tea into the empty pot, and made a few gestures over it before lifting it in both hands. After a few moments steam was rising from the spout and he poured some tea into both cups.

Sang accepted the cup Ephiates passed her, tactfully saying nothing about either how one should properly brew green tea, or how it should be served. As a collector of ritual, it was obvious even a rudimentary knowledge of chanoyu had never been imparted to him.

At least he hadn’t broken anything.

He sipped, without turning the cup first. Sang chose to imitate him. The tea was bland, but thankfully not bitter. She paused briefly before setting the cup down, her instinct being to cradle the chawan in her hands and lose herself in the ripples. But there was company this time and he would ask what she was doing.

“I trust the meeting went well,” Ephiates said.

Ah. Pleasantries.

“Nothing got decided on,” Sang replied. “Typhenon seems to have an idea on how to proceed. That is all I can really say.”

“Curious. Some initiative from the boy at last.”

“Whether he’ll be around long enough to follow through or not is another matter.”

Ephiates looked grave. “Heavens forfend.”

She hadn’t meant that to sound like Typhenon might die sometime soon, only that he’d be leaving the Temple. She did not try to correct the misinterpretation though. They would be leaving for the Shadowlands soon.

“And what are your plans now?”

“I wait,” Sang said, “until it’s time for us to leave.”

“Another journey so soon?”

“To the Shadowlands.”

“Hmm. Something of grave importance, I imagine.”

“A rescue mission.”

“Nothing more important than that.”

Sang merely nodded. Rescue missions into the Shadowlands seldom ended as one would wish. Being dead, as her brother had been, was usually the kinder fate. The alternatives were horrible and varied. Kuni Jin, for instance, had lost his wife to the Dark. He had gone after her, seen what she had become, and destroyed her himself. Typhenon had either been incredibly lucky or incredibly strong-willed to survive as long as he had while at Thyrul’s mercy. She knew nothing of Kukulkan’s wife, but even if she had a will of iron her naga blood would be working against her.

“And what of yourself?” she asked. “Will you stay here or return to your temple?”

“I will probably return until the meeting is arranged and comes to pass.”

“Joseph.”

“It’s not purely for his benefit that the meeting has been called.”

“No doubt there are other matters.”

“It is long past time we were organised.”

Sang took another sip of the tea and raised a brow. “You make it sound like the temples are not organised.”

“In of themselves perhaps, but we are a vast network spreading across the entire planet.”

Oh, right, the secret sects…and they’re hiding everywhere.

Sang nodded. “I have heard of these scattered cells, if that’s what you call them.”

“I can think of few better words.”

There was a brief pause.

“It is pleasant to take tea,” Ephiates commented, setting his cup down again. “Quiet and contemplative. Sharing a togetherness that is hard to find amongst hectic doings.”

Sang cursed herself for not keeping up her side of the conversation and took refuge in another sip. When would she learn to steer dialogue so she wouldn’t be talked into corners?

“I heard a saying that originates in your lands, and I’m curious to run it by you to verify its authenticity.” At Sang’s slight nod he went on: “I believe the saying goes that one arrow is easily broken,” here he mimed snapping a shaft across his knee, “but that many arrows bundled together are unbreakable.”

“Not unbreakable,” Sang corrected. “Hard to break. Not easily broken, the saying goes.”

“So the translation is not incorrect, as such.”

‘A single arrow is easily broken, but not ten in a bundle’, was the most common form. Sang had even heard it being attributed to the reason behind the size of the smallest collective of Yu soldiers in the army: the Brotherhood, a group of ten. It was not strength in mere numbers though, but drawing strength from one another. A good Brotherhood might not be unbreakable, but it would be sound and solid. Considering Ephiates’ previous line of conversation before the giving of Typhenon’s gifts, it was not hard to figure out what the old man was alluding to. He believed Sang was holding herself apart and was indirectly telling her she’d be easier prey if she didn’t bond with those around her. It might be true, but it was precisely the wrong tack to take with a solitary Yu bushi in foreign lands.

“Thank you for transferring that piece of wisdom to me.”

“You’re welcome,” Sang said calmly, as though she had merely answered his question and not been seeing through an attempt at subtle manipulation.

Ephiates refilled their cups. “Tell me more of your peoples’ brave struggles against darkness,” he said. “I am curious.”

“What stories would you like to hear?”

“As many as you’re willing to tell.”

Sang sipped at her tea, considering. She was no Meyio to speak of her own struggles as though they were glorious tales. She chose to regale him of the struggle that had ended with Tokai’s gates being decorated with its giant oni skull. It was a widely known story of which there were hundreds of epics, sagas, poetry, plays. She retold the same version she’d told Theosteris some weeks ago. It felt right somehow.

Ephiates listened with interest until she’d finished. “Interesting,” he said, “how in the face of such an unstoppable force your people were able to triumph. Through shared bonds of loyalty and duty and camaraderie.”

Sang greeted these observations with a bland face and an inclination of her head. It seemed whatever she said was going to be twisted somehow to serve his point.

“A fine lesson, how the many can triumph if they work together.”

“The Yu have been working together for a long time,” Sang responded pointedly.

Ephiates did not allow that small detail to deter him. “And that is what allows them to triumph.”

Sang drained her cup and set it down before standing. “I thank you for the tea.”

“I thank you for the company and the wisdom,” Ephiates returned placidly, also rising to his feet. “I can only hope I have brought you wisdom in return.”

She bowed formally and he bowed back, then she departed. The sound of the porcelain clinking behind her as he set about packing the tea set away eventually stopped.

The Yu were generally blunt, frank and to the point, that’s one of the things that most other Silverstari considered rude about them. Yu had little patience for verbal dances and whole conversations that tried to make a point without actually stating what the point was. The larger Silverstari population looked upon such discourse as a game or a skill or an exercise in politeness; Yu generally considered it a waste of time, if not outright irritating, and often annoyed their more urbane neighbours by pretending not to have seen the point at all. Sang preferred not to endure a dozen of Ephiates’ little rituals, however.

So he wanted her to become a part of the Three’s worldwide flock, just as Theosteris had. Irksome. Clearly no one had informed the old man that she was not a follower. Or he knew, as Theos had, but would try anyway. Being chosen by Lord Yu must have made it inevitable to certain people that she would bend knee to at least one of the Three eventually. Well, she wasn’t going to fold prematurely. Perhaps tomorrow she would give Ephiates instruction on the proper way to prepare and drink ocha, then tell him plainly that she would continue to stand alone until the gods themselves proved they were worthy of their followers. Perhaps that would stop his attempts to bring her into the fold.

Sang got back to her cell, her mood bleak. Talk of the ‘shared bonds of loyalty and duty and camaraderie’ just made her miss Tosa and her old friends. As much as she was around Typhenon, Maiko and Kukulkan, it wasn’t nearly the same. They had beliefs and goals and histories she knew little to nothing about, which was a stark contrast to her former life—one she’d never be able to return to. Everything had been ordered and regimented, her purpose in life had been clear and shared by everyone around her. Now there was only confusion, difficult decisions and a near-constant hollow sense of isolation and loneliness she could only view as a personal flaw to overcome because she couldn’t be Yu otherwise.

She slid her wakizashi under her pillow and pulled up the covers to her chin. She would endure. A single arrow might snap more easily than a sheaf, but that one arrow could still take down many adversaries before it broke. And it would do so while flying true.

Plots and Plans

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The next morning Sang arose to find a parchment slipped under her door, bearing a message from Kukulkan to say they would be leaving shortly after dawn. After a hasty brushing of her hair and putting on clean clothes (armour would have to wait until she had someone to help her), she grabbed her daisho, picked up the fingers of jade and went straight for the mess hall while tucking the green carvings into her obi. She would not be going into the Shadowlands on an empty stomach.

Her stride checked briefly when she entered the hall and saw R seated alone at a table. The chill of fear that was becoming so familiar to her prickled her skin. The rest of the room was empty. She took the mental equivalent of a deep breath, crossed the floor to the kitchen, ladled herself a generous serving of gruel, braced herself a second time and re-emerged into the hall. Approaching R’s table she set her bowl a few places down from him on the opposite side and sat down. There was no way she was going to sit so close to the elf as to look companionable, but she wasn’t going to flee to the far side of the table or room like some frightened animal either. She would master this.

Realising R was looking at her, Sang deliberately met his gaze. The elf’s face was unreadable, and she could only hope her own stony mask was as difficult to penetrate. He would not get the satisfaction of seeing her fear. A samurai did not quail and cower in the presence of her enemies. After several long seconds of examining each other in silence, Sang returned her attention to breakfast and ate with a determined will.

Maiko and Typhenon entered the hall together a moment later, both going to the kitchen and emerging afterwards with bowls of gruel. Sang nodded to the two of them as they joined the table and received nods in return. R studied the new arrivals, but Sang ignored the silent staring contests. He was probably figuring out the best way of betraying them all.

All in all, breakfast was a silent affair. Sang finished eating first and returned to the kitchen with her dishes, taking her time about going back. Her fingers were shaking again, and she clenched her hands to fists so that her nails dug painfully into her palms. She wished there was time to do her kata. No one would ask too many questions if she indulged in a few kiai yells while swinging sharp objects at practise dummies.

“What’s the plan?” Maiko asked when Sang came back.

“I think we need Kukulkan for that,” the Yu pointed out.

“For want of not having to repeat myself,” R concurred, and Sang felt an irrational surge of anger that the elf dare agree with something she said. He wasn’t going to weasel his way into her trust so transparently.

“Perhaps we should adjourn to the War Room?” Maiko suggested.

Typhenon scowled. “It’s not a War Room.”

“It seems thematically appropriate,” R said.

Sang stood up, imitated almost straight away by the elf. If he’d offered her his arm this time, she probably would have tried to break it. Unfortunately the option didn’t come up. After Typhenon and Maiko took their dishes to the kitchen, the group left the mess hall together. R brought up the rear, and for once Sang genuinely wished she could have taken that position instead. Having him behind her put her teeth on edge.

Kukulkan’s giant dragonkin companion was standing in the doorway of the War Room, and Kukulkan himself was already within. His scales, while still black, seemed somehow not quite as dark as before, and he still wore the obsidian armour he’d pulled out of that strange box.

The room, which Typhenon insisted was only a council chamber, was dominated by a single round table, wide enough that people sitting on opposite sides might just be able to touch outstretched hands if they leaned far enough. The table was ringed with chairs and Sang was first to sit. She managed to keep her eyes from narrowing in suspicion as R selected the chair directly opposite her. Typhenon sat in a seemingly random position, and Maiko, after a pause in which she examined the layout of the room, pulled out the chair that faced the door. Sang raised a brow at the Jin as she sat but said nothing. The woman’s attitude since they’d popped back into the Temple of the Three after Joseph’s assault had displayed definite overtones of command and authority, even over Typhenon. As a captain, admiral and governor Maiko was accustomed to giving orders and being in control, but Sang couldn’t figure out if Maiko seriously wanted the same sort of power here or was merely trying to rub Typhenon’s face in the fact that he should be behaving more to his station.

“I will tell you what I can,” R began. “The Temple of Blood itself is protected by a powerful ward. We will be unable to transport ourselves directly into it, as any such spells will fail within the ward as well as any spell that contacts different planes. This is perhaps the most pertinent for any summonings. In addition the ward will have a dangerous effect to anyone who crosses it without the correct command word. I know the command word, but it has almost certainly changed since my… deposing.”

“What kind of dangerous effect?” Typhenon interrupted.

“It will damage you.”

“How badly?”

“Quite badly, all things considered. The ward is potent, but I am confident that it will be something we can survive.”

“There’s no other way?” Maiko asked, even as Sang silently considered the chances of using Lord Yu’s Blade to siphon away some of the damage from her companions.

“No,” R said, and Maiko sighed. “We will have to cross the ward to enter, and it’s far too powerful for me to dispel or shut down for any length of time. The ward itself is actually composed of a series of smaller wards, so—“

“What about a field of non-magic?” Typhenon put in.

R’s eyes flashed.

“If there are smaller wards,” Maiko said thoughtfully, “we can take out one, and wouldn’t that leave a hole of some sort?”

R glanced at her. “It will leave a small gap.”

“How small?”

The elf thought for a moment. “A box about ten feet square.”

“Is the ward just a ring around the outside, or is it—“

“The entire area is saturated with these boxes.” He looked back to Typhenon. “To answer your question, yes, a zone of magical nulling would suppress the wards, but it would suppress all sorts of other things as well. In the end, a short sting as we cross might be worth it.”

“What of these magical trap defences?” Maiko asked.

“The traps themselves will be constrained to the shrine temples on top of the pyramid and the corridors and chambers within it. Ultimately I could produce an accurate layout of the particular traps and so forth, but once again it would probably be less than helpful at this point. Things have probably been changed in my absence.”

“What about enemy forces?” Typhenon asked.

“Apart from Smoking Mirror himself, and his slavering darkened beast, he has a regiment of elite guard.”

“Any idea what they are?”

“Powerful zombies raised as a personal guard, each of them created from a valiant or at least capable warrior.”

Typhenon immediately brightened at the prospect of facing mere undead. Sang could only wonder darkly at how many of them might end up being people she’d once known.

Maiko spoke next. “Likely theories on the location of the prisoner?”

“There are a couple of likely possibilities. Of course there are the shrine temples themselves where he conducts research into the nature of the Taint, she may be there. There are also the catacomb chambers within the temple itself.”

“Bassed on hiss perssonality, which one iss he more likely to choosse?” Kukulkan asked, speaking for the first time.

R spread his hands slightly. “It depends what he hopes to gain from it.”

“How many levels is this pyramid?” Sang asked, breaking her own silence. “How big is it?”

“There are three levels within the pyramid itself. The shrine temples stand atop it, two of them at least three stories high with a roof story as well.”

They fell to discussing how best to hit the pyramid then, with R, Typhenon and Maiko doing most of the talking with an occasional interjection from Kukulkan. Maiko suggested attacking the shrine temples hard and fast to avoid being swamped, Typhenon suggested trying to divine where Kukulkan’s wife might be beforehand, and there was debate upon whether Smoking Mirror would be anticipating some kind of rescue attempt. In the end, R said their best approach would be him teleporting them into the jungle near the pyramid and the group approaching on foot through the city and past its guards before storming the shrine temple. The lengthy approach, an hour or so by R’s calculation, dismayed Maiko, who commented it was sounding less and less like the fast in-and-out strike she’d imagined. R apologised that he couldn’t take them directly into the city without attracting unwanted attention, as he wasn’t sure enough of a secluded location to teleport to. Bokemono were the main inhabitants of the city according to the elf, with a minority of human traders and merchants.

At Typhenon’s request, R went on to explain how Taint would affect spellcasting and that jade would not protect against it. He also confirmed that he would likely be personably vulnerable to Taint now that he was banished.

“So how do you wear the jade?” Typhenon asked, looking to Sang across the table.

Sang pulled one of the fingers from her obi and pointed at the hole drilled through one end. “A cord through the hole and you wear it around your neck,” she said succinctly. “Make sure the knot is good.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all. I can do a little ceremony where I put it over your head if it makes you feel better.”

Typhenon smiled wryly. “I’ll be fine, thank you.”

“I thought the ceremony was important?” Maiko said with a puzzled look.

Sang cocked a brow at that, and instead of replying slid the finger of jade in her hands towards Typhenon, then another each to Maiko and R. She was not about to dramatically invoke the blessings of kami, much less within the Temple of the Three. Holding the last finger thoughtfully, she wondered if any of the gods could shield against or cure Taint. R was evidence that Fu Leng could give protection against it, but what of removing it altogether?

“Ultimately I have a reasonably good plan for getting us to the pyramid itself through the city,” R said.

“And getting out again?” Typhenon asked. When R looked at him, he added, “Sorry, I thought that might be relevant.”

“One plan at a time please,” Maiko said.

“I have a plan for that too,” R assured Typhenon. “Smoking Mirror is fairly rapacious in his greed for slaves and test subjects. As such the Blood Pyramid is a well-loved spot for slavers.”

“What kind of slaves?” Typhenon asked.

“Just about anything and everything. Myself and Kukulkan are both instantly recognisable, but the exercise of some simple magics can disguise that. Something I would suggest for the lot of us, actually.”

“Esspecially ssince I can’t change shape once we enter,” Kukulkan said, flicking a claw at his armour.

“Even people like Sang or Typhenon would likely have their faces well known. Disguising us as, say, a slave merchant, a guard and four captives would give us fairly easy access to the pyramid itself. Once we reach the pyramid we can drop our disguises, make our assault…”

At mention of ‘four captives’, most eyes around the table immediately sharpened.

“I suppose you have an idea of who will be playing these roles?” Sang asked, staring hard at the elf.

“Well, it falls to me as the obvious choice of the merchant.”

“Of course,” Sang answered dryly.

“Being the only person who has spent a significant time in the Shadowlands,” R went on, and at Sang’s continued stare tacked on, “and considered himself a citizen.” He paused briefly. “I think perhaps you would make a reasonable choice as a guard.”

Sang eyed him narrowly, but again lapsed into silence. Another blatantly transparent attempt to win her trust. She was sure his choice had more behind it than practicality.

After some discussion, R agreed to use ropes instead of chains (although his illusions would make the ropes look like manacles) at Maiko suggestion, so that if something unexpected happened they could get free more easily. Once they made it to the Pyramid of Blood R would release the bonds and they would make their attack. Smoking Mirror would be the main threat, and the site the pyramid was built on would enhance his casting powers. Maiko was confident she could significantly disrupt his magic if she could reach him, but R claimed that he might be better suited to directly challenge the undead naga. His proposed formation for the attack was Typhenon and Sang at the van, Kukulkan covering the rear with blade and bow, R himself flying above and Maiko flanking, scaling the pyramid beside the stone steps if she could manage it. The stairs led up to a plaza-like space atop the pyramid, where there was an entrance down into the body of the structure and the entrances to the two temple shrines that reached up higher.

“And if we find Kukulkan’s wife before we encounter Smoking Mirror,” Sang said, deliberately coming back to the main objective, “I presume we will be leaving as soon as possible?”

Typhenon nodded to that and turned to R. “What will be our plan for leaving?”

“The walls are cunningly placed so that the roof level of the temple shrines project slightly above the warding,” the elf explained. “Anybody standing on the top of those shrines can summon or teleport freely. As much as I could teleport us all to the top of one of those shrines,” he continued before anyone could ask, “it has the same problem as teleporting somewhere into the city. It has a brief moment of surprise and then an eternity of pain.”

“All this magic and all this power,” Maiko observed, “and we’re still doing this not far different from how we’d do a mundane raid.”

Kukulkan tilted his scaled head. “When sspellss are the main defencess, the mundane wayss are the mosst often overlooked.”

“I know,” Maiko said with a humourless grin.

Sang hoped the Jin woman would find as much pleasure in the experience as she was from the thought of it. Speaking for herself, entering the Shadowlands without at least one other Yu at her back would be a first. The only person here besides herself with experiences of the Wastes was of course R, which was definitely not encouraging. She did not in any way doubt the bravery of her other companions, but Maiko consistently overextended (even if she did correctly pinpoint priority targets), Typhenon would not be able to channel his gods without risking Taint, and Kukulkan couldn’t shapeshift because of his new armour. In addition, Kukulkan, and herself she admitted reluctantly, were under a certain amount of emotional stress. Smoking Mirror, being a former close friend of the shapeshifter, would have to be a fool not to try and push each and every one of Kukulkan’s buttons, and if he succeeded in tipping the naga over the edge it could be disastrous.

As for herself… well, if she was lucky the only person she’d have to worry about was R.

“I am a competent swordsman,” R said, “a powerful caster of arcane magics—and the conflux the pyramid is built on should affect my magics equally as Smoking Mirror’s, which gives us an advantage. I am also capable of flying, which gives us additional advantages.” He glanced around the table expectantly.

“I specialise in taking out evil,” Typhenon said. “I channel the power of the Three. With what items I have…” he shrugged. “I can grow wings.”

Maiko was next. “A lot of my training is getting through unimportant people to get to important targets and take them down quickly. Outside of that, battlefield mobility and general combat.”

“I won’t be able to shapeshift in the Shadowlandss,” Kukulkan said. “The armour I wear iss the only thing that will protect me from the Taint. It will merge with me if I shapeshift.”

“It wouldn’t still be able to protect you?” Typhenon asked.

“It iss not the way the magic workss.”

“The armour would merge with his animus and move into the spirit world,” R said, earning a blank look from Typhenon and a raised brow from Maiko.

“On the other hand,” Kukulkan hissed, “I may be able to make Ssmoking Mirror regret the fact that he hass given up on life.”

Finally, R looked at Sang.

She looked back with something like a challenge in her eyes. If he’d been watching her for even half as long as he and Shae’el had implied, she had no need to remind him of her skills. “Do I really have to say it?”

“You stand like the Wall,” he replied simply.

And if you betray us, that Wall will come crashing down. On top of you.

Crossings

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_{**OOC note, the plan of attack on the Pyramid was retconned. New plan briefly explained in the last section of this post, so no need to go backwards as I haven’t changed the previous entry anyway. :p. Also, I figure I spelled Sotek wrong. That’s what you get for not having her on the wiki (and if you do have it on the wiki, that’s what you get for not having it where I looked)! I have thus far refrained from calling the nezumi 'Dangermouse'.}

The discussion went on a little longer, but the basics were covered and generally agreed on. When they met Kukulkan’s nezumi friend they would fill him in on the details. Before breaking up to prepare for their imminent departure, Typhenon asked them to accompany him to the vault to pick out some additional equipment that might improve their chances. Sang was wary of going past that mind-invading daemon again, but by keeping close to the Primarch it seemed they could not be influenced.

The only flaw to Typhenon’s generosity was that he didn’t have much of an idea of what half the things in the vault were capable of. It fell to R to pick suitable pieces for people, and he went between the laden tables without being asked, selecting this belt or that ring to present to whomever he thought would benefit from it. Sang found herself with a strange belt, a pair of armbands and a few other oddments that improved upon her current gear. The elf explained what each item could do and Sang reluctantly concluded she had nothing to complain about besides the foreign design. At least those two most obvious pieces could be worn beneath her usual garb.

Sang had, near the end of the meeting, pre-empted Typhenon giving her obsidian sword back by telling him R could have it if he had no other suitable weapon, and after glancing longingly only at his own old sword R accepted the offer. Sang’s move had only partly been motivated by not wanting to leave behind a weapon specifically empowered to strike down Shadowlands creatures. The black crystal blade had been a wedding gift, and as things were she preferred not to have to think of her husband every time she looked at or touched it. If it was in R’s hands she could perhaps dismiss it as another tarnished thing she wouldn’t have to bother with anymore, same as the naginata. Even so, she unaccountably turned her eyes away and studied her new belt with apparent deep interest when R took the white-sheathed sword from Typhenon and tested the weapon’s balance with a few swooping slashes through the air.

“What’s its name?” the elf asked.

Sang glanced back to him, giving him a long look. Of course Silverstari commonly named their weapons, and as she’d willingly given hers over for his use it would be improper not to answer the question, but that didn’t stop her from feeling like she might be revealing something she shouldn’t—and to the entire room, at that.

“Akaruikage.”

**

The party reformed a while later in the Entrance Hall, after people had gathered what they needed from their rooms. Sang again noticed Maiko’s stilted attitude towards Typhenon when the cleric asked the Jin to help Sang don her armour. When she asked Maiko about it a little later in relative privacy, Maiko claimed her posture was nothing more than respectful. Sang’s blunt response that it seemed more like Maiko was trying to punish him than honour him went largely ignored. It seemed like she would never understand the bond Typhenon and Maiko shared—or maybe they truly were squabbling siblings.

It was, however, more than a little irritating that people expected her to talk about sensitive things but weren’t prepared to reciprocate. Maybe the next time someone asked her what was wrong she could counter with “I’m troubled about why Joseph left the Temple” or “I’m worried about the dispute I sense between Typhenon and Maiko”. Come to think of it, countering questions meant to relate to herself by bringing up things pertaining to others was sounding pretty good. Sang filed the idea away for future use.

The group headed up to the city of Epiach and to the portal Sang had only ever seen but never walked through. She’d seen it activate and people walk in and out a few times, but it was odd to experience it first-hand. She was also unprepared for the sweltering heat and driving rain that greeted them on the other side. Her face mostly hidden by her menpo, Sang gave the humid jungle surrounding the portal a look of deep loathing.

The area they’d arrived in was packed with more of Kukulkan’s kind, crested lizards of various colour, and it wasn’t long before they were being escorted away from the scaled gathering and to the base of a great pyramid to meet someone called ‘Sotek’ and collect Kukulkan’s adopted son. The flight of stone steps leading up the side of the pyramid was massive, cascading rain, and the sight of them made Sang cringe inwardly. Climbing the stairs that led up to the battlements of the Great Wall would have been excellent practise for this little exercise, but she hadn’t ascended that path in months. Her legs would be killing her this time tomorrow (always presuming, of course, something else hadn’t done her in before then. Like the bloody damned climate).

The dragonkin that had led them there said something to Kukulkan, looking significantly at R, then began the long climb. The elf remained behind as the rest of the party ascended, eventually reaching a broad plaza. A narrow path leading to a stone building as large as a barn was lined with ranks of armed dragonkin, each huge creature perfectly still despite the drumming rain until the party passed them, at which point they knelt in a perfectly synchronised wave. Even kneeling they were much taller than the humans and shapeshifter.

They stopped when they reached the building, and from the impenetrable darkness that obscured the interior stepped a woman, human in appearance, garbed in a diaphanous robe. It was impossible for Sang to determine her race, but the hair cascading down her back was blood red, her skin was a tanned shade and her flat black eyes reflected the occasional twinkling star. It was apparent this woman was a queen or ruler of some sort, but why appear as a human? Perhaps, if these creatures were all shapeshifters, she simply wished to put them at ease?

The party bowed respectfully.

“I am Sotek,” the woman said in flawless Silverstari, and looked expectantly at Kukulkan for introductions.

“Typhenon Blackhand, Primarch of the Three. Usami Maiko, Lady of Wuhai, Champion of the Archangel of Jin. Hida Sang, Queen of the Yu and Wielder of Lord Yu’s Blade.”

Sotek bowed quite deeply to the cleric, then of moderate depth to both Maiko and Sang. “Well met, my Primarch.”

Sang quickly forced down her raised brows. There was a slight spluttering sound from Maiko’s direction. Even Typhenon seemed surprised.

“I’ve waited a very long time,” Sotek said. “I’ve done my best to hold my chosen people to the course and continue on the society modelled in Their image. I only hope that I’ve done enough.”

“The effort you have given is beyond imagination,” Typhenon replied. “It is a wondrous thing that you’ve managed. Their blessings upon you.”

“It swells me with pride to hear such praise from you, my lord. I could not have hoped for such a thing.”

“It is well deserved.”

Sotek bowed her head to him, then looked around at the companions. “To stand amongst such a gathering of champions. Worshippers of the Light and Bearer of the Torch in the Darkness. It’s unprecedented for a long time. And especially you, to carry his Blade,” she added, her black eyes falling on Sang, who blinked in surprise. “You must be an extraordinary woman to be worthy to carry him into battle.”

“I hope to prove worthy,” Sang said.

“I’d say you already have.”

Sang didn’t reply to that. She’d had a similar discussion with Maiko several weeks back on Wuhai, and in response to Sang’s protest that she could think of any number of Yu stronger or braver than herself, Maiko had pointed out that she could think of any number of Jin more compassionate. That had ended the debate, but these recent days, with all that she’d seen and learned and been forced to endure, Sang considered herself less ‘worthy’ with each passing dawn. Fears piled upon fears and at times she had felt saturated with terror. At such times it was hard to believe that someone as afraid as she could possibly be Lord Yu’s chosen.

Sotek turned to Kukulkan. “As much as I could discuss like this for days, you have far more important things to do.” She made a motion to someone behind her, and a brown-furred nezumi with noble bearing walked lightly from the darkened building.

Kukulkan’s adopted son.

**

The nezumi were Shadowlands creatures, like orcs and bokemono. While more organised than some of the denizens of the Dark, Sang’s people had battled them often, the Kuni had studied them, and, like anything else that lived out there, they were considered evil monsters. Sang’s travels in Typhenon’s company had changed her stance towards non-humans rather dramatically, however, and if Kukulkan claimed kinship with this one she certainly wasn’t going to try and kill it. Besides, R had more reason to be force-fed Lord Yu’s Blade than the rat-creature did, and if she could hold herself from the one then the other was a pleasant walk in an ornamental garden.

This nezumi was bigger than she, not much shorter than Typhenon. A few gold rings pierced his ears, a bow was slung over his shoulders and two blades hung at his armoured hips. His reunion with Kukulkan had been brief, not even ten words between the two, but about them both there had been a shared repressed rage at the horror that had recently torn their family apart.

Upon leaving the pyramid, R had teleported them some distance from the naga city and into the mountains, a slightly cooler and definitely drier location. The plan had been explained (get into the Shadowlands, teleport to the top of the Pyramid of Blood, search Smoking Mirror’s lab (and the catacombs, if necessary) for Kukulkan’s wife, escape). Sang had double-checked people were wearing their jade, and then they had all started walking south through a valley that would lead into the Shadowlands.

It was odd entering the Wastes this way. With the Wall there had been a very clear and distinct line between where healthy land ended and Tainted began. Crossing the Wall was like walking through Epiach’s portal—there was no denying you were in a completely different place. This way, approaching from the north, the changes were gradual. The air became still and cold, the horizon acquired a thick haze and the sun cast a sullen red light over the land. There was a very disquieting moment with the sun literally winked out, like a great and malevolent eye closing, then it opened again. It was something Sang had never seen before, though she’d heard rumours of it. It was widely regarded as an ill omen—but what sights in the Shadowlands are ever considered good? Sang reasoned.

She couldn’t tell when they were fully in the Shadowlands, but eventually R decided they were in the right place and he instructed everyone to form a circle holding hands, then he cast Teleport.

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Hold On To Me

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The heat slammed down on them like a hammer, and they were almost instantly soaked to the skin with grimy moisture. It was worse than in the elven city. Whatever poisoned the muggy air had a feeling of not only being dirty, but disgustingly alive. Sang could clearly see the exposed skin of her companions mottle into ugly red patches, and she could feel her own flesh itching even beneath her armour. It was uncomfortable, but no one mentioned it. Everyone knew there were more important things to worry about.

They stood on a wide flat surface at the height of the Blood Pyramid. Below them sprawled a great city, filled with distant and indistinct figures. The jungle enclosing the city was thick and unhealthy-looking. The trees and plants surrounding Kukulkan’s city had been lush, but these ones were a sickly mixture of browns and putrescent green, colours made even worse by the unwholesome light pervading the area. The overall effect was that of a scum-slick pond or rotting corpse, and there was an incessant chirping and buzzing of insects and what passed for birds in the Wastes. As if in answer to that thought, a small flight of hanemuri, small creatures resembling a bizarre cross between human, reptile and bat, passed at a great height overhead. Judging them too far away to be a threat, Sang quickly glanced around the platform.

A low stone wall bordered the edge on all sides except for where a wooden bridge spanned the gap between the rooftop of this temple shrine and eastern one (where Smoking Mirror’s flying mount was supposed to be, which was currently empty). In one corner there was a bloodstained pentagram, elsewhere stood a table with various instruments and dissected remains on its surface, and nearby was a large pool of bubbling blood. A stone trapdoor with a single iron ring in the middle was the obvious way down to the spiral stairs, but the party had already decided to avoid that route in case a surprise awaited them below.

They went to the edge and looked down in preparation of the jump, Maiko readying her rope and grapple. A good thirty feet below was the plaza of the pyramid. From huge cauldrons streamed blood in a constant red fall down the staggered walls of the building, all the way down into the city and off into canals that crisscrossed the streets like a grotesque lattice. Sang returned her attention to the plaza, and frowned when she couldn’t see any guards. The absence of Smoking Mirror’s mount, according to R, meant there was a very good chance Smoking Mirror himself wasn’t here, and that just didn’t feel right. They were somewhere near—just somewhere unexpected. This was, after all, a trap.

Typhenon, R and Sang were first over the edge. Man and elf sprouted wings and glided down to the plaza, while Sang merely fell at a reduced rate with the aid of her ring. As soon as they passed below the platform there was the jolt of damaging energy R had warned them about, followed by the sound of hurrying booted feet. Sang couldn’t see the source. Kukulkan, his son and Maiko joined them on the plaza floor, in the lee of the western tower, and R quickly flew in the direction of the marching.

“The elite guard are streaming from the Temple Shrine!” R yelled from where he hovered near the corner of the shrine, and unleashed a crackling stream of lightning with an out-thrust hand. There was a sizzling sound, a clatter of falling armour, an unpleasant smell, then R added, “Never mind.”

Sang gripped the Blade in both hands and headed around the corner, intending to head for the base of the other temple shrine. Smoking Mirror’s lab was in that building, and the first place to search for Kukulkan’s wife. The first thing she saw upon rounding the corner was the twitching group of zombies R had flattened, lying on the ground in black and green yoroi. The second thing, to her immediate left, were three great arched doorways that opened into the base of the closest shrine. The room within was lit by a sickly green light from no definable source, and it was dominated by a massive green stone statue over fifteen feet high, draped with real black robes. Scaled, taloned hands were outstretched, and where its head should have been a nest of snakes erupted from the neck of the robe, a dozen or more. The multitude of reptilian eyes glinted, and she was visited by a sudden crystal certainty that the statue had seen her.

Sang had seen images, impressions, heard accounts, read legends, and knew this was a statue of Fu Leng, master of the Shadowlands. He had seen her.

Well I really hope he can see this, too.

She looked away with deliberate disinterest, as though the menacing-looking statue and the one watching through its eyes were no more impressive or frightening than a flower pot, and kept heading towards the far temple shrine without so much as breaking stride.

From behind her, in quick succession, came a sharp indrawn breath from Maiko, a hiss from Kukulkan and a yelp from Typhenon, followed by a “Next time, warn us about any giant scary statues!”

Sang muttered something uncomplimentary under her breath and kept going as she was, looking for any guards that might be lurking between the buildings. If Fu Leng was watching it was all the more reason to move faster, not linger to admire his scaly monument.

When R saw the thing he swore and cast a spell that elicited a cracking sound, and it wasn’t until Sang had reached the far side of the plaza that she heard the elf shout: “He’s inhabiting the statue! It could spring to life at any moment!” She had never heard him sound so genuinely worried about something before, but considering Fu Leng wanted R’s head it was small surprise. She doubted the Lord of the Shadowlands would be content with just his former servant’s death, though.

There was a smashing sound and a shower of rubble as a colossal arm swept aside the wall above the arched entrance. Sang was already pounding back across the plaza, angling slightly away so she could get a clear run at the foe. She could clearly see the animated statue behind the broken face of the temple shrine, its torso bowed as it raked at Maiko with a massive clawed hand. The nest of stone snakes that substituted for its head writhed and hissed, their slitted eyes glinting and their fangs exposed. Typhenon swept down near Maiko with a beat of his gleaming wings and cast a spell, causing a glittering curtain of light to fall across the shattered entrance, partially falling across the statue and causing flakes of green stone to peel and fall from the carved body. R was hovering a short distance back from the fray, his hands moving as he wove another spell. There was no sign of Kukulkan or his son; presumably they had gone around the other side of the building, but there was no time to speculate. Sang readied Lord Yu’s Blade and charged with a wordless battle cry.

It was different to any other attack she’d ever launched. She’d trained to fight minions of the Shadowlands all her life, but this was no servant or guardian. In her wildest dreams or darkest nightmares, she’d never thought she’d face even an aspect of Fu Leng. This was the ultimate foe of her people, the bane of millions of lives, and the chance to strike any kind of blow back at him set her blood on fire. That feeling seemed to be shared, amplified even by Lord Yu. His Blade had never before felt so right in her hands, and the weapon was ablaze long before Sang lashed out with it, shearing a slab of rock from one of the statue’s tree-trunk legs.

The simulacrum struck back with crushing blows at those around it, while its serpent heads darted biting attacks with their stone teeth. One of the snakes latched on to Sang’s inner arm, just above the right elbow. Almost at once a sensation both searing and chilling flooded into her, and a malignant fog filled her mind. Accompanying both was a whispering, beguiling voice.

“Sang… I can see you Sang… I can see into your mind. I can see your children, nestled within your womb. Safe… or are they? You know the one who would threaten your children, your progeny, the future of your very kingdom, the tangible, solid manifestation of your love for Kaji and his love for you. A love which wanes and withers on the vine even now. And why? For a darkling elf. For a servant so treacherous I cast him aside. So treacherous that he kept you from your love, allowed him to stray and wander, and threatens your very children. What do you owe him but a quick death? Give it to him, the death he deserves. I’ll be watching, Sang…”

Her head felt thick with pain and hate, vengeance unsatisfied. How easy it would be to lay down all her grievances at R’s feet, to blame him for everything, but she knew the reality wasn’t nearly so simple. It was not R whom she blamed for the distance growing between herself and Kaji. That knowledge, coupled with a snarling mental retort that Hida Sang would not be manipulated so easily, broke the spell of the insidious words. But even with that hurdle overcome, the feeling of disease in her blood and the red mist in her brain didn’t go away. The anger, fear, hurt and howling thirst for retribution had all been very effectively stirred up, and denied the target she desired Sang vented her concentrated emotions on Fu Leng’s statue, furious that he could penetrate her mind with such ease. With Maiko on her right, bleeding, slashing and hacking away a blizzard of stone chunks, Typhenon on her left with shining axe taking its own toll, Sang roared again, a full-throated kiai of compressed bitterness and wrath and pressed her attack with all the strength she could muster.

The unexpected feeling of a spell of R’s casting taking hold briefly unnerved her. She and Typhenon swelled into enormity, their armour and weapons scaling up with them until they faced the animate carving on more equal terms. The statue did not falter. Its talons and serpents continued to strike with deadly accuracy. No sooner had Typhenon managed to pull off a prayer that completely healed her, purging the Tainted poison and blowing the cloud from her mind like a fresh wind, another lashing of stone scales and piercing of curved fangs and both were back—along with Fu Leng’s seductively whispering voice.

This time her will broke. What words he used she could not later recall, but the constant reminding of R’s plan, the imminent betrayal of one who had successfully wormed his way into a position of confidence and trust among her friends, the threat against her children and herself…

What do I owe him? Give it to him, the death he deserves. Slow. Painful. Ruptured. Burst. Bloody. Violated. Torn asunder. Ripped open while still breathing. Gutted and flopping like a fish.

WHAT DO I OWE HIM BUT WHAT HE’D DO TO ME I’LL SPLIT HIS TREACHEROUS HIDE SEE HIS FEAR MAKE SURE HE NEVER HURTS ANYONE AGAIN END HIM FOREVER MAKE HIM BLEED MAKE HIM SCREAM!

“No, Sang. That’s not the way.”

Damn you, Typhenon, GET OUT OF MY WAY! Get out of my head! You won’t deny me his death a third time!

“No, Sang…”

Like some immovable rock, Typhenon interposed himself between Sang’s mind and Fu Leng’s whispered urgings against R. For a shocking, insane moment Sang wanted to launch herself at the cleric and beat him into insensibility. She could have slain R, she would have enjoyed it, and she could have claimed complete innocence due to being under Fu Leng’s power.

Under Fu Leng’s power.

She suddenly wanted to throw up everything she’d eaten all month, scour the inside of her head, fall on her sword for having ever—

UNDER FU LENG’S POWER?!

There was another flurry of blows and bites. Sang snarled as the first pair of fangs pierced her and fought against the Taint she could feel corrupting her, turning her mind. With a sudden clenching of will she seized the Void and floated there, suspended, collecting herself. In the moment of disconnection she saw a serpent snap at her arm, but while the teeth pierced her armour she didn’t feel it score her flesh. She could hear the oddly distant voices of R and Typhenon as each called upon their different magics. She could see Kukulkan and his son emerging from the other temple shrine and running to aid the fight. She watched as Maiko fell to the ground far below her, another stone snake whipping back from her battered but breathing form.

Fu Leng’s statue spread its taloned, blood-streaked hands wide, the stone snakes rearing to strike again.

An inarticulate roar brought time rushing back at full speed, and Lord Yu crashing through the simulacrum from shoulder to chest. Even as it began to crack, crumble and collapse, Sang yanked the blue-blazing spiritblade free and tore it in a horizontal arc where the statue's throat would have been, sundering the stonescale necks of the thrashing serpents and sending them tumbling to smash one by one on the floor. As the body of the statue fragmented alongside them, Sang swept the Blade out, threw her head back and bellowed her triumph and defiance at the top of her lungs, willing Fu Leng's beaten spirit to hear her. The azure light writhing around her weapon seemed almost to leap in response, adding an emphasis to the cry that was no less eloquent for being utterly silent.

“Light burn the Darkness! Courage turn the Shadows to flee! Victory to the Yu!”

Maneseru no Oni

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A clattering of feet down the spiral stairs in the corner of the room brought Sang back on her guard. More elite zombie guards. They raised their bows, aiming at the enlarged forms of Typhenon and Sang, and let fire. Sang felt two shafts bite through the gaps in her armour, and was repulsed to see the arrows fall to the ground and become snakes, which slid quickly away. She tried to angle her stance to intercept any arrows that might accidentally hit the prone Maiko, but there was no need to worry. Typhenon chanted something and Sang felt a healing burst wash over her—at precisely the same moment the zombies exploded. The spell had brushed Maiko as well; the Jin’s eyes opened and she groaned. As Sang’s height returned to normal, she moved a bit away from her injured companion so Typhenon would have more room.

As the cleric crouched near Maiko, the Jin coughed up something black which immediately started to wriggle away. Sang brought the Blade down on the slimy mass and struck sparks from the stone beneath. Two black blobs continued to ooze along the floor. Sang brought the weapon down on both of them with considerably more force, and a spray of foulness plastered the wall of the room. It dribbled towards the ground at what she judged a normal pace.

She could hear R’s wings beating as he came down to ground, and carefully avoided looking at him. With her rapidly disappearing adrenaline, thought of the elf, Typhenon, Fu Leng and what had almost happened back there made her gag. She choked back bile, horrified with herself, and locked her thoughts away. Here was definitely not a good place to throw up or break down.

She approached Kukulkan and his son, nodding towards the other temple shrine. “Did you find anything?”

Kukulkan shook his head. “She’ss not in that tower.”

“I guess we go downstairs then.”

“There are ssome sslavess on the top level,” he said after a brief pause. “We left them in their cage for now. It sseemed ssafesst.”

“What kind of slaves?” she asked with a frown.

“Experimental sslavess.”

“Were they still—“

“Alive? Yess.”

“Sentient,” Sang corrected, somewhat carefully. It was an inaccurate term, really. It could be hard to gauge the mental clarity of a person affected by Taint. It depended on how bad the infection was and how long it had lasted. She could feel it in her own blood, courtesy of Fu Leng himself, and it made her flesh crawl unpleasantly. She’d never been Tainted before now. She’d worked extremely hard to be able to resist it. There was no cure. The Kuni had developed ways to slow the advancement of Taint, but not remove it. Once you were infected, you were infected… and her children…

But… Typhenon had purged it from her when he’d healed her during the fight. Hadn’t he? Or had she only imagined it?

Kukulkan had turned to ask his son something, but all at once the nezumi looked up, shouted what was undoubtedly a warning, and drew his bow.

“Everyone back off!” Kukulkan shouted, loosing an arrow from his bow, but Sang was already moving to the base of the altar in the south side of the plaza. An open passage there led down into the pyramid, and she was sure she’d seen something too. Whatever it was had gone when she got there, and when she turned around and looked up she saw a massive black sludge oozing down the sides of the western temple shrine—the one they’d arrived on. The very sight of it sent a jolt of fear down her spine.

Maneseru no Oni!

Maiko, too, paled when she stared up at it, but flipped to her feet to stand beside the unshaken Typhenon. Kukulkan’s son gasped and ran; his father called out to him in the sibilant tongue of his kind.

The arrow the shapeshifter had shot at the daemon was being quickly smothered by its oozing folds.

“It’s going to make copies of us that will fight us, and if they touch you they will drain your energy!” Sang yelled the warning, gripping the guan dao more tightly.

Maiko assumed a readied stance, prepared to strike anything that might appear nearby. Sang drew closer but left space between them and herself. R’s hands began to spew flack fumes and red runes flickered into existence around his head. He thrust his palms out and the oni jerked once, then dissolved into ash. He smirked to himself and struck an arrogant pose, both of which dissolved when six blobs of black goo launched from the ash-blown roof to splat on the plaza to their left. From each roiling puddle began to rise and become a shape, each one identical in form and feature to one of the party, right down to their clothing, but as black and shiny-looking as the mass R had just destroyed.

“Maiko,” Sang said as they watched the rapid growth of the clones. “Get the copy of R.”

The Jin, who’d been observing her own clone’s rise with an almost anticipatory gaze, shot her a quizzical look.

“It will have all his magic,” Sang explained quickly and urgently. “You and your swords are best suited to prevent that—especially since, in this place, his powers are vastly increased.”

Maiko’s eyes widened very slightly, but she nodded. Sang didn’t know if the prospect of charging into the very midst of the clone party daunted the Jin at all (it probably didn’t), but decided against wasting time explaining how the oni/ worked. Each clone would only seek to attack their original—they were unable to do otherwise. They wouldn’t care about injuring their comrades or hers in crossfire (which was why R’s clone concerned her most), they would not work as a team, and the only one that would care about Maiko’s charge would be Maiko’s clone. That could be used against them.

Typhenon acted first, calling down a column of roaring fire upon the almost-formed party and engulfing them all in flames. Sang couldn’t see which ones were injured, but the Maiko-clone was first to vault from the conflagration. It dashed across the plaza, blades drawn, not even flinching as it sped past R and the elf slashed it with Akaruikage. It went straight for the real Maiko with single-minded ferocity. Maiko’s hooksword tore a gash across the oily black body as soon as it got close enough, but the copy whipped one of its own blades up and scored Maiko’s face. The Jin’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief as blood welled on her cheek, and Sang could see the fresh wound go grey around the edges, the torn flesh beginning to sicken and decay in the poisoned air of the Shadowlands.

The other clones emerged from Typhenon’s Flamestrike quickly, each going for a good angle on their originals. R’s copy spread oily, dripping wings and went straight up, neatly destroying any hope of Maiko getting to it. The Jin saw this instantly and decided to take a defensive stance against her own clone, and the whirlwind of blades that flashed between the two made the air ring and spark. Their duel was almost right in front of Sang, the copy was in weapon’s reach, but before she could strike she was forced to defend herself against her own clone.

Sang’s copy was wielding her ancestral katana, she noticed, not Lord Yu’s Blade. That was the only difference she could see as it charged her, but the sight of even a copy of her soul in the hands of an oni was not pleasing. When it engaged her she lashed at it with the Blade, but the clone angled itself, making the blow glance harmlessly across the sode protecting its shoulder, before it launched a quick series of slashes with the katana that Sang deflected with the whirling haft in her hands.

A column of black fire roared up to her right, greasy and foul. The Typhenon-clone had returned its original’s spell, and Sang lost sight of all her companions and the Maiko-clone as they were briefly swallowed up. There was the zip of arrows as the clones of Kukulkan and his son opened fire, chanting from R’s copy, but Sang heard no cries of pain so she did not try to look around. As soon as there was a break in the flurry of katana-strokes Sang whirled the Blade wide. The copy instinctively crouched, as Sang had hoped, and the weapon whistled with increasing momentum over her clone’s head and towards Maiko’s. It swept past without touching her and Sang angled it upwards, turned it in mid-air, then tore it down in the opposite direction. It ripped Maiko’s clone into two puddles of sludge then was deflected by the Sang-clone, which managed to knock the guan dao to an awkward angle before thrusting.

The copies had all the skills and knowledge of their originals. They knew the weaknesses and the strengths, the chinks in the armour and the temper of their stolen steel. Sang felt the katana slide under her left armpit, right above where her cuirass opened, and down inside her armour. She cursed in equal measures of pain and surprise at the precision of the blow, which sliced a path of fire down the side of her ribs and came perilously close to damaging muscle. She pulled free, feeling the wound twitch and burn anew as the katana cut backwards and blocked two more strokes as the clone tried to follow through. Her hachimaki was already drenched in perspiration from the muggy climate, but a different kind of sweat beaded Sang’s brow now. Along with the injury she had felt a sudden loss of vitality and energy. The loss was not dramatic, but it would be added to what her clone already had, making it stronger while she weakened.

She didn’t doubt it would kill her if she lost her focus.

So she concentrated, but kept as much awareness of the battlefield as she dared. They could not afford to be as single-minded as their clones to win this. She saw Typhenon fly at his clone on brilliantly bright wings, and quickly overcome it with his axe. She saw R’s face tight with concentration and alertness as he blocked his clone’s magic, then his expression when the clone sprouted three arrows from his chest as Kukulkan killed it. She saw the elf call forth an eddying mist that rose from the plaza floor to grip at the black legs of the copies. The nezumi copy froze and cracked, becoming ash and leaving behind a spreading pool of blood on the ground. This left only two clones left: Sang’s and Kukulkan’s. The latter had scurried to the edge of the altar and shapeshifted into a huge ogre form, one Sang recognised as being incredibly tough and able to regenerate its wounds. The change in size had also brought it within reach of Lord Yu’s Blade, and not wanting to see what Kukulkan’s clone might do with some of the shifter’s more exotic shapes or spells, she turned her attacks on it while continuing to try and block her own copy. R swooped down to engage it as well, and between the Blade and Akaruikage the clone was reduced to a puddle—but it writhed and boiled, as though trying to reform. Kukulkan darted in then to stab at it with his saw-toothed obsidian sword, and Sang left them to finish the job on it while she defended herself.

Her clone had gotten in another slicing attack on the inside of her left arm, above the kote, and Sang abruptly recognised the strategy that was being used against her—if either of her arms were injured enough, she would be unable to wield the Blade effectively. Even if she resorted to her daisho the strength of her attacks would be seriously reduced. Fortunately the clone didn’t realise it was now outnumbered, even with Maiko attacking it from behind, Typhenon denting its armour with his axe and nezumi arrows hissing past its helmet. It concentrated only on her, parrying or evading every swing of the Blade until it suddenly stiffened and a curved, black-smeared sword burst from just below its sternum.

Sang stared at it, heart pounding, the Blade still partially raised in anticipation of the next blow, and as she watched the sword tore downwards through the clone’s abdomen in a sharp motion before being withdrawn. Blood and black shapes her mind shrank from recognising tumbled from the mortal wound, then the oni collapsed upon itself and liquefied into a formless pool at her feet.

Behind it, R flicked a spatter of black slime from Akaruikage and returned it to its saya with a smooth motion. Sang could have sworn there was a look of self-satisfied pleasure on the elf’s face as he smirked down at the puddle on the ground, and it was probably fortunate that, at that moment, someone above them distracted her by clapping with sardonic amusement.

Reinforcements and Retreat

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The applause had an odd crystalline overtone to it, as though what produced the sound was more than just a pair of hands. The spectator was tall, easily over seven feet and humanoid, garbed in a long black and green kimono that echoed the serpent patterns the zombie guards had possessed on their armour. Black gloves covered his hands, a hood his head, and a cloak billowed from his shoulders. Covering his face was a white porcelain mask of a jovial fat man.

Another elf.

“You’ve done far better than we expected,” he spoke down to them in lilting, musical Silverstari, lowering his hands to his sides. “I must admit that I am personally quite surprised. You faced all the tests we put before you, though I am surprised to see the both of you here,” he added pointing at R then Kukulkan in turn. “How are you feeling?”

“A lot better than you will be,” Kukulkan retorted, and loosed a shaft with blinding swiftness.

The arrow shot straight towards the elf, then inexplicably passed over his shoulder without hitting him. He didn’t even flinch.

“That’s not particularly civilized, now, is it?”

“Nor are you,” Kukulkan said.

“You’re right about that, I must admit. Well,” and here he raised his hands, his tone becoming malicious, “maybe the time for bantering is over.”

There was a sudden strange feeling of pressure, then Sang heard a distant clamouring from all directions at once. Snarling and slavering, deep growls and shrill hunting calls. She and the others looked around and, spreading out from the base of the pyramid, was an endless horde of oni. Even the briefest scan of the multitude was enough for Sang to know that three of these creatures at the same time would be enough to give the party trouble, but there were so many varieties, all jumbled together. It wasn’t just overkill, it made no sense.

There’s no way this is real! Oni don’t mass together like this to attack a single target, especially not that many different kinds. It’s implausible! It’d only happen if something really powerful was… driving them…

Fu Leng.

He must really want to make sure we don’t survive.

“It has been entertaining while it lasted,” the elf hovering above remarked as the party drew instinctively closer together, “but now it ends.”

At those words the amassed daemons began swarming and leaping up the bleeding walls of the pyramid, clawing their way higher with horrifying speed. Their screeches and bellows became louder as they surged towards their prey.

There was no way they’d be able to get back to the top of the shrine to teleport out without being overrun. Escape that way was impossible—perhaps even by flight.

“Someone fast check the rest of the pyramid,” Maiko said, talking quickly, “we’ll hold them off as long as we can.” She gripped Jin’s Amulet and Sang felt the energy maneseru no oni had stolen from her return.

“I can move faster than you but you’re better at finding things than I am,” Typhenon said to Kukulkan, casting another Blessing.

“She iss here,” the shapeshifter said firmly as the group backed towards the downward passage near the altar. “Below.”

“Move,” Sang said, quickly touching Lord Yu’s Blade to Maiko, Typhenon and Kukulkan’s son. The protection might help them last longer, but she knew this fight could only end one way once the horde reached them. They wouldn’t survive, and Fu Leng had ensured there was no way they could believe otherwise. Despite this knowledge, the tactician in her still searched for advantages in the coming bloodbath, anything that might help.

The tunnel into the pyramid… it was narrow enough for two to fight abreast, and the constraints of the passage might give many of the oni a hard time entering. A few huge corpses blocking their path might help even more.

“We die standing,” Maiko declared.

“We’ll have a better chance if we go down the stairs into the pyramid’s passage,” Sang said. “They’ll only be able to come at us one at a time.”

“We’ll have to come back up at some point,” Maiko told her.

“I know, but they’re coming at us from all sides, and it’s foolish to let ourselves become surrounded. We’ll survive longer if they can’t swamp us, and we can worry about coming back up if we’re still alive. We need a defensible position.”

Typhenon agreed. “If one of us gets too badly injured they’ll be able to fall back and another can take their place.”

“So it’s going to be you and Sang doing all the fighting, while I heal her if she has to fall back because you can heal yourself,” Maiko observed wryly.

“You can take care of anything that gets past us,” Typhenon said, hefting his axe with a tight grin.

“Don’t worry,” Sang told the Jin dryly. “If one of us dies, you’ll get to do our share of the fighting.”

They began to back down the stone stairs, and an abrupt, total silence fell over the plaza. A second later a large, shining diamond appeared in the sky directly above the apex of the pyramid. A pulse of blue light shot down from the jewel, washing over the plaza like a shockwave, though it didn’t ruffle a hair in its wake. The ghostly luminescence rolled out towards the edges of the wide platform, and through it Sang could clearly see the dark, bestial forms of the front wave of oni just bounding into view, about to clear the perimeter on all sides. The light passed over them without apparent effect, but then there was a brilliant flash and the edges of the plaza were suddenly lined by fully armoured angels, dozens of them standing shoulder to shoulder, their great shields locked and massive swords sweeping up to kill the astonished front ranks of the charging daemons. Over the sudden roars and sounds of battle came the singing of bowstrings, and Sang looked up to see another group of angels in the air, rapidly loosing arrows into the milling black horde and reducing each mark to smoke and ash. Above even that were great streaks of white light from the diamond in the sky, incandescent bursts that struck repeatedly down into the enemy and made the entire area detonate in a shower of stones and oni.

One of the bow-wielding angels flew down to them and alit in front of Typhenon before removing its helmet. It was Hedoramod.

Of course. You would turn up to protect your Primarch. A few dead Yu are nothing compared to him, right?

“Well met,” the angel said.

“Your timing is impeccable.” Typhenon grinned.

“We try. We thought we owed you one,” he added, looking straight at Sang with these words.

The samurai blinked and inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement, but wasn’t sure she believed the angels’ grand appearance had been motivated simply by regret for their previous lack of performance. However… if Hedoramod had the grace to recognise he perhaps should have stepped in last time, maybe she could let it slide.

“Make your way down and save his wife,” Hedoramod said, replacing his helmet. “Take this.” He handed Typhenon a strangely wrought case, made of some shining silver metal with gold clasps and inlays. “I or one of my fellows will be back for it later.” With that, he spread his wings and sped back up towards the archers.

Typhenon carefully opened the case, and Sang peered around him curiously to see what it contained. Inside, there was one small, perfectly spherical gem that pulsed a soft red at regular intervals. The size of it was hardly enough to warrant its larger container, but suddenly a second one appeared beside it. Then a third. A fourth.

Angel hearts. Every time one is killed—

“I think we better hurry,” she said softly.

Typhenon snapped the case shut and they all hastened downstairs after Kukulkan.

**

It took them about ten or fifteen minutes to navigate the labyrinthine tunnels. Kukulkan was speeding ahead without caution, following a trail no one else could see. Even though R had warned the place was heavily trapped they encountered no hindrances, and Sang, taking the rear in case any daemons got through the angels to give chase, was tense for the entire quarter hour, expecting at any minute to hear cries of surprise and pain from the front of the group. But there were none. No traps, no guards, not even a locked door. The sounds of battle from above had long since been swallowed into silence by the stone walls, and they travelled deeper until Kukulkan led them to their destination.

It was a large room, roughly fifty feet wide and as high. The floor was awash with ankle-deep blood. In the middle stood a hideously carved stone sarcophagus, about the right size to contain one of Kukulkan’s kind. Sang lingered at the threshold as the others splashed down into the room, and then there was a great eruption of blood as something large and columnar burst from the floor, arched its ridged body and snapped at Kukulkan, but the shapeshifter raised his shield in time.

“Bloodworm! Look out for its tail!” Sang shouted, jumping past Maiko and Typhenon and charging. The Blade tore a nasty gash into the monster’s slimy body, but a few seconds later it was struck by a green ray and reduced to ash. Sang waved the drifting flakes away from her face and forewent giving R a dark look. Everyone gathered around the stone coffin.

“Don’t open it,” R said.

“Why?” Kukulkan asked.

“If she’s in there the box is protecting her.”

Typhenon examined it closely, then nodded. “Don’t open the box.”

Sang frowned. A box of stone that size would be incredibly heavy. Had Kukulkan been able to shapeshift he and she might have been able to carry it, but there was no plan there. “Can you summon anything that can—?”

“Not here,” Typhenon and Kukulkan replied in unison.

Ah, I forgot. The ward that prevents teleports also prevents summoning.

Her brow furrowed. “How did the angels appear in the plaza?” When Typhenon blinked at that, she asked: “Can we teleport out of here with the sarcophagus?”

“I can get us out of here,” R confirmed. “Where are we going?”

Kukulkan described a grove in his homeland and R nodded, then made a few mystical gestures and the sarcophagus suddenly sank out of view, followed by a large quantity of blood. The reason why became obvious when the swampy floor was revealed—R had opened a portal beneath the coffin.

“We’re going to each need to move to points equidistant around the gate and crawl through on hands and knees,” R said, holding his arms in a fixed position to keep the gate open. Kukulkan, his son and Maiko were already moving to follow his instructions, but Typhenon looked at the elf quizzically and Sang was scowling at the idea crawling before R. “Trust me. I’ve had to put the gate the height of the box above the ground at our destination so the box would not fall through and shatter.”

Typhenon sent a message to the angels regarding the prisoners caged in the temple shrine and the fact the party was gating out, then he and Sang followed their companions, trying to ignore the yielding squishiness of the blood-soaked marsh beneath them, and there was a bizarre sense of disorientation as they fell through the gate.

**

Sang landed in a clatter of armour on blood-spattered grass. She rolled a bit away from the stone sarcophagus before getting up, not sure if the gate would still be above her if she tried standing straight away. They had arrived in a wide grassy field which was most definitely not in the Scaled Empire. For one thing, it wasn’t a jungle. For another, it wasn’t humid. There were rolling hills and wildflowers, the grass was lush and green.

“What the h—?“ R began.

“Where are we?” Maiko interrupted.

“I thought groves had trees,” Typhenon said.

“Where are we?”

“This doesn’t feel like the Scaled Empire,” Sang said, reaching up to undo her menpo.

“This is wonderful for where we’re not,” Maiko said tartly. “But where are we?”

“Um.” Typhenon looked around. “Heaven.” He glanced at the shocked R. “I think your aim was a bit off.”

No Way Out

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The room was made of a kind of crystal Sang had never before seen, and there were no doors. A screen divided it into two halves, one side with a large in-floor bath, the other with a number of cup-like beds that hovered an inch or so above the floor.

The one who called himself Caalix had found them in the field with the stone sarcophagus and, after healing them, had led them to this crystal structure where both Feloqui and Elona had joined them. Elona had cured whoever had been afflicted by Taint with a mere wave of her hand. Was this an ability all gods shared, Sang wondered, or just her?

Food and drink had appeared before them, each meal different to its brother. Sang didn’t know what her companions had thought of their food, but hers had been a delicious stir fry she had expected to never eat again since life had taken her from Tosa. After their guests had finished, the gods had spoken to each of them on various subjects. Each of them except R. The elf had been visibly terrified through most of the meeting, and the sight of his fear was something Sang wished she could fix in her mind forever.

Now they were in this room the gods had provided for them to bathe and rest. R had gone immediately to a bed in the corner and virtually disappeared beneath the covers. Typhenon, Maiko and Sang had bathed in turn, and now sat cleaning their equipment. Kukulkan’s son, after Typhenon had translated the nezumi’s words to the group that they had all done what they could, he held nothing against them and hoped they could still be comrades when tomorrow came, also curled up in a bed to sleep. The gods had told him he would not remember this time in heaven. Kukulkan himself had disappeared into the deep end of the pool, and there were no signs of him emerging any time soon.

His wife was dead. A complicated version of dead to hear the gods’ explanation. The words they’d used had been something like ‘rendered to her component parts’, which had made the sarcophagus look chillingly like a stone box of soup in Sang’s opinion. Apparently the coffin had been the final trap, and opening it would not only have sprung the naga-female’s soul to be lost in the void, but activated something that would have inundated the room with Taint and possibly killed them all. The Three had said they would do all they could to restore Kukulkan’s wife, but admitted the work may never be completed in the shapeshifter’s lifetime. The nezumi seemed to have taken the best possible face on the situation, but Sang had no idea what Kukulkan was feeling or thinking. Despite the assurances of the gods, she mourned his loss.

The Three had spoken to Maiko and Typhenon in turn, addressing the things in their hearts. Sang had been hoping she’d be overlooked. Writing her challenge to the gods had suddenly seemed less of a good idea with the towering entities sharing the same room. But they had spoken to her as well, acknowledging the prayer they had received in smoke.

And their words had left her… not unmoved, but perhaps even more despairing. The war went beyond the Shadowlands. Pocket daemon realms popped up and were combated all across the world. It was by the power of the Three that mortals received their determination, courage and other such strengths. In other words, the Three had given the Yu the ability and will to hold the Wall and not give in to their enemies… but not to advance. They would keep fighting, keep dying, be maimed and Tainted to spare the world worse, and it would all be for a noble but futile cause. The Three could talk about victory and getting more soldiers and winning the war as much as they liked. If her people had been set up to be a meat-shield against Fu Leng, she had every right to feel bitter and angry that they’d been used so.

The Three ‘love’ us. Ha. I suppose I should be thanking them for giving us the strength to live through our losses and sacrifices. When a friend or brother is killed, it’s thanks to them we keep fighting. When an enemy is at our mercy, it’s thanks to their followers the foe is given a second chance to gut us. When they give us someone we love, they will happily provide a concubine for him while you’re away helping their Primarch.

Oh yes. I feel loved.

“Are you all right, Sang?” Typhenon sat next to her, armour in hand.

“I’ve been better.”

“Let me rephrase my question. What’s wrong?”

Sang snorted quietly. This again? “You heard the gods. The world is wrong. Everything’s wrong.” When the cleric let the silence draw out, she said, “I suppose it will do me no good asking you to formally request permission from Kaji for seppuku.”

“No. And I should punch you for even suggesting that.”

Sang shrugged. “If it gives you pleasure.”

“It wouldn’t give me pleasure. That’s just a custom of your people I find rather stupid.”

She scowled, continuing to scrub at her blood-crusted armour, and didn’t bother keeping anger from her reply. “It seems appropriate for a Yu noble, especially one as high up as I am, who had her will crushed by Fu Leng.”

“Sang, Fu Leng is practically a god. Anyone would have trouble resisting his will.”

“I don’t think the Yu Kingdom needs a queen who bows to the will of their ancient foe. That’s a massive weak point they could do without.”

Maiko spoke up. “But you destroyed the statue. Doesn’t that sort of make up for it?”

“It was just a statue.”

“No it wasn’t ‘just a statue’, it was imbued with his spirit!”

Sang shook her head, frowning. “If I can’t stand against his will when it’s just an aspect of him, how can anyone expect to ever kill him?”

Typhenon sighed. “I don’t know. But look, whatever he told you to do, you didn’t.”

“Only because you stopped me,” Sang pointed out. “He wanted me to kill R. If not for you, I would have done it, and I would have loved it.”

“I’ve been under the influence of a monster before,” Maiko said. “It was him, not you. You’re not under his influence any more.”

“No,” Sang agreed, “but you don’t understand. I still want to kill R. I want to make him bleed and hear him scream. If you had any idea how much I want to make him—“ she broke off, glanced aside and took a breath. She hadn’t meant to reveal any of that. Pointless to hide it now. She met Typhenon’s gaze fiercely. “I want to make him suffer, and I am not ashamed of it!”

“I have never personally harmed you or any of yours,” R’s voice drifted from the furthest bed.

There was a hideous screech as the scouring pad Sang was using grated down a steel plate. She had thought him asleep, forgotten he was even in the room.

The elf looked at her with something between offence and reproach on his face. “On the contrary, how many times have I helped you? I took you through the Shadowlands safely. I put that Blade in your hands. I took you to Wuhai just when you needed to be there.”

“And why did you do all that?” Sang challenged through clenched teeth.

R stared back at her, his face a perfect mask of innocence. “Because he needs to be killed.”

“Really? That’s the only reason? What about the bracelet?”

He blinked at her. “The bracelet was a gift! I felt sorry for what Thyrul had put you through.”

“I see. Your motives are entirely pure. Well forgive me if I don’t believe you,” she hissed, and turned her attention back to her armour, scrubbing furiously at it. How dare he? How did that bastard have the gall to even look her in the eye?

“You’ve been acting strangely lately,” Typhenon said carefully.

“Well I am pregnant,” Sang retorted.

“Mostly since the city,” Maiko noted. “And Shae’el. I think it has something to do with him. I have eyes too, you know.”

Sang’s scrubbing checked briefly.

“Is she wrong, Sang?” Typhenon asked.

“No. She is not wrong.” She stared at the blood on her armour as the silence lengthened.

“He did call himself the ‘Deceiver’,” Maiko said. “You know you can’t believe anything he told you. And if you ever need protection, you just have to ask.”

“Right,” Sang replied tonelessly. What did it matter? “What he told me… I saw it and felt it like it was happening. I felt my children die within me as he—“ she glared at R “—tore their souls from them. I felt their bodies twist together inside me then erupt—“ She broke off and swallowed. “They became the new vessel for his wife.”

R’s face was carved of stone.

“Do you know what it feels like… to scream your throat raw but not make a sound?”

To be humiliated, broken, helpless, squirming, betrayed…

Typhenon’s arm was suddenly around her. Sang bent her face to the armour in her lap so her hair hid the tears in her eyes. She was shaking, but she would not weep. Not in front of that bastard.

“R,” the Primarch said suddenly. “You mentioned you had another plan, one you didn’t want to tell me about. What was it?”

“The stipulations that I am not required to reveal that are still in effect—“

“What was the plan?” Typhenon demanded.

“Dead and buried,” the elf answered swiftly.

“I’m not hearing much of an answer here,” Maiko observed.

“Tell me,” Typhenon said.

What R said next was not Silverstari, and was followed by a thump. When Typhenon withdrew his arm and got up, Sang glanced over. The elf had fallen over and was lying motionless on the floor.

How convenient. Though getting out of a tight spot by fainting is a novel move for him.

“At least he had the grace not to deny it,” Sang said, trying for a normal tone.

“That was Celestial,” Typhenon said, crouching to check the elf’s pulse. “It’s impossible to lie in that language.”

“So what did he say?” Sang asked as the cleric picked R up and put him back in the bed.

“He said he promised not to hurt you or your children.”

Sang gave the back of Typhenon’s head a sceptical look, then returned to her armour. She didn’t care what language the elf chose to make his oaths, and even if he didn’t carry out his vile plan on her there were plenty of other potential victims.

Typhenon sat next to her again, and once more his arm went around her shoulders.

Right after tucking that murderer into bed, too, she thought, but with less conviction than she might have a few minutes earlier.

“Well…” Maiko glanced around the crystal room. “I guess you’ll have a lot of stories to give Kaji when you get home.”

Sang looked away.

“I saw that,” Typhenon said. “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me, Sang.”

Nosy, interfering—

Sang shrugged off his arm and got up. “Nothing. He asked for a concubine, I agreed, I asked you to provide one and you did.”

“You’re not happy with that?”

“I don’t need to be happy. It’s not important.”

“Yes it is,” Typhenon protested.

“I guess I have to kill him,” Maiko announced.

“What?” both Sang and Typhenon asked, turning to her.

“I told him if he made you unhappy, I’d kill him,” the Jin explained, calmly fingering one of her hookswords.

“It’s not his fault,” Sang said.

“Can we leave off talk of stabbing people?” Typhenon asked. “Sang, have you tried talking to him about this?”

“Of course not. There hasn’t been much chance since I left Tokai. Besides, he’s the king. He can have as many mistresses as he pleases. All I have to worry about is producing an heir.”

Maiko made a disgusted sound. “The man I marry isn’t going to inflict that nonsense on me.”

“I sincerely hope that is the case,” Sang told her gravely.

“Your happiness is important too, Sang,” Typhenon said. “You should speak to him—“

“I won’t bring this up to him,” Sang interrupted, her eyes narrowing. “And neither will you two.” With that she scooped up her armour and retreated to the furthest bed. She burrowed down into the covers with her back to the rest of the room and closed her eyes to the crystal wall.

It wasn’t her destiny to be happy. She’d lived without joy before and she would do it again. So long as Kaji was happy she was doing her job.

**

A crystal room, familiar, with a broad round table in its middle. The room where she had first met the Three. They were there now, regarding her, and despite the aura of comfort and security they exuded she felt a momentary alarm. What were they going to do to her?

”This is a dream and it is not,” Caalix said. “Your body is still where it sleeps, but we brought a piece of you here so that we might speak. If one of your friends were able to enter this room, they would see you—or a glowing form of you.

”We applaud Typhenon’s efforts to help you, Sang, but we agree there are some problems plaguing you that we three are best suited to address…”

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Shedding Light

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The Three were humanoid—mostly. Elona was the most normal-looking: a portly woman with a mass of black hair and a caring face. Feloqui, while a man in shape, was whip-thin and revealed not an inch of skin beneath his mail, clothes and cowl. He carried himself as though eternally poised, and the first time Sang had laid eyes on him she had seen… something beneath the hood, like coloured light. Under that strange gaze she had been visited by a feeling, something that had reminded her uncomfortably of a time in her childhood when she’d performed a particularly clumsy manoeuvre in front of her sensei. Like she was falling dismally short of where she needed to be.

Caalix was also man-shaped, lean but graceful, his armour heavier than Feloqui’s but shining. His hair was long and fair and his face was beautiful. But golden dragon-like wings sprouted from his shoulders. His hands and arms were scaled up to the elbow. One of those hands gestured, motioning.

“Look at the table, Sang.”

After the briefest of pauses, she looked down.

The circular crystal surface wavered and changed, becoming a window that looked into the royal apartment at Tokai. She couldn’t help feeling an involuntary chill at the sight of the room, for the last time she’d seen it had been in Shae’el’s vision. Two men sat at the Go table. One was Kaji, and the other… someone she recognised from Wuhai. The Kiau Admiral’s son. What was his name? Nobutada?

“So did you see that girl in court today?” Nobutada asked. “You know the one I mean.”

“Hm?” Kaji put a stone on the table. “She was all right.”

“’All right’? Majesty, she was gorgeous. She had long legs and dark hair, she was slim and moved with such grace.” Nobutada sighed wistfully. “You didn’t even think about it?”

Kaji shrugged.

“I don’t get you. You know, you’re the king, not too shabby in appearance,” he added with a good-natured grin, “you tend to state business every day. It doesn’t get boring? You don’t want something more? You could have any woman you wanted and I’ve seen any number of them looking at you. All you have to do is point and they’d be in your bed.” Nobutada shook his head and glanced over the board ruefully. “It’s almost cruel to see them lust after you, and you practically ignoring them.” He placed a stone. “What about that maid?”

Kaji grimaced. “I woke up one morning to find her standing right next to the bed watching me sleep. Either she was a love-sick girl or the most inept shinobi in the Empire.”

“So you sent her out? Kaji, your wife, the great the mighty Queen of the Yu,” he said with certain disparaging tone, “has been away for weeks now. You do have to think about securing your bloodline. It’s your right to take concubines, everyone expects it, and if you don’t then people will start whispering—“

“Nobutada, please don’t give me a serious reason to order your execution… again this week,” Kaji said drily, and his friend laughed. “I’m not going to worry about my bloodline. If I die without an heir, there are plenty of families with ties to my family that the throne can fall to.”

“I heard that you spoke about getting a concubine before.”

“That was just to Sang.” Kaji smiled. “She likes that whole dashing rogue thing. It excites her, keeps her interested. But beside the fact she could chop me to pieces several different ways if I seriously looked at another woman, I wouldn’t want to risk damaging my relationship with her for the sake of a little rumpy-pumpy.”

The vision shimmered and faded, becoming once again the crystal tabletop. Sang continued to stare down at it, tears streaking her face.

I’m such a fool…

“I think you misjudged that boy,” Elona said gently.

It was like a dam burst inside her. The weeks of doubt and hurt and despair… so unnecessary, so wrong. Elona shifted down to the form of a slim blonde, and when she embraced Sang the samurai suddenly found herself clinging to the goddess and sobbing like she had never in her entire life. Tears of shame and relief, of heart-ache healed. All those fears and dark thoughts—how had she imagined them? Why had she doubted him? Why hadn’t she talked to him, like Typhenon had said? And not only had he been joking about the concubine thing, he’d managed to find a friend in Tokai without her help.

When she had regained a measure of control, Elona drew away. Sang wiped self-consciously at her eyes, and when she was able to lift her face again it was to see a familiar silver bracelet appear in Caalix’s hand. Small enough to circle a child’s wrist, and bearing a jade crab charm. R’s gift.

“You know what this is then,” he said, catching Sang’s apprehensive look.

“Was it true?” Sang asked, her voice a bit unsteady.

What Shae’el showed me? R’s plan for my children? Was I wrong about that too?

“I will answer your question,” Caalix promised, “after I have told you a story. Do you know why Adniel called himself ‘R’?”

Sang shook her head mutely.

“In the Silverstari language, the title of the Sorrowsworn Prince begins with that letter. Yes?” At Sang’s nod of understanding, the god went on. “He came by this bracelet in the same way he came by many other items—they were drawn to him because the objects in question were permeated by deep sorrow, usually through the history surrounding them.”

Sang gave the charm bracelet another worried look. What sorrow was in that bracelet’s past?

“Such is true of the gift he gave Maiko. Did she tell you about it?” When Sang shook her head, the god frowned slightly. “I see. Well, Adneil gave her a missive from Kanaye, which of course led to his rescue.”

Sang stared. R had been involved in that? All she’d been told was that Theosteris and Typhenon had located Kanaye in the Chi prison. Although… she did recall some disjointed images from the Jin woman after her first encounter with R, so while she’d never seen the message in question it now made sense and fit together.

“We must travel a little to continue the story.”

The crystal chamber and table vanished. Now they stood in a great city filled with people of different races and species. It looked almost exactly like the memory of the elven city in the south, the one the Reconcillers had extracted from their thoughts. The one she had found impossible to believe it had ever existed.

“It was real once,” Caalix said. “We strive to make it so again. It may be hard to believe there was a time of such peace, but there was.”

The scene shifted again, and they stood in a room filled by cowled figures. The majority were robed in brown, a smaller section in white, and a mere handful in black.

“The Council Chamber of the gods.” Caalix gestured at the brown, white and black robes in turn. “The Primal believed in beauty untamed and desired the world to be a paradise. Theirs was the law of tooth and talon, savage beauty. The Good worked towards the world being a heaven, the beauty of beings working and living in peace, safety and joy.” He glanced at the black-robed figures. “And then there were those who simply wanted more, to have the world for themselves. Yes, he is here,” he added when Sang looked cautiously around for Fu Leng. “Back then, he counted himself among the Primal and was the god of Kukulkan's people. Kukulkan does not follow him now," Caalix assured her when her eyes widened in startlement. "Things changed, the balance shifted, and the council was broken.”

The council hall changed back to the gods’ crystal fortress. Caalix was there—another Caalix, weapon drawn and filled with a desperate haste. He transported himself from room to room in rapid succession, followed by the Three and Sang. All of a sudden they appeared in a room where a beautiful woman with silver hair and a diaphanous gown was fallen on the floor, a shadowy figure crouched above her as though preparing to end her life. The second Caalix roared and leapt at the crouched being, which didn’t so much spring aside as flow with impossibly fluidity, like twisting smoke or black water. The two gods fought briefly, then the shadowy one fled, disappearing without so much as a flash. Caalix did not give chase but went straight to the fallen woman, falling to his knees beside her. He touched a hand to the side of her face and Sang saw a sudden rush of images flash through her mind as the goddess dissolved to silver light, which merged with Caalix.

There was a sound behind her then, like a small piece of glass breaking. Sang glanced back, saw something clear and shining shatter on the crystal floor, then looked up. Tears were running down Caalix’s face. On either side of him, Elona looked stricken and saddened while Feloqui fairly radiated anger at the memory of murder done within their own halls.

“She was my wife,” Caalix explained quietly.

Sang felt her heart lurch with sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

“The other who you saw just then, is Zaddikim.”

At the name there was another rush of images, though different to the last, and the scene changed again. This time they stood on a vast field, and on either side were arrayed armies of such size they were beyond counting. Sprinkled throughout the ranks of angels were the larger forms of the gods. On one side Sang saw the fluid, shadowy god that had attacked Caalix’s wife, Zaddikim, and other gods and goddesses were with him. Some in almost human forms, some bestial, some so horrible she knew to her core that if she tried to look too closely she would go insane. On the other side were Caalix, Elona and Feloqui, others she did not know, and one she recognised as red-haired Sotek from the Scaled Empire.

“It is not her,” Caalix said. “That was Sotek’s goddess. When she died, Sotek chose to take her form as a mark of respect. Her true form,” he went on in answer to Sang’s unspoken query, “is that of a dragon. A kami.

"Some few of them still work towards good. We created the kami to be caretakers of the world, gardeners even, to nurture the land as we nurtured mortal minds. When our numbers began to shift and war broke out between the gods, many of the kami turned away from us, seeing our battles as destructive to the world. We never held it against them. But as time passed they grew enamoured of their own powers and became greedy and grasping. They vied with each other for dominion even as they’d accused us of doing.”

The two armies suddenly began to charge each other with an unearthly roar, the speed and ferocity of their convergence so great that it looked like their forces would go beyond battle, beyond mere blood and death, and into annihilation. Just before the front ranks met, the Three pulled her elsewhere.

Again there were two armies, though mostly comprising elves this time. At the head of the fair-haired elves stood Adneil, as blond as his brethren. Standing against him, before an impossibly tall tower, was an army of dark-haired elves led by a female who was completely naked with the exception of her boots and some piercings. The nude elf was so breathtakingly beautiful, so desirable in appearance and figure, that Sang felt uneasy about just looking at her.

“Zoshan Ekthor,” Caalix said, pointing at the looming tower. “Where evil entered the elven race.”

They moved again, into the tower, Sang thought, for even the interior had the same brooding darkness as its outer face. The chamber had a black spiral pattern scratched out on the floor, and chained hand and foot to that etching was an elven woman Sang instantly remembered, though her hair was fair instead of dark. It was Adneil’s wife.

A black-winged angel stood over the elf. A wicked-looking dagger clutched in his hand, and when he looked down at the female and lifted the blade Sang paled, sucked in a horrified breath and looked quickly away. She had seen Kaji similarly spread-eagled, and while she had not seen the actual disembowelment she knew she never wanted to watch that happen to anyone.

“You must watch,” Caalix told her, though his voice was understanding. “You must see to understand.”

Reluctantly, Sang looked back and watched the dagger plunge into the elf’s breast. Its jagged edge tore her open with brutal efficiency, then the angel thrust his free hand into the wound and jerked out a dripping, still-warm heart. He deposited the organ into a brazier, which sputtered and belched a greasy black smoke.

“His wife, as promised,” the angel said, and in the smoke opened a window, revealing a grotesque four-armed monstrosity with tentacle-like appendages writhing from its chin.

The creature’s voice was wet, bubbling and vile to the ear. “And so. What do you want?”

“Bring her back,” the angel demanded quickly, eagerly. “Our mistress. Restore her to us!”

Even the laughter was sickening, a wracking burble. “It cannot be done,” the creature gloated maliciously. Its tentacles writhed around the edges of the portal, as though questing for a way through. “Even if it were possible, why would we release such an entertaining guest? She is so much fun.”

The angel shouted in futile, hopeless anger, slashing at the window with his knife and cutting a line through the smoke. The portal vanished, but the mocking, bubbling laughter lingered until it was overtaken by running footsteps.

Adneil dashed into the room, his armour bloody and battered, and he fell to his knees with a cry of denial as soon as his eyes fell on his slain wife. His sword, the same blade Sang had seen in the Temple vault, clattered beside him. He stayed like that for what felt an age, stricken and silent, then he seemed to notice the angel for the first time and his face was suffused with killing rage and grief.

“You,” he whispered, standing with his sword in hand, and as he advanced the golden paleness of his hair drained away like fading bleach and wings of smoke and shadow erupted from his shoulders.

“It doesn’t matter,” the angel said tonelessly, staring at the brazier. “None of it matters. She’s gone.”

He didn’t even try to defend himself as the elf sprang forward, skewering him with a single lunge. R pulled the sword free and the angel’s body fell limply to the floor, but he paid it no more heed.

“I will get her back,” he vowed to the empty room, and stalked out the door.

The room vanished, becoming once again the crystal chamber with its single round table. Sang looked at the gods uncertainly, not knowing why she’d been shown all that. She couldn’t help feeling some sympathy towards R (however reluctant), just as she had towards Caalix, but the elf’s path had differed substantially to the god’s—it was a direction she had often pondered and dreaded should she lose her husband. Sorrow and wrath.

“So you will understand him better,” Caalix said. “But do not think we mean that what happened there excuses him for all terrible the things he has done since.”

“But you, and Typhenon, still expect him to be forgiven if he changes?” Sang asked hesitantly.

“If our Primarch succeeds in redeeming Adneil, I think he will punish himself for what he’s done,” Caalix replied gravely. “What truly good heart could look back on the evil and hurt it had once inflicted and not feel pain and remorse? He will never be able to undo the things he has done, and for an immortal being that regret will last forever. Do you not think that will be punishment enough, Sang?”

She bit her lip and lowered her gaze.

“You asked before if it was true—what you heard of his plan for your children. And yes, it is.”

Sang gave a tiny nod, struggling against a fresh wave of weeping.

“When we—“ he gestured to the god and goddess on either side of him “—learned of the hideous fate he had concocted for you and them, our grief was so great that it brought this to him.” He nodded at the tiny bracelet in his hand. “As you and he both know, it is a protective charm—but the gift he gave you isn’t really from him, Sang.” Caalix smiled slightly. “It is from us.

“He thought to give you something that would be both a token of regret for Thyrul’s actions and a means of securing the safety of your unborn until he was ready to act, but he didn’t know that the charm he gave you would protect your children even from his power.”

Tears spilled over again. She returned Elona’s compassionate embrace without compunction, the terror that had been gripping her these last few days suddenly and completely gone. R’s plan, Shae’el’s vision, would not come true. Though she might never forget the horrendous pain of it, it was something she could now move past rather than constantly relive and dread happening again in the future. Yes, it had been planned, but it would never happen.

Her children were safe, body and soul, protected by the grace of the gods. They would live.

"Thank you," she whispered.

“There is more we would tell you, and perhaps later we will speak further. For now, though, we have given you much to think about,” Caalix said when Elona let her go. “I think it is time we let you rest.”

He made a motion with one hand, and the crystal room swam into the darkness of sleep.

last edited on 1246751585|%e %b %Y, %H:%M %Z|agohover by Shadow of Light + show more

Considerations

Shadow of Light 1248855993|%e %b %Y, %H:%M %Z|agohover

When I open my eyes, I will be in the temple at Epiach. Or in Tokai. Somewhere normal.

She knew it wouldn’t work. Even with her eyes shut, the feel of the bed was like nothing from Typhenon’s temple or the room she shared with Kaji. Sure enough, when she finally looked it was to see the crystal chamber from before. She stared at the oddly faceted wall for a long time, thinking on what she’d been shown last night. She remembered everything as clearly as though she’d been awake. Could she dismiss them as dreams? If she wanted to, yes. She could be stubborn about everything. She could claim there was still not enough evidence. She could choose to believe everything she’d shown had been clever lies, playing on her fears and emotions.

But she knew she didn’t want to do that. She wanted to believe what the gods had told and shown her, especially regarding her husband and children. To believe he loved her and was faithful, to believe they would be safe. To know someone was protecting her. She swallowed around a tightness in her throat, blinked back tears. She’d been dwelling on those fears for too long, it felt almost hard to let them go, hard to dare believe the future wasn’t as bleak, hopeless and pain-filled as she’d thought. She rubbed at her eyes surreptitiously, glad her bed was closest to the wall so no one would see.

My children are protected and Kaji is waiting for me.

She wanted to cry and laugh at the same time, but after a moment or two of happy contemplation she reluctantly forced herself to turn her thoughts from personal matters. She felt guilty for continuing to question and doubt the Three after what they’d done for her with the charm, and for helping her see how wrong she’d been about Kaji, but she had to be careful and couldn’t let emotion and gratitude alone drive her decisions.

While they had reassured her about her family, there was still the matter of her kingdom. Leading the Yu back to the Three was an aspect of her future that weighed heavily on her conscience, and she had no reason to believe the gods could not discern this. In a perfect world, turning the Yu to worshipping the Three would be only beneficial to the kingdom. To hear the truth would inspire those on the Wall and give them faith that the Shadowlands could be ended. It could give them hope the Taint could be stopped, even cured. In a perfect world, such tidings would be priceless. To know that these gods, the gods of their ancestors, the gods of good, could purge the Shadow forever if people returned to them… it was wrong to keep such knowledge secret, injustice to hide such a beacon from being seen by all those who would gain hope and heart from it. For that reason alone she wanted to share what she’d learned, freely and openly…

…except that the Empire of the Silver Stars was not perfect, and Sang knew that to proclaim the return of the old gods would be heresy. Too many influential people drew their magic from the kami, and it was a very rare person indeed who would willingly relinquish his powers for the sake of a Cause. What’s more, the Emperor was considered a god to the Silverstari—the only one they acknowledged. To declare higher powers would be to challenge his authority, it could split the kingdoms, destroy stability. Try as she might, she couldn’t see how that could end well.

She wasn’t Maiko. She couldn’t deal with this information quietly and try to subtly turn people from the kami to Lord Yu. Maiko’s people weren’t dying, sickening, going mad and turning to Shadow in a thankless, endless war every single day—a war almost none of them knew was even about. Sang could not make herself believe that telling her people the full truth wouldn’t make some kind of good difference, and that obliged her to speak, but if speaking only brought more war…

I don’t know how to do this. Why me? If Maiko’s right and it has to be done quietly and gradually, I’m not the right person for the job. Yu has to know that, so there must be another way, something I’m missing.

The Emperor? Am I supposed to talk to him? He didn’t have me killed when I told him I didn’t believe he’s a god, but I don’t know. If I believe these gods will lead us to destroying Fu Leng and the Shadowlands, am I not compelled to tell him, no matter what? It’s just…

…I don’t suppose your charm will protect the twins if I’m ordered to kill myself?

Sang sighed and sat up.

“Morning people!” Typhenon said cheerfully.

“How can you tell?” Maiko asked.

“Because it's morning?”

“You woke up in your own time, Typhenon; it could be mid-afternoon for all you know.”

“No, it's certainly not mid-afternoon. It's some time in the morning. It hasn't been noon, therefore it's some time in the morning. My logic is impeccable!”

“But you get drunk and you miss dawn!”

“One wonders if you were bickering all night,” Sang remarked.

“No,” Typhenon said. “This one dozed off and I eventually got told to go to bed.”

“I did not ‘doze off’,” Maiko retorted.

“Yes, you did!”

“Like you would know.”

“I can tell,” the cleric told her with a smirk. “The snoring gave it away.”

“I don't snore!”

“Oh, yes, you do!”

“I. Don't. Snore.”

“Yes, you do! And how would you know?”

“Silverstari don't snore.”

Both of Sang’s brows shot up and Typhenon’s response was a dryly amused, “Really?”

Maiko paused a second. “Silverstari women do not snore.”

Typhenon laughed. “Can we just agree to disagree?”

“I'm perfectly willing to agree that you're wrong.”

“No, you're wrong. You're just too stubborn to realise it. Anyway! How are you feeling, Sang?”

“Well, if you two keep going on like that, I'm going to rapidly get a headache.”

“Sorry.”

Sang shook her head and tried to remember what she’d been thinking before the morning banter interrupted. Oh, right… the future. Hopefully the gods could give her some more reassurances, or even a course of action. She didn’t know what she’d do otherwise. All she knew was that if she decided the Three were everything they claimed and swore herself to them, if challenged on her loyalties she would not be silent or cryptic or deceptive in her reply. Not even in the Emperor’s court.

So… do I believe them? Are they the way to destroying the Shadowlands and bringing us peace? Were they the gods of our ancestors, and are they worthy of worship?

“Apart from that?” Typhenon said to her.

“Hm?” Sang said, frowning slightly at him.

It shouldn’t have been that great a stretch to go from believing Typhenon would be instrumental in ending the Shadowlands to his gods being those that empowered him, but oddly enough it wasn’t that easy. It was difficult for her to understand that such powerful beings were so limited in what actions they could take in the mortal world. Were they restricted to this crystal castle of theirs? Could they do nothing but order angels about and speak to their followers? They had spoken of fighting here in heaven, of invasions by the forces of the Seven, but besides the visions she’d been shown last night there had been no evidence of war up here. Everything here was too perfect and… and unscarred.

“Apart from that?” Typhenon repeated.

They have not forced me to believe. I have seen and heard enough to accept they are agents of good… whether or not they are the sources of good is something else I’d have to think on, it’s too big for me to wrap my head around right now.

So they are good, and were our gods a long time ago. Somewhere along the line we stopped believing in them. We lost hope, lost our way, decided there was more to be gained by bowing to kami. There was only ever more war, oni and monsters, so it seemed the gods were failing to lead us to peaceful times and we turned away from them. We put our faith in our own strength, in spirits, in stone and jade, and have only managed to stand our ground.

Now the gods return—no, they never left. Better to say they make themselves known again, and once more talk about ending the wars. I know they can empower people—just look at Typhenon and his clerics and Maiko’s healing capabilities through the amulet, magic that could save so many lives. What I would give to be able to heal like that…the friends I could have—

Typhenon was looking at her again. Had he said something?

“What?” she asked.

They can empower people; like Typhenon said, they can work through the world via mortals. But the kami do similar, so why would Silverstari risk turning from powerful spirits they know for sure exist to embrace ancient gods they’ve never heard of? I know my people, and the majority respect power. The more power, the more respect and it doesn’t always matter to them whether the source is good or evil. If it ‘serves the Empire’, or serves themselves, it’s ‘good enough’.

“Wow,” Typhenon said. “Thinking deep thoughts.”

Sang’s brow furrowed. “I do that on occasion.”

But for all the power of the kami, I have never heard of any of them with the ability to cure Taint. It’s something we’ve never been able to manage. Can the gods empower their followers to do that or is it only something they themselves can do here?

The room suddenly seemed bigger than a moment ago, and Maiko got out of bed and started to do her kata. Sang watched for a few seconds, then stared off into the middle distance again. Routine and discipline might be important, but she had other things on her mind she’d rather deal with now.

Theosteris told me that the power of the Three is the most powerful weapon against the foes my people fight. If true, Caalix is right… we need them and shouldn’t be relying on weaker equipment. We’re compromising. But I doubt the Three are going to give powers to anyone who just asks. That’s what the whole ‘turning the people back to righteousness’ is about.

Are we really that bad?

Sang tried to picture her people honestly. It wasn’t easy. For a kingdom that dedicated itself to protecting others from the Shadowlands, it was all too simple to want to believe the Yu were among the noblest souls in the world—far better than those who preferred to disbelieve the very existence of Fu Leng or spend their lives chasing frivolous pleasures. She had grown up surrounded by people who thought this way—considering any who’d never been across or at least on the Wall as somehow… less. Inferior. She knew she’d be lying if she said she’d never thought this way herself, but feeling superior didn’t make them evil, did it?

Perhaps not, but a lot of other things they did certainly wouldn’t be considered good by… well, by Typhenon for one. If she looked at the Yu through the Primarch’s eyes, she could point out hundreds of things he wouldn’t like, would try to stop or change, and a great number of these things were, in the Empire, legal and accepted behaviour, even expected in some quarters. They were rights and privileges, another form of power which those who possessed would be reluctant to sacrifice. Her highborn brethren might be defenders, but their eyes were either closed to the oppression they caused their less nobly bred kin or wide open to the point they enjoyed watching.

It suddenly occurred to Sang that convincing people to turn from kami to gods might be easier than changing callous hearts. She herself still had a way to go. She remembered with painful clarity what she’d said to Typhenon the previous night, that she wasn’t ashamed of wanting to rip R limb from limb and relish his pain, and the truth of her words shamed her more than the words themselves. She was ashamed of herself because she hadn’t been ashamed of wishing to brutalise R. Even now, if she snuck a glance at the distant bed where the elf sat staring into space, she still felt her anger smouldering. It might not be right or noble or good of her, but how was it any different from how Typhenon had reacted to Joseph?

Do not use someone else as an excuse for yourself. Typhenon has admitted he’s not perfect. And he at least has the grace to apologise for his mistakes.

That was the problem. She didn’t want to excuse her feelings or apologise for what she felt was justified. Surely they didn’t expect her to embrace R and start singing happy songs now that he had apparently promised he wouldn’t hurt her or her children. He’d planned that atrocity, she’d practically lived it out, and it was only natural she’d wanted to make him suffer as much as she had.

You’re using someone else as justification for yourself again, Sang. Worse, you’re using someone you know to be of questionable morality. You can expect abominable plans like that from Shadowsworn—wanting to pay them back in kind is only going to make you like them.

Besides, in case you’re forgetting, R wasn’t the one who put you through all that pain. Shae’el was.

True that might be, but she still didn’t like or trust R. Neither did she want to. Sang slid her hands over her stomach protectively. For a couple of days there, between Epiach and the ruined elven city, for a time she’d started to lower her guard around him. After he’d spoken about his sister to the dragon, she’d begun to consider he might have some humanity buried somewhere inside. She’d admitted to herself Typhenon might be right to try redeeming him. Then Shae’el revealed the truth, that the elf had been cruelly playing her from the day she’d first set eyes on him, and that germ of trust was obliterated. Fu Leng had taken it a step further, egging her hatred into full bloom and convincing her she had every right in the world to act on her thirst for the elf’s blood.

And I fell for it. Fu Leng… and I was stupid enough to listen. I know, I know… he is or was a god, but it wasn’t like I didn’t know who he was or what he was trying to do. The ultimate foe of my kingdom and he only has to whisper in my ear a few times to successfully manipulate me. And it wasn’t like it was even mind control. He didn’t force me to attack R against my will, he only encouraged me. He used what was already there, what I’d tried to bury. He knew where I chained my daemons and broke the bars.

He knows what I could become.

The Three have a different future in mind, but I’m afraid to accept it. I do not want to be the catalyst for civil war. There’s already enough bloodshed in the Empire without me causing more to be spilled.

last edited on 1248856045|%e %b %Y, %H:%M %Z|agohover by Shadow of Light + show more

Unexpected Meetings

Shadow of Light 1248865213|%e %b %Y, %H:%M %Z|agohover

“Breakfast.”

The room had abruptly changed as the gods transported the group from the sleeping chamber to the place where they had all spoken together the day before. Sang had not even gotten out of bed, and found herself suddenly seated before the crystal table with Typhenon, Maiko, Kukulkan and R. Kukulkan’s adopted son was not there. Perhaps the gods had already sent him home.

Then she realised she was still wearing the soft white robe she’d found on her bed. There was no sign of her armour or weapons, and it was something of a shock to put a hand to her side and not feel the grip of a tsuka in her palm. She stilled herself from speaking of it, however. The blades that housed her honour and soul were safer here than anywhere. It just felt uncomfortable to be without them.

As with the evening meal, breakfast appeared on the table before each of them. A bowl of rice porridge was in front of Maiko, and she tucked into it with customary swiftness. Typhenon had bread steaming as though whisked fresh from the oven, slathered with freshly churned butter. From a nearby mug wafted the smell of coffee, and the Primarch spent as much time just inhaling the fumes as he did eating his food. Kukulkan’s meal was a fish, though he did not touch it. Sang recalled he had not eaten the previous night either, and wasn’t entirely sure if his lack of appetite stemmed from what had been done to his wife or discomfit at their current location—or both. In the bowl before R was a thick green substance, almost like porridge in consistency, which the elf lifted to his lips and drained like soup. The cup at his elbow smelled strongly of aniseed.

Sang’s breakfast was about as simple as Maiko’s, but perfectly done, delicious and filling. The green tea that accompanied it was the finest she could ever remember tasting, and she lingered over both bowl and chawan, contemplating as she had been since waking.

No one spoke, and there was only the clink of bowls and cups until one of the gods sighed, said, “As you wish,” and Kukulkan disappeared.

“We took Kukulkan away,” Caalix explained. “He is not feeling sociable.”

“With the current situation I don’t blame him,” Typhenon said regretfully.

“We get the feeling he does not like us.”

“It’s not you,” Typhenon assured him, and Sang looked back to the tea in her hands, wondering. Wouldn’t the gods know if Kukulkan didn’t like them? So why would Typhenon say what he had? Why didn’t Kukulkan like them? Did he know something she didn’t?

She and R took the longest to finish their meals. She didn’t notice this until she glanced at him accidentally and saw how distracted he seemed. For the first time in days, seeing his face did not send her mind into horrible flashes of Shae’el’s vision. Instead, she found herself thinking of last night, or a night countless years ago, how the elf had looked when he’d charged into the high room of Zoshan Ekthor and found his wife killed.

She dropped her gaze to her tea again, her spirit troubled, then started (as did both Maiko and Typhenon) and groped instinctively for her absent katana when a figure suddenly appeared in the room. At first she didn’t recognise the white-robed man, but then the jaunty smile reminded her of what Theosteris had once looked like before his great injury.

“Good to see you,” Typhenon said once he’d recovered himself. “You’re looking well.”

Theos smiled and nodded in agreement, but didn’t reply. Sang stared and completely missed whatever Typhenon said next, something Theos again only nodded to.

“You can’t talk?” she demanded. And when he shook his head: “Why not?”

“He had to give a few things up,” Caalix’s voice said. “The Mother claimed some aspects of him.”

“Oh,” Sang said uncomfortably when Theos nodded.

“We were lucky to recover as much as we did.”

There was an awkward pause. R’s face was a study of conflicting emotions ranging from awe to guilt. Maiko was silent and looking very much as though she wished she could be anywhere else. Sang supposed she understood the uncomfortable air… the caster had sacrificed himself to save them all from Rastarael, and Sang blamed herself in part for that. She had fallen before the Devourer’s sword too easily.

But… he was here now, with the gods he worshipped. It was the afterlife he had wished for, albeit without a functional voice, and he looked whole and healed and happy to see them.

“Thanks?” Sang said uncertainly.

A parchment and pen appeared from nowhere. Theos caught them, wrote something and reversed the paper so they could read his words.

‘It was the least I could do.’

“I’m sorry it had to happen that way.”

Theos put quill to parchment again, and when he turned it his previous sentence had disappeared, replaced with:

‘Better than it could have happened.’

There was a long pause. No one seemed quite sure of what to say, and Theos, with an exasperated expression, wrote: ‘You’re in heaven. Don’t look so melancholy.’

“It’s been a difficult time,” Typhenon apologised. “As per usual.”

‘Where’s Kukulkan?’

“Around,” the Primarch said with a wry smile. “Ask them,” he added, tilting his to the roof. “They sent him somewhere.”

Theos gave a slight roll of his eyes, then wrote: ‘Trust him that even in Heaven Kukulkan will find some excuse to disappear.’

“He did just lose his wife,” Sang pointed out quietly.

Theos scribbled again, taking a bit longer this time. ‘Not lose, per say, just rendered down into a quasi-energetic state, but—‘

“Theos,” Typhenon said before Sang could read any further, “no.”

“How did you write that much in such a short space of time?” Sang asked, staring at the length of the paragraph for a second before Theos reversed it.

The caster shrugged, smirked a bit and wrote: ‘I’m one of the honoured dead?’

“Now you’re just being snarky,” Typhenon chuckled.

‘I gave up life and gained a magical ability to write quickly.’

“I suppose it makes up for your lack of speech.”

’It had better.’

Sang caught herself on the verge of laughter and turned it into a cough. Even if Theos seemed perfectly at ease and wanting them to cheer up, it still didn’t feel right to laugh about him being dead—even if he was the one making the jokes.

All right. This is weird.

“There has to be some way for you to get the same amount of words in the same length of time,” Typhenon was saying conversationally. “Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but I gave Adneil your spellbook.”

‘He’s going to get more use out of it than I am.’

“I’m going to go for a walk,” Maiko suddenly announced.

‘I’m not that creepy, am I?’ When Maiko didn’t answer, Theos wrote: ‘At the end of the day, everyone’s alive. For a given definition of ‘alive’. It’s win win.’

There were a few moments of silence as Maiko stared down at the table, then she vanished. Theos glanced up at the roof with an exasperated look on his face. He wrote on the parchment again and turned it so Typhenon, R and Sang could read. ‘Anyway, gotta go. They’ve shackled me to the damn magical items mill.’

“I wonder why?” Typhenon grinned.

‘Just because you’re good at something they expect you to do it forever!’

“And whose fault’s that?”

Theos wrote his reply and smirked when he reversed the parchment. ‘Clearly Caalix’s. He gave me the powers in the first place.’

Typhenon laughed. “You didn’t have to choose him!”

Theos gave the Primarch a Look, then quite deliberately stuck his tongue out before waving and vanishing.

“At least we know now,” Sang said to Typhenon.

“Yeah.”

“Maiko is enjoying herself,” Caalix’s voice came into the room. “What do the three of you want to do? Think of anything.”

Sang blinked and frowned. She wasn’t used to free time. Perhaps if she’d stayed in Tokai, but as a soldier there was little place for leisure unless recuperating from wounds or there was some ceremony or funeral. Even then a certain measure of vigilance was always expected.

“The last time I had time to do what I wanted,” Typhenon said musingly. “That’s a good one.”

“Oh good!”

R disappeared.

Sang decided not to ask.

Free time? What do I want to do? I suppose… see what it’s like out there.

”Outside it is.”

**

Sang found herself standing in a city of white marble and gold. It was busy, filled with people of various races going about their daily business, though of course it had little in common with Tosa or Tokai. Before she could really consider the differences, someone appeared unexpectedly beside her. Sang turned quickly, taking a step back to get out of the way, and looked up at the new arrival. It was a tall man, or an angel really, with chestnut brown wings, jade green eyes and a long beard. It was the first time she had really seen Lord Yu’s physical form, and when she realised who it was she felt the blood drain from her face.

“Why pale, Sang?” the Angel of Courage asked in the deep, resonant voice she had until now only ever heard in her mind.

Sang dropped her eyes hurriedly to the road. All she could suddenly think of was how badly she’d been doing lately and how, even now, she was not yet willing to trust his gods. “You’re not disappointed in me?” she asked.

“Why would I be disappointed in you?”

“I feel like you should be.”

Fortunes know how ashamed I am of me.

“Those feelings are of your own making, like your feelings over Kaji. They’re feelings you have crafted for yourself. I have never been less than proud of you.”

The paving under her feet blurred. Sang tried to blink the tears away, hoping Yu wouldn’t notice.

“I haven’t exactly… tried to talk to you very much,” she pointed out uncertainly.

“You’ve had a lot to consider.”

Sang bit her lip, nodded and glanced around the street, still not quite ready to meet his green-eyed gaze. “So… where are we?”

“We’re in Ushan, the City of Heaven.”

“You only have one city?” she asked, glad he hadn’t questioned the change in subject.

“Yes. We only need one city.”

“So it’s big?”

“It’s as big as it needs to be. Things are different in Heaven. Time, space, connectivity.” He paused. “I know some good drinking houses.”

“I’m not allowed to—“ she began, then remembered where they were. “Oh. Right.”

“Alcohol comes from Heaven, hangovers come from Hell,” Yu said with a smile, and Sang felt her own lips curve hesitantly in response. “There are other places.”

“I don’t really have any idea of what I want to do,” she confessed.

“What is it that you enjoy, Sang?”

She frowned a bit. “I don’t think anyone’s really asked me that before. I don’t think I have an answer.”

“I’m sure Kaji’s asked you that more than once.”

Sang felt the blood rush back to her cheeks and mumbled, “Well, that’s not exactly here, is it?”

Yu smiled. “Indeed. And not my place.”

“So. Drinking house?”

**

They walked through the city, past buildings that looked like palaces and works of art. The people that strode the streets came from many races, some of which she didn’t recognise, and some angels were interspersed among them. More unexpectedly were the animals and various creatures she noticed, like the occasional griffin or badger or kirin.

At length they came to an open and airy courtyard where people sat drinking. There was even an ogre and a couple of manticores. Sang and Yu seated themselves at one of the tables and two glasses appeared before them almost at once. The samurai stared at hers for a moment before picking it up and inspecting the contents with a cautious sniff, followed by a sip. It was a particularly good sake—her favourite, in fact. Yu’s drink with an orange liquid; a thick mist was forming atop it and drifting down the outside of the glass.

“Nothing of the sort,” Yu said when Sang eyed his beverage askance and wondered if it might suddenly leap from its container. “It’s a liquor distilled from sunlight.”

“I’m sure that it would sound nice if I could ever begin to understand how that was possible,” she said wryly.

“It tastes nice,” he replied, grinning and taking a sip.

After a time, a young Silverstari boy and girl who looked a couple of years shy of ten came out of the crowd. Both had dark hair and fine features, and seemed a little short for their age. Without a word of explanation, they approached the table and sat either side of Sang; the boy on her right, the girl on her left. They smiled up at her as she glanced at each in turn, at a complete loss as to how she was meant to react.

“Don’t look so stricken, mother,” the boy said.

Sang’s eyes bulged.

“Now you’ve done it,” the girl chided, leaning forward to see her brother. “You’ve made her look even more stricken.”

Sang tried to think of something to say, but her head was spinning and all she could manage was a vague choking sound.

“I think we broke her.”

“How strong was this, did you say?” Sang asked Yu almost desperately, picking up her glass.

“You said it was good sake,” he reminded her, sitting back in his chair with a raised brow and faint smile.

“Right. How many have I drunk? I think I’m seeing things. And hearing things.”

“We’re not figments,” the girl said.

My children? In Heaven?

“You’re not… dead, are you?” Sang managed.

“No,” the boy said with a grin.

“Oh. Good.” Sang tried to think of something worthwhile to say. “I am so confused right now.”

“It’s a property of this place,” the girl told her. “Time works oddly. Things are… echoes, future and past. I know what you’re thinking,” she added when Sang’s mind touched on a horrible possibility, “and no, we don’t necessarily die at age eight. This is just the furthest into the future Heaven is able to see.”

“We may not even survive until we’re this old,” the boy chimed in. “But we’re hoping, mother.”

“I’ll… So am I,” Sang said. She hesitated, taking a moment to look at them again. She could see Kaji in their faces, though perhaps a bit more in the boy than the girl. The boy… her son, that is… had a familiar roguish smile and challenging manner of speech. Her daughter seemed somewhat calmer, or wiser maybe. She couldn’t possibly have gotten that from Sang. “Am I a good mother?”

“No complaints yet,” her son said.

“I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me what we named you?” she tried hopefully.

“No,” her daughter said with a little smile. “Though I do remember you had an argument with father over it.”

Sang winced.

“Don’t worry,” her son said. “You won.”

“Oh…”

“Once,” the girl amended.

“Right.”

“The two of you compromised.”

Sang tried not to shift awkwardly between them. She’d never had much to do with children at all since leaving childhood behind, and while she was a prospective mother she’d expected a few more months to get used to the idea of having babies around—and lot more before they started having conversations with her. The unexpectedness of the situation left her not knowing what to say or how to act.

“Oh, well. Hopefully the next time we see each other you’ll be a little more outspoken,” her son said.

“That depends,” Sang heard herself reply. “I mean, if I’ve just given birth to you, you might not be able to talk back. In so many words.”

There was a brief pause. “Point.”

“Anyway,” her daughter said, “we should be going.”

The two of them faded from view.

After a moment of recovery, Sang looked to Yu. “Did you know that was going to happen?”

He shook his head. “No, but it was a pleasant surprise.”

“It was… a surprise.” She sipped from her glass, stared into it. “Too much has happened,” she said, half to herself.

And so much more will take place before I see them again.

“The Three will want you back soon,” Yu advised quietly.

“At the palace?”

“Yes.”

Sang nodded. “I wonder how many drinks I can finish before then.”

Information

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The group reunited in the crystal room of the gods’ fortress for lunch. Typhenon was in an unusually good humour and couldn’t seem to stop grinning for some reason, though Maiko looked a bit on the pale side and spent a fair amount of time aimlessly poking at the food on her plate. Sang ate at a more normal rate than she had at breakfast, trying to get past the dazed feeling the encounter with her children had left her with. There was a brief exchange between Maiko and Elona which shifted from verbal to internal after a couple of minutes—apparently it concerned the goddess trying to set the Jin up with someone, although Sang tried not to pay attention after it became clear the conversation involved personal matters.

“So what did you do?” Typhenon asked Sang.

“I saw the city. What’s it’s name? Something Ushie?”

“Ushan. It’s got a few names depending on where you come from.”

“Ah. So the badgers would call it something different than the angels.”

Typhenon’s grin widened. “Yes. What did you do there?”

“Lord Yu took me drinking.”

“Oh, you met him?”

Sang nodded. “Rather unexpectedly. He had liquid sunlight. I didn’t try any, but he said it was nice.” She paused. “I don’t remember what I was drinking. Probably sake. And I saw my kids.”

Typhenon blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I saw my kids.”

“Oh, they’re darling little things, aren’t they?” Elona beamed.

“Um.” Sang tried to think of a suitable reply. “I guess?”

The goddess sighed and looked at Maiko. Something passed between them before she smiled apologetically at Sang’s questioning look. “Just a private spat. It’s okay. One or the other of us will see sense eventually.”

Sang nodded uncertainly, still reeling a bit from Elona’s interjection. It was one thing to meet your children before they’d been born, and quite another for someone else to comment on what they were like, as though they’d been around a while. She supposed the twins had been… darling?

This is going to drive me insane if I keep thinking about it.

But now, with the shock fading, she couldn’t help wishing she’d been more coherent. Given a little time to get used to the idea, there was at least one thing she wanted to say to them. She hoped she’d have a second opportunity.

Caalix raised his gold-scaled arms. “I asked you yesterday if you have questions. I ask the same again. There will be precious little opportunity for this again, and I fear—I feel, that you will have to leave soon, so it would be opportune to ask what you can now while you have time.”

Typhenon began, starting with Joseph and his followers. Caalix told him that a solution was being worked on to show Joseph’s people that he had fallen to the evil god Belshezzar (whose name, like Zaddakim’s, elicited another strange flicker of images when it was spoken—fire-loyalty-a crown). Joseph’s location was hidden to the Three, but they said mortal means could reveal him.

Next he asked about the Shadowlands, Fu Leng and the nine temples. The gods had said yesterday that the temples held the world together, and that if all of them were held by one cause then the world would be changed to echo it. Fu Leng held one of those temples in the Shadowlands.

“Each temple has a guardian,” Caalix explained, “a power that is godlike in their own realm. That guardian needs to be overcome and a new guardian appointed for a temple to change hands. Fu Leng has tapped in to the Outside, drawn power from it. His connection to that font of power must be severed. Unfortunately we have no ideas how to do this. The knowledge and location are hidden from us.”

“Why is it that Kukulkan’s people are killed by the Taint and things like the nezumi are immune?” Typhenon asked.

“Fu Leng made it so. As one of his last acts he arranged so that his people, the Shyless,” Caalix nodded to the motionless Kukulkan, “would be killed by the Taint so that none could ever fall under his sway and be used maliciously. It was his last gift to them, a Wild God’s gift, but a gift nonetheless. The immunity that the nezumi have is another matter. They have knowledge, their elders, of his True Name, and with that to bargain they have made themselves immune to it so that they may never fall under his sway. Yet they serve him willingly, for the most part. Unfortunately not only do the elders dwell deep in the Shadow, there are also wards in place that while they know the Name they may never speak it.”

The conversation turned to locating the remaining Saving Gods—or Archangels as Typhenon called them, but the Three could not tell them what items they would be tied to or where they could be found, save that their locations would be in lands their people had owned at the time they went to sleep. They did, however, provide Typhenon with an historic map of the kingdom borders for the appropriate era.

Zoshan Ekthor was the next topic—the place they planned to go to try and resurrect R’s wife. After Typhenon asked for as much information as the gods could give, R seemed to freeze, as though time had stopped for him.

“We can restore his wife,” Caalix said, “if he proves worthy. We would not have you let him know that, because that knowledge could twist the intentions. If he knows that we’re capable of doing that, what could he stop at to make it so? It must come unbidden, as a reward he did not seek for truly redeeming himself.”

“How is she?”

“Jin makes progress, much progress. We have much faith in our daughter. It is good to see it is not unfounded.” Caalix looked to Maiko. “She will return to you soon.”

R started to move again, unfrozen.

“Zoshan Ekthor is the haft of a blade of a god long dead,” Caalix said.

“Some kind of spear, I believe?” Typhenon put in.

“Yes. Literally and metaphorically. It was the point where corruption entered the elven race.”

A stricken expression passed over R’s face.

“The vile things that you seek are still there,” Caalix went on, “though they cannot be put to the purpose that you suggest.”

Sang glanced involuntarily towards R at this, her stomach churning with a tension she knew she no longer had to worry about. The elf’s face and posture were stone cold. With this plan quashed and his promise not to hurt her children in force, what would he resort to now? She suspected that once they quit Heaven he would ditch the party as soon as possible to consider his options, perhaps even attempt what he’d had in store for her on a new candidate. That thought made her blood run cold.

“There are other ways,” the god told R. “The creature that took your wife’s soul long ago still resides Outside, despite your efforts to destroy it. If you can find a way to destroy it permanently, that will achieve great things.” He paused briefly. “The oni that serve Fu Leng are creatures of the Outside made flesh. If this entity you seek may be made flesh, then it can be destroyed permanently. And if you accompany these people that seek to destroy Fu Leng, you have a much better chance of having that come to pass.”

R did not react, and Sang looked away from him. She wondered if ideas like cutting a deal with Fu Leng—exchanging this Outsider for betraying the party, would cross his mind.

Kukulkan asked if the Seven would try to interfere with the destruction of the Shadowlands, or know it was taking place, to which Caalix said that unless they caught wind of any plans they would not know until the deed was done. They might even allow Fu Leng to be destroyed, as he was not one of them, an independent entity and a thorn in their side, then move in afterwards to vanquish whoever conquered him.

“And the other templess?” Kukulkan asked.

Caalix proceeded to list a number of names and places Sang had never heard of. Caementi and Storm’s Hold on the continent of Tsiran, ruled by Taranth, Scion of Order and the Storm Lord, Scion of Chaos, a temple in the deep south on the pole ruled by an entity of cold and death, one at the deepest point of the ocean ruled by a dark and foul slimy thing, one on yet another continent in the middle of an inland sea ruled by a corrupted shapeshifter, one on the content of Ekkido ruled by the mad king Wretched, one on a large island in the far north that was shrouded by impenetrable mists and shoals ruled by an unknowable entity, and finally the temple that the Three owned which was located on an island that floated around the world and was ruled by the Malakim, the original black-winged angel.

Typhenon spoke next, suggesting some sort of distraction to aid them in a raid that had been brought up the day before which was aimed at rescuing kidnapped souls to bolster the forces of Heaven. The Three agreed to the idea, and Maiko looked at Typhenon with open surprise that the cleric had come up with sneaky plan that might actually work.

Kukulkan then asked what had happened with the sword belonging to the Herald of the Fimblewinter, which the group had fought in the swamps near Myronment. The last Sang had seen of the huge blade it had been sticking out of the frosty marsh, but according to the Three it had now been reclaimed.

After that answer, their eyes went distant and Caalix said, “We are required. All of us. The battle goes poorly.”

“Can we help?” Typhenon asked quickly.

“Of course.”

War

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The orc-angel beat her wings with powerful strokes. Typhenon, Maiko, Kukulkan and Sang were held securely in her four arms as she flew them over a blasted wilderness where Heaven’s border blurred. R had decided to remain behind. Sang glanced back once during the flight, where the building the gods had taken them to receded into the distance. It had been some kind of command post or staging point, full of strange moving images, lights and angels, not a simple map to be seen, and she had been completely out of her depth when discussions on the battle began, unable to offer one strategic idea.

Fortunately Maiko and Kukulkan had seemed to catch on to things, and eventually Sang got a broad idea of what was going on. One of the Seven was attacking—not just his forces, but one of the dark gods: Mastemoth. His forces were launching attacks from a series of underground caves and trenches, the openings of which were protected by a number of magical engines set into cliffs above them. The engines were also protected, and efforts to destroy them had so far failed. If the engines could be disabled then the caves could be assaulted, perhaps even collapsed on the enemy.

So a plan had been hatched: fly to the top of the cliffs above the engines where they could not see or shoot, at which point Kukulkan could shapeshift and burrow tunnels down into the enemy bunkers. The others would enter after him and fight the enemy manning the machines, then Maiko could deal with the engines themselves.

The valley they flew over looked wasted and sickly, churned to mud and sprouting dead trees. If she looked harder she could make out twisted corpses lying motionless on the ground, some humanoid, others monstrous, many torn apart or mutilated. Despite her experiences in the Shadowlands, the warscape made the bile rise in Sang’s throat and she tried to look down as little as possible. Over distant muddy hills she could see the distant signs of battle: angels with wings of light darting through the air as they faced shadowy adversaries she couldn’t identify.

Ahead rose the stark lines of the cliffs, and she could make out the recess into which one of the caves opened, a gigantic gaping hole in the scarred ground. When they drew even closer, beams of dark energy suddenly burst from the face of the cliffs bordering the hole. The angel rolled, avoiding the first volley, but Maiko slipped from her grasp. The Jin did not fall far, as Typhenon had had the foresight to cast a spell that gave her wings, and Maiko spread her black pinions to follow their guide.

The second volley flashed out, and the angel screamed a musical cry as one of her many wings was shorn clean from her body. Her flight faltered slightly then she recovered, pressing grimly onwards.

In her grasp, Kukulkan suddenly drew his bow and took aim, firing downwards. Sang followed the direction of his arrow and subsequently saw a huge beast, scaled and winged, flying straight for them. As it advanced rapidly she could count six limbs folded close to its monstrous body, each ending in a scythe-like blade.

“I have to let you go,” the angel said, and dropped Typhenon, Kukulkan and Sang without waiting for a reply. Primarch and shifter spread wings of their own, but Sang had only her ring to rely upon, and falling sort of gave her one direction to go: in this case, straight towards the fast-approaching monster.

She smiled tightly behind her menpo, gripped Lord Yu’s Blade firmly in both hands, and timed her moment. The monster seemed to be paying her no heed, its attention focussed on the larger and more impressive form of the angel behind them as she tried to ready herself for its attack. Sang knew she had no chance of killing this thing with a passing blow due to its sheer size, but there was a power she knew the Blade possessed which she had not had the chance to try out yet, and if it worked the angel could get away.

The guan dao flashed down, striking a scaled flank, and there was a sucking noise as the monster abruptly vanished.

“Yes!” she exulted, and was still grinning behind her half-mask as her companions took hold of her and steered her towards the cliffs. Behind them, the angel swooped around and sped away across the valley.

The ground was shaking violently when they landed, and when they looked back they saw a fissure splitting the ground about halfway between the cliffs and the command post. From the hole tearing open the battle-torn earth emerged two colossal clawed hands, followed by arms thicker than the Wall itself. Smaller creatures swarmed from the ravine in a black swarm, as a savage, bestial head rose into view, and Sang was appalled at the size of the thing as it heaved the rest of its body out of the fissure. It dwarfed mountains.

So that’s one of the Seven. Mastemoth.

A bit bigger than I was expecting.

A flicker of movement caught Sang’s eye and she noticed the orc-angel making a desperate bank to the right as she realised she was perilously close to the dark god’s sudden emergence. Mastemoth saw her, though, and with a quick jerk of his head and snap of his jaws the angel was snatched from the air.

“Get digging,” Typhenon said, bringing them back to the cliff and their task, but Kukulkan had already changed into a large badger and dirt was flying.

Other monsters boiled up from the ravine. Hordes of them. Creatures Sang had never seen but daemonic in appearance, some similar to the one she had just Dismissed, they just kept bubbling to the surface like foul liquid from a burst well. Sang forced her eyes from the scene with an effort. The scale of the enemy front was staggering, possibly worse than the oni offensive at the Pyramid of Blood.

Did Heaven deal with odds like this all the time? It made the Wall look like an ongoing border spat, for Fortunes’ sake.

Kukulkan broke down into the bunker below them then, and there was a distinct crash, thud and cry as both rocks and shifter landed on one of the people within the room. Maiko was first to follow, folding her wings close and skidding down the narrow tunnel Kukulkan had opened. Sang went after her.

There were a few seconds of sliding down the dark, rough passage feet first, then she was abruptly falling in a shower of soil as she cleared the lip of the tunnel and dropped into the room. Her descent was slowed thanks to her ring, giving her just enough time to take stock of the bunker before touching down. Her immediate attention went to the five man-shaped individuals in the room, each carrying a peculiar wooden rod and wearing a helmet and full-faced mask, black uniform, dark mail and an unsheathed sword at their belts. Three of the creatures were standing in various states of shock, a fourth had managed to avoid being hit by Maiko, and the last was flat on the floor with a large and angry badger sitting on his head.

Most importantly, all five of them were within reach of Lord Yu’s Blade.

Sang landed lightly and swung without pause, the blazing guan dao’s path describing a perfect crescent as it clove through each of the enemy in turn, passed over Maiko’s head, then plunged down into the chest of Kukulkan’s victim before it whipped back to Sang’s side.

The single stroke had taken perhaps three seconds.

Kukulkan lifted his blood-speckled muzzle to the hole in the roof and called: “Don’t bother.”

A moment later and Typhenon was hovering beyond the window-like opening in the wall the engine was standing befire. The cleric peered past the machine, taking in the gore-splashed walls, corpse-littered floor and slightly bloody companions with raised brows.

“So I take it this one’s taken care of,” he guessed.

“We won,” Sang confirmed.

“Where’s the next one?”

Kukulkan moved to the opening, his shape blurring as he grew wings.

“I’ll stay here and work on this,” Maiko said, pointing at the crystal turret.

Sang pushed the Blade into the overhead tunnel and jumped after it, grabbing the edge and pulling herself up and in with a grunt of effort. As she crawled up the sharply angled passage there was a sharp detonation and distant cry of pain from Typhenon.

Damn it, what went wrong? Were they expecting the next drop?

She burst out of the opening and into open space in time to see the cleric flutter limply to the ground some distance away, his wings and body smoking. Sang ran over and dropped to her knees at his side. He was unconscious, still breathing but bleeding heavily. It looked like something had struck him repeatedly in the head before centring a fireball on it.

Sang glanced up, looking for Kukulkan, and saw the shapeshifter digging further away. Apparently Typhenon had tried making a frontal attack rather than waiting for Kukulkan to open a new tunnel.

“Hang on,” she muttered, carefully removing the Primarch’s helmet to expose his maimed face. “I can’t get you back on your feet, but I can stop the bleeding until Maiko gets here.” She looked for the most copiously bleeding points and cut of a section of her obi to provide a rough bandage. It wouldn’t exactly be sterile, but she had nothing better to work with and all she really had to do was maintain enough pressure to stabilise him. Healing would come later.

Soon enough Maiko soared into view. Sang caught her attention with a wave then left Typhenon’s side to run after Kukulkan, confident the Jin could tend to the cleric. She hadn’t covered half the distance before Maiko appeared above her and overtook, motioning for her to go back. Sang indicated she understood and turned around.

“We’re going back,” Typhenon said when she reached him. The cleric, unwounded, was standing near the edge of the cliff and gazing down at the distant, horrifying conflict. There was a clear hunger to join the fight in his face. “There’s no longer any use to our mission here, and angels have been sent to carry us back to safety.”

Sang didn’t reply and followed the direction his pale eyes stared towards.

It looked like the other side was winning.

**

The angels that retrieved them skirted the warfield and took them to an encampment twenty minutes flight from the battle. The site had several buildings and a collection of hovering crystals, and there were troops everywhere. The warriors mostly bore expressions of grim determination, but many turned curious eyes on the party as the angels landed and one of their number, who resembled Kukulkan’s race, led them into a large pyramid structure. The interior vaguely resembled the last building, with its multitude of moving lights that were supposed to be moving maps. An Ibexian angel looked to be in command; he snapped out orders crisply to those around him, dismissing several when he saw Typhenon and his companions enter.

“Primarch,” he said, making a swift salute before turning to Maiko. The title he gave her sounded something like ‘Slu-ar’. Kukulkan he greeted by name, and Sang he called ‘Champion’. “It’s good we managed to rescue all of you,” the angel said. “You’re being sent back to the city.”

“Why?” Typhenon objected.

“It’s too dangerous here.”

“We can help!”

“It’s too dangerous. This comes from them,” he informed the protesting cleric. “The four of you are too important to lose in such a trifling matter as the fight outside.”

“What if this place falls?” Maiko asked with a frown.

“Then you can still continue. But if you fall, all of this is for nothing.” As though to placate them that they would not be sitting doing nothing when sent away, the angel said, “A council is being convened back at the city.”

“I’m a warrior, not a bureaucrat,” Maiko retorted. “Give me a unit and let me fight!”

“It is too dangerous,” the angel repeated. “The Three do not want to risk your lives.”

At that moment a ten foot tall winged figure cowled in grey appeared, a sword of fire in its hands. The party instinctively tensed at the abrupt entrance, but it bowed to the angel and hissed a few words before its shape altered and shrank, becoming the by-now familiar form of Hedoramod. He nodded to the companions and spoke briefly with the Ibexian in the same language before Typhenon interrupted. Hedoramod listened, gave the Ibexian a questioning look and was given a flat stare in return. Hedoramod nodded once then disappeared.

“Take my hands,” the Ibexian told them.

Sang hesitated a second before doing as instructed. As much as she shared Typhenon and Maiko’s wish to join the fight against the daemon horde, she had to extend some faith that the Three knew what they were doing and were the ultimate commanders of this side of the war. She could barely understand that other language the angels tended to use, couldn’t figure out any of their weird maps, and had known from seeing the mud-and-blood churned fields that this kind of warfare was beyond any she was familiar with. She might fight bravely, but she would be fighting blind. She was well-trained enough to recognise that and accept it.

Typhenon remained stubborn. “I want to help here.”

“This is not your role,” the Ibexian reminded him. “This is not your purpose.”

There was a long pause, then Typhenon, Maiko and Kukulkan joined hands with the angel and Sang, and the building around them vanished to be replaced by a deserted and hushed city street.

“If you really need to help,” the angel said, turning to the stewing Primarch, “I can take you to the Sanctum. There you can fuse your energies, or at least stand guard.”

“Take us there,” Typhenon said without hesitation, and the city street vanished as suddenly as it appeared.

This time there was a jarring pain as they teleported, a sensation that increased sharply then stopped without warning. At the surcease, they found themselves standing in a triangular room built of black stone. At each point knelt a white-robed angel with hands outstretched, and from those angels came a clear, light-voiced singing that wove together in a complex and beautiful harmony that filled the room.

“This is the Sanctum,” the Ibexian said. “It is the source of all the power and warding in the realm. Can you sing?”

Everyone shook their heads.

“Can you channel power?”

Typhenon and Maiko both nodded. Kukulkan inclined his head a fraction, as though to indicate that while he had power, it was not the same nature as that which the other two wielded.

“Primarch, Sluar, Kukulkan, put your hands on the back of one of the angels.” The Ibexian drew Typhenon’s and Maiko’s attention. “Try to push your power to them.”

Typhenon took the holy symbol from around his neck and wrapped the chain around his wrist. He murmured something to Maiko, and the Jin did similar with her amulet. They and Kukulkan each went to one of the kneeling angels and put their hands to the bent backs. The three companions went quite still as they made the connection to the angels, drawn into some mystical merging Sang could only guess what was like.

“Champion,” the Ibexian said as Sang looked on silently with a mixture of concern and envy. “Walk between them into the circle and hold up the Blade.”

Of course… Lord Yu has power. I didn’t think.

She nodded and crossed to the middle of the floor. Setting her feet into a stance she knew she’d be able to hold firmly for however long she’d have to wait, she thrust the head of Lord Yu’s Blade into the air.

She had expected maybe the guan dao to glow, shake, grow warm or something as the Archangel of Courage merged his magic with those of the others. She had not expected herself to be pulled in, nor the sudden influx of images and sensations.

She could quite suddenly see everything that was happening in the battle, look through every eye, share every triumph, feel every injury and death. She could see the ebb and flow of the forces of Heaven as they struggled against the foe, know where the fight went poorly, rallied to push or reluctantly gave ground.

Above all this was the sheer glut of undiluted power that surged through every pore of her body, passing through her and into the Blade where it collected, focussed, increased with each passing second. It was shaking, she realised distantly as she stared up at it and through it. Then…

No. I’m shaking.

Some distant corner of her mind warned her that she should be terrified, but she was not. It was intoxicating. It filled her being like the angels’ singing filled her ears.

But is has to go somewhere. It’s just gathering, unused in the Blade. This can be directed! It can be unleashed, like a weapon. But should it be used like that?

…my kids are in the city back there.

Waves of bright energy started to sweep the field, devastating the lesser ranks of Mastemoth’s army. Sang barely had to concentrate to increase the strength of the attack and push it further into the daemon horde. At the same time she was aware of what doing this was costing. The power she was channelling was fuelled by the life force of her companions, as well as that of the three kneeling angels, herself and Lord Yu. The more she used the weaker they all became, drawing closer to death. But the more they sacrificed the more daemons toppled and died; the weakest breeds had already collapsed en masse, and their more powerful brethren were keeling over as the pulsing waves blasted the battlefield with increasing intensity. Many of them simply plummeted from the sky and crashed to earth.

She noted a startled expression on Mastemoth’s inhuman visage as some of the channelled power began to wash against his enormous form and score wounds across his body.

Can we kill him? If we go all the way?

Maybe, but she couldn’t. Even if Typhenon, Kukulkan, Maiko, Lord Yu and the Sanctum angels were willing to die in order to kill Mastemoth, she was not about to let that happen. She couldn’t drain them dry, and she couldn’t sacrifice her children either.

But we can reduce Mastemoth’s forces. Maybe even injure him enough that he gets scared and flees. Yes… keep going. Just a bit more… we can hold out a little longer…

Almost a full half of the dark army had fallen in the wake of the unexpected attack, toppled and still as the war continued to rage around them. As Sang began to draw even more deeply on herself and the others to escalate the assault, she felt Kukulkan suddenly wrench himself from the merging. There was a dizzy, confusing moment as the impressions of the battle vanished from Sang’s mind, replaced by the sight of Kukulkan being blasted across the room to crumple against a wall, the abrupt cessation of powerflow and sudden crushing exhaustion that drove her, Typhenon and Maiko to their knees.

The singing of the angels stopped briefly as the three of them disappeared, a fist-sized rock hovering in each of their vacated spaces. Then, without warning, the white-robed figures were back, kneeling as they had been before, filling the Sanctum with their music.

"What can you do?"

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Sang remained on her hands and knees, head bowed, heart pounding, sucking in breath after breath. She felt so weak and frail that a stiff breeze could knock her down, and her hands were still trembling. She clenched them and tried to control her breathing, but could barely lift her head as black-winged angels appeared in the room, burning swords unsheathed and ready to strike. Their aggressive postures relaxed somewhat when they recognised Typhenon, and their leader changed into a fierce-looking red haired man before demanding something of the Primarch in its musical language.

Typhenon, who along with Maiko had staggered to his feet, managed a groggy reply before admonishing the Jin to sit and tottering over to the unconscious Kukulkan.

Lord Yu’s Blade wasn’t on the floor nearby, Sang noticed after a few more breaths. She cast about, wondering if it had been thrown against a wall like the shapeshifter had been, then looked up. The guan dao was protruding from the roof.

“Why did you stop?” Typhenon asked Kukulkan as Sang got up unsteadily and made a grab for the Blade’s haft to keep from falling over.

“Three guessess,” the Shyless replied.

Typhenon didn’t respond to that, instead going to rejuvenate Maiko then Sang.

“Did we do something wrong?” Sang asked warily as the red-headed angel repeated its demand. She had pulled the Blade free and now leaned against it.

“That dependss if you conssider injuring a god ‘wrong’,” Kukulkan remarked.

At that the angel’s brows shot up in surprise. He said something to Typhenon, who frowned slightly and turned to the companions. “Can we do it again?”

“I don’t know,” Sang said slowly. “We can try.”

Typhenon, Kukulkan and Maiko again went to the kneeling angels and placed a hand to their backs. Sang waited until it looked like they were ready, then braced herself and lifted the Blade aloft. Nothing happened.

“Does he know what’s wrong?” Sang asked after Typhenon withdrew his hand and spoke with the red-head.

“The warders are too young,” Typhenon explained, nodding to the kneeling angels.

Sang thought she understood. The previous three angels must have died after the first working—the rocks that had appeared in their stead had been their hearts. She didn’t know if these were the exact same angels reborn or completely new ones, but it amounted to the same thing.

The angel extended his hands.

“He will take us out of here, to the city,” Typhenon said.

“The city is empty,” Maiko pointed out. “What will we do there?”

“There are bunkers,” Typhenon replied. “Hospitals.”

“It’s not what I’m cut out for,” Maiko informed him tersely. “Take me to a command centre.”

Sang bit her tongue hard as Typhenon conversed with the angel, who looked obviously worried at Maiko’s uncooperative attitude. Even Kukulkan was looking reluctant to be taken elsewhere.

“Maiko,” Typhenon said, “you can’t speak Celestial can you?”

“No.”

“Then you might have a hard time getting your point across. No one will be able to understand you, nor you them.”

“Surely there’s someone who’s not doing anything who can translate?” Maiko objected.

The angel said something and vanished. Typhenon confronted the Jin.

“I can use your help in the hospices. Please?”

Maiko regarded him with a stony expression.

“You have healing abilities, Maiko,” Sang tried. “You’d be of use there.”

More use than I. And if I can tear myself away from the only thing I’m any good at to wash bandages or carry supplies, surely you can humble yourself to save a few lives.

“I’d be of more use somewhere I can help oversee and direct the battle,” Maiko replied. “I’m not a healer.”

Neither am I, you stubborn, insubordinate, arrogant—

Sang clenched her jaw and looked away from the Jin in silent disapproval.

The angel reappeared.

“They’re willing to put you in the rear-most bunker,” Typhenon translated. “So long as you agree to follow orders and withdraw if told.”

“What will I be able to do from the rear-most bunker?” Maiko asked. Her tone of voice made it clear she suspected the furthest removed outpost would have the least happening in it.

“It takes care of all the strategy on the field,” Typhenon replied at the angel’s prompting. “Not all of your ideas will be implemented of course, but you can make them heard.”

Maiko agreed to this and vanished with one of the angels.

Typhenon looked to Kukulkan and Sang, as though expecting them to protest going to the hospital as well. “What about you two?”

“I go where you go,” Sang told him.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure there’ll be some way I can make myself useful,” she said dryly.

He grinned then turned his questioning gaze upon Kukulkan, who paused a moment then merely nodded to him.

The red haired angel extended his hands once more, and Typhenon, Kukulkan and Sang formed a circle with him.

**

The hospice was an enormous building, structured like a warehouse and filled with hundreds of beds. Globes of golden light hovered above each of these, and wounded patients would suddenly just appear in vacant beds, be bathed in rays of light from the glowing orbs, then vanish again. Many of the patients bore horrendous injuries, gaping wounds that exposed ruptured and ripped innards, limbs that had been chewed from the body. The golden orbs tended to each as they appeared with swift efficiency. This was happening all throughout the room, over and over.

Sang and Kukulkan followed Typhenon to a section adjoining this massive room, where one of the globes changed into a robed, winged child and came down to meet them.

“We’re here to help,” Typhenon told it.

“Primarch. Champion, Kukulkan. What can you do?”

“I can heal,” Typhenon said. “I have magical abilities, though I’ve used my most powerful. The others can wash bandages.”

The child looked puzzled. “Bandages?”

“Carry supplies?” Typhenon suggested.

The child tilted its head, then made a motion with one small hand and two crystal rods appeared in midair. It took them and passed one each to Kukulkan and Typhenon. “Call me over when they’re spent.”

“Your name?”

“Sashamenel.” As the shapeshifter and cleric returned to the hospice and its many beds, the cherub looked to Sang. “And what can you do?”

“I have no healing abilities,” she said, already feeling useless now that even the most menial tasks were unavailable. Neither did it seem offering her meagre field dressing skills would serve any purpose if everything here was done faster and better by magic. “If I can do anything, tell me.”

“You can comfort the dead. Follow me.”

Sang went after it, her thoughts churning with uncertainty. How did one comfort the dead?

“Have you skill with counselling?” the cherub asked.

“No.”

It regarded her curiously. “You are a soldier, yes? You have commanded? How do you deal with the fallen?”

“Usually we all get drunk and have a mass funeral,” Sang said quietly. There was no comforting or shoulder to cry on in her kingdom. People were expected to bear up bravely and not succumb to grief, and Wall soldiers died so frequently that the land would be in a state of perpetual mourning if every death was individually recognised. They hardened their hearts against sorrow so their spirits would not be crushed by its constant presence.

“No one loses hope or is afraid?”

“We do not tend to comfort those who do or are.” As with grief, fear and despair were to be dealt with and overcome privately. To confront someone who was struggling was to bring attention to it, and cause shame. The gempukku was theoretically supposed to weed out such individuals, but if they became samurai and could not cope even with the support of a Brotherhood behind them, they usually did not live long. They might take their own lives, go ronin or, in the case of those serving harsher daimyo, be banished as a disgrace. The majority simply broke and got themselves killed by oni.

“Hm. I do not wish to risk the nascent dead if you have no skills in this area.” It paused in thought, then asked, “Do you have restrictive marital vows?”

“Yes,” she said firmly.

“Can you tell stories?”

“I don’t really know any comforting ones.”

“What of glorious tales?”

“That sort of thing is reserved for the Meyio,” Sang answered, feeling her heart slip another notch. “We don’t consider what we do to be… glorious.”

“Well… if you think of anything that might inspire, let me know.”

Sang nodded, not trusting herself to speak again, and left. After that conversation she didn’t think she’d be able to come up with anything motivating or inspirational. She wandered between the hospital beds, heading for what looked like a front door. She saw Typhenon several rows away dealing with a badly wounded man, Kukulkan elsewhere treating another, but decided against interrupting them. The injuries she’d seen all looked life-threatening, and she wasn’t about to barge in just to whine for something to do.

She went outside and leaned disconsolately by the door. The hospice looked to be in some kind of military camp. Squads of soldiers ran by occasionally, a few angels as well, and the air looked as busy as the ground. A nearby hill effectively blocked whatever was happening beyond, and after about a minute there was an odd lurch and scenery changed. The entire camp had moved. Soldiers continued to rush this way and that, but without context of the battle’s situation she had no way of knowing if there was sense to their movements. She couldn’t even tell if the camp was moving closer to the battlefront or further away, and was not about the make the mistake of wandering off to try and get a better view. Neither did she start hoping that a daemon or two might come into view to alleviate the boredom. If that happened, it would mean something horrible had taken place.

Sang observed the soldiers’ movements for a little while before finding a cleaning rag about herself. She damped it from her waterskin and started to wipe off the blood clinging to her armour.

I’m so good at killing things. All I’m good for, really. Not a healer or diplomat, courtier or spellcaster. Just a sword-arm. Doesn’t feel right to be standing here while a war is fought nearby, or told to stay in a safe place for my own protection.

I suppose we had our moment. The bunkers, and then the Sanctum. I got a few of them, then the others combined their powers to flatten half of Mastemoth’s army. It was worth being there just to watch.

The samurai sighed to herself, rinsed the rag and determinedly wiped at a new section of armour.

There will be other wars.

There will always be other wars…

There Will Be Other Wars

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Time passed, and eventually the four of them were returned to the crystal room the Three favoured. Only Elona was present, in the guise of a shawled old woman with a kindly face. Her voice, when she spoke, was an aged and whispery.

“You proved surprising.”

“How so?” Typhenon queried.

“Your aid was unexpected.”

“We couldn’t sit back and do nothing.”

“We would have preferred it,” Elona said.

“Yeah, well…” The Primarch smiled, almost impishly. “Free will and all.”

The goddess chuckled. “The council will convene soon.”

“Is there time for me to have a bath?” Typhenon asked.

“You have half an hour to prepare.”

The room vanished, replaced by the one they had slept in the night before, but Maiko did not come with them. Apparently Elona still wished to speak with her. Typhenon went past the screen dividing the room to make use of the bath and Kukulkan drew away to be as alone as he could be in a shared room. Sang stood by herself for a little while, wondering what to do. She noticed suddenly that R was not present. The last time she’d seen the elf was at the command post before the rest had flown off to take care of the enemy bunkers. It had been right in front of the enemy line, right in Mastemoth’s path. She felt a momentary flicker of concern, then deliberately quashed it. He would have gotten away, or been spirited to safety. She was definitely not about to bring it up to anyone and look like she cared.

She turned her thoughts to the Sanctum for a moment. Kukulkan had not said why he’d pulled free of the working. She privately doubted it was because he didn’t want to sacrifice himself, since a lot of what the shapeshifter did verged on the suicidal. Perhaps he, like Sang, wasn’t willing to risk anyone else’s life. But it could have gone on for longer without tempting death. She, he, Maiko and Typhenon had all been strong enough to hold out longer. What’s more, the Shyless had seemed willing enough to go along with a second attempt.

Sang considered Maiko then, and concluded she did not really want to think about her. Maiko’s tendency towards command had never bothered Sang while it had been confined to the deck of a ship, but ever since the Jin had been assigned to Wuhai Sang had found it increasingly difficult to enjoy the woman’s company. Maiko enjoyed being in control too much for Sang’s tastes, and it had finally crossed a line in the Sanctum. She would not regret bidding the Jin farewell at the end of the month.

As for Typhenon… he had made a bad mistake breaking from the tunnelling plan earlier to attack a bunker head-on, but Sang believed almost getting killed as a consequence of his actions was punishment enough. Had he been Yu, permanent scars would have ensured he never forgot his lesson. Then there was his questioning of his gods orders to be taken to safety, and Elona’s admission that using the Sanctum as a weapon had not occurred to them. She didn’t know what to make of it. Clearly things had worked out better than anyone had hoped due to the Primarch’s defiance, but not doing what one’s god commanded straight away… her mind boggled at the very idea. She was not averse to questioning orders, but those had been from mortals. These were gods, and to realise they didn’t always know the best course of action, that they were not infallible within their own domain, worried her. It changed her understand of what a god was.

There is no arguing with the obvious. But how much does it really matter? I mean, as much as I trusted Kuni Samariku, he was fallible. Presumably, anyway… I don’t think I ever caught any of his mistakes. The point is, these gods might not know everything, but they know what’s good. As such, their advice and decisions should only be for good ends, and masters like that should be worth following even if everything doesn’t end in victory.

Sang frowned to herself a moment then picked up Lord Yu’s Blade. She hadn’t taken the time to do her kata that morning, and she suddenly felt in need of a centred mind after that particular thought. Taking a stance and swinging the guan dao up in preparation of the first form, for the next twenty minutes she did her best to concentrate on nothing else but the movements of body and blades.

**

Typhenon’s speech, punctuated occasionally by roars and cheers from the gathered mass of white-clad Three worshippers, only went for a few minutes. It had been, in short, a call to arms and a message their scattered temples would have to start banding together to stand against those who would destroy them, not continue to work as separate entities.

His words were addressed to a gathering of thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, and they were only the heads of temples. Humans and orcs were the dominant species present, followed by goblins. There were ibexians and shyless, a few ogres, a couple of other sorts Sang had no name for, and, after catching sight of Sotek, at least one dragon. Perhaps this underground religion really did span the world, not just the continent. Sang had definitely not expected such numbers, nor such an optimistic reaction from them when the Primarch finished his oration. The applause and cheers went on for almost as long as the speech itself.

Sang clapped only as a matter of courtesy. Typhenon’s speech had been rousing enough, she supposed, but as an outsider it didn’t really pertain to her. Even the bit near the end about forming new fellowships didn’t hold, as she was not a part of an existing temple and hadn’t even decided to take that final decisive step. She might have helped a little in the war on Heaven, but there’d been little doubt in her mind that Mastemoth had needed to be stopped. Defending someone against a daemon did not necessarily make them your friend afterwards.

And, damnit, ten arrows in a bundle can be broken, you idealistic idiots. It’s harder, but not impossible.

After Typhenon quit the stage, grabbed Maiko and began his long trek of meeting and greeting, Sang hovered off to one side to analyse what she’d heard. There had been confirmation of the Seven awakening, but no real course of action. Just a declaration to be visible and unified. Perhaps Typhenon was organising other things as he passed between groups, Sang considered.

Garreth was suddenly approaching her. The first thing Sang noticed about the red-eyed man was an impressive scar across the middle of his face, like someone had tried to lay it open with an axe.

“Hey,” he said by way of hello. “I found some Silverstari over this way if you’d care to talk to them.”

“Impressive scar,” Sang noted. “How’d you get it?”

“Failed assassination attempt,” he replied lightly.

Sang arched a brow at him and smirked faintly. “Oh? You against someone else, or someone else against you?”

He gave her a withering glare. “It was while I saw saving the Rei, if you must know.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“It’s not important,” he said quickly, and started walking with a grand gesture. “Come! You just looked a little…” he shrugged as she came to walk reluctantly to his side. “A little bit out of place here.”

“It’s the purple armour that gave me away, isn’t it?” Sang asked dryly. She had declined Elona’s offer of a white, gold-trimmed robe, and apart from Kukulkan (who was wearing black), and a winged man she was not acquainted with, seemed to be the only one not so robed.

“I can tell you where they’re handing out the white and gold if you—“

“I’ve already been offered,” she interrupted, and Garreth nodded. “I’m not all the way there yet.”

“That would make you the only person here who isn’t.”

“Kukulkan.”

Garreth rolled his eyes.

“I well know I’m out of place here.”

“With luck, in time perhaps no one will be out of place here.”

“Perhaps.”

Garreth led her to a cluster of two hundred or so Silverstari (she even recognised a maid from Tokai) and introduced her. At about the same time Maiko and Typhenon drifted over from elsewhere.

“Ah,” Garreth said to the Primarch. “So… the fireball hasn’t caught you yet?”

“What happened to your face?” Typhenon replied, staring at the scar.

“Failed assassination attempt.”

“You or them?”

Sang snorted in amusement and Garreth took on a faintly martyred look.

“Pleasant do you have here,” the Caesar added, then swept over to the cleric and whispered something. Typhenon replied in an equally quiet voice, which caused Garreth to grin, kiss him on the cheek, then wander happily away in the general direction of a group of young ladies.

“This is Usami Maiko,” Typhenon announced to the Silverstari group, and as one they all bowed to her. “She has recently been made head of a temple to Jin.” At this there was an enthusiastic cheer and raising of drinks. “Unfortunately she is the sole member of the temple. I was wondering if any of your temples have members that would be willing to—?”

“More than enough!” someone declared, and there were murmurs of agreement from the throng.

“Well, I’ll leave you to talk about it. As much as I hate to cut this short, I have a lot of other people to see.” Typhenon smiled, exchanged a bow with them and continued on elsewhere, leaving Maiko and Sang with the Silverstari.

Without warning, from the group stepped none other than Nobutada. Sang suppressed a start of surprise and made herself regard the Kiau with a neutral expression. As much as she didn’t appreciate Nobutada’s attempts to talk her husband into some bedroom frolicking, she wasn’t supposed to know about that, or his friendship with Kaji.

“Well, this is a little interesting,” the Kiau said. “Majesty,” he added with a bow to Sang.

“Nobutada,” she replied with an inclination of her head.

“And you,” he said, smiling at Maiko. “You’ve come up.”

Sang glanced sideways at the Jin, remembering she and Nobutada had worked together on Wuhai during the Mother’s invasion. To her surprise, Maiko looked awkward in the Kiau’s presence. Sang frowned inwardly and tried to pay attention to what was being said to her.

“I hope this does not alter our relationship in any way,” Nobutada was saying. “As your… vassal, I suppose.”

Sang allowed herself to look puzzled. “I was aware that there were Three worshippers among the people of Tokai. I did not know you were one of them.”

“I am not really among the people of Tokai, but that notwithstanding…”

“Last time I saw you, you were in Tokai.”

He made a gesture of acknowledgement. “In public I am your servant. In private… hm. Perhaps something… different.”

“Perhaps,” Sang said evenly, ignoring the implication. Was he going to try talking her into some bedroom antics next?

“I would hate to think that our relationship would be any way damaged by these revelations.”

Ah, I see. He’s talking to both me and Maiko. Mostly Maiko, I suspect.

“I don’t see why it would damage our relationship,” Sang replied, after a quick consideration. “We’ve only met a couple of times.”

“Then clearly our relationship is underdeveloped. We should experience more of each other’s company.”

“That would be difficult unless we saw more of each other.”

“Then perhaps we should make an effort to do such.” Nobutada smiled. “If you were more often present in Tokai, then we would have endless opportunities to… get to know each other.”

“At this rate, the next time I will be in Tokai for any length of time will be when I come to term.”

“Then may that day come quickly.”

“I don’t think there will be many people who’d want to be in my presence when that’s happening,” Sang warned him.

“And of course I would hate to draw you away from such important business that awaits your return. All of your onerous duties, the endless paperwork and bureaucracy you are artfully avoiding by being here.”

Sang couldn’t stop an involuntary narrowing of her eyes, a combination of anger at the veiled insult and pain at the reminder she had left Kaji to deal with the business of ruling. “Bureaucracy is something I’ve never been good at,” she managed.

“Perhaps my lord chose poorly in assigning you to your current position.”

That he was referring to both Maiko’s assignment on Wuhai and Sang’s as Queen of the Yu did not escape her, but at the end of the day it was still a kick in the teeth.

And right after I started feeling more hopeful about being married, too. Thanks. Thanks a lot.

“So,” Maiko interrupted before Sang could respond. “Which one do you follow?”

Nobutada chuckled and turned his gaze upon the Jin. “I try not to be prejudiced. I have yet to settle for any one. I have some inklings, however. A man has the right to be private about his religion. I hear you are looking for… do I use the term ‘recruits’? My temple is modest, and the Jin have never had a large following. Perhaps my temple can be transplanted, whole and hale and healthy.”

“Surely it would not be easy to pull so many prestigious Yu to Jin lands without arousing suspicion.”

“Few of my friends are so prestigious, but I have duties to my king that I cannot ignore.” That last bit included a flicker of his eyes to and away from Sang, and it was suddenly too much to tolerate.

“Would you like to do this?” she challenged, leaning Lord Yu’s Blade towards him.

“I wasn’t chosen.”

“And you think I’m going to be able to do what I’ve been chosen to do sitting in Tokai all the time?”

Nobutada met her gaze easily. “The nature of your duties are a complete mystery to me. I would not presume.”

“You ‘presume’ a lot more than you say,” she retorted.

“Then it’s in my interest to say as little as possible.”

“You can talk as much as you wish,” Sang said. “I think I will go elsewhere.” She nodded to Maiko then began to turn away.

“Clearly it has damaged our relationship after all,” Nobutada observed.

“No,” Sang said, turning her back on him, “that would be your tongue.”

She, too, could fight with words if the situation demanded it, and she’d chosen that last one quite deliberately. It was too obvious an opening for someone like Nobutada to resist jumping at, and the Kiau did not disappoint her.

“I clearly haven’t had the opportunity to do all that I can with it,” he said to her as she started to walk away.

“Try it on Maiko,” she threw over her shoulder, and was rewarded with total silence as she withdrew. The setup had been so easy she almost felt ashamed of herself. Almost. Perhaps that would teach him to say what he meant rather than try to fence with her in future.

She stalked aimlessly between the other groups in the room, muttering a few choice words under her breath before progressing to a silent stewing mentality. She knew she wasn’t being a dutiful wife by being constantly away from Tokai, she knew her absences hurt Kaji, and she didn’t need to be snidely reminded she was shirking her responsibilities. She couldn’t be everywhere! Why in all hells had her daimyo given her two men to look after that required her to be in two different places at once?!

The nature of my duties are a mystery to you? she fumed angrily to herself. Let me enlighten you! I have to protect the Primarch as he travels the continent and planes, serve Kaji in Tokai on state business and bearing his children—something you’ll never have to worry about, I might add, be Lord Yu’s Champion—and, no, you weren’t chosen! I was! I didn’t ask to be! And I suppose having to go to the Emperor’s aid will be abandoning my king as well, right? You think I know nothing of Duty?! You say I deliberately avoid it? My LIFE is Duty! If not for defending the chosen of your gods, I’d be in Tokai with my husband right now. I might have even been happy!

She chewed off another savage curse and made an effort to compose herself. Life was how it was. She knew it hurt Kaji to be away all the time, but it hurt her too. She loved him. They’d been married for almost three months now, and the longest span of time they’d been in the same general location had been little over two weeks—the Shadowlands, Wuhai, and the Emperor’s visit to Tokai. Not much time to relax or enjoy each other’s company.

I’m sorry, she thought in case one of them were listening. It’s just… hard. I could have done without that.

She wandered for a time, accosted occasionally by white-robed Three worshippers who attempted to engage her in conversation. Sang responded with meaningless pleasantries and excused herself politely, but as soon as possible, at each such encounter, until a goblin calling herself Skarnik confronted her.

“I’s a Caalix! You’sed be a Caalix too, I reckon.”

“Only by default, I expect,” Sang replied.

“What you mean by dat?”

“I’m not anything.”

“You’s got da big sword.” Skarsnik looked the Blade up and down. “So… you’s a Caalix!”

Sang shrugged wearily, not bothering to gainsay her. Clearly the goblin knew better than she did.

“Dat’s the problem with you ‘umans. Always so complicated for you.”

“Maybe because it is complicated for us.”

“It’s only as complicated as you want it to be! You’s got to wonder, you’s all ‘ere ummin’ and ahhin’ ‘bout fings. Why’s it? ‘S simple! You’s either a Caalix or you’s not! Dey chose you. Dey chose you ‘cause dey think you’s right for it. So, you’s got to wonder, why is you not a Caalix? ‘Cause you don’t think ‘e’s right for it? ‘Cause… you’s don’t love ‘im? ‘Cause you’s got self-esteem issues? I dunno. But you’s gotta think about it! All that… complicated… is just ‘cause of other things.”

Sang endured the goblin’s speech with a level gaze the whole way through. None of those reasons Skarsnik had suggested were the correct one behind her reluctance to side with Caalix or the Three. She wasn’t sure she could explain her wary stance, but decided she could try.

“Caalix is supposed to be a god of protection, isn’t he?” she asked.

“It’s what ‘e is, not what e’s ’sposed ta be.”

“All right. Caalix is a god of protection.”

“Yup.”

“Do you know much about the Empire of the Silver Stars?”

“Bits ‘n bobs.”

“It’s a bit oppressive when it comes to any religion that isn’t—“

“Also kills goblins.”

“What?

“Also kills goblins.”

“Oh. Well, yes. That’s not for religious reasons.”

“It is.”

“What?”

“It is! Dey ‘ates the not ‘umans! ‘Cause their religion sayses so!”

Sang stared a moment, then shook her head and tried to remember what she’d been up to. She couldn’t deal with that right now. “Openly introducing a religion like this to my people might result in civil war.”

“’Spose it would, yup,” the golin said with casual unconcern.

“It wouldn’t be very ‘protective’ of me if I let that happen,” Sang said.

“Is tha people goin’ to be better if they’s Caalixes?”

“Not if they’re dead,” she said harshly. That was the problem with these people. Eyes set on their glorious future, blind to the bloody path that led to it.

“You’s gonna kill ‘em?”

“We’ll have to kill the people who attack us.”

“If they’s attackin’ you, then you’s ain’t killin’ ‘em.”

Once again Sang found herself staring, this time in disbelief. The goblin believed that tripe? “I’m sure they’ll be trying to kill us at the same time,” she said, indicating the attackers wouldn’t be the only people she’d be getting slaughtered. “The thing about war is that a lot of people get killed.”

“I’s know! I’s been in wars. I ‘as my two pups been in ‘em. We’s goblinses, me and my’s, and the orcses, they’s oppressed us. ‘Cause the ocses say, ‘We be big and tough and you’s weedy, so wes will ‘elp you. Wes will do the things you need, be all ‘elpy, and in exchange you do dis and dis and dis…’ an’ before long, generations an’ so, orcses are in charge, and goblinses forgot what it was like to not be slaveses. Now. You’s never been a slave. ‘Av ya?”

“No.”

“You’s is all ‘igh and ‘umie and stabs things and noble and a ‘amurai, but point is dat things had gone on for so longses, dat the goblinses ‘ad forgotten what it was like to not be slavses. So as to when the prospect of not being slaves was there, they was afraid! ‘Cause they wouldn’t knowses what it was. They could not even conceive of it, ‘cause they’d ‘ad so long being da thing dat they wasn’t supposed to be. So there was some beatin’ ‘eads and stabbin’ and stuff, but there’s goblinses now that are free. And free is much more important than bein’ alive. Better to be dead than free. ‘Cause if you’s not free… you’s not really a person in a lot of ways. So your big war thing… it’s goin’ to be all ‘urty, and there’s goin’ to be blood and mud and badness, but if you’s goin’ to be doin’ that? Not really. It’s goin’ to be the people over the other side that forgot what it was like to be nice to each other. And that is what you’re fightin’ for! Now, fightin’s a dirty fing. We’d love to not be fighting! But in the end, I’s know that that place, that time, when all the ‘Ilverstari are free and not being enslaved, dat is gonna be a better time, because they will finally remember what it is like to not be slaves anymore. Now, you gotta fink, is it dat important Is it important to be free? You’s worry that people will die, and people will die, but in the end, is it better to go through that and come out the other side free and lovin’ each other, and not ‘urtin’, than to not in the first place—“

“You presume that when the war finishes, whatever side wins, people are going to come out loving each other?” Sang interrupted.

“If the bad guys win there’s not goin’ to be no lovin’,” Skarsnik said, “but the bad guys is winnin’ now! You’s got a fing in your place called an eh-ah!”

“A what?”

“Eh-ah!”

“Oh. ‘Eta’.”

“Yeah. And yous, bein’ a ‘amurai, yous can just kill ‘em! Just kill ‘em! ‘Cause! ‘Cause he’s cranky, ‘cause he’s ticked you off, ‘cause he’s bumped into your ‘orse or ‘is tea isn’t nice or ‘he’s not pretty! You can just kill ‘im! Is dat a good fing? It’s not a good fing! And why are these people eh-ah? They are eh-ah because they do the fings dat your—these kami say is wrong. Touchin’ tha dead, choppin’ up meat, dancin’ and singing… Dancin’ and singin’! For goodness sakes! All this means dat other people are allowed to kill you because the kami says that you is not a person, you’s a fing. And why does the kami say dat? Because then some people will be fings and some people will be people, and the people who are people can tell the people who are fings what to do. And because dey do dat, the kami can tell the people who are people what to do. It’s all sos the kami can tell the people who are people what to do. And out of it, peoples is dead, peoples is ‘urt, peoples is raped, peoples is not people anymore. Now, any place that does that sort of fing to its own is not a place that is supposed to be there. It’s simple! Those is the people you’s be fightin’ for. Not the people in their castles who already ‘as all the power and tells people what to do and be big bosses, but the peoples who is dyin’ and sufferin’ every day ‘cause some hoity-toity spirit who doesn’t even know is arse ‘ole from ‘is elbow said dat was ‘supposed to be’, and all you crazy gits believed ‘im! I mean… really!”

“And while we’re fighting in wars with each other,” Sang said when the goblin finally paused for breath, “who’s going to hold the Wall?”

“I’s could do it. Not by my own self,” Skarsnik added when Sang raised a sceptical brow.

“No,” the bushi agreed. “Not by yourself.”

“’Course not. I’s just dis tall, aren’t I?” she replied sarcastically.

Sang’s lips twisted into an ironic smile. She was hardly one to use lack of height as an excuse to not be a warrior.

“Doesn’t matter,” Skarsnik said. “I can do dis.” She lifted one hand and light burned up from her fingertips.

“Can you do that for the entire length of the Wall?”

“Too long for me. Point is, while you’s fightin’ that fight, look at this room! Look at how many people there is!”

“That’s not the issue. Who will hold the Wall? Once we’re fighting each other, who’s going to stop the daemons from getting through?”

“You fink you’s the only ones that can ‘old it? Just yous?”

“We’re suddenly going to have orcs and goblins on the Wall? And you think we’re not going to stop fighting each other to stop what looks like an invasion?”

“Why should orcs and goblins not ‘old the Wall while you’s be fightin’? I don’t see anyfing wrong with it.”

Inside, Sang growled in frustration. “It’s not a matter of me saying you can or can’t do it, it’s a matter of the Empire letting you do it, and I don’t think they will!”

“Dis is the same Empire we’re trying to destroy? See, you’s got to start finking like one of dese people.” Skarsnik gestured towards the room. “Dese people ‘ere, they’s not even the same sort. Dey come from all over the place but they’s is one people ‘cause of what dey believe! Either you believe dat and yous is a Caalix, yous is one of dese people, or yous don’t, and yous is a Yu. Yous gotta decide, ‘cause you can’t be both.”

“You’re sounding like you’re suggesting I ask outsiders to help fight this war.”

“What’s an outsider?”

“An outsider to the Empire,” Sang replied, trying not to raise her voice.

“The Empire we’s be trying to destroy?”

Oh, for Fortunes’ bloody sake!

“Why’s you bound by the rules of the people that you fink are wrong?” Skarsnik asked.

“Because there are plenty of good people in the Empire who won’t fight with us if they think we’re doing it for the wrong reasons!”

And fighting alongside orcs might as well be fighting alongside daemons with the history we have!

“Then tell ‘em the right reasons. Tell ‘em why!”

“Not everyone will believe them straight away! And by then it’ll be too late.”

“Then you’s not doin’ it right.”

Sang took a deep breath. “Let me try to explain. If I suddenly turn up with an army of people who are not Silverstari, that will be it. They will not listen to me. At least, the people who are not already followers of the Three, and I don’t think they’re the only people the gods want us to save.”

“That’d be pretty silly,” Skarsnik agreed.

“That would be it,” Sang repeated. “And we’d get nowhere. We might fight, we might win, but we’d be killing everyone who didn’t listen. That is just what we’re like. You have to start from the inside—“

“Then why is you ‘ere talkin’ to me?”

Sang frowned.

“Your ‘inside’ is not inside, it’s inside.” Skarsnik thumped her own chest. “You’s gotta decide in yourself what you is. ‘Cause if you don’t believe, it’s not goin’ to be anyfing. I’s goin’ to leave you with that little nugget,” the goblin went on when Sang didn’t reply, “an’ let you think about it and decide if you’s a Caalix or not. I ‘ope yous is. I kinda like you. You’s a bit ballsy. Not entirely bright, but a bit ballsy. Anyway. You fink about it. ‘Cause it’s important. Oh, and fink about dis. Dey didn’t give you dat shiny stick just for the fun of it. theys gotta fink you’s gotta be able to do it. Yu’s gotta fink you’s able to do it.”

Sang looked away and wished she could be anywhere but here.

“It’s not about bein’ happy,” Skarsnik said. “Try some of the alcohol,” she added.

“I have been.”

“You’s probably not the sort to be sleepin’ with people either.”

She didn’t reply to that.

“Anyway.” Skarsnik bowed a perfect Silverstari bow, which Sang returned, and the goblin vanished into the crowd.

“So that’s it,” she murmured tonelessly. “That’s why you chose me.”

I’m good at killing things. Only instead of killing daemons, you want me to kill Silverstari. Does this Blade work as well against men and women as it does against oni? Will it blaze with holy fire as I use it to claim the lives of civilians who have been driven by their lords to be in the van of their armies, or against the warriors who face me not because they are evil but because they are convinced I am?

I get it, you know. You see beyond the war. You see peace and happiness. I pray such times come, but I can only see the war itself and feel the weight of what it will cost. Not all who fight will be willing. Not all we face and slay will truly be our foes.

You expect me to bring that to pass? That is what you believe I am capable of? Your vision of Heaven on earth justifies such carnage?

…I can’t. I don’t want to bring such madness to the kingdoms. I can’t do it!

But she would. She couldn’t not. She’d been fighting daemons so long she’d all but ignored the evils and injustices on this side of the Wall, people who suffered at the hands not of monsters, but men. The only way to defend them was to challenge the very laws that made it permissible to kill them, and that meant conflict.

So, yes… she would fight her brothers and sisters.

Fight them and kill… and kill… and kill…

Seeking Peace, Seeking Knowledge

Shadow of Light 1249796175|%e %b %Y, %H:%M %Z|agohover

“Show me your forms with it.”

Behind her was a dark-skinned man, well over six feet tall with an attractive face and shaved head. Besides the customary white and gold robe he wore only a loincloth, which showed off the rippling muscles of his chest quite well if Sang had been inclined to admire them. She met his eyes instead, her expression flat, and silently wished he’d go away and leave her alone. Nearby Three followers were already drifting away from the pair of them, as though in anticipation of her acquiescing to the man’s request.

Wonderful. So I am becoming tonight’s entertainment.

At least if she was swinging a sharp weapon around it would make it hard for people to talk to her. At this thought she took the Blade in both hands, took a stance and waited for the dark man to move back before going through one of her kata. The trick of the guan dao was momentum, to keep the weapon moving. Sang whirled the glowing weapon in a series of arcing cuts as she paced across the wide circle that had opened, changing direction a few times as the form demanded, swinging high, scything low…

People were clapping enthusiastically. A few were even whooping. The sound broke the fragile tranquillity that had started to build in her mind, returning her to the crowded and noisy room and the harsh revelations from several minutes earlier.

The applause quite suddenly made her feel sick.

“Not bad at all,” the man said as he approached her again. “Do you mind if I have a go?”

Sang gave him another long look then wordlessly extended the haft of the Blade to him and stepped back.

“Heavier than I expected,” he commented, hefting the weapon. “Quite heavy, in fact.”

She didn’t reply to that. The Blade wasn’t heavy at all to her. She hadn’t considered this might be different for anyone else who picked it up.

“I’ll do my best.”

The man launched into an elaborate twirling style, even tossing the Blade up into the air a few times. It all looked quite impressive up until the point where one realised it wouldn’t be at all functional in an actual battle. It was a display style, meant to look pretty and not much else.

“Not bad at all,” he said when he finished, passing the Blade back. “Is that all you have?”

“For today it is,” Sang replied, but he did not take the hint.

“You’re not very well trained at all, then.”

I was trained to kill things, not make a spectacle of myself for the sake of entertaining others. This is not a game to me, nor are my weapons toys.

The flicker of anger died almost as soon as it sparked. Had this stranger made his remark to her in Yu lands she would have challenged him for the insult to herself and her sensei, but this was Heaven. She doubted a duel would be permitted, and calling him out would have made even more of a spectacle of herself. She sighed wearily and decided if agreeing with him would rid her of his presence more swiftly then that’s what she’d do.

“I suppose not,” she said.

“What about dancing?”

“I do not dance.”

“What do you do?”

“I kill daemons.”

He smiled. “We all kill daemons.”

“That’s all I do.”

Not so interesting to talk to now, am I?

“All you do? Well, that’s an unusual level of dedication. You must be very proud.”

She made no indication of whether he was correct or not.

“It’s been nice to know you, Hida Sang.”

“It was nice to meet you.”

It occurred to her then she hadn’t actually told him her name, nor did she know his, but she didn’t want to continue this conversation. She bowed and he gave her an oddly curious look before he shrugged and melted back into the crowd, and she walked away.

I don’t want to be here. I don’t know where I do want to be.

She wasn’t really watching where she was going, and as a result walked right into Typhenon.

“Are you all right?” the cleric asked.

“I’ve been better.”

He smiled slightly. “A bit overwhelming?”

“You could say that.”

Following behind Typhenon was the winged, black-robed man Sang had caught sight of earlier. In a manner somewhat similar to Feloqui, his face wasn’t visible beneath his cowl and not an inch of skin was visible. There was also a disconcerting air surrounding him, a feeling that one was much better off with him on one’s side rather than as an enemy. The overall effect was vaguely menacing, which was helped by a subtle drop in temperature as the man drew nearer.

Noticing she was sizing his companion up, Typhenon made the introductions. “Hida Sang, Kek Darkfire.”

The two inclined their heads politely to each other. Kek did not immediately engage in social banter. Sang decided she liked him already.

“So what’s happened?” Typhenon asked her.

“People keep trying to talk to me.”

“Want me to stop?”

“What?”

“Do you want me to stop?”

Realising Typhenon was grinning, Sang rolled her eyes slightly. “People I don’t know keep trying to talk to me.”

“That’s kind of the point to this big meeting thing. Meeting new people.”

“I didn’t come here to meet knew people,” Sang grumbled. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

“You were kind of invited?”

“I don’t remember getting an invite, actually. Aren’t they supposed to come on little cards with gold edgings?”

“Not for this one,” Typhenon replied. “It was more word of mouth. I do appreciate that you’re here.”

She eyed him. “Why?”

“You’re a friend.”

Declarations of friendship still made her feel a bit uncomfortable. Sang glanced away towards where the stage had been and said, “I hope my sniggering in the front row didn’t distract you at all.”

“You sniggered?”

She smirked slightly.

“You should have sniggered louder. I didn’t hear.”

“Probably couldn’t hear me over Maiko.”

Typhenon chuckled and glanced around. “Where is she, by the way?”

“Last I saw she was over with a group of Silverstari. And Nobutada.” There was an unintentional twist of distaste in the way she said his name, but fortunately Typhenon didn’t seem to notice. He did, however, raise his brows curiously at the name. “From the battle of Wuhai,” Sang elaborated. “He took a shine to Maiko, I believe. He lost his arm up to here, she grew it back for him, sort of a boy meets girl story.”

“Well, having limbs regrown isn’t something that happens every day,” Typhenon conceded.

“I believe Jin had a hand in it.”

“Left or right?”

She gave him look that was both withering and amused. “No pun intended.”

“Oi,” a familiar goblin voice suddenly called. “Watch where you’re standin’, flappy! Lemme through! You! Stand right there, Typhenon!”

Maintaining a façade of being at ease with any kind of light-hearted banter might have been easy when faced with only Typhenon and the silent Kek Darkfire, but Sang didn’t think she’d be able to keep it up with Skarsnik added to the mix.

“I will let you get back to your discussions,” she said as the goblin pushed her way past Kek.

“You don’t have to—“ Typhenon began.

“Queenie,” Skarsnik said to Sang. To Kek: “Birdy.”

“Skarsnik,” Sang returned with a slight bow, then left.

“Have fun!” Typhenon called after her.

**

She considered, for a while, trying to find Kukulkan. The shapeshifter didn’t want to talk and neither did she; they could have kept some mutually acceptable silent company. Finding a single man robed in black while surrounded by thousands of people in white wasn’t as easy as it sounded, though, and she quickly gave up scanning the room in favour of sitting near one of the room’s walls by herself. There was a satisfactory distance between her and anyone else, and she closed her eyes in a semblance of meditation in the hopes of keeping it that way. She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t even really want to think, but her brain wouldn’t leave her alone. Battle scenes kept playing out in her mind and people kept dying, cut down like stalks of wheat.

I was meant to protect this land. Now I fear I will tear it apart.

“I lament the necessity to disturb your attempts at appearing to be meditating, but you’ve been looking for me for a while.”

Sang repressed a sigh. She didn’t recognise the voice, but it would be childish to keep her eyes shut and just pretend he wasn’t there.

There was an elf with pale blond hair before her, perhaps eight feet tall and swathed in the customary white and gold of this place. A pair of spectacles rested on his nose. “I’m the Historian,” he introduced himself. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hida Sang.”

She nodded, but did not stand. The fact that he was an elf did not endear him to her. On the other hand, if he was a Three worshipper she supposed he was on ‘their side’. “I don’t see how I could have been looking for you if I’ve never met you before.”

“You’ve been seeking knowledge. Knowledge of thy self, which I cannot give you, and knowledge of… what is it…” He paused, looking thoughtful, then nodded and said, “what the Emperor of your people fears.”

Sang’s eyes narrowed and she quickly glanced both ways to ensure no one was nearby to have overheard.

“You’re wondering why I know?”

“I’m wondering how you know.”

“’Why’ and ‘how’ are the same question.” He gazed down at her through his spectacles. “I know because I know. It’s a lot more complicated than you think. I am the last good elf. I am the preserver of all that elf-kind was.”

Her expression became sceptical. She’d had enough of elves to last a lifetime, but if this one was offering something helpful she would get to the point and judge for herself if his knowledge was of any use. “What can you tell me?”

“It’s not so much what I can tell you, but what I can show you.”

Show me what…?/

Her insides lurched uncomfortably and she concentrated hard to conceal her momentary unease. Showing her something didn’t automatically mean it would be a vision, she chided herself.

“Are you free,” the Historian was asking, “after this is done?”

“As far as I’m aware.”

“Then I will take you to my library.”

See? He’ll be showing me a book.

“And the answer is there?”

“Almost everything is in my library.”

She nodded slowly. “Then I will look forward to it.”

“Excellent. All of you can come.”

“Would you like me to let them know?”

“I haven’t seen Typhenon yet, or any of his other companions. You can walk with me.”

Despite her reluctance, she decided it would be better to humour the elf if he was going to be giving her information she needed. She got up, suffered herself to have her arm genteelly taken, and went with him as he drifted through the crowds. As they walked he chatted of inconsequential things and she returned his banter for the sake of politeness at first, but eventually the elf’s manner of speech drew her in and she felt less keenly aware of her troubles.

They found Typhenon and Kek after a little while, and by chance both Maiko and Garreth were also nearby. After some conversation (and some witty repartee between the Historian and Garreth), only Kek and the Caesar declined the elf’s invitation. After that they only had to find Kukulkan, and the Historian resorted to the simple expedient of addressing the gathered mass for aid.

“People! If you would do me a favour, please. If you could all step away from the man wearing a black robe.”

And, down towards the back of the room, there was a knot of people that moved aside and opened a clear avenue to the lone Kukulkan.

“Ah,” Typhenon murmured, looking amused, “there he is.”

“That wasn’t so hard,” the Historian agreed. Then he raised his voice to speak to Kukulkan. “I have fish for you!”

Still attached to the elf’s arm, Sang was swept along to where Kukulkan stood in human form. It was almost as hard to read the shapeshifter’s face in this form as his Shyless one, but Sang knew he wanted to be left alone and was barely suppressing a destructive anger. The Historian spoke briefly with him and Kukulkan said something that was too fast for Sang to catch, but apparently the Shyless had agreed to come along.

From there, Sang and the Historian drifted through the crowd. He stopped at various groups and joined in conversations, including her in the talk wherever they stopped although she kept quiet as much as she could without being discourteous. While the elf wasn’t holding her arm so that she couldn’t disengage from him if she wished to, there was an advantage to being at his side. Most notably, no one had come up from behind her to try and get her talking to them. Three worshippers seemed to have an aversion to being on their own.

Eventually the Historian led her to the Silverstari group Garreth had first introduced her to. Maiko was still there, and a brief glance over the gathering showed that Kaiu Nobutada was also present, but keeping himself out of spotlight. There was an expression of something like chagrin on the Kaiu’s face when Sang and the elf arrived. Perhaps he regretted his words from before. She nodded briefly to Maiko and belatedly realised the Jin might not have appreciated Sang’s using her in that passing shot to Nobutada. She resolved to apologise later.

The current topic was the Emperor’s city. An elderly woman of the Makoto Kingdom was mentioning that they hadn’t been able to get anybody inside the Imperial City of Nakashibetsu for over fifty years. She had been one of the last operatives of the Three (she used the term ‘shinobi’) who had operated within the city, and getting anyone else in there since had proved unsuccessful, whether by stealth or through legal means, such as by sending ministers who also happened to be Three worshippers. They met with accidents, were denied entry, the list went on.

Sang listened with more interest than she let show. She knew Nakashibetsu was built on an island in the middle of a river. It practically was the island, and no one got in without the Emperor’s position. On either side of the river on the banks were separate cities that were functionally connected to Nakashibetsu but viewed as separate. These two cities did everything the Imperial City did not, like house citizens and grow crops, and there were certainly Three worshippers scattered throughout them for this woman was head of the Temple on the western side. Despite their proximity to the capital, however, they had been unable to get someone inside for any longer than four days before they had their permit revoked or turned up dead.

Fifty years would have been the time of the current Emperor’s father, or even grandfather. If it wasn’t any of them then someone else is behind it, perhaps even what the boy’s Haunting was referring to.

A wizened man of Gi suddenly addressed Sang. “Champion, did you know the Emperor is ill?” When she gave him a look of undisguised shock, he added, “I take it you didn’t.”

“No. What’s wrong with him?” she demanded.

“It is not said. It is not even publicly admitted. He cut short his tour of the Empire rather suddenly after visiting Tokai.”

Sang tried and failed to regain her composure. The fact that someone in Tokai might have been responsible for the Emperor’s malady was not as important as needing to know if what the boy had could be cured. She resisted an impulse to glance up at the Historian to see if he knew anything about this.

“Matters of bureaucracy have ground on as normal,” the Gi man went on, “but we have noticed a few things. There’s been a reduced influx of certain goods into Nakashibetsu. Candies, song birds… and a number of performers have lost their retainer. All of this does not speak well for the Emperor’s health.”

“Yes,” the elderly Makoto woman put in. “There have been several deliveries of yellow crysanthemums as well. Hundreds of potted flowers. What do you remember, Champion, of his visit to your kingdom?”

“He seemed well when I saw him,” Sang replied. “As much as I could see of him.”

There were a few titters of laughter at this, but she knew she hadn’t fooled them all. For a moment it looked like no one would press her for details, even if they wanted to, but the old woman claimed the privilege of those so aged they didn’t care who they offended and said, “Come, Champion, I believe there was more to it than that.”

Sang thought carefully, found a reply that neither lied to them nor betrayed her promise to the Emperor, and said, “If there is, then know there would be a reason why I am not speaking of it.”

“Then I am forced to trust you that your reasoning is sound,” the Makoto woman said.

Sang inclined her head. “Thank you.”

“If the Emperor dies it’ll be chaos.” She indicated a pretty young Rei man of fifteen or sixteen. “Wushu here has already done the preliminary genealogical examinations, and there are thirty-seven potential claimants with an equally strong tie to the throne. You go out a bit further and that adds an extra hundred plus.”

“Then we must all hope he does not die,” Sang observed.

“We are,” the old woman said, but Sang noted several people in the gathering shoot her glances at this comment. It was clear not everyone wished for the Emperor’s survival.

“After all,” Sang added, “eight years is too young for someone to die.”

Everyone agreed with that, and Sang smiled inwardly. It brought up some things she hadn’t considered, though. The death of the Emperor would result in chaos because it meant a scramble for his throne. The Empire itself might be dissolved, though, if the Emperor willed it. It would mean the death of the Emperor without the boy losing his life. Without an Emperor, with the power of the throne nullified, those who worked in his name would lose much of their authority. The problem with any system of government was that even if the ultimate ruler was benevolent, chances were not everyone who worked for him in a position of power would be so noble. There was corruption in every court, and she already knew courtesy of Garreth that there was a great evil surrounding the Emperor’s entourage.

I will find out what’s going on and save his life. Whatever stalks Nakashibetsu’s halls has yet to meet up with me and Lord Yu.

last edited on 1249796785|%e %b %Y, %H:%M %Z|agohover by Shadow of Light + show more

“You don’t mind me popping inside, do you?”

Shadow of Light 1249911987|%e %b %Y, %H:%M %Z|agohover

“My people!” Typhenon’s voice rang out across the room, and after a few seconds everyone hushed. “It will be time very soon for us to mount a mighty attack into the very maw of death, to return the souls of the deceased to the light.”

Murmuring spread through the hall. Sang remained quiet and listened in to some of the comments.

“What?” “What’s he talking about?” “That’s impossible!” “We can’t do that…”

“I’m with you, Primarch!” came a loud declaration from Kek Darkfire.

“Me too!”

“Yes, me too!”

A large percentage of the room joined in calling out their support, though not everyone, and over the next hour people started making their apologies to Typhenon and disappearing from the room. Nobutada even approached Sang before going to farewell the Primarch.

“I hope we meet again soon, Champion,” he said.

“I’m sure we will,” Sang replied.

At last, the only people in the room were Typhenon, Kukulkan, Maiko, Sang and the Historian.

Typhenon sat down on the floor with a great sigh.

“You were the one who wanted to talk to everyone individually,” Sang reminded him.

“I know.”

“What an unusual bunch,” Maiko murmured.

“What’s unusual about them?”

Maiko described some of the people she’d seen, including Kek, and Typhenon just shrugged and said they were “people from different places.”

“Well, if no one has anything else to do,” the Historian said, “we should be away.”

“Perhaps we should see if R is all right first,” Maiko suggested, glancing at Typhenon.

“I’ve gotten in contact with Elona,” he answered. “It’s for the best we don’t see him at the moment.”

Maiko nodded and fell silent, though a peculiar expression crossed her face for a couple of seconds and then a winged young woman with dark hair and a smiling face appeared. The Historian bowed deeply, but it took a moment for Sang to recognise her. The last time she’d seen Jin had been when the Three had anointed Typhenon as their avatar. No sooner had the Angel of Compassion materialised than Lord Yu was there, at which point Jin practically leapt at him with a squeal of joy.

“Been a while,” Jin said after releasing Yu from her hug.

“No rest for the righteous,” Yu agreed.

“Lord Yu,” Typhenon said, bowing.

“Primarch,” the Angel of Courage replied, returning the genuflection.

“How’s the little ones doing?” Jin asked Sang, practically beaming.

“All right, I think,” she said, but suddenly wondering. She hadn’t thought about what effect the events in the Sanctum might have had on them until now.

“Aw. Give us a sec.” A businesslike expression came to the angel’s face. “You don’t mind me popping inside, do you?”

Sang stared. “What?”

“Think of it as like the merging she does with Maiko,” Typhenon advised.

“Merging?!”

Typhenon raised both hands in a calm-down manner. “Don’t worry, it’s going to be all right! Nothing of her will be left after she’s out again.”

“Left?”

“Gah! I’m going to shut up now!”

Jin with giving Typhenon a reproachful look. “You make it sound like it’s a horrible thing, like I’m a disease or something!”

“You are! A very happy one.”

“Then I should infect as many people as possible!”

“You do! You’re very infectious with your happiness.”

Jin sighed loudly and turned an appealing expression on her brother. “Yu, do something about him?”

The Angel of Courage smirked.

Sang eyed Jin with something like trepidation. She’d had Jin in her head very briefly once, on Wuhai, and vaguely remembered pink bubbles. It hadn’t been unpleasant, just very unexpected. “All right?” she said at last, and Jin beamed at her before disappearing.

A strong feeling of warmth and being loved suddenly infused her, combined with that bubbly sensation. It was mildly intoxicating, like being happily drunk, and for a moment Sang wondered how in all hells Maiko ever managed to walk straight. Perhaps it was her training as a sailor.

”Oh, owww… ohhh…” Jin’s voice sounded within her mind, something between surprised and sympathetic. “Aww. It’ll work out ok. Sorry, you’ve just been upset lately. I haven’t been in here before. Wow, you’ve been really upset. But Caalix fixed everything, it’s ok! Or mostly everything.” There was a pause. ”I should be in here more often, I think you need me more than Maiko does.”

Sang wasn’t sure how to respond. She didn’t want to pry and ask what was wrong with Maiko, but she also hadn’t expected Jin to check her out en route to her children.

”Never mind, I’ll be back soon!”

The warm feeling subsided but didn’t vanish. It remained like that for a few seconds and Sang waited a little uncomfortably as the others looked on, then the full force of Jin’s presence returned.

”Yeah, they’re fine, it’s all good! I popped in, said ‘hello’.”

Considering Sang had seen her children actually wandering the city of Ushan, having an angel drop into her womb wasn’t too much of a shock in comparison.

”They’re doing fine. Fingers, toes and ooo, a little winky! Never mind.”

”Thank you,” Sang thought the words.

”You’re welcome. They’re fine.” She laughed then. ”I was about to ask if you’ve been eating well, but you haven’t been liking it when people have been saying that!”

”Um.” Again she didn’t know how to reply. ”Yes,” she tried.

”Don’t take it so hard. People are just looking out for you.”

”I know.”

”But here you are, you know. Married. With one hot bod of a boy.” The silvery laughter filled her mind once more, and it took an effort not to blush or shuffle her feet in front of everyone. ”You’ve got one hot bod of a boy and you’ve been trying things out that you haven’t tried out in a while. You really should have gotten to that earlier, but it’s ok, you’ve had some rough times. You’re married, you’ve got a boy, you’ve got kids on the way, you’re a queen (and that counts for something, apparently), you’ve got good friends and everything, and! You’ve got Yu with you. You know? Somewhere along the line he chose you—“

Oh no, here we go with that chosen stuff again…

Jin made a reproachful noise. ”Aw, don’t ‘Oh no, here we go with being chosen stuff again’ me, that’s not fair,” she said, making Sang realise that even the thoughts she didn’t intend to be heard were not private.

”It’s true,” she replied.

”It might be true. People are just trying to remind you of something you don’t seem to have understood.”

”And that is?”

”That you’re chosen. Do you know what a choice is, Sang?”

”Of course I do.”

”What is a choice?”

”It’s a free decision.”

”And what’s a decision?”

Sang hesitated. She couldn’t think of any other synonyms. ”A choice?”

”And now we will talk ourselves around in circles! Cause I don’t think you understand what a choice is. How many people do you think are in Yu? Besides the three of us,” Jin added jokingly. “A couple of million?”

When Sang realised the angel was referring to the kingdom, she replied with the last rough tally she’d heard.

”How many Hida Sangs are there?”

”Could be more than one.”

”Could be. And how many Hida Sangs have been chosen by a being of the embodiment of Courage across oceans and time to champion that cause, to fight that last battle, to be that pivotal being? If there’s more than one, I’d like to meet the other!”

”So would I,” Sang agreed softly. Perhaps the other Sang’d enjoy fighting that last battle more than this one was likely to.

”Everybody else sees your worth except for you!”

”I’ll do what I’m supposed to do,” Sang thought after a short silence. ”Don’t worry.”

Jin laughed at the despondency in her mind. ”You’re supposed to like it! It’s not worth doing it if you don’t like it!”

Sang’s blood froze.

”It’s not worth doing if you’re not enjoying it!”

Oh, no… no…

Perhaps Jin couldn’t read her thoughts so well after all. Only the knowledge that the angel couldn’t possibly mean what she’d said in the context of how Sang was hearing it kept her from vocally shouting at the angel to leave. She couldn’t stop her mind from making the connections. She didn’t doubt she was a worthy candidate when it came to fighting battles and killing people, but the notion she was meant to enjoy it went too far, and she didn’t want Jin to make the turmoil worse.

”Look,” Sang thought, trying to keep her mind on the words and not the despairing pain poisoning her heart. ”I know you mean well, but can you please… get out now?”

There was a heavy sigh. ”Maybe your very reluctance is what makes you the best person,” Jin said gently. ”Maybe your trepidation, maybe your fear… what, to incite a civil war, to cause the suffering and deaths of millions? Maybe that’s precisely why it came to you.”

Sang didn’t reply, but her churning emotions abruptly stilled. She hadn’t thought of it that way…

”I’m sure there are many brave people that man your Wall,” Jin went on, ”but are there any as…Good?”

Then the warmth suffusing Sang’s being was gone and Jin reappeared in the small circle of people. Sang glanced up as Yu placed a battle-scarred hand on her shoulder and his deep voice sounded in her head.

”She takes some getting used to, but she always means well. She can’t not mean well.”

A feeling of warmth similar to Jin’s but different flowed into her at his touch, mingled with comfort and stoicism, then he withdrew his hand. Sang nodded a bit to him. She felt… a little better after Jin’s last comments. She didn’t know if it would make things any easier down the track, but for some reason she’d just stopped likening being chosen to being afflicted with some horrible curse, as though being Lord Yu’s Champion was a testimony to her skill at butchery.

“Well?” Typhenon asked aloud.

Sang blinked at him, then remembered why Jin had gone into her in the first place. “They’re fine.”

“Good.”

Lord Yu held out a hand. One of those glowing balls of light appeared briefly, and a drink materialised in the angel’s grasp.

“Was there anything else?” Typhenon asked.

“It would be good to remain like this always,” Yu said.

“After we’re done.”

“Perhaps,” the Angel of Courage agreed. “Perhaps after we are done there will be time to just… be. Like this. Still and quiet and amongst friends.” He sighed a little.

Typhenon nodded. “That’d be nice…”

“But we cannot shirk our duties.” He bowed, saluted and faded. Sang felt a subtle warmth return to the Blade in her hand.

“After we save the world, we’ll have a big party,” Jin declared. “I’ll make sure of it!” Then she too disappeared.

Typhenon looked to the Historian. “I think we can leave now.”

Typhenon, Kukulkan, Maiko, Sang and the Historian moved to join hands.

No… it won’t make things any easier. But I don’t understand… nothing has changed, civil war still looms, yet somehow I feel better about it all in a weird way. At least for now…

Introspection and Investigation

Shadow of Light 1251012576|%e %b %Y, %H:%M %Z|agohover

Sang rolled over, pulling at the blanket. She had no idea what time of day or night it was. It felt like it should be morning, but if that were the case then surely Maiko would have been harassing Typhenon into waking up. The days underground in Epiach’s temple, the dramatic shift when they’d taken the gate to Kukulkan’s homeland, the distorted time of the Shadowlands, the timelessness of Heaven and now the Historian’s abode, deep inside a mountain, had finally thrown the bushi’s sense of time out. No sound at all was coming from the rooms of her two companions, which meant they must still be asleep. Sang was not normally one to lie abed (well, unless Kaji happened to be in it at the same time), but it happened once in a while when there was a lot on her mind. Part of it was the privacy and the silence. The warmth wasn’t bad either. Almost as good as a bath in that respect, but a large portion of the appeal of sleeping in was that one didn’t have to deal with the day, and while this particular day might not have anything going against it, the ones that followed eventually would. The more she thought about the future, the less she wanted to rise.

She had killed people before, of course. Brigands and Fallen mostly, but dealing with brigands had never posed a moral dilemma to her and killing Fallen released their souls, freeing them from Fu Leng. She had never doubted herself when dealing with them. This would be different. She’d been lucky enough to have never fought in even a small civil war. Tosa had been on the Wall itself, its duties unquestionable, and until Typhenon she had never been required to journey far from home. The furthest she’d been had taken her to some outlying villages that were being menaced by orcs—and she’d had no issues killing marauding monsters either.

But war? It was not neat. At least with oni you never wondered if they were evil.

If my reluctance to do this makes me so ‘good’, why must I do it? You told me, Caalix, that Lord Yu’s Blade is a means of protection and a weapon against the Shadow. But I can’t protect everyone who will need it, and not everyone we combat will be an agent of darkness.

I know I can’t save everyone… and I know the Shadow will use whomever it can to win, whether that be its own, the misguided, the deceived, or people who are simply afraid, but…

I never wanted to have to face this situation…

If an oni has shielded itself with a wall of innocents and the only way to destroy the oni is by destroying those innocents, should this action be taken? I have never been able to say ‘yes’ without hesitation to that, even with logic dictating that the hostages will likely be killed later by the daemon itself. Is there something wrong with me that I can’t find the will to do a dirty deed for a good end?

Kuni Samariku had posed that question to her years ago.

---

”Can’t I find a way to protect the hostages, even if that means letting the daemon escape?”

”But it will simply repeat its ploy elsewhere, Sang, and the next time there may be no samurai around to challenge it.” Samariku picked up his chawan, sipping at the tea within. “Why are these people more special than the next potential victims?” he asked.

”I’m not saying they are, but—“

”This exercise is not about saving the prisoners, my dear,” he told her gently. “There is no way around these people dying. Either you slay them and the daemon using them, or it kills them and escapes to repeat its deed elsewhere.”

Sang hung her head. ”…I don’t want to kill those people, daimyo. I don’t want the daemon to kill them either.”

”I know. But consider this, then. There are many ways of dying. Will not by blades or arrows be swifter than at the mercy of the daemon?”

She looked up again, sharply, her face miserable. “That’s not fair!”

”Life seldom is, child. But that is not an answer.”

”I suppose… the correct answer would be to kill them all.” Sang bowed her head once more. “But having said that, I’m not sure I could ever do it.”

Kuni Samariku studied her in silence for a moment. “There are those,” he said at last, musingly, “who would not hesitate. They would say it is a simple question and, when faced with the problem, kill the people and the daemon without pause because it is ‘the correct answer’. Why beat yourself up over having had to do it? The daemon would have done worse, and kept doing it had it not been stopped. A few innocent lives, peasants at that, are a small price to pay.” He smiled slightly, if a bit sadly. “Is it not simple?”

”It’s not simple,” Sang replied unhappily. “Those people maybe had families who will never see them again. Parents or children. Siblings. They would suffer the loss as well.”

“Do you fear they would blame you?”

”I would expect it. It was my responsibility to protect their kin, and I failed.”

“Do you not suppose that perhaps the families would understand the situation you were in, and blame the daemon rather than you?”

Sang shook her head. ”It’s not about blame, daimyo, but that they should suffer the loss of loved ones. I know what that’s like.”

The aging shugenja gave her a penetrating look. “I’m not so sure blame doesn’t figure into your feelings here, child. Perhaps you could endure the recriminations of the kin of the slain, but what of your own guilt? I think you would blame yourself for your action or inaction, and punish yourself for having not found a way to protect those who’d been killed.” His eyes narrowed a little. “Perhaps you would sleep more easily, however, if you let the daemon kill them? If you did not personally do the deed would your soul be cleaner for it?”

Sang’s expression became first stricken, then angry. “If you’re implying I would hesitate for the sake of spiritual purity, then no! I hesitate because I don’t want them to die! And yes,” she added, her voice gaining volume, “I would blame myself if I couldn’t find a way to save them. It’s my job to keep them safe!”

Kuni Samariku sighed deeply. “Sang… Sang…you cannot save everyone. You cannot protect everyone. In delaying to kill that oni and trying to think of a way to save its prisoners, you doom them and allow it to prey on in the future.”

The young bushi’s face hardened and she turned her face away, not quite fast enough to hide the flash of denial, pain and guilt in her eyes.

“It’s a noble aspiration,” Samariku continued, reaching for the pot and carefully pouring more tea for the both of them, “but an impossible one in this age. You will destroy yourself if you try to achieve it.”

”So I should not care at all?” she asked quietly, in a dead-sounding voice.

”Ah… did I say that?” Samariku raised both brows, cocking his head slightly. “I don’t remember saying that.” He leaned back, his chawan in one hand while the other lazily wafted fragrant steam towards his face. “Perhaps you would care to try again, child?”

Sang looked sullenly at her own brimming tea bowl for a moment, then took and released a deep breath before giving the shugenja an apologetic bow of her head and picking up the bowl in both hands. “I should not let my desire to protect people corner me into inaction, daimyo.” She took a long sip then stared at the pale green surface of the tea. “I apologise for my outburst.”

”But you are improving. You didn’t break anything this time.” There was a long pause. “Don’t look so downcast, my dear. This is a moral and philosophical discussion. I’m certainly not going to round up some villagers and pull up an oni from the holds to make you face the choice in the flesh.”

Sang relaxed, even brightening a little. ”What are the chances I’ll ever be in that situation?”

”When you understand the situation has more faces than the one I posed for you this day, you will know the answer to that question.”

---

She knew now. The daemon represented evil, in whatever forms it took. The innocents represented those who served it unwittingly or unwillingly. The Empire was the situation. The world was the situation. The choice was there every day, in all its guises. Most people just didn’t see it, or chose not to act, so the evil lived on and flourished.

Good people may die if she acted, but good people were already dying and would keep dying with the way things were. It had to change. She had to change, and make a choice.

“Saaaannnggg…” the Historian’s musical voice called quietly.

“Hm? ‘Sit morning?” Sang mumbled.

“It is morning.”

“I’ll get up,” she said, throwing back the covers. “Give me a few minutes. Long hair doesn’t brush itself.”

---

Many hours later and there was the sound of someone knocking on the stone wall just beyond the heavy curtain that screened her room from the stone corridor outside.

“Sang?” Typhenon’s voice called.

“Hm?” Sang rubbed a hand over her face and tired eyes. “What?”

“I just need to ask you something.”

“Come in.”

The Primarch eased the curtain aside to enter. “What exactly do you think is wrong with the Emperor?” he asked.

“I don’t know yet,” she replied. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“You already knew something was wrong, didn’t you?”

The way he said it, she couldn’t quite tell if it was an observation or a question. She held his gaze and quickly tried to think of a response that wouldn’t be lying to him, or breaking her promise. Even so, there was a brief pause before her answer came. “Not exactly.”

While the Emperor had approached her to speak of his vision and desire for her to seek its meaning then come to protect him, the description had been so sketchy she’d been unsure they would actually signify a threat. And, of course, his sickness had taken her completely by surprise.

Thin, Sang. You knew something was up. ’Wrong’ is merely perspective.

Just so long as he doesn’t connect the dots to the oni book I’ve been toting around.

“Well,” the cleric said after another pause, “just think. Another few days and you’ll be going home to Kaji.”

Sang made herself nod, inwardly wondering how many days would follow before she left him again. To say nothing of all the things she’d have to tell him, and pray he didn’t think she’d gone mad. As much as she did want to go home, in a way it daunted her like no daemon ever had.

“Pleasant dreams,” Typhenon said.

“You too.”

He smiled wryly, stepping back through the curtain. “I’ll probably see words all night.”

He, she and Maiko had spent almost all day with the Historian in the elf’s vast library, researching wards, illnesses and daemons. The topics of study were what wards surrounded the imperial island of Nakashibetsu, what sickness the Emperor might have contracted, and what daemons might be involved. Sang had spent all her time in a section devoted to the latter, and now, with her eyes blurring and burning, she couldn’t figure out how they could come to a conclusive answer. Even if Maiko and Typhenon had known the full story of what they were helping Sang research, their base knowledge was next to nil. She had a vague explanation from the Emperor of daytime visions and dreams of strange people, which for some reason filled him with dread and a need for protection. She knew something of tremendous evil power was close to his side. She knew he had been sick for almost a month. That was it. She had no symptoms, no better descriptions of the hauntings, nothing.

The Historian was confident they would come to an answer within two or three more days, and she had no idea why. Somehow they seemed to be finding connections, but right now she was too tired to figure out what made them connections in the first place.

She changed out of the too-large robe and into something for sleeping. She hadn’t expected her study to be assisted by the Jin or the southerner. The Historian had sort of insisted on it, even though Maiko had voiced her desire to read up on other matters and Typhenon had claimed to be no use at research. Sang had even said she was quite happy to read alone, but the Historian would not hear of it.

---

“Sang!” Typhenon had said when she and the Historian entered the room that morning, fresh from bathing. The Primarch and Maiko had come to this area to spar, but at the time Sang arrived they were sitting and talking. “How much do you know about what’s wrong with the Emperor?”

“Only what Maiko and I heard in Heaven,” Sang had replied, looking at him curiously.

“Would you say that, to be able to change the problems in the Silverstari kingdoms, getting the Emperor an advisor who would point him in the right direction would help?”

“Considering what was said in Heaven, getting anyone in to see the Emperor—“

“I already know that,” Typhenon interrupted.

“I filled him in,” Maiko said, and Typhenon nodded to her.

“How well do you think your people would take to… ah… being misinformed that an angel was actually a spirit?”

Sang decided to postpone a discussion about deception. “In what context?” she asked cautiously.

“Well, your people worship spirits. That’s what they do.”

“Having an angel pose as a spirit,” Maiko said.

“And getting it onto the island,” Typhenon continued, by which Sang assumed he meant Nakashibetsu. He shrugged. “What would happen if one just showed up?”

“To what end?” Sang asked.

“To help.”

“Define ‘help’.”

“Advise,” Maiko suggested.

“Advise,” Typhenon agreed. “And the Emperor is sick, is he not?”

Yes. But no one will publicly admit that.

“Isn’t the Emperor a god?” Sang pointed out in a clinical tone.

“No,” Typhenon said firmly.

“Typhenon,” Maiko interjected, frowning, “as far as the people are concerned, ‘yes’.”

“Yes, but I’m not going to be there,” Typhenon protested, “so I don’t need to pretend that—“

“No, but Typhenon, we need to think in the right mindset if we’re going to work this out.”

Primarch and Jin regarded each other for a moment. then Typhenon subsided.

“All right. The Emperor is a god.” Typhenon sighed, then said, “He’d still need people to talk to, people to look after him.”

“The performers he had were fired, I understand,” Sang replied.

“I’m not suggesting we send him a performer.”

“Some of the others who served him apparently turned up dead.”

“Well, what, it was him, his mother and a bodyguard. Not to mention the hangers-on, courtiers and the dragon. There has to be some time he’s alone.”

“I think the only way you’ll get an advisor in to see the Emperor is if the Emperor asks for one.”

“How about a spirit that just turns up to help protect him?”

“I’m sure he has many spirits protecting him,” Sang said, with a slight emphasis on the penultimate word.

“What about one that shows up and actually talks to him?”

Sang tried not to sigh. It was always about offering hugs and daifuku with the southerner. People could be helped so long as they could be talked to. At least with a child there might be more chance of that succeeding than with, say, R, but for now she was more concerned with saving the Emperor’s life. A hug wouldn’t do that. What’s more, spirits were subservient to the Emperor. “I don’t know, Typhenon,” she said aloud. “As a god, any spirit he wishes will turn up to aid him. They don’t just turn up and offer assistance, he specifically requests the ones he wants.”

“But the problem is he wouldn’t ask any spirit to turn up because some wouldn’t reply to him. If he asked the most powerful dragon in the world to come to his aid, there’s very little chance that’d actually happen!”

“Perhaps not the most powerful dragon in the world,” Maiko acknowledged, “but the most powerful dragon in the Empire, yes.”

“I believe you’ve seen that one,” Sang said to Typhenon.

“So I’ve been told,” Maiko muttered.

“I know a bigger one,” the cleric smirked. “And I know of a bigger one yet.”

“Yes,” Maiko said with a sigh, “we all know dragons.”

“What brings on this discussion?” Sang interrupted. Why were they talking about the Emperor and debating how to get an angel in to see him?

“The fact the Silverstari Temples asked me some questions,” Typhenon said. “Mainly, should they work towards stabilising the Empire, or de-stabilising the Empire. They have basically asked me to make the decision for them, and I actually have no idea.”

Maiko spoke up, covering Sang’s momentary shock. “I’ve been attempting to, with an unbiased viewpoint, inform Typhenon of various repercussions, the state of things and previous things.”

“From what Maiko has said, the changes in the current system are good. They’re helping to equalize things, they’re helping to close the gap between the nobility and the peasantry which is one of the biggest problems, the fact that the nobility are all-powerful. So that change is good, but there’s the problem that even with that you can get away with almost anything you want to, so long as you can call yourself a more highly ranked individual.”

Sang nodded. “Basically, yes. But what does this have to do with getting an angel in to guard the Emperor?”

That word had been a slip, but Typhenon took it in stride. “Not just to guard, but to guide,” he said.

“If the ruler supports bringing more power to the peasants then the Empire follows suit,” Maiko explained.

“Considering he is the most powerful individual in the Empire, anything said by him will be followed by the nobility. How much higher can you go?”

Sang glanced between them. She had, at several points, considered the advantages to be had from being at the Emperor’s side. It was what she had meant when telling Skarsnik the best way to change things would be from within the system, and as Maiko and Typhenon had just said, how higher could you go than the Emperor? It was unfortunate she couldn’t tell her companions about her upcoming appointment at Nakashibetsu, but if she wanted to gain the Emperor’s trust, perhaps even his friendship, she couldn’t break her promise to him.

“I’d prefer to start with finding out what’s making him sick and curing him,” she said.

“That could also be done.”

“We don’t even know what’s making him ill.”

“Elonan angels,” Typhenon said. “If they can’t find out what’s ailing somebody, something’s horribly wrong.”

“That may be,” Sang agreed wearily, “but how would you get one in there?”

“That’s the problem,” he agreed. “I was thinking shift in and shift out again when something goes wrong?”

“Considering Three worshippers are being deliberately cast out or killed, I’d say something would go wrong.”

“You send them so they can’t actually be killed. You know how I brought Hedoramod into this world? He was in danger of actually dying because I physically pulled him here from Heaven. When I call on the flying beasts that we use, they’re not actually here. It’s closer to a reflection.”

“You’re going to send hippogriffs into the palace?” Sang asked with a raised brow.

“He can do that with other things,” Maiko said.

“That way if they’re destroyed, they’re not actually destroyed,” Typhenon went on. “It just inconveniences them for a little bit.”

“So you’ll send one of those into the palace and it’ll be sent away and you still wouldn’t have gotten anywhere,” Sang said with deliberate pessimism.

“What harm is there in trying?” Maiko asked.

“We have to do something,” Typhenon said.

“The harm will be that they’ll know someone’s trying to do something.”

“Someone’s always trying to do something.”

“And perhaps those who’d work against that will expose themselves in the process,” Maiko suggested.

“To the angel?” Sang asked.

“If they’re trying to find the source of the angel, perhaps they’ll expose themselves to us.”

“And if that happens, perhaps we’ll find out what the problem is,” Typhenon said.

“You could try if you wanted.” Sang shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t how these things work.”

“We have to do something,” Typhenon repeated. “It’s the way the world works. If it goes wrong it goes wrong, but it’s better for us to try. If nothing else, angels can speak any language fluently.”

“Then I will leave it to you.” She couldn’t dissuade them without having a good reason, or they’d wonder why she was opposed to it.

“It may not be a matter of leaving it to them,” the Historian said, entering the discussion for the first time. “You’re the Queen of the Kingdom of Yu.”

“I can’t summon angels or make them incorporeal.”

“You cannot, but you of anyone has the most right and justification for being on that island.”

Sang shot the elf a warning glance. She hadn’t straight out told him about her promise not to reveal she’d been approached by the Emperor for this task, but she’d thought he’d known she didn’t want that spoken about. At the least, she’d have believed he was bright enough to guess.

Whether or not Typhenon and Maiko knew where Sang’s magical justification for going to Nakashibetsu came from, the Jin said nothing of it and Sang got the unpleasant sensation of wheels turning behind her eyes. Meanwhile, the cleric practically jumped on this new information without questioning its origin.

“Considering angels can possess and hide within somebody, we could use you as a way of getting one on there,” Typhenon told Sang thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t do that without your permission.”

“I don’t know how they’re set up,” the Historian said, “but a lot of wards of the nature you were speaking of are narrow at doors and bridges, at a ring around. If you can pass that ring or those points, whoever gets through may be able to operate almost undetected.”

Or perhaps the Historian did know about her promise, but was working around it.

“Ultimately it requires a far better understanding of the magical protections that Nakashibetsu operates under,” the elf concluded. “And that requires reconnaissance on the ground.”

“I can summon some help to do a few laps around the island,” Typhenon said.

“I’d be more worried about checkpoints,” Maiko put in. “Going into places like the imperial grounds would be warded.”

Typhenon looked to the Historian. “You said Kukulkan could travel through the ground.”

It was an ability none of them had known the Shyless possessed until now. Perhaps he’d picked it up by simply observing the Historian, but he could pass through rock without tunnelling. Kukulkan had used this talent to leave the Historian’s mountain during dinner the previous night, during a conversation on children (of which there had been several at the table, including manticores and half-dragon/daemons). The shapeshifter hadn’t been seen since, and even though Sang knew he could take care of himself, it wasn’t Kukulkan being physically injured that worried her.

“How likely are people to ward the ground itself?” Typhenon was asking.

“Not all spirits are amenable to the Emperor’s rule,” the Historian said. “There have been uprisings in the past, and of course the kami are tied to elements such as earth.”

Typhenon looked crestfallen. He turned to Sang. “What do you think I should do?”

“I think you should wait until we have a better idea of what’s threatening the Emperor.”

Maiko made a sound that might have been a derisive snort.

“The problem is that if we wait too long I might not get a chance to do anything,” Typhenon said.

“Hopefully we’ll find out today,” Sang told him. “Or tomorrow. Or however long we’re here.”

“How?”

“That’s why I’m here.”

---

At which point the Historian had declared the library open for research and set the ball rolling. That discussion had been some time after breakfast. Breakfast Maiko and Typhenon had made for her, although they’d said the cat had helped so perhaps that was why it had tasted so good. One moment the two of them were bickering, the next they were cooking porridge together. It was almost like siblings. Irritatingly so.

Sang shrugged that off and crawled into the bed, trying to remember what had been worrying her. Oh, right… she’d said she was here to investigate what was wrong with the Emperor, alluding the entire reason behind this excursion was his mysterious illness. The problem with that was she hadn’t known the Emperor was ill until the council in Heaven, and she’d learned that after she’d shown up to the Silverstari group on the Historian’s arm, not to mention after the Historian had told Typhenon and Maiko he was showing Sang his library.

Typhenon had let Sang know he suspected she’d known something was wrong beforehand. Maiko, who was considerably brighter than Typhenon, would probably have figured that out as well. Of course, Maiko had also been present when the aged Makoto woman had questioned Sang’s knowledge of the Emperor’s health, so it was possible the Jin was respecting Sang’s silence on the matter.

She lay awake. She wasn’t even sure how the Emperor would summon her. He had said he would arrange for her to join his entourage. Would a kami or messenger come to Tokai? The dragon? Or was she expected to present herself at Nakashibetsu and just declare she had been summoned?

Well, I know it was supposed to be arranged at the start of the coming month. If no official message comes, magical, public or otherwise, I will simply go. I have technically already been summoned, after all. But does anyone but the Emperor know it? Do his servants pester him about everyone who turns up claiming to have been called? Or do they deter that by killing those who arrive unbidden and unwanted?

She chewed her lip thoughtfully. The Historian’s inclusion of Typhenon and Maiko in the study, and putting them on the subject of protective wards, made her suspect she would ultimately need their aid in some way at Nakashibetsu. At some point or another, she would tell them and Kukulkan (if he ever turned up again) she would be going to the imperial city. Once the new month came she could tell them and Kaji she’d been requested, just not that the Emperor had had a private chat with her. If it turned out her companions had the abilities necessary to cure the Emperor’s sickness, or combat what darkness haunted him, she was confident she could convince Typhenon to help. Maiko was more dubious… it was clear she wanted to return to Wuhai and strengthen the island’s position, despite her dedicated research on wards. As for Kukulkan… right now she had no idea, but the possibly unmasking and annihilating a powerful daemon might appeal to him.

It would be presumptuous in the extreme to turn up with companions to Nakashibetsu, especially a gaijin and a non-human (even if he was shapeshifted). Perhaps they could wait in one of the riverside cities until she convinced the Emperor to allow them entrance? If he really believed she was… how had he said it… one of the noblest of souls, he couldn’t doubt her sincerity, even if his people did.

Enough. Get some sleep. Worry about plans once you have a better idea of what’s going on.

Her eyes closed. Her mind wandered, drowsing, drifting to the children here in the Historian’s mountain refuge—manticores and half-dragon/daemons. Soulske had called this place a gilded cage, the Historian also viewed it as such, but she had caught herself envying them their sheltered life. Mya got to be with the one she loved, raising her children in peace and safety. None of them had any responsibilities, except to each other. They would probably never have to learn how to fight, or fear for their lives, and so long as they remained here they would never jeopardise anyone else.

Motherhood, to Sang, had always been something that would eventually be expected of her, not something she looked forward to. Since becoming pregnant her maternal instincts had developed somewhat, but it was only right now that she began to think of the world her children would be born into. It wouldn’t be this secure, insular world within the Historian’s mountain. It would be in the Empire. She didn’t want them to inherit a land torn by war. Come to think of it, she didn’t want it to be the land it was now. In three months she’d be too cumbersome to travel at a speed above a stately waddle, let alone swing a blade. She wondered, as she dozed off, what the chances were of changing the kingdoms and defeating Fu Leng within that timeframe.

Angels, Daemons, Gods

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Sang was poring over another daemon book with several others open or stacked nearby on the table when Typhenon came to her the next morning. It wasn’t long after breakfast. The cleric had lingered to speak with the Historian while Maiko had chosen to research something of her own choosing. Sang had returned to her study of oni in the vain hopes that something would magically register as the Answer To Everything. She had become more certain that she was looking in the wrong place. Typhenon and Maiko’s study had confirmed that Nakashibetsu was warded against all known Shadowlands daemons and had defences in place against shapeshifters and other known infiltration methods.

The lack of information was finally edging Sang towards despair. The Historian’s library might have the answer she was looking for, but where that answer was she had only the vaguest idea.

So when Typhenon joined her at the table and asked, “What type of daemons am I looking for?” Sang could only give him a long look and a shake of her head.

“Shapeshifting ones?” the cleric tried, pulling up a chair. “Ones that can possess people?”

“We don’t have much information to go on,” Sang said.

“You have absolutely no idea what might be there? Not even a slight word of what it might be doing?” When Sang again shook her head, Typhenon sighed and picked up one of the books. “That’s really helpful.”

“Did Garreth tell you what happened at the rain ceremony?” Sang asked, thinking she’d revisit about the only other piece of knowledge she had.

“No.”

Sang raised a brow, surprised that the Caesar hadn’t informed Typhenon himself, but repeated what she’d been told about him sensing an immense evil during the ceremony. “That’s why he fell over and lost consciousness,” she finished. “I don’t know if that means anything to you, but to me it means something big and evil.”

The cleric paled slightly. “You can’t see auras, can you? There are spells that allow you to look at someone’s soul to see if it’s tainted by good or evil. Garreth has the ability to see the evil in people’s souls. For him to be overwhelmed to the point of collapse means that we are looking at a daemon that’s possibly more powerful than the Historian.”

A slightly puzzled glance was Sang’s response to this, since she had no idea how powerful the Historian was when it came down to it.

“Daemons that powerful tend to be leading generals of their given deity. They’re not just dangerous, they’re powerful. This one would be a match for Lord Yu, without being tied to a Blade.”

“Something of a challenge then,” Sang said dryly.

“A bit more than a challenge. They are deadly in the extreme. They could wipe out an entire city. Depending on who they follow, what kind of daemon they started off as…”

“Hm. I don’t suppose you know what kind of daemon this one is?”

“If I had more information, anything, I might be able to…” He took a long breath and paused, thinking. “The gods themselves have domains over certain things,” he explained. “The people or daemons who serve them follow those domains. Like fire, for… um…”

Typhenon got a strange look on his face at that point, and Sang, thinking he’d momentarily forgotten the name of the god he was using for his example, recalled the Three mentioning a god’s name which had given rise to impressions of flames, loyalty and a crown. “Belshezzar?” she supplied, then jumped back with a startled oath, toppling her chair as the open book in front of her burst alight with an angry roar.

Typhenon had also leapt to his feet. “Never say their names out loud!” he cried. “They can see you when you do.” He gestured towards the immolated book and caused a stream of water to douse the flames. Steam should have sounded like a guttering hiss, not an angry screech. Some of the fire spilled over the edge of the table to the earthen floor and crept towards them like a living thing before it guttered out with a noise suspiciously like a snarl.

“Poke the book with Lord Yu’s Blade,” Typhenon instructed, and Sang did do without question. No sooner had the weapon touched the burnt tome than it disintegrated to a heap of soggy ash.

The Historian burst in at that point, alarm on his face. He looked at the scorched table, the ashes and the waterlogged books and his jaw dropped.

“It was my fault,” Sang said before Typhenon could apologise. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You never speak their names,” the cleric said again. “As soon as you say the name of a god they can focus on where you are.”

The Historian said nothing but rushed straight to the table, removing the drenched books before they could absorb any more moisture. Sang and Typhenon helped.

“We had to destroy one,” Typhenon said when the table was clear. “It was possessed.”

The elf stared at Typhenon for a moment, and a tear actually ran down his cheek before he silently turned and walked from the room.

Sang wiped the table dry without speaking and righted her chair, sitting down again. There were no other apologies she could make. The names of gods had been spoken freely in Heaven, and she had not considered they might be dangerous to speak elsewhere. Considering Belshezzar was a fire god, she supposed it was lucky only one book had been lost.

“If the daemon is that powerful,” she said, deciding to return to the previous topic, “then it limits the possibilities of what it could be, right?”

“Sort of,” Typhenon replied, also sitting. “If only we had more information, like if it was associated with flames or death or something.”

Sang spread her hands on the table. “All I know is that it was present at the rain summoning ceremony. Do any of them have anything to do with rain?”

“One of them is associated with storms,” Typhenon mused.

“Garreth said the rain itself wasn’t evil.”

“Storms and changing,” Typhenon said thoughtfully. “How much do you know of the Seven?”

“Only what you have told me and what I learned through the gods.”

“What did you learn through the gods? And don’t mention that name.”

“They said that one when we were all there. I know about the one that killed Caalix’s wife—“

“That’s the one,” Typhenon interjected. “That’s the one I’m talking about.”

“The one that starts with…” she hesitated, giving the cleric a chance to stop her, then said, “‘Z’. I can say that, right?”

Typhenon grinned slightly. “We usually give them names.”

“Why would you consider this one then? Because it’s associated with storms? We’re basing this off one rain summoning ceremony.”

“You did ask if any of them had anything to do with rain,” Typhenon reminded her.

Sang sighed and gave a small nod.

“There is also one that has domain over the air, health and illness,” the cleric went on.

“So we’ve narrowed it down to two.”

“Or we could be wrong and it could be something completely different!” The two of them smiled wryly at each other. “But it’s a starting point. We’ll see what we can find with those two and move on from there.” He pushed his chair back, grinning more widely, and stood up. “I have an idea.”

***

Typhenon’s idea turned out to be a good one, providing more information in half an hour than Sang had managed to figure out through the entire month. After the Primarch had spoken to the Historian and lunch had been consumed, the four of them had bathed, donned gold-trimmed white robes (in Sang’s case, rather uneasily), then gathered in a small altar room. At the elf’s request, Maiko and Sang had put Amulet and Blade atop the altar beside a goblet, then the three of them had stood at three points around and chanted something in another language. Typhenon had summoned an angel and asked it a series of questions. After several ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers he’d stopped to confer with Maiko and Sang about what else to ask, then repeated the summoning.

Not only had they learned that the daemon served Zaddakim, but that the Emperor was not ill. At least, not yet. According to the angel, the daemon’s goal was to kill the Emperor and destroy the Empire. It also confirmed that they could count on neither the Dowager Emperess or the Emperor’s Bodyguard to help them fight the daemon, and that at least one of those two willingly served it. On a more positive note, the Imperial Dragon would aid them. There had been more, and Typhenon, Maiko and Sang had talked over much of it later.

The information, while it hadn’t revealed everything Sang might wish to know, was enough that the bushi found much of her tension simply disappearing. Going from knowing next to nothing to having some idea of what was going on was amazing—and of course she had Typhenon to thank, which she did.

After a bit of reading in a fruitless attempt to find some hints of this daemon that had been around Nakashibetsu the last half century, they decided they’d be leaving the next day. It was only a couple more days until the month ended. Sang needed to return to Tokai and Maiko to Wuhai, though Typhenon asked the Jin if she would aid them in fighting this daemon and Maiko agreed, if reluctantly. Maiko had brought up a point of her own, though, that the daemon might have had something to do with the destruction of the Falcon Kingdom some fifty years ago. Sang, considering that Shanro might still be in Tokai, told her two companions that she might be able to look into that when she got home. Typhenon suggested meeting up with the old Makoto woman they’d met in Heaven, who’d used to work in the Imperial City and now ran one of the shoreside Three temples. He sent a message to her that afternoon to arrange things, deciding that if he and Maiko accompanied Sang to Nakashibetsu then the two of them could confer with the Makoto while Sang continued on to the palace. At this point in time, Sang was unsure how difficult it would be to get her companions inside. For the moment, her hopes rested on convincing the Emperor himself to invite them in.

We asked the angel if we have the means at our disposal to destroy the daemon and it said ‘yes’. That does not mean that I can prevail against it alone and protect the Emperor. Whether or not I need help, aid will be most welcome. I will do this alone if I must, but I’d prefer not to.

***

Sang knew she was dreaming. The details were blurred. Things were sensed and known more than seen, heard or felt. She was in the Royal Chambers, in bed. She knew this dream, and rolled over to see her husband. Kaji was beside her, still asleep. She did not try to wake him, but lay quietly admiring his lithe and muscular body. His mother’s Makoto blood showed in more than his white hair and fine features. He was more slender than the heavyset Yu, graceful, but had a greater breadth of shoulder and depth of chest than his Makoto kin. She traced the lines of his muscled chest with her drowsing mind, caressing him.

You are beautiful, my love.

He started awake, rubbed his side and turned to face her, then smiled at her smile.

They talked, as people do in dreams. Words were meaningless, forgotten, neither really spoken nor heard. All the while Kaji rubbed at his skin as though bothered by some bothersome itch. Then the words ended and they drew closer together, their lips meeting…

Still he scratched, and he became so agitated and uncomfortable he was finally forced to pull away and get up. As he moved from the bed, Sang noticed a tendril of smoke streaming up from the reddened, abraded skin and horror seized her without warning.

No… no! Belshezzar, you f—

Kaji stumbled a few feet from the bed before smoke poured from his nose and mouth and he fell to his knees. When the first tongues of flame licked out from his belly and chest he began to scream. The fire consumed him quickly and hungrily, turning him into a living torch that bathed the room in grisly light. His beautiful hair caught and crisped in an instant. He was incinerating him from the inside out, his flesh charring and melting away. His screams of pain and terror echoed in her ears, the stench of his burning filled her nostrils and his agonised writhing just seemed to go on forever… and she could do nothing to help him, frozen with horror and disbelief.

Finally, Kaji fell silent. His body had collapsed to a blackened skeleton patched with cooked meat. Glowing embers and flickers of fire still danced here and there in or across the bones.

The corpse twitched. And again. It stirred. Sat up. Stood. Turned its skull to her. Pointed with a burning, skeletal hand.

“You, Sang,” Kaji’s hissed accusingly, his voice overlaid with the crackling sound of a great fire. “You killed me! Your carelessness, your folly have killed me! I’m coming for you, Sang!”

No! I didn’t know! Oh, gods, Kaji—

Her husband’s burning body lunged for her, bony fingers extended like claws and flames spitting, snarling—

***

Sang screamed her way awake, felt the sudden presence of another in her room, and ripped the wakizashi from its saya beneath her pillow to defend herself against the intruder a second before twin elven hookswords hissed from sheathes in retaliation and the two warriors were staring tensely at each other down the lengths of their blades.

…Maiko?

Relics

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Even after recognising Maiko, Sang did not immediately withdraw her sword. Her heart still pounded. She could feel sweat on her brow and the phantom memory of burning heat against her skin. Even as she stared at the dimly glinting blades and Maiko’s wary face, her mind saw flames… and Kaji…

Faint light entered the room as Typhenon twitched the curtain aside and peered in. “Sang—?” he began, but stopped at the sight of the two women pointing swords at each other. As though his voice had broken a spell, Sang lowered her wakizashi. Maiko then relaxed her defensive stance and put up her blades. “What happened?” Typhenon asked, coming inside.

“I don’t know,” Maiko said.

Sang slid her weapon back to its scabbard, her face to the wall. “Nightmare.”

“Are you all right?” asked Typhenon.

“Yes.” There was a pause. “It was—“ she almost started to say the name again, her lips compressing on the capital B, but she caught herself and amended, “—that fiery one.”

Before going to sleep, Sang had spoken with Lord Yu about the dangers of speaking a god’s name aloud. The angel had explained that calling a god’s attention was deeper than just it seeing you. Perhaps the best way of thinking of it was looking at where a person was standing compared to looking inside that person and knowing what made them who they were. Yu had also said that there was no way of telling what damage calling upon Belshezzar’s name had truly caused, but the Historian’s abode was likely the best place for Sang to have said it. A person could be struck down for speaking it. Normally Sang would never have admitted to anyone that a nightmare had scared her badly enough to make her scream, but she wasn’t so proud that she’d be stupid enough to hide the truth if it involved a dark god working mischief on her.

“What happened?”

Sang looked at them for a second, clasped her hands tightly beneath the covers, then forced the words out from a dry mouth: “Kaji burned to death. And then he sort of… came back.”

Maiko had touched Jin’s Amulet and now half-extended her hand towards Sang. “May I?” At the cautious affirming nod, Maiko touched her shoulder and Sang felt something wash through her that eased her spirit somewhat. Sang released a breath slowly, muscles unclenching, then Typhenon descended on her with a hug.

“So long as I don’t get these every night,” she said as she patiently endured the cleric’s embrace.

“They are powerful,” Typhenon replied when he released her. “I should have warned you.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Sang interposed before he could blame himself. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was just…”

“Ill luck,” Typhenon finished.

Sang nodded. “Mistakes happen.”

“You’ll be all right?”

“I think so. Thanks,” she added awkwardly, to the both of them.

“I should get some more sleep then,” Typhenon said. “We have a long flight ahead of us.” He left.

“Do you mind if I stay?” Maiko asked, and Sang indicated she did not, though she didn’t ask why the other woman wanted to remain. Maiko sat down with her back to the wall without saying anything else. Sang lay down on her bed and didn’t close her eyes. She wasn’t feeling as traumatised as she had a minute ago, but wasn’t too eager to go back to sleep. She tried to busy her mind by coming with a reason why Maiko was sitting in her room, but hadn’t come to any ideas other than ‘just keeping me company to be sure I’m all right’ before the Jin said, “And Typhenon’s awake again,” about half an hour later, at which point there were footsteps that stopped outside Sang’s room.

“Do you mind if I come in too?” Typhenon asked plaintively.

Sang told him to enter, and the cleric huddled on the floor wrapped in a blanket. “You had a nightmare too?”

“Overactive imagination.”

“I guess I shouldn’t have told you,” Sang said apologetically.

“I asked.”

“Some things are best not repeated.”

“Sometimes repeating helps.” There was a moment of silence, then Typhenon shifted. “I’m going to raid the kitchen. You two want some tea?”

“So long as I get to brew it.” Sang sat up. “I have everything here except for water.”

“I can handle that.”

After a light source was arranged, Sang fished through her pack for the box that held her ocha set. It was quite old, having been passed down through several generations before coming to her through Kuni Samariku. There was a black pot decorated with some purple Silverstari characters, various instruments she’d use had this been a real tea ceremony, and four deep black chawan that were lacquered a dark purple on the inside and around the lip. Three of these bowls showed signs of their age with a long crack here or a chip there, but the fourth was criss-crossed with a network of fine lines that bore silent testimony to the cup having been quite thoroughly smashed at one point.

Sang knew for a fact it had been broken no fewer than thrice, each time by herself. It was even the reason she’d inherited the set, since her daimyo had wryly decided that it wouldn’t have the same meaning to anyone else he bequeathed it to.

Once Typhenon had filled the pot with boiling water, Sang emptied it all into the four cups then poured it all back into the pot. When Typhenon asked what that accomplished, she explained that it was the best way to cool the water to the temperature she wanted for steeping the tea. Ideally one would heat the water to a stage short of boiling and judge the correct temperature by the bubbles that formed, but that couldn’t be done without a fire—and she didn’t really want to be in the presence of any naked flames just yet. She added the leaves and mixed it carefully into the water before finally pouring a measure into three of the chawan, selecting the broken-and-repaired one for herself.

Though this time with Typhenon and Maiko was no ritual, before raising the bowl to her lips she turned it in her hands with a motion so often practised it had become habit and re-familiarised herself with the scars.

**

Samariku winced visibly as the three hundred year old chawan shattered against the wooden beam and splashed steaming ocha across the tatami mats. Sang did not notice. She was glaring after the tea cup, trying to mask her grief with anger. Unshed tears stood in her eyes. Abruptly, she turned and strode for the door.

”Are you running, samurai?” the daimyo asked in his mildest voice, and saw the girl’s back stiffen instantly before she halted, then returned. Her face was pale with suppressed fury.

”I beg leave to depart, daimyo,” she said in a voice so rigidly controlled that it shook.

”You may. But take those with you.” He gestured to the pieces littering the floor. “The tatami will need to be cleaned, and the chawan repaired. You will do this yourself, before returning to your duties. You may also use the back room here, if you prefer.”

Sang’s face flushed from white to crimson with shame. She started to speak then shut her mouth, nodded and went to the broken cup. Kneeling, she began to collect the pieces. A fine start to her adulthood, yelling at her lord and breaking one of his chawan. His offer to do the cleaning up and repairs in his own rooms completed her humiliation; by rights she should have carried the soiled mat and broken cup outside for everyone to see.

**

The chawan made a second revolution in Sang’s hands.

**

This time the bowl broke between her palms and fingers. She swore as soon as she did so in equal measures of anger and pain. Some of the shards had cut her skin and drawn blood.

Kunk Samariku sighed. “Well. At least the cup was empty.”

She swore again, basically telling him the bloody damn cup could rot in hell.

”The bloody damn cup, Sang,” her daimyo replied sternly, “will be repaired. Again. And after the pieces are cleansed.”

”Why are you wasting your time—and mine—with this?” Sang muttered as she picked pottery from her hands and kimono.

Samariku sipped at his tea. ” Ocha is never a waste of time,” he answered, deliberately misinterpreting her question. “There is a small rack of ointments on a shelf in the other room. Bring them out and I will see to your hands.”

**

Sang turned the cup a final time.

**

Samariku picked up a fragment from his side of the table and held it to eye height. "Too many more doses of glue and it's likely the thing will bounce the next time you toss it against a wall," he remarked.

Sang was red with embarrassment as she scraped pieces into a pile. "I only did that once. This time was just an accident.”

He tsked. "I suppose that is something to be proud of, although it's just as well you didn’t drop it in front of guests."

Sang looked at the pitiful heap of shards. "Is three breakages too many?" she asked, looking hopeful.

"No," He smiled. "Three is a good number."

"If it's so good a number you should let me throw this out," Sang said shrewdly. "Then you'd have three cups left."

Samariku snorted. "Nice try. Get the glue."

***

Typhenon had counted the number of turns she'd turned the cup. “Why three times?” he asked.

Sang sipped then shrugged. She didn’t know. It was how she’d always seen it done. “Tradition.”

Typhenon picked up his cup and smiled. “Three is a good number.”

Sang opened her mouth to reply, then simply “Hmm”ed and gave him a strange, speculative look.

They passed the early hours of the morning telling stories. Maiko regaled them of a tale during her sailing days that involved a particularly interesting encounter with a Chi ship, Typhenon followed up with stories of his childhood when he’d lived on the streets with beggars and thieves, which had ended with him getting caught picking Kolskegg’s pocket, and Sang finished by filling Maiko in of how she and Typhenon had first met (more specifically, how Typhenon had first met Sang’s right fist).

This had been in the dungeon of a demolished ogre fortress. Sang left out the part where she and Hitomi Merunae had been jumped by undead and daemons. The two of them had been travelling south through the mountains towards Epiach before being taken her by surprise. She remembered fighting alongside Merunae, but not the blow that had felled her. The next thing she’d known for sure was waking up sans weapons and armour with a gaijin (Typhenon) bending over her.

At some point they went to the kitchen to raid a magical cupboard for food. Sang found herself carrying Lord Yu’s Blade in one hand and a basket of strawberries in the other (for some reason Sang felt like eating strawberries). Maiko convinced her to try and teach Typhenon some kata, and the Primarch didn’t do too badly in imitating some of the forms. Somehow it ended with Maiko proving she could hit Sang with a strawberry from across the room.

Sang chalked it all up to a general lack of sleep.

They declined the Historian’s offer of breakfast and went instead to bathe. Maiko took a little persuading but came along. The Jin was usually in and out of a bath so swiftly it was a wonder she ever had to towel herself dry, but this time she stayed longer. She did, however, insist that Sang and Typhenon turn their backs every time they all moved to a warmer bath. It was a surprise to see Maiko so awkward about something as trivial as being naked amongst friends, but no one said anything about it. Perhaps the Jin just did things differently to the Yu, Sang surmised. When the Historian’s voice came from outside to announce he was coming in, however, Maiko promptly left.

“What’s that about?” Sang murmured after the Jin had departed.

“Something to do with her past,” was all Typhenon would say, and then the Historian was stepping down to join them in the warm water.

**

Kukulkan returned before lunch time while Typhenon and Maiko were discussing the best course to fly from Epiach to Tokai. The shapeshifter was wearing his full armour at the time, including helm, so it was impossible to tell what colour his scales were or see his face. No one asked where he’d been, or what he’d happened to. Neither did Kukulkan enlighten them.

**

Before they departed, the Historian took them to a vault somewhere deep in his mountain. The contents dwarfed that of the room beneath Typhenon’s temple. Suits of shining mail, beautifully wrought weapons and strange garments or objects hung from walls or were laid reverentially on plinths. Every single item seemed to have an engraving beside it that detailed what was known of its history. It had the impression of a museum.

“I lost the armour you gave me,” Typhenon said. “Or, it was taken from me.”

“You will recover it before the end,” the Historian replied.

“I hope so. I was rather fond of it.”

“As was I. That armour had a long history. Everything here has had a long history.”

“Typhenon,” Maiko said thoughtfully, after a glance around the gleaming contents of the room. “Does the Historian know about the sword you have in your temple?”

“Sword?” the Historian asked.

“Adneil’s sword,” Typhenon told him.

“Hm. I would be interested to examine it.”

Typhenon nodded. “Keep in mind I’ve promised to give it back to him if he earns it.”

A sour look crossed the Historian’s face for a moment. “Then I will keep it safe for a long time.” Realising how he sounded, he shook his head. “That was unbecoming of me.”

“Indeed,” Typhenon murmured.

Sang knew from her conversations with the Historian that the elf did not think highly of R. He blamed him for the fall of the elven race, for dragging everyone else down with him all for the sake of his lost wife. The Historian had lived in isolation since that dark time, caretaking the remnants of elven lore and simply surviving, for if he, the last of the good elves, fell to shadow then his race would have failed utterly. He did not believe R could be redeemed. Sang got the feeling the Historian didn’t think R deserved to be redeemed. Why should Typhenon waste his efforts on such a one? Why should the once-king of the elves who’d doomed his people be welcomed back?

Though Sang tended to agree with the Historian’s sentiments, for some reason she’d refrained from telling him about what R had planned for her and her children. One side of her had wanted to compare horror stories so they could share their mutual dislike. She didn’t know why she had kept quiet except that, for some reason, talking about her experiences with R to the Historian had felt like the wrong thing to do.

The Historian, meanwhile, was taking select pieces from his collection and giving them to the companions, or waving his hands over equipment they already possessed and adding enchantments to them. Maiko’s gloves, for instance, were suddenly traced with an elaborate pattern of curling vines and told the gloves would now help to “balance her hands.”

For Sang, he placed a red gem on her belt which he said would allow her to grow physically to a giant’s size at her command. More red gems went on her bracers and gauntlets, which would allow her greater success at retaliating against those who struck her, and greater strength against foes larger than her. Across her shoulders he swept a mantle of dark feathers which fused into the surface of her cloak. With this, the elf said, she could exchange places with a distant threatened ally. Next was a curious half-mask of solid amethyst that could occupy the space between her menpo and kabuto, with which she could see “the true nature of people”. Apparently this meant she’d be able to tell humans from, say, undead and daemons, which Sang had to admit would probably come in very useful when she reached Nakashibetsu.

“And then there’s this, more than anything else,” the Historian said, emerging from a side room with a pole of deeply brown, aged bamboo. He adjusted a perpendicular segment at one end of the pole to create an L frame common to sashimono, and in doing so unfurled the banner strung between the bamboo. The fabric was dark, and in purple was picked out a single character: ‘Yu’. “This is the battle standard of Lord Yu.”

Sang blinked, then accepted it reverentially in both hands. She bowed, unable to find words to express her thanks. This wasn’t some elven trinket that would increase her prowess or allow her to do magic tricks, this was… a part of her people’s history. A relic of personal value. Lord Yu himself seemed surprised at being reunited with his own banner. Sang could feel a level of awe emanating from the Blade, along with recognition and even fondness.

“Take it forth,” the Historian said, “into a new age.”

Receptions

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They left the Historian’s abode after lunch. Typhenon transported them directly to his antechamber in the temple at Epiach, which had signs of progressive cleaning since Joseph’s attack. Kukulkan disappeared soon after their arrival to take the portal to his homeland where his animal companion waited for him, saying he would rejoin Typhenon and Maiko at Wuhai. They stayed in the temple long enough for Typhenon to pack some clothes (including a bright red kimono borrowed from a Silverstari cleric) and say hello to Kolskegg, then they walked out of the temple and city and Typhenon cast his flying spell and Maiko led their way.

There was nothing for Sang to do over the next eight or nine hours other than admire the scenery of mountains, lakes and forests. They paused after sundown for Maiko to pick her bearings from a river fork and Typhenon to inform Kaji of their imminent arrival.

Two and a half hours was apparently as long as it took for the King of the Yu to rouse half the city from their beds, have every single lantern lit up the main causeway, organise a feast and arrange for a flight of dragons to circle the castle belching fire and lightning in a completely ostentatious ‘welcome home’ for his wife. Troops and citizens cheered loudly as Sang, Maiko and Typhenon walked up the main street, all the way to the massive double doors of the castle.

It was, Sang knew, completely contrived. Those who sincerely welcomed her back would be few. She might have Lord Yu’s Blade and Lord Yu’s sashimono but she was no hero returning home or beloved ruler. She did her best to ignore the insincerity of the entire thing, knowing it would only annoy her if she thought about it for too long.

The castle doors opened and Kaji appeared beyond them, Nobutada at his side, and flanked by the hundreds of officials the infested the court. Two and half hours had also been long enough for each and every one of them to bedeck themselves in their official raiment. Sang paid the courtiers and their not-so spontaneous cheers little heed, her attention firmly on her husband as he stepped forward. Kaji wore a deep-sleeved midnight purple kimono covered with traceries of white vines. His hair had been put up in an elaborate fashion upon which rested a heavily carved iron crown studded with rubies and etched at the front with the character ‘Yu’.

Kaji crossed just short of half the distance between his courtiers and his wife. The implication was that she would cover the rest of the distance, and the extra couple of steps she would take symbolised she was subservient to him. Sang left her companions’ sides and walked the expected distance to stand before her husband.

He put both hands behind his back and waited. In this too there was meaning, for it left his torso open to attack.

As his subject, it was expected for her to speak first.

“My King,” she said, lifting her voice to carry. “I am honoured by my reception home.”

“The citizens of Tokai and our city welcome you unabashedly,” Kaji replied. “Though many have been roused from their beds at this hour, their joy at your return is unmatched.”

Sang kept a straight face, deciding they would discuss this over-the-top business later.

“Come.” Kaji put a hand around her shoulders. “And your retinue too, of course,” he added, and led her, Typhenon and Maiko through the sea of courtiers.

**

There had been a meal of banquet proportion, freely flowing drink, and eventually a series of drunken songs. Throughout the whole, Sang and Kaji kept their social masks in place and treated each other with the expected formality. Finally, though, the King declared an end to the festivities. Fine lodgings were arranged for Typhenon and Maiko, who would be departing the next morning for Wuhai, then Kaji and Sang retired to the royal quarters.

Kaji immediately collapsed into a deep chair with a sigh. Sang seated herself more carefully nearby, mindful of her armour against the furnishings.

“Are you going to do that every time?” she asked with mock disgust.

“Depends. On how bitchy I’m feeling.”

“You’re not going to be a very popular king if you keep rousing people out of their beds whenever I come home.”

“I have to keep greeting my queen with due pomp and ceremony.” He smirked. “I could say you’re not going to be a very popular queen if you keep flitting around the place and forcing me to put on great shows and banquets whenever you return.”

“Touché,” she murmured. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. I didn’t expect to—“

“Ever turn up again?” he interrupted.

She stared at him and tried not to look hurt. “No, I meant—what do you take me for?” she asked suddenly. “I don’t necessarily do this because I enjoy it.”

“Well, so long as we’re both not enjoying it I suppose that’s something.”

Sang didn’t trust herself to reply. This wasn’t how she’d expected things to go.

“Though I must say if I keep not enjoying myself this much I might have to shave my head and become a monk.” He sighed. “So how long is it this time?”

“What have you heard about what’s happening at Nakashibetsu lately?” Sang countered.

“Not much. Why, what’s happening?”

“There are rumours of the Emperor being ill.”

“Oh, gods.” Kaji groaned. “That’s all we need.”

“Typhenon, Maiko and I were researching what we thought was the cause of it,” Sang explained, “and we think we have an answer. He’s not actually ill, but there is a darkness there working to end his life.”

Her husband sighed again. “I’d say ‘rally the imperial guard’, but I get the feeling this is something only you can do.”

Sang paused, then said quietly, “I plan to go there at the start of the month.”

“That’s, what…” Kaji spread his hands. “Today and tomorrow.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I only found out what the threat was yesterday, and it took most of today to get here.”

Kaji made a sound that indicated it didn’t make him feel better at all, but also that he had nothing else he could say.

“After that, who knows how long I’ll get to stay here?” Sang asked, trying for a hopeful smile.

“Don’t dangle that in front of me, Sang, it’s not fair,” he said in a reproving voice.

“It wasn’t a promise,” she replied, her smile fading. “Just… a possibility.”

“I’m getting sick of hoping. It doesn’t work.”

Sang lowered her eyes.

“I’ve been forced to come to terms with… our arrangement. It doesn’t mean I’m going to needle you mercilessly at every opportunity to remind you that you’ve duties here as well. A wife’s duty. I’ve come to terms with it. So we can sit here, melancholy,” he went on, “all sighing about our unexpected duties and how we have to sacrifice so much to uphold our honours, or I can have another half bottle of sake and we can enjoy what little time we have together.”

Sang managed to rally herself. “At least you can have sake. Too much more of it, though, and you’ll be too inebriated to do me justice.”

He raised a brow and smiled archly. “That sounds like a challenge.” He grinned then and started to rise. “I’ll drink in the morning!”

“There was one other thing,” Sang told him.

“Oh, don’t do that and—“ he sank back down and scowled at her. “Don’t say something like then and then say ‘oh wait there’s just one other thing’, so I have to sit here and cool my heels.” He frowned. “Out with it.”

“You know how I told you I was pregnant?” she replied carefully.

Alarm shone in his eyes. “What’s happened?”

“Well… I’m doubly pregnant.”

“Who did it?” he demanded angrily.

She stared. “You did!”

“I’ll have his head!” Kaji practically shouted. “Who did—you… oh. Oh. That’s…” he managed a sheepish smile. “Yay?”

Sang shook her head, but smiled back. “Do you want to know what they are?”

“I think I’d rather be surprised.” He waited a moment, took a breath then nodded. “Think about it in the morning. Do you have anything else to say?”

Sang shook her head.

“Fantastic. You.” He pointed at her, then towards the bedroom. “Futon.”

**

In hindsight, it was amazing they made it to the bed fully disrobed. She had still been in her armour and he’d been in his state kimono, and they’d both tried to remove their own clothes while simultaneously ‘assisting’ each other in the same task. The lacings of Sang’s yoroi and the quilted kimono she wore under it took about as much time to untie as it did to remove Kaji’s multiple layers of silk. All in all it probably took slightly longer to get undressed than it would have normally, if only because, towards the end, neither of them were really looking at what they were doing and things devolved to simply pulling until the knots gave up in defeat.

Exhaustion brought on from their reunion, as well as her lack of sleep the previous night, kept Sang abed until noon when her husband gently shook her awake to advise breakfast was ready. She didn’t care that she should have been up around dawn to do her kata; considering how briefly she’d be in Tokai she intended to spend as much time as possible with her ‘wifely duties’ rather than her weapons.

After eating they bathed, which again took a little more time than would be usual though clothes were definitely not involved in this instance, and after that they attended court together. The daily business mostly involved a delegation from the neighbouring minor kingdom to the southwest, who were proposing a co-ordination of air patrols between the kingdoms. The idea was to avoid friendly fire and make some duristictional ground rules where, for instance, a patrol from Gi lands chased someone into Yu airspace. Sang noticed that nothing had changed between now and the last time she’d been present in this room. The ministers still ran things and made the decisions, while Kaji and Sang were expected to do nothing except look stately. It wasn’t that Kaji didn’t look interested in the proceedings at all, just that… he didn’t involve himself. Sang wondered if she should talk to him about this again when they were alone, but didn’t like the idea of returning home for a few days, watching how he ran things then telling him what she thought he should do.

There was a recess for refreshments before the third hour after noon, and it was around that time that Sang received a message from Typhenon on Wuhai.

”Don’t know how to ask politely, but you should get your father to see a healer. I believe he’s coming down with a lung infection.”

Sang thought back, remembering that her father had indeed not looked well last night. ”I’ll do my best,” she replied, knowing Satake’s opinions on physicians. “Thank you. Hope everything’s all right over there.”

Typhenon had been seated next to Sang’s mother, her father situated the place beyond that, so the Primarch would have been in a decent position to make such a comment about Satake’s health. The fact that he was telling Sang about it now, though, rather than waiting for tomorrow when he’d be back in Tokai and able to inform her personally, worried her.

After a brief exchange with Kaji, a servant was summoned to lead Sang to her parents’ apartments, which were situated in one of the castle’s towers.

"I'll be back in court soon," Sang promised, and followed the servant into Tokai's corridors.

To Be Yu

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“Queen Hida Sang,” the servant announced at the door, and Sang was rewarded with a blank look of incomprehension when she interrupted him to say that a list of her credentials would not be necessary.

Another servant raised the screen to allow her inside. The main room was dominated by her former family’s banner, which hung on the wall directly opposite the entrance. The room itself was austere, simply furnished, and decorated not with rich trinkets or expensive works of art, but with only a few personal trophies or objects of personal history: a broken helmet rested here, and over there was the shriveled claw of an oni.

Kuni Akiko emerged from an adjoining room. She was, in many ways, as simply attired as her surroundings. Though she now had the rank of ‘Queen’s Mother’, her kimono was functional and her hair in a tail rather than done up. Sang was surprised to see how much grey threaded that hair now. Her parents were barely over fifty years of age, a respectable length of time for any Yu who’d lived on the Wall. It was not unheard of for greybeard warriors to keep fighting until infirmity or an unlucky wound made them more liability than asset, but they were rare. The high mortality rate tended to ensure that older veterans were all superb fighters. Pure luck only smiled upon a bushi for so long.

Akiko bowed formally before Sang could stop her. “Majesty. To what do I owe this visit?”

“Family?” Sang suggested.

Her mother dropped the formality instantly. “Good enough for me.” A wry smile graced her battle-scarred face as she enfolded her daughter in a rough hug. “Court bores you as much as it bores everyone else?”

Sang shrugged. “I will have to get used to it. But I actually came here about Dad. Is he unwell?”

“He’s been better,” Akiko said evasively. “He is aging, after all.”

“He didn’t look very well yesterday,” Sang pointed out.

“He over-exerts himself.” Catching Sang’s look, Akiko rolled her eyes. “Not in that way, Sang.”

“I wouldn’t think there was much here to over-exert you,” Sang said. “Compared to Tosa, that is.”

Akiko sighed but smiled. “Being your parents has certain benefits.”

She refused to be put off. “Seriously. How bad is he?”

“He’s not doing too well. He doesn’t want you to know.”

“Has he seen a healer?”

“He doesn’t want them to know either.”

“Why not?”

“He is a proud old war horse. The Mountain does not Fall, eh?”

Sang sighed in exasperation. “Yeah, but even the mountain has to get patched up once in a while or there’ll be some landslides.”

“This is what I keep telling him, and there’s been more than one landslide already, believe you me. He’s gotten the rough side of my tongue more than once over it.”

“He’s been to healers before over wounds and such. Why is this any different?”

Akiko snorted. “Sang, wounds earned in battle are one thing. His own body falling apart on him is something else.”

“Perhaps I will be able to persuade him?”

Her mother nodded. “Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

“If he doesn’t, I’ll have to order a healer up here.”

“I don’t know how that’d go.”

“Neither do I,” Sang confessed, “but I’d rather he be angry than dead.”

“You’re going to have to deal with him angry.” Akiko grinned.

“Maybe it’s a good thing I won’t be around all that much then.”

“Mm. It’s never a good thing you’re not around all that often. And don’t look at me like that,” she added, “that wasn’t a stab. I’m a bushi, I don’t slink in the dark and ambush people. If I had something to say I’d say it outright.”

“I’m glad someone does.”

“I think you’re doing Kaji a disservice.” Akiko appraised her daughter a moment. “But, I also trust that you wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t have some reason that was important to you.”

Sang nodded once, her throat tight. “Thank you.”

“Hey, I’m just your Mum. You left me long ago. I’ve had years to get used to you leaving the nest and standing on the Wall and so forth.”

“Sometimes I wish I could just go back to being a kid,” Sang replied wistfully.

“It’s not the way we work,” Akiko reminded her, but not unkindly. “We accept our responsibilities, even when they work across purposes to us. I’m sure you’d love to spend all your time with him. I can see it in you how much you love him. It’s not a dirty word, even amongst samurai.”

Sang smiled. “We’re having twins.”

Akiko eyed her. “How long have you known?”

“Oh… about a week?”

“You know if you’d known any longer than that, I’d have had to box your ears.”

“Actually, I found out just after leaving Tokai last time,” Sang said without listening—or thinking. “So I’ve known for about a month.”

“I am going to have to box your ears.”

Sang winced and took a prudent step back out of reach.

“Who do you think you are,” her mum demanded, “some sort of ronin with no family and stuff?”

“I’m a bushi,” Sang protested. “I can’t just wave my hands and make messages go places!”

“You and me both. That’s what we have the Imperial Postage Service for.”

“I didn’t have one of those travelling with me.”

Akiko hmphed. “Neither here nor there.” She indicated a door with a jerk of her head. “He’s in there. He’s taking a constitutional. He’s probably asleep.”

“I guess I should get this over with.”

The older woman’s brows shot up. “You seriously want to wake him? You know what he’s like.”

“Would you put it past him to pretend he’s asleep to get out of seeing a healer?”

“You know what he’s like.”

“I grew up with him!”

“I suggest hiding behind a couch and waiting for him to get up himself.” Akiko grinned. “Then jumping out like a surprise party.”

“I should have brought more weapons,” Sang sighed, glancing down at her daisho. “Is your ten foot pole in the room?”

“I have to wake him up in the mornings, of course the pole’s in there.”

Sang grinned, nodded and went into her parents’ bedroom. There was not much light through the drawn drapes, but it didn’t take long to find the long wooden shaft near the door. Sang turned her attention towards the bed where her father Satake lay under the covers with his eyes closed. Like Akiko, he was also showing signs of age. It was weird to see. They’d always been out and active around Tosa. It was almost impossible to conceive of either parent getting old.

“Dad?” she tried.

He didn’t twitch.

“You’re not fooling me, you know,” she told him conversationally.

Satake cracked open a baleful eye. “Can’t you leave an old man to his sleep?” he growled.

“Does that mean I don’t get a hug?”

“Depends. Do I have to sit up?”

“No.”

“Then I s’pose.”

Sang came to the bedside and knelt, leaning across to embrace her father. He hugged back awkwardly from his prone position, then she sat back to regard him seriously.

“So when are you going to see a healer?”

He groaned. “She’s been on to you again, hasn’t she? She always does this!”

“It wasn’t her,” Sang said. “I have eyes, you know. Maybe I got them from her.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my eyes,” he retorted with a scowl. “It’s the damn bellows I’m worried about.”

Sang cocked an expectant brow. “Well?”

He glared. “It’s so… undignified!”

“There’s nothing undignified about getting sick.”

“There’s everything undignified about getting sick!” Satake glowered. “Especially when you’re old! You smell, you’re uncomfortable—“

“You’re sick in more places than one?” Sang interposed mildly, and grinned at his withering glance.

“I raised you too well,” her father grumbled.

“I can find one who’ll be discreet if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“They’re never discreet. They always prod you in places that aren’t meant to be prodded.”

“I mean they won’t tell anyone about it. Prodding… they are healers,” Sang reminded him. “You say it yourself!”

He let out a rattling sigh but didn’t succeed in concealing a wry smile. “All healers are tyrants.” He glowered at her again when she did nothing but smile back. “You’re doing that thing with your eyes again.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“You know, that thing you do with your eyes when you want me to do something.”

“Oh.” Sang grinned. “You mean this?” And she gave him the most insincere, pleading face she could manage without fluttering her lashes.

“Yes, that. And if I’m not lucky the bloody lower lip will start up, and then you’ll get some lip from me, little girl.”

She laughed. “Don’t worry. I haven’t done that in a while.”

“Damn straight. Don’t think that just because you’re beddin’ his lordship”—Sang blushed—“that you’re not going to get the rough side of my temper. You can hide behind your spunky Makoto-haired so-and-so all you like—“

“Mum said I could use the ten foot pole.”

Satake broke off with a growl. “Your mother and her bloody ten foot pole.” He paused. “I get the feeling you’re not going to stop badgering me about this until I do it.”

Sang smiled innocently. “No,” she agreed.

“Fine! Fix me up with someone.”

“I knew you’d see things my way.” Sang leaned over and kissed him on the forehead.

“Now can I go back to sleep?” he demanded.

“All right!”

“Thank you.” His hand suddenly caught her sleeve as she made to rise. “Thank you,” he repeated gravely. “You’re too good for a stubborn old man. Now get your arse out of here. I’m tired.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

“Yes, yes. Hasn’t anybody told you,” he called when she reached the door, “that it’s not very Yu to go around hugging people?”

Sang grinned back at him. “That’s why I’m doing it in private.”

He grunted. “Sounds like some of that Makoto fluffery.”

Sang slid the screen door closed. She guessed it was out of character for her to go around seeking hugs from her parents like this. Her father obviously blamed Kaji for teaching her bad habits, but really she’d been getting more hugs from Typhenon than anyone else during the past month. Then there’d been Elona, and it was hard to compare the embrace of a goddess to anything else. Hugging wasn’t… unpleasant, but it usually implied vulnerability, a need for comfort from someone else, and in that respect it wasn’t Yu. Or, at least, it wasn’t what the current Silverstari impression of Yu was, so it was not only not done but spurned even. Yu were supposed to be strong, to stand firm against anything or die on their feet. To seek comfort from another was to admit weakness.

The Yu version of a friendly hug was a punch to the shoulder. Even amongst family.

For some reason Sang found herself thinking that Lord Yu wouldn’t object to people hugging.

“I can tell from the general volume that you talked him into it,” Akiko said.

Sang glanced back then crossed the room to join her mother at the low table. “We were that loud?”

“He bellows like a thunderstorm.” Akiko smiled wryly as her daughter laughed.

“I’ve missed you two.”

“Yeah, we miss you too.”

“You’re not bored here, are you?”

“Yes.” Akiko sighed. “Desperately bored. I’m not old enough to be retired. But he’s latched on to us like a… well, don’t think I’m speaking ill of him, but he’s latched on to us like a starving puppy.”

“He did lose his dad—“ Sang began.

“Everyone loses their dad!”

“—and his mother’s just gone.”

“Yeah, well, like he said,” Akiko replied, indicating the bedroom door, “’Makoto fluffery’. Everyone loses their dad, their whole families. It’s the Wall! He should grow some—and again, don’t think I’m speaking ill of your darling husband, but he should grow some balls, suck it up and get on with it, in my not too delicate opinion. He’s got too much of his mum in him. And people are saying it too, it’s not just me.”

“Do we even know what his mum was like?” Sang protested. “She disappeared practically the day after we arrived! All I knew about her was that she’s Makoto.”

“That’s enough,” Akiko said. “He’s a weak and womanl—“ She stopped short. “That was unbecoming.”

Sang couln’t find words to reply. It was very hard to not think her mother was speaking ill of Kaji when she said things like that.

But… isn’t that how I’m supposed to be thinking too? Isn’t it ‘Yu’?

Kaji did go hard after his father and brothers were killed and his mother left. I saw it, and…I hugged him. I hugged him… Is this my fault? Should I have let him be that way?

No. Fortunes, no. That’s stupid.

No.

“I lost two fathers and you didn’t hear me blubbing around the place,” Akiko was saying. “I’m half tempted to think that all your father needs is to get back on the Wall and…” she left it hanging.

“They won’t let you back on the Wall?” Sang asked, surprised.

“Won’t let me get within fives miles of the damn place. I mean, it’s not a picnic up there, but that’s the point, that’s what we do. We defend the Wall.”

“Is this some sort of legality of your status now, or just something he wants?”

Akiko shrugged a nod. “Just something he wants. It’s like he’s picked us up as a surrogate family.”

“I can talk to him if you want.”

“Yeah, but that sounds an awful lot like defying the king,” Akiko sighed, “which is also something we don’t do.”

“Yeah, but you should be allowed outside once in a while,” Sang said, and, hearing what that came out sounding like, laughed.

Akiko regarded her chortling offspring with irritated amusement. “Trust you to find the light side of everything. You’re too young to be gloomy.”

Sang settled down and smiled a bit sadly. “I often feel like I’ve been nothing but gloomy these past months,” she confessed. “There’s never enough to smile about.”

“We’re getting too old. We should have died on the Wall by now.”

Sure, and that comment was going to make her smile. “I’m glad you didn’t,” Sang replied.

“I don’t know. I’m sure your father would rather that than hock his lungs up in a bed somewhere.”

“Speaking of which.” Sang beckoned a servant over and told him to fetch a physician who specialised in lung infections. When he’d scurried off, Sang regarded her mother again. “You could just go riding or something. You don’t have to go fighting daemons unless you really want to.”

“Of course we really want to,” Akiko retorted sourly. “The ever expanding bunions upon our bee-hives and yet another bloody painting lesson.”

“You’re painting?”

“Well I have to do bloody something.”

“There are sparring rooms. You could probably teach some of the warriors a thing or two.”

“As best I can.” Akiko’s smile was wry. “Makoto fluffery.”

So he was keeping them locked up so they wouldn’t get so much as a scraped knee. She’d have to talk to him about it. Sang was the last person who wanted to see her parents injured or killed, but she didn’t want them to be unhappy either, and they wouldn’t be enjoying their lives until they were risking them. Much like their daughter, all they really knew and were good at was fighting. To take that away removed their very reason for existing, and no number of painting lessons, days in court or idle evenings of leisure could replace it.

“It’s unseemly, having a son-in-law who’s so…”

“Affectionate?” Sang supplied.

“Yes. Affectionate.” Akiko said the word with a certain amount of disdain. “It’s just… unseemly.”

“Mum…” Sang sighed. “You could try the affection on for size. You might find that you like it.”

“Already finding I don’t. Too much touching. Not in public, thank goodness, but just about every chance he gets in private.”

“Maybe he likes you.”

“The last person I liked I punched in the face.”

“You mean Dad?”

“Yes.” Akiko grinned briefly, then leaned forward. “I think you need to have a serious talk with that boy. He’s too fluffy.”

“I kind of like the fluff,” Sang said, half-apologetically.

“Yeah, but he’s got millions of subjects who don’t like the fluff.”

“I’ll talk to him, but…” Sang met her mother’s gaze, not trying to hide her discomfit. She didn’t want to change Kaji. Not much, at least. She might be happier if he took more control of his court rather than let things happen around him, but she loved his affection. The thought that the kingdom might expect her to beat him into some hardened Yu ideal of the the perfect warrior king actually distressed her.

“He’s a good kid,” Akiko assured her, “but he’s… not very Yu.”

“Maybe the Yu just have to get used to him.”

“Maybe he’ll get a bit more manly once you’ve popped.”

“And maybe then the court won’t be so protective of him risking his neck,” Sang countered.

Akiko snorted. “He is in charge. He can tell the court where to stick it.”

“True,” Sang murmured, and let it drop there. She had the feeling that no matter how Kaji did things, people would get upset. He couldn’t go sword-swinging on the wall or there’d be an uproar about the last of the bloodline risking himself (unborn children notwithstanding), yet if he stayed in Tokai attending court there’d be grumblings that he wasn’t out swinging a sword. Whether or not it sounded whiny, Sang was tempted to point out how unfair it was. She knew, though, that her mother would be firmly on the sword-swinging fence.

“Enough about that,” Akiko said, catching Sang’s desire for a change of subject. “Tell me what you’ve been up to. You,” she added, singling out a servant with her gaze. “Tea. Now.”

**

“Travelling with Typhenon.”

“Oh, that thing.”

“I don’t suppose our daim—… Samariku… ever said why he sent me off?”

“Save the gaijin, save the world? Pretty much what it boiled down to.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do.”

“It’s a big prophecy or something.”

“Prophecy? First I’ve heard of it. Didn’t think those things existing. Really existed, you know.”

Akiko smiled sardonically. “The rest of the family,” she said, waving a hand flamboyantly to indicate she meant the dominant shugenja part of the Kuni house, “think that so long as we know which side of a sword to point at the enemy we don’t need to know how to read. It’s damned near insulting sometimes. But I suppose you could see why he didn’t tell you. Probably thought you wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

“Hrm.”

“Pity he turned into a vampire or something.”

Sang leaned forward intently. “Have you heard something?”

“No, but I can put two and two together. Never something you get used to, but it’s something you learn how to live with, family being taken by the Shadowlands.” She made a dismissive motion. “So this gaijin thing. Flitting about doing what?”

“Saving the world?”

“I suppose that’s something.”

“Destroying the Shadowlands.”

Any other Yu might have laughed her out of the room with such a casual claim, but her mother took it in stride, as though doing something like that would be perfectly within Sang’s capabilities. “Can’t argue with that. And you’ve recovered the Blade,” she noted with a level of reverence.

“I should have brought it here so you could have a closer look.”

“It’s not a trinket to be passed around.”

“I know it’s not but…” Sang hesitated, not knowing how to approach the fact that Lord Yu’s spirit was within the weapon. Samurai often named their weapons, even treated them like living beings. The katana especially, as the soul half of the daisho, were to be handled with respect and apologised to it they were knocked accidentally against a table. “I just wanted to introduce you, I suppose.”

“I’d be honoured,” Akiko said seriously, her usual rough manner of speech gone. “I really would.”

“After tea then, perhaps.”

“Speaking of,” Akiko said as the servant returned with a tray, two chawan and a steaming teapot. “Leave the pot,” the bushi added after tea was poured, and the boy returned to a corner in the room.

Sang turned her cup, picked it up, sipped and let out a satisfied sigh. It was a blend she didn’t have in her small travelling collection, full-flavoured and robust. “One thing I haven’t been able to teach my companions is how to make tea. I believe a couple of them actually came close to burning a kitchen down. Boiling water isn’t supposed to be that difficult.”

“It’s an art,” Akiko said, and unceremoniously threw back the ocha in a single swallow.

Sang gave her a reproving look and shook her head. “I spent too much time around the daimyo,” she murmured, taking another demure sip.

“Makoto fluffery.” Akiko smirked.

“He was Yu! I suppose he thought someone in our family should have a bit of exposure to true civilisation.”

“So when am I going to have a chance to corner him behind closed doors?”

“Who?”

“This gaijin of yours.”

“Why?” Sang asked suspiciously. “What do you intend to do to him?”

Her mother laughed. “Nothing permanent,” she promised.

“He’s been taking good care of me.”

“Well, that’s something at least.”

“He’s a skilled healer. He’s been making sure the babies are all right. Regularly. Very regularly. Making sure I’m eating.”

“Damn straight.”

Sang tilted her head thoughtfully, reconsidering all the things Typhenon had done for her. “Maybe you could do something permanent to him. For me.”

“If he’s keeping my grandchildren alive, he’ll get a good motherly punch from me!”

It was Sang’s turn to laugh. “He won’t understand that, but it’ll do. Try not to break too many bones.”

“I’ll try. What about the rest of them? Or is it just the two of you? That’s a little bit, er…” She raised her brows suggestively.

“There’s another. You didn’t see him today but he was here last time. You probably saw him in a black kimono?” Sang tried, after failing to remember if Kukulkan had even introduced himself previously.

“Oh, that creepy one.” Akiko nodded. “What’s up with that?”

Sang took a long sip, stared thoughtfully at the roof for a second, then said, “He’s a kami.”

“Oh, we are keeping good company, aren’t we?”

“He doesn’t like to let it be known, but…” Sang smiled. Kukulkan wasn’t likely to thank her for identifying him as a spirit, but being amongst family again and not having to guard how she expressed herself had rekindled her childhood mischief.

“So you, the gaijin and the kami.”

“And Maiko, of course. Governess of Wuhai.”

“Oh, that one. The pirate.”

“Just because she sailed a ship doesn’t make her a pirate.”

“It almost makes her one by definition,” Akiko pointed out. “She’s a Jin and she sails a ship.”

“She hasn’t done much sailing recently.”

“So she’s an unemployed pirate,” her mother amended in exasperation.

“She did help to stop a very large daemon uprising on that island! Most of the defences were her idea.”

“And I seem to remember one of our juggernauts being sent down for that.”

Sang shrugged. “That’s more because the Jin king sent some sort of letter..?”

“Yes, yes,” Akiko sighed. “I had to pat the poor bastard on the back. No, he’s not that bad,” she apologised, catching Sang’s look. “It’s not like he went blubbing as soon as one of the other boys called him a name, but…”

Sang felt her heart sink. “Maybe he does need a bit of toughening up,” she conceded reluctantly. “I don’t know how to do it, though. I’m new to the whole married thing. I mean… how do you tell someone they have to toughen up without—“

“Punching them in the face?”

“Yes!”

“I would have suggested punching him in the face,” Akiko said dryly. “Marriage is like battle. You turn up fully armed, you tell him what you want out of it and what you expect, and then the two of you bash heads until something happens. It’s fairly simple, all things considered.”

“My head’s hurting just thinking about it,” Sang muttered.

“Drink your tea.”

“Yes, Mum.”

“We did a lot of travelling in the south. There was a ruined city. Came close to dying a few times.”

“It happens,” Akiko said, unconcerned.

“Nothing unusual,” Sang agreed, feigning her own casualness. She wasn’t supposed to spill her guts, even to her family. Realising that’s exactly what she wanted to do shocked her like icy water to the face. She couldn’t tell them she’d been scared out of her wits by illusions and nightmares, by things that weren’t even real. She definitely couldn’t tell them about R. She’d been around Typhenon for too long. He kept inviting her to talk about things, to share her worries. He’d done it so often that here she now was, wanting to talk about her fears to someone she knew loved her, but… that sort of thing wasn’t done. It was shameful. She should have been angry at Typhenon for influencing her so much, but all she could feel was a profound sadness that, as a proper Yu, she couldn’t seek comfort from her own mother.

Two months ago she had lamented being elevated to royalty because it forever separated her from camaraderie amongst the less exalted samurai. Now she wondered if her association with Typhenon and all those connected to the Three would distance her from her own family. She got the feeling this was one of those things they wanted her to try and change about her people, but for now… she felt like a stranger in a foreign land.

How have I changed so much? What happened to me?

Influences

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“You could be more involved in it,” Sang told Kaji.

They were in their rooms preparing for bed, and it was the other side of midnight. After a few more minutes with her mother she’d returned to court and spent the next few hours observing politics in silence. It would have been marginally more interesting if she could have done something besides sit there.

“I wouldn’t know what to do,” Kaji replied.

“You could learn. Don’t those ministers know everything that’s going on?”

“That’s why they’re doing everything.”

“Get them to inform you before the audiences.”

“If I make one wrong decision then the Meyio are trampling all over us.”

“So you make one wrong decision.” Sang shrugged. “Everyone makes wrong decisions.”

“I’m must more likely to make wrong decisions uneducated as I am.”

“That’s why I suggested you get some information on the subjects before they appear in court.”

Kaji let out a long sigh. “Maybe I should go to the capital and take that exam thing,” he said at last. “Study for a while. The governorship exam.”

“You could. I think it’d be a good idea. Once whatever daemon that’s influencing it is taken care of.”

“Once you’ve dealt with that,” he agreed with a smile.

“But in the meantime you could still find some things out,” Sang went on, not intending for him to just keep kicking back while she was away.

He didn’t look too enthusiastic, but nodded. “Yeah… it makes sense.” He glanced down at her. “Don’t look at me like that, all pensive.”

“I have to,” she said, allowing a small smile.

“Why do you ‘have to’?”

“I have to be encouraging. It’s one of my wifely duties. I can’t just let you let things go on as they are without involving yourself.”

Kaji had an arm around her shoulders, and his hand began to slide a long caress down her bare shoulder. “I can think of all sorts of other wifely duties you owe me,” he murmured with an openly lecherous smile.

Sang felt herself beginning to smile back, then caught herself and pulled gently but firmly away. “No getting me away from the point.”

He raised a brow. “I suppose making some crass comment about points at the moment would be… crass.”

“I can punch you.”

“If you insist,” he replied, still smiling.

Sang gave up. “I like your face as it is. I don’t want to rearrange it too much.” She waited.

Kaji regarded his wife, then also gave in. “Once the ambassadors have left I’ll co-opt the prime minister and get a crash course from him.”

It was a start. She nodded. “Good.”

“Now can I make some crass comment about points?”

“Not just yet,” she told him, and heartlessly ignored his groan. “There was one other thing I wanted to ask of you. Let my parents outside once in a while, will you?”

“I’m not doing anything to your parents,” he protested.

“They feel cooped up.”

“They’re old. Er.”

“They’re Wall warriors.”

“They’ll get killed!”

“They might get killed,” Sang conceded, the words coming automatically and without emotion. “People get killed up there all the time—“

“I know,” Kaji interrupted with a slight frown. “I know people get killed up there all the time.”

They looked at each other for a moment. “They want to be doing something,” Sang said.

“I”ll give them a position in the government.”

“They don’t want—“ Sang broke off and eyed her husband. “Do you want a position in the government?”

“I want a position in the government more than I want to be on the Wall,” Kaji said, then looked aghast. He glanced swiftly at Sang then away, clearly horrified he’d spoken those words aloud.

Only a madman would be unafraid to fight on the Wall. There is no shame in admitting to fear, no matter what the current perceptions of what the Perfect Yu is.

“I know what you mean—“

“I didn’t say that.” Kaji looked at her again. Despite his flustered appearance, he spoke commandingly: “As King, I order you that I didn’t say that.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” Sang murmured, but dryly. “Look, I don’t want to be on the Wall either—“

“But you are Magnificent Sang, possessor of the Blade and…” Kaji waved a hand, trying to come up with another title to tack on. “Oni smusher,” he said finally.

“How much have I been on the Wall since getting the Blade?”

“Yes, but you’ve been doing all sorts of other things.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly.

He gave her a look halfway between exasperation and annoyance. “The same thing that was wrong with me last time you asked.”

“Refresh my memory.”

“I’m not cut out for this, I was never schooled towards any idea of leadership, and I expected to spend the rest of my time in taverns and so forth. The black sheep of the family. And now I am thrust into responsibility with no idea of how I am meant to perform and…” he shrugged and sat down. “It’s not getting any better. So basically the same thing that was wrong last time. And the same thing that’ll be wrong the next time you ask me what’s wrong. And probably the time after that.”

Sang studied him in silence for a second or two. Afraid of fighting and governing. “You have Nobutada with you now, though, right? That’s his name?”

“He’s only so entertaining.” Kaji shrugged. “He can’t stand in for me in official functions or anything like that.”

“Does he know anything about governing?”

“He knows more about sailing than governing. And more about women than that.”

“Really?” Sang asked before she could stop herself.

“I’ve noticed he hasn’t been around much lately…”

They were getting sidetracked. Sang tried to think of something this man was confident with. “You do know how to fight,” she said, deciding to work against his feeling that he was a coward. “You’ve been in the Shadowlands, you fought on Wuhai.”

“I’ve done that,” he agreed. Then he said, “I did it to be close to you.”

“Could you have honestly lived your life going from tavern to tavern?” Sang asked before the ache in her heart could pull her off track. “Happily?”

Kaji regarded her a moment. “I’ve got the feeling this is the sort of question that if I answer it incorrectly you’re not going to be happy with me.”

“No. I’m just curious.”

Is there any ambition? Anything you wanted to achieve or do?

“Would I be happy not fighting and dying on the Wall? Yes.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“I like drinking. I like women. I like enjoying myself. I like not being stabbed repeatedly. So yes, I was looking forward to… I don’t know, a diplomatic post somewhere? Third son, it’s all I would have been good for. Married off to secure some sort of political alliance. Goodness knows how I ended up with you,” he added with a broad grin that widened with his next remark: “Maybe they thought some of you would rub off on me.”

“Kaji…” she rolled her eyes, and ended up with her gaze resting on Lord Yu’s Blade standing in one corner. Even as the thought came to her she didn’t know if it would achieve anything. At worst, nothing would happen, so there was nothing to lose by trying. “Do you want to hold it?” she asked.

“What am I holding?” Following her gaze, he quickly added, “I don’t think it’d be the kind of thing I want to hold.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll probably catch fire.”

A chill ran down her spine. “You won’t catch fire,” she told him adamantly.

“It’s usually the way things go in legends,” Kaji continued unwisely. “The unworthy are—“

“If you keep talking like that I will punch you.” When he glanced back to her, perhaps noticing her tone this time, she forced a sly smile. “Don’t make me do my trembling lower lip thing.”

“You’re a devious, horrible woman at times.”

“My dad said much the same thing.”

“Your dad’s an irascible so-and-so at times,” Kaji muttered. “Fine! I’ll fondle the Blade…”

He stood, adjusted his loincloth and rolled his shoulders a bit, as though preparing to dive into something unpleasant as boldly as possible. Sang watched as he approached the Blade, hoping for… she didn’t exactly know. For Lord Yu to say encouraging words, or make him feel better. Maybe he needed a dose of Jin’s bubbles.

“Please don’t kill me, Lord Yu,” she heard him breathe, and then he gingerly extended a hand towards the guan dao’s haft. He flinched minutely when his fingertips connected with the wood, but once it was clear he was not going to be struck down for that he went on to wrap his hand around the handle.

Then he jerked back, wrenching away with a shocked expression.

“Something the matter?” Sang asked, forcing back her uncertainties.

“Does it… talk to you?”

“Ah, that. Yes.”

“That’s good,” Kaji said in the same oddly pitched voice. “I’m glad. Can we have sex now?”

“What did he say?”

“He said I’m doing a good job.”

Sang felt herself relax. “Then why are you looking so petrified?”

“It talked to me!”

She smiled a little. “I’d have warned you if I thought you’d believe me.”

Kaji took a calming breath. “I shouldn’t be that surprised. All things considered, it was a bit of a shock.” He paused. “I’m having a drink.” He went to a small table and poured himself a shot of sake, then a second one. Sang, preparing to get up if he went for a third drink, watched as he set the glass down. His face was to the wall. “Well, I suppose I can say something,” he said. “He thinks I’m doing a good job.” His voice was very soft and Sang could hear a faint trembling in it.

“You shouldn’t have doubted it,” Sang said, almost as quietly.

“I’ve got every reason to doubt it.”

“Not now.”

Kaji nodded a bit. “Not now.”

**

It wasn’t long after that that they were lying together on the futon, their hearts slowing from a thunder. Sang snuggled closer into her husband’s embrace, one of her hands on the back of his where it lay against her belly. It was rare moments like these when she actually felt happy.

She wished that she didn’t have to leave, that he wouldn’t have to go on alone again. Perhaps it wouldn’t be as hard for him now, though. Lord Yu’s words had been better than she’d hoped for. After all, if he told Kaji he was doing a good job then it mattered not at all what some subject calling himself a Yu said, did it?

What we think it means to be Yu is not what it used to mean; what Lord Yu intended it to mean. We idealised courage, strength against darkness, protecting others, but in time those concepts became harsher and we became… hard. Even brutal, sometimes.

It was never meant to be about spurning those we deemed weaker, or sneering at the fearful. It was never about… excluding everything else, like compassion, and being only what we defined as strong.

In the darkness, her free hand smoothed a stream of hair that flowed across the pillow beneath her cheek. Most of it was hers, but mingled with the black tresses were white strands that shone almost silver in the night.

Makoto, Yu or something in between, why is it important? You are probably closer to what Lord Yu and the other Saving Gods originally wanted the Silverstari to be like.

…perhaps this marriage was so that you would rub off on me.

Changes

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With the exception of her companions and Maiko’s Makoto advisor Shayu arriving in the morning, the next day passed almost normally. After sending the group to be entertained by her parents, she and Kaji received them in a large room that looked like it was reserved for displaying a good number of the gifts the Yu capital had received over the years. There was a minor faux pas when Maiko declined to kowtow when brought into the presence of the Yu King and Queen (only Shayu observed that piece of etiquette, and neither Typhenon, a gaijin, nor Kukulkan, ostensibly a Silverstari peasant due to his lack of daisho, were expected to be cultured enough to know about it). The apparent disrespect didn’t go unnoticed amongst the servants, some of whom looked disapproving or resentful before they were all dismissed with a wave of Kaji’s hand. Kaji himself made no comment. Sang didn’t either, but she couldn’t help feeling disappointed in the Jin woman. She couldn’t understand why Maiko was so averse to observing the proper forms for appearance’s sake.

At this point I’m almost willing to believe she doesn’t know what the proper forms are.

They sat down together to eat a midmorning meal and talked, at first about inconsequential things, but then about the journey to Nakashibetsu. After some discussion about distance and means of travel, it was decided they go by dragon. Kaji also suggested they take Isadora when them, as she would be departing Tokai for the same destination in only a few days. The Epiach diplomat was summoned and, after a back and forth between her and Kaji where she remained as formal and polite as though she considered no one in the room a friend, she accepted the offer to travel with the group to Nakashibetsu. She left the room immediately afterwards, but became the subject of debate at the table.

“That is a very different young woman,” Typhenon murmured sadly, and Sang nodded.

“It will be a four hour flight to Nakashibetsu,” was the bushi’s dry response. “She has to talk some time.”

“And every chance of accidents,” Kaji said, in a voice so serious that Sang glanced at him in surprise and one of Maiko’s brows went up.

“What?” Typhenon asked, looking slightly shocked.

“Pardon?” Kaji blinked, then, as though realising what he’d just said, reached for the teapot. “Would anyone like another drink?”

“No thanks,” the Primarch said in a flat voice.

“She can’t have changed that much,” Sang said, trying to relax. “Beyond changing back, I mean.”

“Not yet,” Kukulkan said ominously.

“She is tainted,” Maiko added. “Not by the Shadowlands.”

“I know that,” Sang replied, a tad impatiently.

Come on, people. You’re so certain you can change R, aren’t you? Why should Isadora be a hopeless case?

“It’s seeping into her.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me either.”

“But if she’s willing,” Maiko persisted, “I may be willing to remove it with Jin’s aid.”

Typhenon sighed. “What if she’s not?”

“If she’s not, maybe an accident should occur,” the Jin said.

Sang’s glared, but not as angrily as she might have. “Don’t even suggest that.”

Kaji’s offhand, almost accidental suggestion had shocked her, but Maiko’s calm seconding of the idea was worse. It incensed her. How dare Isadora be judged so harshly when someone like R, who’d doubtless done worse and for longer, was coddled? Because R had once been a wondrous warrior for good and he’d be a great asset if he was converted, while Isadora was somehow less worth the trouble? Sang had mentioned the comparison between the two before Isadora had been summoned, to which Maiko had basically said that she trusted R more due to the fact that the elf had never wronged her, while she was sure Isadora had been up to something with members of her crew in the past.

Even though Maiko had doubtlessly been correct about Isadora’s activities, Sang did not think it was fair. The friendship she still held for the girl (who had fought at her side both before and after her change) combined with the injustice that R be thought more highly of only made her want to defend Isadora more fiercely. There was also a part of her deep down that felt hurt, bitter and angry that, even after she’d spoken of R’s plan for her children, Maiko’s trust in him was apparently as strong as ever.

How can I know the truth, know that we’re safe from him, and still feel so much like a wounded animal? Will I let it poison my friendships as well, now?

Sang let out a long breath, shook her head and tried to soften her tone. “If you think you can change Isadora back, Maiko, then hopefully she will accept. I don’t see why she wouldn’t.”

Maiko made an unconvinced sort of sound, but said, “Indeed.”

“Well, you’ll have time to talk to her,” Kaji said, “on the flight or beforehand. Perhaps if you went and talked to her and I stayed behind… With me in the room she can retreat behind the expected level of formality. Without me there, that façade becomes a little more untenable.”

“I’ll approach her later,” Sang said, “see how it goes.”

“Would you like me to go along as well?” Typhenon asked.

Sang considered, then shook her head. “I think if too many people go she’ll feel… outnumbered.”

“She has a whole house full of people.”

“Yes, but—“

“I know,” Typhenon interrupted. “It’s different.”

“She’s afraid of Kukulkan,” Maiko said suddenly.

“Who isn’t, in one way or another?” Sang remarked with a wry smile at where the shapeshifter sat.

Maiko pressed her point. “She’s very afraid of Kukulkan. And very good at hiding it.”

“Probably something to do with what she’s turning into,” Typhenon explained.

Sang looked back to Kukulkan. “I trust you’re not going to do anything permanent to her?” she asked, and had to force the next words: “Unless the situation demands it?”

“If the situation demands it I will have to,” Kukulkan said. “But not before.”

Sang nodded to his words, which sounded odd without the sibilance customary to his Shyless form. No matter Kukulkan’s eagerness to open fire at enemies before they’d even personally made a threatening gesture, she knew he could control himself… just so long as Isadora could do the same.

*

Kaji and Sang eventually had to leave to attend court where the delegation from Zhengdang was still haggling with the Yu about who would have jurisdiction over border violations. By the time it turned to evening neither side had agreed on anything, and the meeting was adjourned until the next morning. Sang found her fists itching to beat heads against each other as she and Kaji swept regally from the hall. There were more important things to discuss than whose naginata was the longer.

That thought, minus the comparison in weapon lengths, was forefront in her mind during dinner and after she and Kaji retired to their rooms. There were plenty of things she thought needed to be changed, but not everything could be done straight away. Other things would have to be done subtly to avoid an uproar, and being delicate wasn’t one of her strengths. It was early in the morning when she fell asleep, where, after much pondering on which of the many changes would be beneficial to the most people, she drifted off on the subject of how one could ban the abhorrent practise of herding peasants or eta into the Shadowlands as bait to tempt recalcitrant oni into showing themselves.

*

Kaji gently woke her the next morning.

“You’re giving me bad habits,” Sang muttered after realising, having burrowed into the blankets at her husband’s initial attempts to rouse her, how reluctant she was to actually rise.

“What bad habits?” he asked.

“Sleeping in.”

“It’s seven in the morning.”

“Oh.” Sang eyed him, then remembered that until recently she’d been in the habit of rising at dawn almost an hour earlier than this. “I mean, exactly.” He made a face at her as she rose into a sitting position, then she asked, still not quite awake, “Why are we getting up? Why am I getting up?”

“We’re due in court,” he replied, as though it should have been obvious.

“In the morning?”

“Yes. I just don’t attend the morning sessions. At least, not until now.” He grinned. “I thought I’d surprise them a little.”

“Hm.” Sang rubbed sleep from her eyes and looked at her husband thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose you know anything about making proposals and not just listening to whatever is being presented by others?”

“What do you mean about making proposals?”

“Instigating changes.”

He raised a curious brow. “Did you have something in mind?”

“Mm. Actually. I was thinking about that… practise of herding civilians outside the Wall as a lure for oni. Do you know about that one?”

He looked sombre. “Yes.”

“It’s probably… well, if it’s quiet in the Shadowlands along the Wall as I’ve heard it is at this point in time, it’s probably become more commonplace recently.” She paused, he nodded and she continued. “It’s not a legalised thing so it wouldn’t be as though you were changing an existing law, but there could be a law made against it.” Again she hesitated but this time he didn’t reply. “It wouldn’t be popular with some,” she admitted, turning her attention to noble public opinion, “but it might impress others who dislike the practise.”

Certainly the ones we’d want to impress, I suppose. Those who don’t like it can go f—

“Don’t take this the wrong way of course, love, but they are peasants,” Kaji said. “I mean, a lot of people will—“ he broke off and lifted both palms to forestall Sang’s interruption when he noticed his wife had started to swell like an angry fugu. He went on after she quietly subsided. “A lot of people will quote the concept of the Celestial Order that we operate in: eta, peasants, samurai, Emperor, Heaven, that it’s our right as samurai to do that, you would be infringing on a noble right, and in fact blaspheming against Heaven by taking that right away.”

“Perhaps,” Sang remarked, a touch of acid in her voice, “if these people were Silverstari and not Yu. Isn’t it sort of cowardly to herd out defenceless civilians, peasants or whatnot, instead of going out yourself?”

Kaji gazed at her for a moment then wandered to a table at one side of the room, shaking his head. He poured himself a small glass of alcohol, and Sang could easily pick up the strong scent of the drink from where she sat.

“It’s a bit early for that, isn’t it?” she asked, hiding her worry that she was not only failing to convince him about her idea, but driving him to drink at seven in the morning.

“It’ll wake me up,” Kaji assured her, and poured the stuff down his throat with a grimace. “All right.” He began to pace. “Eta by definition are outside the social order, which means they are free for others to do to them as they wish. Peasants are usually too valuable. Why drive twenty peasants off their land when they could be growing rice? Nobody cares about poets and undertakers and things like that.” He stopped, looked at the wall in front of him, then turned around and paced back again. “If they’re outside the social order, could cre… could create an edict that they are the property of the king.” He halted again, blinked, then clapped his hands once. An excited light had come to his eyes. “It works! Create an edict that all eta are property of the king! If I own them, any noble considering doing that”—he gestured at Sang—“requires my express permission!”

Sang stared at her husband in surprise. That idea would never have occurred to her. Even if it had she didn’t think she could have suggested it herself. She didn’t like the idea of owning people as though they were pieces of furniture or livestock, but couldn’t deny that if claiming them as property right now could spare any lives then the idea shouldn’t be dismissed just because of her sensitivities.

Kaji was still pacing, though with increased energy. “And of course, given that I and our children will be raised to consider that practise abhorrent, there won’t be issues of the king mass herding people out—it works, it actually works!”

It would work, at least for the moment. Neither Kaji nor Sang could really vouch for how their children or grandchildren would be like when they came to rule, but then who knew how long the ruling class would be around considering the wars that were coming? And maybe some day the eta could be protected without having to be owned. Maybe they could just be seen as people.

“It’s no affront to the Celestial Order or any noble rights or anything like that because the eta by definition are outside society. They won’t gain any status or anything like that, but as my exclusive property—“ Kaji stopped midsentence, realising something else, “—and they won’t be able to be randomly killed anymore either, because doing that would be destroying the king’s property! Not murder, but still… still more rights than they currently have at the moment.”

“More protection,” Sang corrected, staring in admiration now. She hadn’t even considered the samurai’s right to strike and kill a lower ranked person who affronted them. It was something she knew needed to be remedied, but it flowed over all castes; it wasn’t only eta who suffered from it.

“More protection,” he agreed. “Killing an eta would be destroying my property, which would be punishable.”

“It also means,” Sang cautioned, “that if you own them, you’re responsible for crimes they commit.”

Kaji’s stride checked as he considered that. “True,” he said reluctantly. Then he waved a hand and kept striding across the room. “That is true but it’s not important. I’m happy to suffer any problem that they cause. Eta are expected to do certain things which are considered dishonourable or criminal. I mean, by becoming my property they can’t be summarily killed for their actions, which means they will have to be tried like any person would be. It’s more than they have now.” He grinned suddenly. “It works!” He paced some more, thinking. “You’re right, of course,” he said. “There will be some people where, say, their crops fail and they can’t pay their tithes so their lord might…” he made a motion in the general direction of the Wall. “That’s something we’ll have to work on, but for now at least the vast majority of people who are suffering we can in one fell swoop fix all of that!” He clapped again, then looked at his wife. “You’ll have to do it.”

They argued a little bit on that point. Sang wanted Kaji to do this, as it would be an active move and it might gain him respect in certain quarters. Kaji countered that he, as the king, had to be present for the ongoing discussions about aerial defense jurisdiction and it would be too much of an affront for him to not attend or suddenly introduce his own pet proposal. Sang objected that the other court was just going around in circles, and when she asked her husband how he thought that whole business could end they got into a debate about what outcome would be appreciated by both sides. After some discussion, Kaji brought up that he was sure that the Zhengdang were holding out so much for the sake of pride rather than any desire for the jurisdiction that was being argued over, as they wouldn’t want to go along with the Yu’s assumption of authority too easily.

“If we push forward with Yu authority it would satisfy those puffing peacocks in the room,” Kaji decided. “The Zhengdang are just arguing to get as much as they can before giving in. If we can offer them tokens of our esteem, trade concessions or something like that to sweeten it a little…”

“Perhaps,” Sang agreed dubiously. “But how long will the court argue about what’s an appropriate deal?”

“We don’t call it a treaty or anything because that will cause more arguments,” Kaji said, “we just call it a gift. In exchange for recognising our jurisdictional supremacy in this matter,” he added, taking on a more formal cadence, “we will offer you this as a token of our esteem.” He smiled at Sang. “Then it’s a gift, and they can’t argue a gift. It would be impolite!”

She bowed her head thoughtfully. “Well, if you’re sure they’re just arguing for pride and don’t really want jurisdiction—“

“I’m positive. I’m sure they’re just doing this so they’re not seen as capitulating too early and too easily.”

“—then that is probably the best idea.”

Kaji nodded, pacing a few more quick steps. “I’m just going to have to talk to someone, maybe get the Zhengdang minister alone and…” He stopped, struck by another idea. “I”ll have him for breakfast!”

“Not literally, I hope,” Sang commented without thinking.

“No, no, no!” Kaji swung to face her and Sang’s eyes widened when she saw the sudden pallor of his face and realised what memory her words had provoked: their wedding feast.

“I’m sorry,” she apologised quickly, getting up. “I’d mercifully forgotten about that.”

“I wish I—“ he cut off, then came over and hugged her, kissing the top of her head. “It’s all right. It’s all right… I’ll invite him to breakfast. We’ll talk about his country, I’ll express a level of genteel and kingly interest in the nature of his land, and through that I can get an idea of economy, their culture, what they can produce and I can better guage a gift that will be advantageous to them.”

Sang smiled. “You’d better move quickly then, or you’ll miss breakfast.”

Kaji snorted and released her. “I’m already up four hours before I usually am, that’s plenty of hours left in the day. And while I’m doing this, you can present that proposal of yours—“

“I thought the idea was that you could get the Zhendang matter done quickly so you could present this proposal!”

“I might be able to present the proposal in two or three days time,” Kaji told her. “On the other hand you could do it now. Today. This morning. You’ll probably need to draw a minister aside to draft the proposal in legalese so it’ll be official, but that shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours. Then you could present it and be done by lunch time!” When Sang continued to look reluctant, Kaji added, “Better than waiting a couple of days,” and she finally gave in with a nod. Preventing a number of unwarranted, cold-blooded deaths would of course win out against who ended up making the proclamation.

“You have to have some sort of breakfast,” he reminded her quickly, “and I’m—“ He paused consciously, took a deep breath and assumed a calm face. “I’m going to get dressed. I’m going to arrange to have breakfast with the Zhengdang minister and we’ll get this ball rolling.” He bent to hug his wife again, lifting her clear off the floor and rocking her from side to side with his enthusiasm, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, hastily pulled a plain kimono on and threw an obi around his waist. He was almost to the door before Sang grabbed his arm and pulled him back to ensure he was dressed properly for court and had his hair combed. He left after that with eager steps and a confidence she’d never seen in him where state business was concerned. The sight filled her heart with pride and hope.

Please let this work for him.

Realising that had been a prayer and not voiceless words flung into the Void, she bit her lip and glanced to where the Blade hung on one of the walls. She wasn’t sure if Lord Yu could hear her when they weren’t in physical contact, or if there was some ritual formula she was expected to preface her thoughts with before the gods would listen.

She couldn’t remember if Typhenon sat or knelt when he prayed. She chose to kneel, facing the guan dao.

I’m sorry, she thought simply, her eyes on the floor. I have not been quick to trust you—any of you, even after all you’ve done for me personally, and for those I love. I was angry and… in my heart, I was afraid. Of what would happen if I turned to you, of the future, of failing those under my care. I… still am. But the future will come no matter where I stand. I would rather try to change it for the better than let it stay how it is, or become something worse.

And I’ve just realised…no…I finally believe…you care what happens to the people down here as much, probably even more, than I do.

What I’m trying to say is… I think I’m ready now.

If you’ll still have me, of course.

Laws and Crimes

Shadow of Light 1255177046|%e %b %Y, %H:%M %Z|agohover

As pledges went it wasn’t the most elaborate, even if it was sincere. Despite the fact that Yu didn’t stand much on ceremony they did like to do some things properly, and the swearing of allegiances was one of them. Sang didn’t think the gods would care all that much, but nevertheless regretted she had lost the opportunity to make her vows in person.

The rest of the day went mostly as hoped. Kaji met with the ambassador before court and, Sang heard later, made the announcement personally that the Yu would have jurisdiction over the debated matter while the Zhengdang, in exchange for allowing this, would receive not only a substantial amount of pig iron and medicinal herbs, but be graced with a royal visit from Kaji himself. He would be leaving the next morning. Sang hadn’t been prepared for that, but given her own history of disappearing from Tokai without warning she was hardly in a position to protest. She did worry a bit about his safety in private, but supposed it would do him good to travel and make contact with a neighboring kingdom.

For her own day, she met with a couple of junior ministers (one of the temple one of the law), explained the eta proposal to them, and spent a couple of hours alternatingly flattering or intimidating them until the edict they drafted said everything she and Kaji wanted it to say and nothing they didn’t. She read it out the same morning to a group of nobles where it was received with little enthusiasm but, more importantly, no objections. On the surface the proclamation looked little more than a grab for power from the throne, albeit a strange one. Why claim all eta and not just the ones that were prominent or even wealthy in their various trades? Sang smiled grimly when she considered what the reactions on the Wall would be when certain people suddenly realised the full ramifications of this law, but was under no illusions that this would solve the problem. Those who really enjoyed pushing defenceless people into the Shadowlands would find their flesh elsewhere. This edict was a start—the protection it afforded the eta was nothing to sneeze at, but she could already see this as merely moving the Shadowlands bait issue to other quarters. Someone would continue to suffer while the problem lived on.

She did not allow her worries to dampen her husband’s mood. Kaji’s spirits remained high all day, most of the night (until they were forced to get some sleep), and were still there in the morning. He found much enjoyment and irony in the fact that he was leaving his wife at Tokai for once, and Sang endured his needling with good humour, happy that, for once, he was happy and taking some assertive choices. He left with Nobutada, a Yu delegation and the representatives of Zhengdang after breakfast. A sizable ceremony saw him off, and Sang concealed her anxiety as much as possible during the departure by trying to convince herself he was in good company. The head ambassador of the Zhengdang was a younger son of their king himself. Perhaps they’d have some common interests.

Take care of yourself, my love. Be careful.

It was only after the departure that Sang noticed neither of her parents were in attendance. She hadn’t followed up on her father’s health in the past two days, and after a moment she realised why. She’d become so used to having people around who could heal you at a touch she’d forgotten that the Yu physician had the abilities of neither Typhenon nor Maiko, and Kukulkan was even more unlikely. Knowing she was leaving in the afternoon for Nakashibetsu, and she still wanted to talk to Shanro and Isadora before that happened, she summoned the physician on the spot.

The news was not good.

“He has a black spot in his lung. It is an infirmary that arises from spending a lifetime on the Wall. Even low levels of Taint accumulate over time. Decades. There are two options,” he went on when Sang, stone-faced, indicated that he continue. “The first is a daily infusion of jade tea which may force it into remission, but that infusion would be daily for the rest of his life. The other option is a form of surgery, but that carries grave risk.”

“Has he been told this?” Sang asked, and, when he nodded, “how did he react?”

“He hospitalised one of my assistants,” the physician replied in a carefully neutral tone. “The bone will heal.”

Sang let out a brief sigh. “I’m sorry about that.”

“He has of course made his decision.”

“What did he say?” Sang asked, but she already knew.

“He has decided on the surgery.”

“When?”

“It can be organised as soon as tomorrow.”

Sang tried to keep her breathing level. After a long pause she said, “We may speak about this again later. Thank you.”

“Majesty,” he said with a bow, and departed.

Sang went to find Typhenon.

The Primarch had been observing the departure of Kaji’s entourage, and fortunately hadn’t left the area yet. None of the others were in evidence, so Sang wasn’t obliged to speak to anyone but him. She was grateful for this. Although she was trying hard not to think too much about the physician’s words, she wasn’t sure she could have endured a debate about them.

She had also practically convinced herself that Typhenon could heal anything.

“I don’t have any skill in these matters,” Typhenon explained after Sang repeated what she’d been told. “I come from an area where the Taint doesn’t really exist, so I’ve never run into anything like it. I don’t know.”

Sang kept her hopes up. “Do you think you could have a look at him and get a better idea?”

Typhenon looked dubious, but he nodded. “I can try.”

“I’d better go with you in case he tries to break your arm.”

“Good luck to him,” the cleric said with a lopsided smile.

Sang decided against mentioning the physician’s assistant.

They went straight away to the tower her parents lived in. Long before they reached the apartments they could hear a horrible hacking cough. Sang maintained a calm face and managed not to break into a run, but could feel her heart pounding. The cough sounded ten times worse than she’d heard previously.

“You’ll have to do the talking and explaining,” Typhenon told her.

“I know. Wait… how much can I explain?”

“How much do they know?”

Sang hesitated. “That you’re a skilled healer?”

“Your mother knew that Kukulkan wasn’t…”

“Ah… I told her that.”

“How much else does she know?”

“Nothing really.” Sang studied the stone steps as they climbed higher. She hadn’t even told Kaji about the gods. It was about the only thing she’d withheld from him. That and what she’d learned about R regarding their children. “She knows that you’re a cleric of the temple in Epiach,” she said, wrenching her thoughts back to the present, “a priest of foreign gods.”

How odd it feels to say that now that I know they’re really our ancestral gods…

“If worst comes to worst,” Typhenon said before she could figure out how to tell him, “I’ll just yell and scream that I’m going to help.”

“Hopefully that won’t be necessary,” Sang replied with a faint smile, and Typhenon chuckled.

“Getting kicked out of your home isn’t high on the list of things I want to do.”

“That won’t happen unless you do something really stupid.”

“Like punch your mum in the face?”

“She’d probably think more highly of you if you did that.”

“Oh? Then I’ll keep it in mind.”

*

Her parents’ room was abuzz with activity and thick with scented smoke. Sticks of incense burned from a small shrine that had been set up near the bed, dedicated to Si An Do, a kami of healing and protection. Sang’s mother stood to one side of the room, her face so studiously impassive that Sang knew the concern hidden beneath the mask. Her father was still on the bed, arranged so that his midsection and feet were raised above his head for whatever medical reason Sang did not know. He was currently in the grip of a coughing spasm that looked to knot every muscle in his body and servants were busy around the bed, some wiping sweat from the aging warrior’s brow and limbs with damp cloths, another using a bowl to catch the gunk he hacked up. The under-physician overseeing them was grinding something with a jade mortar and pestle.

I should have come back sooner. Why did I wait? What if it’s too late?

Easy…be calm…

“Tell me what you want done before you start yelling orders,” Sang cautioned softly.

“Get that bloody incense out of here,” Typhenon growled. “We need fresh air.” He looked about at the walls, probably for windows, but there were none. He nodded towards the under-physician. “And find out what she’s making for him.” He looked at Sang’s father. “And sit him up.”

Sang had focused on the first order. “I’ll have to order them all out of the room to do that,” she said.

“Fine.”

Not only would there be objections and shock if she put out the incense, or ordered it be doused, she thought Typhenon would at some point use his arts on her father. As soon as anyone saw that there would be trouble. Sang drew a breath and lifted her voice to a command. “Leave.”

Every eye in the room turned to her and there was a sudden silence. Only Sang could read the ‘What the hell are you doing?’ look in her mother’s face.

“No,” the under-physician said. “Majesty, no. Your father is dying, this needs to be—“ She stopped, looked at the mortar and pestle in her hands and repeated, “No,” before going back to her grinding. As though her defiance had been a signal, her assistants also returned to their tasks. The house servants hesitated though, glancing between physician and queen.

Sang hardened her tone. “I said leave.”

She was ignored. The servants, after a few more furtive looks, began to help the under-physician’s assistants again.

All right. Tyrant it is.

Sang advanced on the under-physician, gripping the Blade hard but being careful to hold it in a non-threatening position. The other woman looked up when approached and met the bushi’s gaze with a cold stare, but after a moment her eyes flickered with uncertainty. Sang pressed her advantage, glared, and the under-physician began to quail.

Typhenon put a gentling hand on Sang’s arm.

“You,” Sang ordered, pointing at the physician, “wait outside the door.”

The woman had managed to hide her spark of fear with anger, but she stalked from the room without a word. Everyone else went after her, and when Sang saw her mother leaving she called out to her to stay. Akiko did not respond, and even though Sang could see her mother was as furious as the healer, she went after her and caught her arm.

“Mother—“

Akiko rounded on her, livid-faced, and tried to pull away, but Sang instinctively tightened her grip.

Her mother spat in her face.

Sang stared at her in shock, unable to react at first. A punch, an elbow, a kick would have been something. But this?

“You will stop trusting me now?” she whispered in despair, and in response Akiko averted her face to stare off into the adjoining room.

“Sang, just let her go,” Typhenon said from somewhere behind her, “we don’t have time for this.”

When her mother again pulled to free herself, Sang did not stop her. She slid the door closed with a trembling hand then clenched a fist and took a breath past the constriction in her throat.

Satake’s hacking cough redoubled from the bed.

Mum hates me and dad’s dying.

She pushed away from the door, strode to the shrine and very nearly put out the incense with Lord Yu’s Blade.

Calm…stay calm…oh, gods…

Carefully, she pulled out the joss sticks and overturned them to snuff them out, then she turned to the bed as Satake went into another coughing fit.

Typhenon had reworked her father’s posture; he now lay with his head raised, but she could see little benefit to the old warrior’s condition. Perhaps it was because the room was still hazed with smoke. As she watched, Satake convulsed and coughed up something black onto the bedspread, which twitched like some sort of revolting slug and immediately reminded Sang of the matter Maiko had hacked up in the Pyramid of Blood. She reached over and scraped it up with the head of Lord Yu’s Blade, where it sizzled on the metal as though cooking before it vaporised.

“I’m going to need your help,” Typhenon said. “The girl who had the mortar and pestle, get her back in here now. Then see if you can organise a room with a window.” He put a hand to Satake’s chest and Sang went back to the door, slipping into the outer room.

The under-physician was pacing the floor with a thunderous expression. Her eyes had daggers in them when Sang ordered her back into the bedroom and to answer any of Typhenon’s questions, but she obeyed. Sang lingered a second longer to look at her mother, who knelt in a far corner of the room before the house shrine. Akiko did not turn around, and Sang, biting her tongue to keep quiet, stepped back into the bedroom and closed the door between them again.

“What’s in the mortar and pestle?” Typhenon was asking from where he knelt by Satake’s head. Whatever he’d done when Sang had left the room, her father was still coughing violently.

“Leaves of the white lily,” the under-physician replied.

“And that does?”

“Makes the jade petal tea.”

“Can you get someone to continue making that? I need your help to bring up the phlegm.”

“Her Majesty, in her wisdom, dismissed all of my attendants,” the woman said bitingly.

“Then her Majesty can go and get them back, please?” Typhenon asked in Sang’s direction.

“Perhaps her Majesty can prepare the tea,” the woman suggested.

Without argument, Sang set the Blade aside and picked up the jade mortar and pestle. “What do I do?”

“Grind it,” the under-physician ordered succinctly.

“I want him moved to a room with a window,” Typhenon told the physician as Sang set to work. “He needs fresh air.”

The woman shook her head. “The kami of air will assist in no way with this.”

“I don’t give a damn.”

“A room with a window,” Sang repeated, but the under-physician only looked confused. As far as the people here believed, by praising the kami with incense it would help Satake’s affliction. They thought the smoke was cleansing, while Typhenon said it was choking.

“Grind it into a paste,” the woman said suddenly, as much to give instructions as to get away from the subject Sang suspected. “Add holy water from that jar as is necessary to change it to a smooth consistency. The Master Physician will be here soon.”

He blustered in a few minutes later, garbed in a white kimono. It was not an auspicious colour, as Silverstari associated it with death and mourning. Clearly he had changed his schedule to do the surgery today.

“Majesty,” the master physician said when he saw her, and bowed, but didn’t hide his confusion at the sight of the mortar and pestle. Apparently he had heard nothing of her ordering the room empied earlier, but he asked no questions and at once began to issue orders to those entering the room behind him.

A trail of servants followed in his wake carrying cases, bottles, bowls, bandages, rope. This last item, several stout lengths of the stuff, was immediately used to bind Satake’s arms and legs so that he would not be able to thrash or flail. Sang had seen such restraining measures taken before, but when one of the cases was opened to reveal the gleaming, cruel-looking contents her composure nearly cracked. There were knives with blades both broad and fine, needles and saws, clamps and hammers.

One of the attendants distracted her from the torture-scene playing in her head by heading for the shrine, for amongst the physician’s orders had been a command to relight the joss sticks. Sang intercepted him by standing directly in his path. She was still grinding the jade petal tea, and the repetitive motion altered subtly as she eyed the now-apprehensive servant.

“No incense.”

“Majesty?”

“No incense.”

“But if the kami are not appeased there may be problems—“

“I’ll take care of that,” Typhenon interrupted.

The physician glanced at the southerner with undisguised distrust. “Majesty, I have to protest in the firmest possibly fashion.”

“Your protests are heard,” Sang told him. “No incense.”

“And the gaijin?”

“He stays.”

“What are your qualifications?” the physician demanded of Typhenon as the servant before Sang gingerly took the mortar and pestle from her and to the under-physician, who tipped it into a pot of boiling water.

The jade petal tea was administered; they had to hold Satake’s head and force the mixture down his throat between coughs, but once he’d taken in enough his fits subsided. A clear liquid that was not water was given to him next, and while Sang didn’t know what it was she could tell by how her father began to phase out that it must be some sort of drug.

The master physician, after a quick glance to ensure everything was in order, reached a hand into the case and pulled out a knife. Then he began to cut Sang’s father open.

*

It was not pleasant, and it was not fast. The flesh was peeled back and the ribs systematically broken and bent back on the right side of Satake’s chest. Even though the assistants worked swiftly to clamp arteries, there was blood everywhere and on everyone.

When her father’s innards were exposed, surrounded on one side by the jagged, up-thrusting ribs, Sang had to grip Lord Yu’s Blade hard to keep her mind from plunging back into the Mother’s nightmare where Kaji had been similarly spread-eagled and gutted. There was a moment though, as she stared down at her father’s body, a hideous flash of recollection of Lord Yu commanding her to kill her father in recompense for sacrificing Kaji. She beat the false memories back angrily.

Kaji’s not dead. Dad’s not dead. See, that’s his heart beating. Those are his lungs breathing. The physician is skilled and Typhenon won’t let him die.

The physician washed his hands and carefully probed each lung with his fingers, shifting them around and examining closely. Before too long he had found a tumourous black lump on one of them, and with a delicate blade he began to cut painstakingly into the membrane nearby. During the process the lump moved once or twice, almost as though flinching away from the knife, but before long it was extracted, almost squirted out of its filmy pouch, and dropped into a bowl of holy water where it hissed and sizzled with a foul smell.

The physician then went through the lengthy process of putting Satake back together. Paste was applied to the broken ribs before they were set, the great flaps of skin were folded back over the exposed chest and stitched finely with a tempered needle.

As soon as it was done, Typhenon stepped forward and laid a hand against the surgical wound. Within the space of a second, it had healed.

Silence filled the room as completely as the lingering smoke.

The master physician stared, gave Typhenon a look of mingled horror and confusion, then turned to Sang with an expression that clearly demanded to know what was going on. Sang tried to ignore it, but had the sickening feeling she was headed very fast towards a very solid wall and there was no way she could possibly avoid a collision.

“He will recover now?” she asked in a voice that was steadier than she felt.

“Kami only know,” the physician burst out, regarding Typhenon as though he were dangerous. “Get it out of here! Majesty.”

Two of the more burly attendants began to advance on Typhenon.

“Leave him,” Sang ordered quietly.

“Majesty, he has committed a crime!”

“What crime is that?”

“The practise of foul magicks, on your father of all persons! He must be arrested now.”

“Foul magic?” Typhenon protested with some heat. “What of you people lighting incense and using smoke in the room of someone who has a problem with his lungs?”

“Majesty?” the physician pressed after shooting Typhenon a filthy glare.

“How is there anything foul about him using his arts to complete my father’s healing after your help?” Sang asked.

“Who’s to know what he’s done?”

Sang flung out a hand to point at Satake’s chest, which bore scars aplenty but no hint of the huge cross-section that had been there moments before. “Besides heal the scars?”

“And plant all manner of unknown enchantments or foul things within!”

“Do you want to cut him open again to check everything’s in order?” Sang asked, her voice rising with her anger.

“It tempts me!” the physician shot back.

“It won’t be necessary. He has performed these arts on me, so I judge them fit for my father.”

His eyes narrowed. “I feel beholden to inform you, Majesty, that aiding and abetting the practise of foul magicks is also a crime,” he said. “A crime punishable by execution in its most severe instances.”

“Then you can take it up with the king when he returns.”

The physician said nothing to that, although it was quite likely that was exactly what he’d do. She’d be tried for heresy, just as she’d feared would happen. Kaji would be forced to judge her. No… this had to be headed off before it left the room. Her mind worked furiously to figure out how. She knew there was nothing she could say that would convince the physician she wasn’t in thrall to Typhenon or black magic after what she’d said so far, any more than Typhenon had been able to convince her about the Three. He needed visible evidence that the Primarch wasn’t evil.

Her fingers shifted on the guan dao’s haft.

Kaji feared that the Blade would destroy him if he touched it. Is that belief shared?

“All right,” she said. “How about this? Would you be satisfied if he held Lord Yu’s Blade without burning to death on the spot?” When the physician frowned thoughtfully, she elaborated: “Surely if his arts are foul and against all the Silverstari believe, then the spirit of Lord Yu would strike him down.”

It wasn’t really a deception, Sang thought. For all she knew, if someone really evil tried to wield the Blade they would be incinerated.

“I’m not a priest, but it stands to reason,” the physician concurred.

Sang turned her head to look at Typhenon then leaned the Blade towards him. Typhenon took it from her and held it in both hands.

The physician waited, then looked at the Primarch in consternation as he failed to burst into flames. It was clear that what he saw was convincing, but he was quite obviously looking for the trick behind what his eyes were seeing.

“Your blade, your Majesty?” Typhenon offered politely, extending the weapon back.

“Thank you.” She looked at the physician. “And thank you for your work here today. It was most skilled.”

There was another long moment, then the physician nodded. “He should be immersed in a warm bath of jade water for at least three hours, and then given as much rest over the next… well, normally the ribs would require three months or more to set, but—“

“They are set,” Typhenon said.

The physician looked like a man waging an internal war. Sang, remembering how hard she had taken the revelation that so much she’d been brought up to believe was a lie, did not try to push him. Nor would she explain, though. There was no time for it today, and time was what he needed to recover just now.

“Normally you’d be against moving a patient for how long?” Typhenon asked.

“Usually half an hour,” the physician said, “and then into the bath.”

“And how long would they normally require bed rest?”

“For the entirety of those three months. As it stands, the weakness and general nausea and the like should pass within a few days. Without the ribs or other complications to plague him, he should be up and about in a couple of days.” Sang noticed the physician’s words became more confident as he talked about his trade.

“How about we tell him he has to stay in bed for a week,” Typhenon suggested slyly, “so when he finally tries to start getting up it’ll be about the same time when he’s ready to.”

Satake’s groggy voice came from the bed. “That’d work better if I weren’t asleep at the moment.”

Typhenon half-turned towards the bed, practically smirking. “Two weeks. And if you keep arguing, we’ll make it a month.”

Sang was already at the bedside untying the ropes that still bound her father’s ankles and wrists. Satake made a mumbling reply to Typhenon and a feeble pull of one arm, but was still rather clearly out of it.

“Try to be good when you can think clearly,” she told him as she undid the last rope, but wasn’t sure if he could even recognise her in this state.

“I’m always good, except when I’m bad, and even then I’m good at it,” he slurred.

She grinned a little but, conscious of the other people still in the room, stopped short of bending down to hug or kiss him. Relieved and happy as she was that he’d recover, she was not comfortable with public displays of affection. She tried to content herself with patting one of his hands. Even that was enough to make her eyes sting.

“Do you mind if I go?” she asked Typhenon who was helping to clean up. “I still have some people I need to talk to before we leave.”

“You might want to clean up first,” he suggested, looking pointedly at her kimono. “You’re a bit splattered.”

A servant was dispatched to fetch a clean kimono, and Sang quit the bedroom before she could embarrass herself by crying. Akiko was still kneeling before the house shrine, not acknowledging the activity that was happening behind her as servants and orderlies carried things from the apartments.

Sang braced herself and approached her mother. She stopped a little behind her right shoulder, but did not make the mistake of touching her after what had happened before. “He’ll be all right,” she said in a level, respectful tone. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

She waited a second, both hoping for and fearing some kind of reaction.

Akiko did not stand, but she did look back at her daughter. The anger was desperate and forced…a façade to mask her gratitude and relief. Sang could not remember the last time she’d seen her mother so close to tears. She held back on the impulse to kneel and embrace her. She may have been forgiven the earlier incident, but wasn’t sure her mother’s pride would see past her daughter making her weep in public.

Sang nodded, unable to speak, and left.

Flying Dragon, Hidden Daemon

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Moonlight Brilliance flew west, sunlight shining across his ash-coloured scales and vast wings. The cold wind whipped at his passengers, each strapped and holding fast to the saddle and harness that lay down the creature’s spine. Sang rode at the front. The seating arrangements had been organised by someone who had wanted rank as a priority, meaning Maiko should have taken the second position, but being queen had its advantages; Sang had ensured that the person directly behind her was Isadora, both so that they could talk and in case that discussion about ‘accidents’ came to pass. The fact that Maiko was now seated behind Isadora was concerning, but Sang hadn’t been willing to push the Jin back any further and risk shaming her.

She had managed to speak to Isadora before the departure, but had come away from it less certain of her friend than before. The young woman simply did not see that she was doing any harm—apparently those she fed from made full recoveries and even enjoyed the process, although Isadora had avoided Sang’s query of whether any of her dinner guests had gone back to active duty while weakened. On the one hand she claimed to have little choice where her biological needs were concerned and was upset to be reviled for what she now was, but on the other she said she liked the abilities her changes had given her. She had even smilingly invited Sang to experience what she had to offer. When Sang broached the possibility of returning to full humanity, Isadora could only say she would have to think about it and the choice was difficult.

After some meaningless chit-chat during the flight with the girl in which both avoided the weightier topics, Sang stared ahead with a heavy heart. In her experience, the changes wrought on people who tried to control various forms of Taint within themselves rarely ended well, especially for those who came to enjoy those changes. On the surface perhaps there was no harm in Isadora’s eating habits, but the same could be said of certain drugs or drink. If trouble crossed the path of any warrior not at his peak, it could mean his death or the deaths of his comrades. Isadora, though, did not see this as her fault. How could it be her fault if someone got attacked after being with her?

It was a logical argument, but in the past she had never been so callous. Isadora could have offered to be careful, to say she’d warn her visitors to go off duty for a while, to not accept those who were serving at the time, that would have been something, but it was like she didn’t even care now. Sang didn’t know if it was life experience that had hardened the girl’s heart, or the influence of what she now was. She wanted to believe it was the latter, and that reversing of the change would make everything better, but couldn’t quite convince herself.

I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to help her.

Why am I thinking this as though it’s something new? When do I ever know what words to use?

It gave her something else to pray and meditate about as they flew to Nakashibetsu. There was a lot of ground to cover, figuratively and literally, so there was plenty of time. Mostly her thoughts roamed between family and friends as she considered some of the burdens each of them carried: Her father, recovering in Tokai; her mother, who stood guard against her own emotions; her husband, growing into his confidence; Kukulkan, who’d lost so much of his family so brutally; Maiko, whose family seemed to only care for her as a political piece; Typhenon, whose family spanned the world and were always in danger.

I suppose I’m part of that family now.

She didn’t know how to feel about that, but for now the thought of siblings had little to no enthusiasm attached to it. In fact, the realisation was more along the lines of a reluctant admission.

Maybe I just need time to get used to the idea…

*

Three brownish-bronze dragons (one of them the Minister of Commerce) met them in the air when they reached the Makoto border, moving to flank and guide once the travellers were identified. Sang concealed her shock and worry that they were all headed straight for the island of Nakashibetsu itself, not one of the shoreside cities. She hadn’t expected to be received straight away, let alone some of her companions. Did the daemon know exactly who was coming?

Moonlight Brilliance and the other dragons spiralled down into the vast grounds outside the palace, where a multitude of courtiers, guards and servants were arrayed. There was a higher area beyond the guards, a dias, where stood the Emperor’s Champion and the Emperor’s Mother. During the descent, Sang gave in to a sudden impulse and focussed on each of the two figures through the amethyst mask the Historian had bestowed.

The bodyguard was instantly surrounded by a faint glow that verified he was human.

The Dowager Emperess, however, was outlined by an ominous red light.

Sang’s indrawn breath hissed sharply between her teeth. She glanced back as Isadora leaned forwards with an inquiring sound and shook her head, saying she’d explain later. They were landing, and this was no place to speak aloud what she’d seen. Her attention returned to the Emperor’s Mother, respendant in all her golden finery.

Gods… she’s a daemon. But that can’t be the one we’re after; it doesn’t fit with the information Typhenon got from that angel, who said it wasn’t hiding in plain sight. It could be helping Zaddikim’s agent—we know that either or both the bodyguard and the dowager willingly serve the Muse.

But it could also mean mean we’re dealing with more than an agent of Zaddikim.

The Dowager Empress was seated on elaborately carved throne of mahogany and brass, robed in layers of golden material that formed a phoenix pattern of flames. On each of her fingertips were carved and jeweled gold talon extensions, and gold ornaments of various shapes glittered in the hair piled atop her head. A pace behind her left shoulder stood the Emperor’s Champion in full golden plate.

The dragons landed (the Minister of Commerce shrank down into a man with green robes) and the party was aided in dismounting. Though her legs had been secured for hours in a less than comfortable position, Sang managed to keep her balance and walk without falling over. A couple of the others moved more stiffly, but they all managed to keep pace as the group moved towards the dais between the crowd of officials and servants.

The soldiers blocking the way to the Imperial Party split into two groups, forming a path. Sang did not avert her gaze from the dowager and the champion, but couldn’t help noticing during the long walk that the height and build of the guards didn’t seem to differ. They all wore grey lamellar armour, and only their eyes were visible.
When they get to the edge of the dais, a vast wave of kowtows flowed through the gathering. Sang fought a quick but fierce internal battle on whether she should bend knee to a daemon. She was repulsed by the notion—she’d been fighting its ilk most of her life, but there was more at stake here than her honour. Most importantly, there were people with her who would probably suffer if she did something imprudent.

“Would you be terribly adverse to the idea of me bowing to a daemon?” she thought, trying to speak silently to Lord Yu.

“You don’t owe it any allegiance,” he replied. “If you owe it no allegiance then a bow is a hollow gesture.”

“It still feels wrong.”

It was inherently deceptive, and by being submissive she was perpetuating the lie. She tried to soothe her anger against the situation by reminding herself that she and the others were here to rip away that veil. To succeed at that, though, she’d need a more subtle method than remaining stubbornly upright.

Maiko, too, was still standing as the others around her dropped to the ground. Sang tried not to glance too obviously at her, wondering if the Jin was going to do here what she’d done in Tokai. But then she realised the Jin’s manner was completely different; she wasn’t still standing due to a stiff neck, but because something had shaken her so badly she’d frozen. Sang and Kukulkan (she couldn’t see if Typhenon was still standing without turning her head) waited the long seconds until Maiko’s recovery, then kowtowed with her.

“You may rise,” the Empress Dowager proclaimed. “We are pleased to receive on behalf of the Emperor our most esteemed of servants, and amongst others who serve our will. Come. A great banquet is prepared.”

They stood and saw a number of servants turn and lift the dais, then begin to carry it towards the heart of the island. Once neither the dowager nor the champion were looking, Sang glanced at Maiko to see if she was all right, and received a quick, deeply concerned look. She could only guess at what Maiko had seen, and only nod in return. There was no way to speak without being overheard. Sang didn’t know any of the sailor tricks the Jin used to communicate, and it was unlikely that Maiko knew enough Yu battlecant to translate any code she tried.

As they followed the dais, she focused on random people through her mask, guards, servants and courtiers, but saw no other daemons amongst the throng.

*

The city was more than a castle on an island. The palace itself rose on the far side, and they passed through a number of walled sections to get there. The walls themselves were not something to ignore, as they were at least seventy feet high and perhaps the same in thickness. After the great area they had arrived in there had been expanses of garden, luxurious mansions and temples, further in there was a massively fortified section with banners, armed soldiers and thick gates of solid iron. Before the palace proper was a great space filled with gardens, but the towers and walls surrounding it, each bristling with crossbowmen, made it clear this section could double as a very effective killing ground. They reached the ministerial offices, where a crush of courtiers and officials ran every which way as they tended their usual businesses. Amongst them and around them roamed patrols of soldiers, some on foot, others mounted on horses or even two-stabbers. The ministerial buildings and offices grew higher and more ornate as the party progressed towards the palace, and the people scurrying between them more finely dressed.

Another wall stood between them and the palace, as high as the previous ones, but the soldiers atop them wore armour that was bronzed rather than grey and held ornate repeater crossbows. The heavily ornamented gate to this wall was carved with characters so archaic it was almost difficult to translate: ‘Gate of Dust’.

Beyond, more gardens. Orchards. Blossom trees. Ponds. Natural-looking areas of reed. Meandering bridges and pathways, pergodas and gazebos. Their own path was dead straight through the undulating grassy hills and led to a final wall, beyond which was the massive courtyard of the Imperial Palace. When they entered, an assemblage of officials kowtowed as one, and silver and purple fireworks were fired from the towers to explode overhead.

Lining the road that stretched onwards, filling the courtyard from one side to the other, was a sea of chrysanthemums.

They were white, the colour of mourning.

The dais with its shining gold-clad passengers moved on between the pristine flowers, and to Sang’s eyes it looked almost like a death barge drifting through foam.

I didn’t expect this. I never thought we’d all get inside at the same time. Gods protect them…help me keep my companions safe.

Keeping Others Safe

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Sang woke to the sounds of conflict.

She was up instantly and out the chamber door with guan dao in hand within seconds. The disturbance had not roused her alone; doors were slamming open along the outer passage. Typhenon, who’d been keeping watch in the corridor itself, yanked open Maiko’s door and hurried inside. Kukulkan (in human form) came out of a nearby door while Shayu (wielding a large sword) and Isadora (wearing a sheet) emerged from the same room further down the hall. Isadora noticed Sang, gave a guilty squeak and fled back the way she’d come. Shayu merely gave the bushi a glance, looked at Maiko’s open door, then rushed in the other direction to the stairs leading down.

There was another crashing sound. Sang forced her mind away from Isadora and Shayu for the moment, and followed Kukulkan into Maiko’s room. The wooden framework and ricepaper window was broken and torn; she went over and looked through to the darkened grounds a couple of storeys below. Maiko was tearing off towards a distant building with Typhenon following some ways behind.

She’s all right.

A cold knot in her stomach loosened, but her muscles remained tense. She absently rubbed at her featherfall ring with a thumb, tempted to follow Maiko and Typhenon out the window to chase and destroy whoever or whatever the assailant had been, but restrained herself. Shayu had already gone out after them, and Sang could just make out lights as far-off doors opened and people looked out to see what the commotion was. She could hear Maiko’s voice raised in anger: “Gaijin assassin!”

Guards would be coming, and probably an official regarding security.

Sang glanced wordlessly at Kukulkan, then left the room to find herself an outer robe to throw on over her sleeping shift. She did not see the shapeshifter stoop to examine the floor once she’d left, then collect the drops of blood which he had found beaded atop the polished floorboards.

**

They had been lodged in an estate called the Palace of Eternal Sunset, a name with unpleasant connotations to everyone who realised how dangerous their current position was. Twenty guards arrived in short order, crammed into a ground floor room. Some of them came up to the apartments to usher Sang, Kukulkan and Isadora (who had dressed) downstairs, and here they rejoined Maiko, Typhenon and Shayu at a table. Servants brought them tea while they waited, but not everyone drank or even sat, either busy in their roles as bodyguard or maintaining an icy, affronted mask at having almost been murdered in the not-so-impenetrable Imperial City.

Sang sat, turned her chawan without really thinking about it, sipped and carefully set the bowl down. The peppermint-infused ocha rippled for a moment then settled to a flawless flat surface.

If only I could find calm so swiftly.

Maiko appeared unharmed, but Sang’s relief was countered by her anger that someone had tried to slink into the Jin’s room and murder her. They had known, they had all known that they would not be safe, that attempts would be made on their lives, but a strike against a companion would always shake her more deeply than one against herself.

She’s fine.

Sang sipped again, her eyes on the tea to avoid looking at anyone. She wanted to hear that Maiko was fine from her own lips, but didn’t want to ask with the guards and everyone else around in case the Jin felt obliged to keep up appearances by going on an angry tirade. On the other hand, she wasn’t even sure if she’d be able to ask in private. With her recent luck, Maiko would be insulted just as Shayu had been earlier in the evening.

She lifted her eyes ten minutes later, when the Prime Minister of the Interior and the Emperor’s Champion entered. The former gave the party a deep, sweeping bow, while the Champion barely nodded.

Once he’d looked over the party with a stern gaze, the Champion said, “I’m going to need to know everything that happened.” Sang had never heard the man speak before. His voice was quite deep and gravelly.

Maiko spoke her piece. The sound of a whiplash had brought her awake, and her trained warriors instincts had allowed her to react quickly enough to grab a nearby weapon and deflect the attack. Her attacker had been dressed in foreign clothing. She had chased him out the window, striking him a few times before he used some kind of trickery to render himself invisible. She’d tracked him as best she could, but once he reached hard ground it had become too difficult to follow him further.

Something in the Jin’s account didn’t ring completely true, but beyond the usual embellishments Sang couldn’t guess what.

The others followed up in turn saying what they did and saw, but nothing else had happened that Sang had not seen.

“The Empress Dowager is aghast at these proceedings,” the Champion intoned. “Until morning, these guards will remain here for your protection. When morning comes, more secure accomodations will be arranged for you.” He turned to leave.

“That won’t be necessary,” Maiko said coolly. “Come morning, we will seek other arrangements in the outer city.”

“That will be discussed,” the Champion threw over his shoulder, and left with the Minister on his heels.

Sang drained her tea, stood and went back upstairs without a word, Lord Yu’s Blade against her shoulder. Earlier in the day she’d come up with the idea of using the weapon for everyone to communicate without speaking aloud, which had worked. Of course, the catch was that everyone had to be touching it, and there was little hope of this being discreet with twenty guards observing. She saw no reason to stay awake if they couldn’t discuss what had happened, and besides… she felt tired, drained, and had a responsibility to at least try to recover her strength by morning.

In part… it had been an eventful day. Only this morning there had been proclamations in Tokai, Kaji leaving for a southern kingdom, Sang’s father operated on, her mother’s fear and anger and Typhenon’s open display of divine magic. In the afternoon, the long flight to Nakashibetsu. Their arrival, and the walk to the Imperial Palace that had seemed almost longer than Moonlight Brilliance’s passage through the skies. A great feast had followed, only to be abruptly terminated when, at the back of the grand hall, the Chugi delegation had stood and drawn steel. The guards had reacted at once; teleporting to the table the Chugi at either side of it had been cut down. The remaining six had plunged their blades into their own stomachs and cut from left to right in a ritual motion almost as old as the Empire. The Emperess Dowager had screamed her anger, declared the feast over and ordered the Chugi (alive and dead alike) to be dragged out, torn apart and thrown into the river for the carp to eat. The brutal, shocking command had not ended at that. About an hour later, back at the Palace of Eternal Sunset, the party (specifically Sang) had been presented with a covered platter with a message that the Dowager hoped this would ‘satisfy the Queen of the Yu that justice had been done’, or something like that. Given the savage way in which the bodies of the Chugi had been dealt with, Sang had not been at all surprised to find that the platter held six human hearts. The organs had burst into flames when uncovered; Maiko had launched from her chair and drawn her hookswords with a curse, but for some reason Sang had not flinched. She could remember staring into the conflagration, feeling the heat on her face, but aware of a cold fury building inside her. The blazing hearts were a warning, a threat. The Empress Dowager knew who they were. Two of the hearts had been missing—there had been eight Chugi in the hall, and Kukulkan had taken care of the six that had been delivered in the hopes he could spare their souls being imprisoned by the daemon who had done this to them.

And then there was Isadora. Sang had approached her while Kukulkan was busy with the hearts and the others were exploring the grounds. Isadora needed blood. Sang had asked the girl to promise that she would go to Sang whenever she needed to feed. The reason she’d given was that, even with Isadora’s skills in discretion, their position was too risky. The Dowager Empress only needed one good excuse to dispose of any of them. Sang had another reason for requesting Isadora’s word, but didn’t voice it. The fact was that she didn’t want Isadora feeding off anyone else if she could be the willing alternative. It would protect anyone else she might choose to prey on (and as much as she didn’t like to use the term ‘prey’ with her friend, it was getting harder to deny), and Sang believed she was strong enough to handle the after-effects of Isadora’s bite. So it had happened, with Kukulkan in watchful attendance in case the proceedings harmed Sang’s children, and while Sang had been prepared for the weakness that followed the feeding, she’d not expected the sweeping ecstasy of the bite itself. It had literally buckled her knees, and as Isadora’s arms had kept her from falling Sang had concentrated her will in an almost panic-driven reflex against the euphoria threatening to overcome all sense of her self control. It was the most fantastic feeling she had experienced, and it would have been easy, so very easy to let go, enjoy it, love it, be lost in it. That was the danger, and so she fought against it and strove to convince herself that what she felt was loathesome, an effect brought on by something that had turned her friend part daemon.

“I eat when you eat,” Isadora had demanded afterwards. “For every day you enjoy meals, I get to feed once.” Kukulkan had protested, but Sang had seen no choice but to agree in order for Isadora to keep her word. Seeing her emerge from Shayu’s room that evening had given her pause, but she shook it off. So long as no biting was involved it was none of her business, and she trusted Isadora still. She didn’t want to suspect her. Maiko probably wouldn’t be impressed if she discovered Shayu’s new bedmate, and that was even more reason to keep quiet. Shayu knew Maiko’s opinions of Isadora, he even knew what Isadora was.

Sang pondered this as she reached the passage leading to her chamber, Kukulkan following her and a small army of guards in their wake. Perhaps, since Shayu himself had once been infected by daemonic power, he was not so quick to judge Isadora. Having been cured, maybe he was even working up to convincing her to take the same chance.

Speculation… speculation… perhaps, maybe. They could just be enjoying each other.

She entered her room and shed the outer robe she wore as Kukulkan and the guards took up various points in the large chamber. She was glad of the shapeshifter’s presence, even as she doubted she’d get much more sleep tonight. She was also sorry for having to ignore his advice, that carrying on her deal with Isadora might be dangerous for the twins. He was, however, good at keeping secrets, and she knew he would not break a trust unless there was a good reason to do so. Not that it was a secret, mind, but if Typhenon knew he’d probably order her to stand aside and offer his own neck and Maiko…gods only knew. If anything, berrate Sang for knowingly weakening herself at a time she needed all her strength.

By the time she finds out, it might be something I need to hear. How long will I be able to keep this up? How long before Isadora realises how far she’s gone…

It was hard. Lord Yu had praised her, saying that what she did for Isadora was good, even assuring her that her children were strong enough to handle this, but it was hard. She didn’t want to enjoy what Isadora had to offer. She didn’t want to encourage her and make her think her abilities were something good. Even though the girl’s affliction had none of the outward mutations of Taint that Sang was familiar with, wasn’t it still similar at the core? How could she accept Isadora and be the friend she needed when she feared the daemon inside her?

“I don’t know what to say to her.”

“I am a warrior too,” Lord Yu had replied with understanding. “Perhaps this is something that Jin could aid you with.”

“Maybe,” Sang conceded but the Angel of Courage sensed her hesitation.

“You have an issue with my sister?”

“Not… as such. Maybe I am just not used to her.”

A half truth? A full lie? Lord Yu had either let it pass, or not seen it. Sang did not want to seek Jin’s aid, because she thought she knew what the angel’s advice would be—or part of it, at least. Being an Elonan angel, Sang feared that Jin would openly advocate having the time of her life with Isadora. If it wasn’t hurting anyone, if it helped Isadora, then why not?

But now we’ll be under guard. How will I find a way to let her feed tomorrow?

She set Lord Yu’s Blade down, frowning to herself, then set it aside to worry about tomorrow. There was plenty to dwell on, like the Emperor, and getting everyone out of here alive. She’d seen the Emperor for the first time at the feast today, and Sang had felt her hopes lift at last, for she’d fretted at his absence during their arrival. She’d waited for three hours as a succession of artistically presented meals were brought forth, expecting at any minute for him to speak to her mind like he had in Tokai, but the gold-shrouded figure never even moved. She’d begun to wonder if it was even him under the material. Kukulkan had later said that whoever had been beneath the golden shroud seemed to have been asleep the entire time.

Too many questions. I have to be patient and calm. I have to play their damn game. I’m starting to hate games. I can barely look at a go board anymore.

She stared at the great bed for several seconds then climbed in, unable to help feeling how very large, empty and cold it was.

I hope you are doing better than we are, love. Please be safe…

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Death and Defiance

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Sang, Typhenon, Isadora and Shayu looked out through one of the upper windows of the Palace of Eternal Sunset, observing as one of the massive beasts the Imperial Guard used as mounts went on an indiscriminate rampage. A couple of guards winced as the creature, avoiding those trying to subdue it, rammed a pillar and caused a section of jade-tiled roof to cave in.

Isadora had done something to it. That much the companions knew. It had been a distraction, and Sang had to admit it was an impressive one. The reason for it…well, the short answer was so that Isadora could liberate a pair of servants on death row. This had apparently been achieved, for which Sang was grateful.

Her eyes followed the spectacle unfolding below as soldiers rushed to try and surround the frenzied beast, but her attention was elsewhere, and her brief enjoyment in the moment had faded fast as she remembered why it had happened in the first place.

**
Shayu and Isadora were playing chess. The rest of them, Typhenon, Maiko, Sang, Kukulkan, had gathered in the room to watch and comment, using the game as a front for deciding what they would do next. Since the rain had started to fall after lunch time, things had deteriorated. Typhenon had lost his ability to cast magic, Jin had weakened. Lord Yu, who had left the Blade to speak to the Imperial Dragon during the afternoon meal with the Dowager Empress, had not yet returned. Sang sat tending her armour, which had sustained a couple of dents after her bout with the Emperor’s Champion. It had been a match she’d requested, but she’d been unsatisfied with the results even though she’d emerged the victor. Perhaps he had been unlucky, perhaps he had deliberately witheld his skill (she doubted this—his shamed expression as he’d botched the initial cut had said it all, really), but he had ceded the match after a few exchanges.

She kept physical contact with Lord Yu’s Blade as much as possible. She was anxious for him to return, both with news and because she was concerned. The unnatural rain might have weakened him as it had Jin. What if he was trapped?

There was a lull in the conversation around the game board. Sang glanced up, her eyes caught by the motion of Maiko lifting a hand to touch Jin’s Amulet. For a heartbeat, two perhaps, all looked normal. Then an expression of inhuman despair twisted Maiko’s face, and before anyone could even blink a gleaming blade had leaped into the Jin’s hand, and she had plunged it into her own wrist, all the way through, and torn a bloody gash almost to her elbow.

Kukulkan reacted first. He jumped at Maiko, perhaps to snatch the dagger away even though the damage had already been done. Whatever he attempted, he was blasted away across the room.

Guards were shouting and closing around, looking about for a threat; Shayu and Isadora stayed where they sat at the board, dumbfounded, shocked. Typhenon and Sang were next to Maiko’s side. Without magic, the two attempted to staunch the massive bloodflow and bind the wound, but no amount of cloth could dam the flood. After a minute, Typhenon stopped what he was doing and rocked back onto his heels.

”She’s gone,” he said quietly, simply.

Sang did not acknowledge him. He went away to see if Kukulkan was all right. She finished tying a section of broad obi around Maiko’s arm, trying not to see how the blood was already soaking through the thick white material, turning it crimson beneath the silver embroidery.

Her fingers trembled. She clenched them hard. Not dead. Like that? No. She clamped a hand around the haft of Lord Yu’s Blade and yelled silently in her mind, begging him to come back and help. But he did not. Somewhere inside she could feel a familiar helpless rage building. She looked up, looked for something else to aid her, and caught sight of Jin’s Amulet where it dangled from Maiko’s throat. She closed her free hand over it and mentally shouted for Jin this time, but she could sense him no more than she could sense Yu. Had Maiko’s death destroyed her?

She kept hold of both relics for a long while, calling to both angels, until there was no way she could keep denying what was. Maiko was dead. She was dead.

”Forgive me for saying this, but your mind feels like one long cliché. Hello Sang.”

”What?” she whispered. Sang’s eyes flicked to Maiko’s face, and she wished they hadn’t. The Jin’s eyes were closed, but she did not look like she slept. Even asleep Maiko managed to look alert and coiled for action.

“Yeah. Pretty much sums it up. You didn’t really think I was going to let some little thing like getting killed get in the way of helping out? You know how much a workaholic I can be.”

Sang lowered her gaze to the woman’s throat, where no pulse flickered under the skin. She released the amulet and sat back, trying to let out the breath stuck in her chest. She must be going mad. “I’m just imagining it,” she muttered.

“No. You’re really not.”

“No, you’re not,” Jin’s voice chipped in after Maiko’s. “I’m here too.”

**

Maiko had tried to do something about the daemonic rain through Jin’s Amulet, failed, and left herself wide open for retaliation. The daemon driving the spell had lashed back, and the result had pushed Maiko into such a pit of hopelessness that she’d killed herself. It was fortunate Jin had still been strong enough to fight the daemon back, preventing it from seizing Maiko’s soul. That soul was now somewhere in the palace, looking for a way to reach the Emperor without being detected. Her body was with Moonlight Brilliance and Kukulkan, on its way to Epiach where it would be safe from tampering. Maiko herself had suggested it, saying it was no lie that she had wishes in place for how she wanted her remains dealt with, and it was likely the Silver Serpent and her crew were currently in Epiach.

The presence of Maiko in Sang’s mind had been…odd. She was not accustomed to having other minds in hers, and it was hard for her not to feel such experiences as invasive. She didn’t like the idea that her private thoughts were not…well…private. There were some things she didn’t want anyone to see. Not even Kaji. Maiko had assured her she could only read surface thoughts, but that wasn’t entirely helpful. It meant the Jin had probably been aware of an unhealthy amount of futile anger, grief and guilt, no matter Sang’s attempts to control her emotions.

She blamed herself for this. She probably shouldn’t, but she did. If not for her, Maiko would never have come to this place. She’d still be alive.

That wasn’t to say that Maiko’s presence had been…all bad. She hadn’t drawn much attention to Sang’s churning thoughts but had been almost cheerful, even going so far as to suggest how the details of her suicide could be ammended to be more palatable for future bardsongs. Deception aside, the humour had been…comforting. She had regretted the moment when the Dowager Empress arrived and Maiko was forced to leave or risk discovery.

With things as they were, she didn’t know if she’d ever hear the Jin’s voice again.

**

The Dowager Empress, garbed in white mourning, sat at the table and gestured for tea to be poured. Sang, Typhenon, Isadora and Shayu, all who remained after Maiko’s death and Kukulkan’s departure, silently took their seats.

Servants poured the tea into paper-thin white cups. When the porcelain began to blacken, the Dowager swept hers aside with a shriek of rage, dashing it against the wall. The Emperor’s Champion advanced on the cowering servants who’d brought and poured the drinks, drawing his sword as they grovelled on the floor in abject terror.

The scene almost froze in Sang’s mind as she watched, knowing what would happen. She moved. The Blade came with her, sweeping out to catch the Champion’s sword on its lethal descent.

”You dare?” the Dowager hissed. She pointed a gold-taloned finger at one of the blackened cups on the table. “Do you know what that means? Poison!” she shouted when Sang didn’t reply. “They must die!”

“Enough blood has been spilled here today,” Sang replied, her voice distant, dispassionate. “I would not see more in this place, Dowager Empress.”

The daemon-woman’s eyes had narrowed in fury. “In respect for Usami Maiko, then, the executions will take place outside the palace.”

”No,” Sang countermanded. “I wish no more deaths today.”

The moment ticked past as daemon and Yu faced each other, one radiating anger, the other still as stone.

”Do not defy me again,” the Empress Dowager warned, and swept from the room. Guards siezed the terrified servants, but none moved to kill them. They were dragged away after the Dowager and the Champion.

”That was…imprudent,” Shayu murmured when the coast was clear.

Sang didn’t reply. He was correct. But she hadn’t been able to help herself. She couldn’t stop staring down the passage the Imperial Party had taken, prisoners included, and her mind began a silent countdown of how long it would take before the servants were thrown down and slain.

”I don’t know how long I can keep this up,” Typhenon said quietly, glancing at Sang. “Doing nothing when things like that are happening.”

Doing nothing when things like that are happening…

The words practically burned into her brain.

It is not wise. It is stupid. It is doomed to fail. And I’m sorry…I’m sorry, but I don’t care. I can’t do nothing.

She started to walk down the passage. Shayu made to grab for her sleeve, but pulled back before doing so. It was Isadora who halted the Yu’s advance.

”Let me,” she whispered. “I can do it.”

Sang looked at her friend silently, barely willing to hope there was another way, then bowed her agreement.

**

The beast below would likely be killed before it could be subdued. Sang felt a small pang of pity for it, and hoped the servants had made good their escape. Even if they were missed, she had her doubts that whoever was in charge of the prisons would report the truth, lest he face the executor’s blade himself. At least, she could hope so. Perhaps the only other death tonight would be the creature.

Sang’s open defiance of the Dowager was another matter. She would almost certainly pay for that insult, though what the price would be, what coin it would demand, she did not know. So long as it was demanded of her, none of her companions or family…that was all she would pray for.

Her fingers twitched around the Blade, seeking reassurance and strength.

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