Never Die

by Rob J. Hayes

  When Ban Ping appeared, it was almost a sudden thing. One moment the eastern horizon was clear and shimmering in the heat, then, as the road curved around a mountain of paddies, a city spread out before them. Cho thought it must be a trick of the eyes, for such a sprawling mess of buildings to appear out of nowhere. There seemed no order to the city, at least from a distance, with tall buildings spread out amongst the smaller ones, and on its southern side it seemed to be trying to climb the mountain face. As the road curved round even further, Cho squinted up against the sun and saw a temple and five large statues jutting out of the rock high up on the mountain. From such a distance all she could discern was that the statues were of monks, and each was in a different prayer pose.

  "Amazing!" Cho breathed. Someone pushed her in the back and she stumbled forwards, not even having realised she had stopped. She apologised, and caught up with Ein and Zhihao.

  "The shine soon wears off once you meet the monks." Zhihao was in a more maudlin mood than usual. His shoulders hunched and his face was twisted in a heavy scowl.

  Ein turned his head to look at Zhihao. "I passed through Ban Ping on the way to Long on a pilgrimage with my father. I liked the monks. They were kind."

  "They're kind to everyone. Makes them almost as creepy as you." Zhihao slowed his pace and dropped back, walking behind them. Cho noticed he kept his head down, hands resting on the hilts of his hooked swords. She had seen people act that way before, he was worried someone might recognise him.

  "What happened to your father, Ein?" Cho asked. She wondered why she hadn't considered it before, where the boy's family might be and if they were looking for him.

  "He died. He took me to see Long. Halfway up the mountain there's a shrine dedicated to a shinigami. He died there." Cho would have thought the boy might feel something over death of his father, but his voice was as flat as his stare.

  "The same shinigami who has sent you to kill the emperor?"

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  "I didn't ask." There seemed little else the boy would say, but he tightened his red scarf a little despite the heat, and started rubbing the fabric between his fingers.

  At the outskirts to the city stood a wooden arch that stood over the entire road. It was painted green with red awnings on top, and seemed to serve little purpose other than to represent the city limits. Three monks stood at the base of the arch, bowing and welcoming everyone who entered the city, or wishing those who were leaving a safe journey. Each of the monks wore a voluminous gold robe with black trim, and their hair was shaved into a thin line along their heads. Cho noticed that most of the travellers ignored the monks, but it didn't seem to stop the men from wishing them well. She couldn't see why Zhihao held them in such low regard.

  "May the stars shine favourably upon you," said one of the monks as they passed.

  "Fuck you!" Zhihao said, even as Cho bowed and repeated the blessing back to the monk. Again she found the people behind her pressing in, hurrying her along, and she left the monks to their greetings.

  The traffic was flowing and most of the people seemed to have a destination in mind. Cho and Zhihao did not, and Ein's pace slowed even further once they were inside the city. Eventually the boy stopped and stared first behind them, then in front, turning around as though he were lost.

  "I don't recognise this part of Ban Ping."

  Zhihao groaned. "What's there to recognise or not? Look. Street, another street, some buildings. Merchants trying to sell us shit we don't need. Beggars begging. And monks. Everywhere monks. All pretending to keep everyone happy, but really they're here to keep us all in line. City of veiled enlightenment, you called it? More like city of veiled law enforcement. Why are we here, boy?"

  "It's on our way to Wu."

  "Dozens of towns in ten different little kingdoms are on the way to Wu. This is Ban Ping. Why are we here?"

  Ein continued staring first up, then down the street. "I'm looking for someone."

  "Who?"

  "Chen Lu."

  "Never heard of him."

  Cho decided it was time to take control of the situation before The Emerald Wind ended up only partly alive. "Let's find somewhere to stay. Somewhere with hot food and a bath."

  "Cold food, hot food. What does it matter?" Zhihao scowled at her. "It will all taste like salted dirt."

  Cho sighed. "Once we're there, we can ask around for this Chen Lu. I can find somewhere that sells clothes, preferably Ipian. And you, Zhihao, can sulk and hide from whoever it is you think will find you here."

  They found an inn and Zhihao paid for a room from the money he had taken from the dead at Flaming Fist's camp. No sooner were they settled, than Cho set out to find a market. Leaving Ein alone with The Emerald Wind was worrisome, though she wasn't sure which one of them was in the greater danger, but a short break from them both was a blessing. The sun passed its zenith as she wandered the streets, and finally asked a passing monk where she might find a store that sold Ipian clothing. He was happy to help and dished out another blessing from the stars as she left. Clothing was not cheap, and Cho was bordering on poor, but she managed to find a serviceable blue hakama to wear over her legs and a black haori to wear over her under-wrappings. She looked more like an apprentice than a master, but that was better than looking like a dead bandit. After purchasing the clothing, Cho spent her very last coin at the local baths. She almost felt sorry for the other bathers when she saw the grime sloughing off of her.

  Despite the comfort of the warm water, there was still something wrong. Something Cho couldn't quite put her finger on. She was relaxing, yet she didn't feel relaxed, nor content, nor even relieved. She had an itch that she couldn't seem to scratch. It was tugging at her, pulling at her, and the more she tried to ignore it, the more insistent it became. All of her wounds given to her by Flaming Fist's men felt as though they were reopening. Before long it became too uncomfortable to lie still in the bath. The water felt too hot and oppressive, like it was trying to pull her down. She found herself sinking, struggling to keep her head above the water as it closed in around her. The pain in her chest burned and when she looked down she saw thin trails of blood seeping into the water, mixing with the slow currents.

  Cho pulled herself from the bath and staggered towards her clothing and her swords. The world spun as she dressed, first pulling her under-wrappings tight against her chest, then slipping into her hakama, tying the trousers around her waist along with her saya, and finally pushing her arms though her new haori, which she left open. It was bordering on scandalous to have her under-wrappings even slightly showing, but she had spent the last three days walking across Hosa in such a state. At least now she was a little more covered. Either from the heat of the bath, or maybe just the time of year, but Cho found herself sweating and breathless. She staggered back towards the inn in a sort of daze, ignoring the questioning stares and two attempts by monks to help her. With each step the pressure and pain eased and the strange itch lessened, though its source was still a mystery. By the time she reached the inn, all she felt was an unease, a distant feeling that something, somewhere was wrong.

  She found Zhihao sulking alone in the common room of the inn, sitting at a low table, his knees folded beneath him. He spotted Cho as soon as she entered, but quickly looked away. As she drew closer she could see he had a full cup of wine sitting in front of him, and a plate with rice and vegetables in states of disarray. It looked as though he had spent more time pushing the food around the plate, than eating it.

  Cho knelt down across from Zhihao and picked up his cup. First she sniffed at it, then she gulped down a few mouthfuls. It tasted foul as expected.

  "Please, do help yourself."

  "Where's Ein?" Cho placed the cup back on the table and took a deep breath. She could still feel the itch somewhere, making her skin feel like insects crawled through her veins.

  The Emerald Wind shrugged. "He's asking around for Chen Lu. It appears this is one legendary hero no one has ever h
eard of. After a while he decided he was going out looking. I opted to stay here." He pulled the cup closer, but then just pushed the mug around a bit rather than drink from it.

  "You let the boy go out alone? What if he gets lost?"

  "If only," Zhihao snorted. "Can't you feel it? Close your eyes and tell me you can't feel where the boy is."

  Cho wasn't in the practice of taking advice from bandits, but Zhihao had proven himself trustworthy, though his maudlin mood since Flaming Fist's camp was doing much to unravel the fondness he had earned. Still, Cho did as he suggested, she closed her eyes and stilled her mind. She felt the itch more keenly, playing across her skin, and tugging at her. When she opened her eyes again she found Zhihao nodding.

  "It's like some damned dowsing rod, always telling us exactly which way to go to find him. I felt the same thing back at Kaishi when I tried to leave. The feeling got so bad I could barely stand. It felt like my heart was being eaten by blood worms." He shuddered.

  "The farther away he is," Cho said, "the worse it gets. We're bound to him." Until she had felt that itch she had thought it a matter of honour. One more oath she could discard when it got too tough. Now she realised things were more complex, and also more simple. They had no choice but to follow Ein and carry out his will, for if they tried to do otherwise they would die. Again.

  The Emerald Wind nodded. "We might as well be wearing chains." He pushed the cup to the side of the table, and then over the edge, spilling the contents on the floor.

  "Why do you hate this city?" Cho asked. "Who are you hiding from?"

  Zhihao started pushing his plate slowly towards the edge of the table. "I'm not hiding from anyone. And I hate this city because I was born here. My parents gave me to the monks, and those hooded arseholes spent twelve years trying to make me placid like them. I even have the constellation of Lili tattooed on my back. Master Fushus said it would connect me to the most calming of the stars." He looked up at Cho and there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. "It didn't work."

  She hadn't expected him to be so forthright about his reasons, nor his past, but she was glad of it. It certainly explained a few things. A serving woman stopped by the table and plucked the fallen cup from the floor. She gave Zhihao a hard stare. He just smiled back and pushed the plate of food off the table. It hit the floor with a clatter and a sigh from the woman. She scooped up the plate, and as much of the rice as possible, and stormed away. Rented room or not, Cho had a feeling they would soon be asked to leave. Zhihao looked incredibly pleased with himself for the petty act.

  "Have you any idea how boring it is," Zhihao continued, ignoring both Cho and the angry serving woman, "to stand at that gate outside the city and bless everyone who passes? For a full month I stood there. Ordered by the masters to be pleasant to everyone. May the stars shine favourably… May the stars shine favourably… I was ready to start cutting throats after the first day. How do you think I felt after a month? Nobody ever says thank you. You're lucky if they just ignore you."

  "And yet you were so kind to those now in that position."

  The Emerald Wind snorted. "I served my time. Let those poor bastards know what it feels like now."

  A burly man with a bloodied apron, a balding head, and a drooping moustache stopped by the table. Cho guessed him either the owner, the cook, or possibly both. He folded his arms across his ample chest, giving them both a good view of the knives and cleavers hanging from his belt. "Leave," the man barked.

  Zhihao looked up at the man with a grin, before turning it on Cho. "Do you think he realises how easy it would be to gut him with his own cleaver?"

  Cho stood, resting one hand on the saya of her swords. She bowed her head to the man, and then again to the serving woman waiting nearby. "We're very sorry. We'll be going now."

  The Emerald Wind let out a groan. "Going where? There's nowhere to go. Ban Ping is such a dull place. Let's just get drunk until the boy gets back."

  "We're going to find the boy," Cho said. She resisted the urge to drag Zhihao to his feet. Having grown up with three younger brothers, her experience with petulant boys told her it would only convince The Emerald Wind to resist even harder.

  "Wonderful." Zhihao groaned once more, then slipped out from under the table and stood. He squared up to the cook, hands on sword hilts. Cho wondered if it made him angry to find he was a good few inches the shorter of the two. "You should be more polite in the future. I'm The Emerald Wind."

  The cook sniffed and looked Zhihao up and down. "I've never heard of you." Cho almost smiled at the blush that rushed to Zhihao's cheeks, but she guessed it would only make the situation worse.

  "Well your food tastes like trash."

  "That's because we serve trash to trash."

  Cho discovered the limits of her patience had already gone and decided to follow them. She turned away from the altercation, certain it could only end in bloodshed, and exited onto a street bathed in long shadows. She heard shouts from within the inn and closed her eyes, trying to ignore it. She was an Ipian Shintei, trained in the ways of the blade to help others, to lend steel and technique to worthy causes. And here she found herself babysitting a brigand, one of the most notorious criminals in all of Hosa, a man who may well have killed as many people as she had saved.

  She felt the itch, tugging her north, further into the depths of the city. It was getting stronger. Cho wondered if that meant Ein was moving farther away. She wondered if the boy knew what that would mean for those bound to him, that they would be dragged along behind him, or die from the wounds that had already killed them.

  The door slammed open behind Cho, startling her out of her reverie. The Emerald Wind sauntered out looking altogether too pleased with himself. He gave Cho a wink that would have curdled her stomach, had it not already been so from the taste of food and drink.

  "Are you finished?"

  The door swung shut behind Zhihao. "Yes. And I feel much better, thank you."

  "Do I want to look inside?" Cho considered what she might do if she found the cook dead. Would she give the man justice? Or ignore The Emerald Wind's crime? Would their bond to Ein even allow them to kill each other? There seemed so many questions and she had no answers for them.

  "Best not. They are all still alive though."

  A scream sounded from inside the inn.

  "We should go." The Emerald Wind didn't wait for Cho to agree, nor ask her which direction, he just started walking north. Cho sighed and followed.

  Chapter 13

  The sun had long since fled over the western horizon by the time they found the boy. Zhihao supposed it was someone's job to go around the streets of Ban Ping after darkness had fallen, lighting the street lamps, replacing candles. Actually he supposed it was probably quite a few people's jobs considering how many streets there were in the city. He wondered if he'd be doing it right now if not for a chance encounter with Seifon, the Broken Chain. Zhihao smiled at that; one unlikely meeting with an even more unlikely woman was all it took to turn a life of pious boredom into a life of adventurous crime.

  Whispering Blade was as quiet as her name, but she didn't need to speak to make her disappointment known. She did not like that Zhihao had started a fight at the inn, whether he left the cook alive or not. That was the problem with real heroes, which The Emerald Wind was certainly not, they stood up for the weak instead of preying upon them. Heroes called for justice while people like Zhihao cried vengeance. Heroes fought to satisfy honour, as though it were somehow more important than filling their pockets. Heroes were little more than fools waiting to find the one battle they couldn't win, and he would never be one, no matter what the boy said.

  At the far end of a small market, sat a fat man lounging on a stool that looked to be straining under the substantial burden. He wore only trousers, cut off above his knees. His bulging gut hung low and wobbled with every movement. The boy was kneeling next to him, apparently listening to whatever the fat man was spewing. Itami wasted no time in threading her
way through the merchants packing away their wares, leaving Zhihao to follow unenthusiastically behind her. If he were a better thief, he could easily have made away with a few goods, perhaps even some new rings to replace those he had lost, but Zhihao was more bandit than thief. He preferred to take what he wanted in plain sight and dare the victims to stop him. Unfortunately, such blatant thievery would only bring the legions of monks down upon them.

  "… had a monkey once. Little thing never made a sound." The fat man's voice was high-pitched for his size and he was completely hairless. He was also sitting underneath a large yellow parasol despite the sun having given up a while ago. "It wore a hat. A miniature jingasa, in the Ipian style. Used to dance for me. I have no idea what happened to that monkey."

  "You probably ate it," Zhihao said. Itami glared at him, and the fat man frowned in his direction. The boy didn't move, just kept staring up at the fat man with those ghostly pale eyes.

  The fat man kept up his frowning for a moment, then laughed. "I have eaten worse things." He slapped his belly, setting it jiggling, then reached down for the small wooden keg at his feet, raised it to his lips and drank deeply and noisily.

  Itami knelt next to the boy. "What are we doing here, Ein?"

  "More wine!" the fat man shouted. If there was anyone nearby, waiting to satisfy his demands, Zhihao did not see them. They were in a small clearing, paved with cut stone, at the back of the market. A raised wooden platform sat even farther back, nestled against the wall of a huge stone building that looked a lot like a gaol.

  "I found him," the boy said with a beaming smile. "Chen Lu, Iron Gut."

  "That is I," the fat man said happily in his squeaky voice. He slapped his belly again. "Iron Gut Chen. I was regaling the boy with my exploits."

  "I already know them all," the boy said proudly. "But I like to hear them from, as you said, the horse's mouth."

  "This is he?" Itami asked. "Are you sure?"