by T. A. Miles
Xu Liang simply tucked his hands into his sleeves and maintained what he decided was a calm, dignified expression in the face of their collective amusement. “At least you are unified in something,” he said, which only made them laugh louder.
The night grew darker, and colder. At some point, Alere had braved the storm to go to the stable next door—which was also run by the innkeeper—in order to check on the horses. By coincidence or some secret communication between the two of them, Gai Ping volunteered to go with the Verressi hunter. The two were not absent for long.
After a modest meal, the companions nodded off as they were inclined to, and Shirisae—seeing that the mystic was still awake—decided it was time to speak with Xu Liang.
All around their group, most of the inn’s patrons who were also forced to spend the night in the common room were asleep, many of them snoring. A few others sat awake, sipping ale or finishing off a loaf of bread that was no longer warm.
Xu Liang, a perfect portrait of scholarship and serenity, was utterly out of place in such an environment, but—Shirisae had to remind herself—she had yet to see him in his proper place.
She rose quietly, and carefully tiptoed over and around her friends, gently moving aside one of the knight’s flung arms while he lay asleep with Taya reclined against his chest and Tarfan curled nearby, kicking Tristus’ shoulder from time to time.
In response to the unconscious abuse, Tristus absently pushed at the snoring dwarf, mumbling remonstratively, “Sylvashen...stop....”
Shirisae smiled irresistibly while she crouched in the space between the three of them and Xu Liang, who sat cross-legged near the wall. Her movement had drawn his dark eyes from the slumbering masses heaped around them.
“How long have you been away?” she asked him. His gaze seemed to question, so she added, “From your homeland.”
“Too long, perhaps. Or perhaps not long enough.” The mystic’s reply was as cryptic as she should have expected. “Why do you ask?”
“I think...” Shirisae looked down at the floor for a moment, then returned her gaze to him, wondering at the way her words strayed so easily from those she had prepared before approaching him. She tried again. “I know…that I would like to understand you. I understand the Swords and the reasons that all of us were drawn together. I don’t need to hear that again right now, but I would very much like to hear something about you...personally.”
The mystic’s expression changed very little, which surprised Shirisae. She’d been expecting some manner of guard to go up, a mask to hide his inner self. Perhaps, she considered, he was already wearing that mask, and had been all along.
“I’m not certain what you are asking,” Xu Liang admitted.
Shirisae wasn’t sure herself. She thought for a moment and soon came up with a more specific question. “Tell me about your empress.” When the mystic seemed to consider what to say, Shirisae added delicately, “Do you love her?”
“Yes,” Xu Liang answered, and Shirisae couldn’t decide if the answer came readily or more automatically, like a reflex. That he didn’t say anything more confused her.
Carefully, Shirisae rephrased. “Are you in love with her, Xu Liang?”
The mystic stared at her for a brief span, his eyebrows drawing together as if he might be offended. And then, his features relaxed again, and he said, “I had barely begun my career in imperial office when Song Da-Xiao was born. Our acquaintance came first through her father, the late Emperor Song Bao, and deepened through my friendship with her brother, Prince Song Lu. I have considered her in many aspects: as the daughter of my revered ruler, the sister of my beloved friend and superior, as my student, and even as my teacher...but most of all, as the leader of our people and the life essence of our land. She is the guiding, comforting, and even punishing hand to the Empire. Whomever sits upon the throne of Sheng Fan, whomever has been deemed worthy by the Mandate set forth in the most ancient times our civilization has known, is as a parent to many children, who would stray and become lost without his or her divine aegis. Even so, there are still some who defy the Mandate.”
Shirisae listened attentively, feeling Xu Liang’s devotion to this ‘Mandate’, his supreme belief in the rules of his society, and the role he played in a drama written by gods. She understood, as she was the same way. She did not simply practice her faith in the Phoenix. She believed in the Flame. She believed with all that formed her heart, her body, and her soul that her people had been resurrected by it, given a second chance to fulfill their purpose in this world. If someone brought tangible evidence before her that it was not true, that something like that could not happen and had never happened, she would call them a liar. Yes, she definitely understood what it was to believe in something on a scale that encompassed an entire society and without waiver. She was still learning what it was to believe in something closer to an individual. She had a feeling that in this, she and Xu Liang were also much alike.
“In answer to your question,” the mystic finally said. “No. I have never thought of my empress in that way.”
Shirisae nodded, absorbing the information and with it, leading up to her next question. “Though it is not the way of my people, I know that in many societies individuals of important standing are betrothed to be assured of a proper and beneficial marriage. You are of an age to have been so promised, and perhaps even to have fathered children, yet you do not seem a husband to me, or a father.”
“I am neither,” Xu Liang answered quietly, revealing nothing of what Shirisae was hoping to uncover. He added, “I was betrothed once, but the arrangement came to be annulled.”
“Why?” Shirisae asked helplessly. Though she felt no compunction after the fact, she did recognize that some might view it as an imposition. “I realize that it is none of my concern.”
“It is not,” Xu Liang confirmed. “However, I’m not opposed to speaking of it. It does not shame me. I will explain simply by saying that all affected parties found the arrangement to be impractical. I was relieved, since I was certain myself that I would not bring honor to my intended bride or to her family, or to my own, for that matter.”
“You were in love with someone else,” Shirisae guessed, heedless of how carelessly the words escaped as she became suddenly convinced of how correct she was in that assumption. In the moments following she found her conviction to be not so strong after all, and she was surprised by the pang of remorse that struck her with the mystic’s reaction.
Xu Liang’s dark eyes narrowed—perhaps with censure—and then he closed them, hiding all emotion with that simple gesture. He said quietly, “I no longer wish to discuss this. Forgive me. I must rest.”
Shirisae withdrew, feeling that she had the answers she had been seeking, for now.
Alere was not about to sleep under these circumstances. The inn was far too crowded, and anyone who believed there was safety to be found in numbers was a deluded fool. More than one of these people would likely wake up in the morning missing articles from their packs or pockets, or perhaps they would not wake up at all, having been smothered in the night after catching someone riffling through their belongings. Earlier in the evening, there were at least three men whose eyes Alere found too curious, lingering too long on Xu Liang, who appeared a man of evident importance while he sat with armored guards to either side of him. In all likeliness the would-be thieves had overlooked the elves and others also in the mystic’s company, tempted by their greed as they ogled at what they deemed to be a rich foreign prince, stranded by the storm, which knew no discrimination between wealthy and poor.
In the darkness formed by the waning of the fire in the room’s large hearth, Alere was watching them. He knew that if they meant to strike, they would do so soon. Dawn was near. They would want to be gone by the time the bodies were discovered. Unbeknownst to them, the only bodies to be discovered would be their own. After coming in from the stables, Aler
e had positioned himself against a wooden pillar near his companions and shadowed his face by drawing up the hood of his cloak. Aerkiren lay on the floor beside his leg, tucked out of view beneath the edge of the garment. Alere’s hand tightened around the sword’s hilt when the first of his three suspects started to move.
The slim character, hidden beneath layers of winter garb, stood from a table several feet away and padded softly through the slumbering bodies, headed toward Alere. He did not stir at all, waiting. What surprised him was that the individual was taking their time veering toward Xu Liang and his guards, all of whom appeared to be sleeping sitting up. Perhaps they weren’t, and the would-be thief suspected that, though Alere knew how exhausted each of the bodyguards had become during their long struggle through the blizzard. However, a would-be thief did not. Maybe they had chosen a new victim, an elf lord wandered in from the cold, tired enough to have finally fallen asleep after hours of surveying a room full of humans that could just as easily equate to a mob of enemies. Tired enough, perhaps, but not careless enough.
Alere waited for the slinking stranger to come within arm’s reach and to crouch down beside him. Silently and swiftly, he lifted Aerkiren, bringing the tip of the blade up to the thief’s throat.
“Tenve bev sion,” the thief whispered, flinching a little, but not withdrawing.
Alere’s glared with suspicion. He did not lower Aerkiren. “Ys tollev tenn?”
The thief hesitated, then said, “Avim…Aerydden kiron te vor helannen.”
“Your elvish is terrible,” Alere replied.
The thief sighed, then said in a voice just above a whisper. “Yes, well it’s been a while since I’ve had to use it.”
“And what business does a human woman have speaking it?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer. “Who are you, and who are the others with you?”
“That cold eye of yours has quite a scope, doesn’t it?”
“I asked you a question,” Alere reminded, reminding the woman also of the sword aligned with her throat by just pressing the tip against her skin. “I will not repeat myself.”
The woman held up her hands as if to demonstrate peace. “It seems to me that you’re with the mystic and his entourage. I had a feeling you wouldn’t let me get within spitting distance of him, let alone speaking. Tell Xu Liang that the Pride of Celestia sets sail midday tomorrow. If he’s looking to get across the Sea of Ice, we’ll be waiting at Artham’s Pier. Be discreet. There are eyes watching out for you.”
“Why did you wait all evening to approach us?”
“I had to be certain no one unsavory was as interested in my movements as you. Those others you mentioned, for example. They’re not with me. I was beginning to think they’d never get enough alcohol in them to pass out. Regardless of them, when the storm wanes tomorrow morning, I’m going to leave. I suggest you and your companions do the same, though not too closely behind me. And don’t forget that roaring yak passed out beside you. He and I are going to have a lesson in counting the days of one’s shore leave.”
Alere glanced down at Fu Ran, then slowly lowered Aerkiren, certain now as to who this human was. Still, he wondered, “How do you know the storm will wane by morning?”
“I dreamt it,” the woman whispered, then stood and went back to her table. Within a few hours afterward, she had gone. The heavy front door of the inn thundered on its hinges in wind that seemed only marginally weaker than it had been during the night, then was dragged shut, closing out the storm sound so suddenly that more people were awakened by the silence than by the clamor of the woman’s exit.
Alere waited for a while after she had gone, then began waking his companions.
The Pride of Celestia was as beautiful the morning after the blizzard as it had been curious the day Xu Liang had first laid eyes on it in Ti Lao. Relief swept over him as thoughts of home finally began to seem a reality he would soon be experiencing. This journey had, by far, been the longest and most trying of any he had made in the past. He understood that the worst of the trials were yet to come, but he also knew that what lay ahead would be trials in which he fully understood the maneuvers and strategies, with the ever-present exception of the Dragon. He did not know precisely what to expect, but he believed he would recognize the Dragon, in whatever form it elected to take. It would be Chaos, in its purest form, and somehow the Swords would put it to rest, just as the gods had in legend.
“Master Xu Liang!” Yvain greeted when she emerged onto the icy deck of her ship.
Xu Liang bowed his head from the pier below.
Yvain made her way down. She explained that as soon as the snow had let up she’d given her crew the task of clearing the deck with anything that could scoop snow, down to and including their hands. It was evident that they had tried, however the slush created from the men’s activity quickly refroze in the frigid northern air and left a sheet of ice beneath snow that had been dusted across the vessel by the wind. Now her men had reverted to throwing down what appeared to be sand.
“As soon as we lighten our load and give everything a twice-over, we’ll be off,” the captain said. “I’ve already been in this town four days past my scheduled stay. Another minute and I’ll go mad.” She was speaking Fanese, and as she finished her explanations, she bowed in the traditional fashion. “It’s good to have you aboard again.”
Xu Liang returned the gesture. “I am grateful for your generosity, Captain, and it is good to see you again.”
Yvain straightened, smiling warmly. Then she looked over the rest of his party. “You’ve acquired a few new faces to your entourage.”
“I was able to acquire what I was looking for, and beyond,” Xu Liang replied.
Yvain gave a nod. “Yes, keep it cryptic. I trust my men, as far as it’s smart to trust sailors; it’s far less hassle to let them think that no one onboard is in possession of anything particularly valuable. I always tell my men and my passengers: If you carry on any treasures, keep them to yourself.”
“I understand,” Xu Liang answered. He stepped aside while the others were invited to board.
“You weren’t followed, were you?” Yvain asked next. “Where’s that frosty elf who was playing at watchdog last night?”
Xu Liang recalled the way the mountain elf volunteered to, once again, ‘clear the litter from their path’, just as he had upon first joining with them. However, he doubted Alere would come back with friends or allies this time. He said to Yvain, “Alere will be along after his own fashion.”
“Alere,” the Aeran woman echoed thoughtfully. “That’s a pretty name.”
“Don’t let it fool you,” Fu Ran said, stomping snow off his boots while he crested the gangplank. “He’s a lot colder on the inside, even than he looks on the outside.”
Yvain folded her arms across her chest and peered at the giant through mildly glaring green eyes. “That seems appropriate, since his name happens to mean ‘winter’s soul’. But, then, I wouldn’t expect you to know that—a man who can’t even count ten days from fifty!”
“Has it been that long?” Fu Ran wondered while his captain made her way up to him. He lifted his large hands to begin ticking off the days, or weeks, as it were.
Yvain smacked his hands apart. “Don’t embarrass yourself! You count about as well as you read!” She stepped closer and poked him in the chest with one finger. “You said you were only going to handle the rats on Xu Liang’s trail and meet us in Tavannach!”
“Well,” Fu Ran murmured, scratching the back of his bald head. “Things got...complicated. We—”
“Complicated? Complicated is trying to think of new ways to put off the miserly dock masters at Tavannach for a week! Do you have any idea how much they charge a ship to be in their port beyond a simple loading or off-loading?”
“Well…I…no—” Try as he might, Fu Ran couldn’t get a word in that Yvain didn’t abruptly cut off.<
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“And where is that snake-eyed gypsy?”
“There’s something you should know about him,” Fu Ran put in quickly, but Yvain didn’t seem interested.
The fiery Aeran captain grabbed Fu Ran by the collar of his cloak and improbably dragged him down to her height. “I thought we had an agreement!”
“We…I—” The large man’s entire head seemed to have turned red. When Yvain let him go and stomped off, Fu Ran could scarcely glance at his friends, all of whom stared with interest equal to their—and his—embarrassment. The giant tried to put on a casual grin, too late. He said in Yvarian, “Well, what are you people standing around looking dumbstruck for? We’ve got a ship to get out of the harbor. You’re passengers, so...go be passengers somewhere.”
“We don’t actually know where to go about doing that,” Tristus said. “And what of the horses?”
“Pride’s got ample cargo space, even for beasts, though I doubt that most of them are going to be pleased with it.”
The ensuing conversation amongst the others drifted away from Xu Liang while he turned back toward Willenthurn in search of Alere. He also would have liked to have a glimpse of just who the elf had decided to confront. If truth be told, he disliked any of them venturing from the group for long. His quest for the Swords had been long and arduous, and had nearly ended in failure. They could not—and would not—set sail without Alere.
It was in the midst of such thoughts, that Xu Liang reminded himself that Alere had always returned, even when it seemed that he would not. A gust of icy wind pressed his hair and robes against his back and legs, threatening to push him from where he stood. An aeromancer especially understood the strength of the Spirit of the Wind, and not to provoke such a power by disregarding its demonstration. He turned from the view of the town and carried himself carefully over the slick surface of the plank, onto the main deck of the Aeran ship.
