by T. A. Miles
“The existence of the Celestial Swords supports the existence of Chaos,” Xu Liang said, to all of the men present. “We will devote both time and effort to quelling it, in whatever form it has taken. It is for the safety and the glory of Sheng Fan that I will continue to advise the Empress to support her dynasty and revere her ancestors, by continuing what was initiated by one of the Song’s most beloved members…an endeavor which began on behalf of the people and for the preservation of the land.”
Jiao Ren was the first to offer his support, bowing low. Tian Qi followed soon afterward. Gradually, all of the officers present were showing at least their deference to his station, if not loyalty to the Song. He suspected that some were better inspired by the purging of officers found guilty of betrayal soon after the ascension of Song Da-Xiao. It disheartened him that opposition might have grown to flourishing once again. But perhaps it had never been cut far enough back to begin with.
Tristus did not realize he had fallen asleep until a noise awakened him. He lifted himself up quickly off of a hard floor and too few pillows, then rolled over in the darkness in a vain attempt to recognize his surroundings. He’d been dreaming of the bunk that constantly felt as if it was moving beneath him aboard the Pride of Celestia. Though the ship was long behind them, he still found himself surprised to wake up on something so stable and for a moment he genuinely had no idea where he was. Before his memory could fully serve him in his groggy state, he caught the glimpse of firelight nearby. He rose slowly and followed the light to an extremely rounded archway. Orienting himself with the Fanese architecture, recalling whose home he was guest in, he stepped through the circular entry and onto a low balcony. From there he looked out at the night and a small garden lit by strange lanterns based on the ground. They looked like little stone houses for Fanese sprites. The notion inspired a smile.
Tristus walked across the stone walkway bordering the house, and down a shallow stair. He expected to see Gai Ping or one of the others standing watch, but then he realized that the garden was not completely outside. It was as a small courtyard, closed in by the wings of the house. Assuming it was safe for him to wander here, he did just that.
A chorus of insects and frogs filled the cooling night air. He wandered the stone path for only a few paces before he spotted a bench and decided to sit down, still feeling half asleep. He stayed there quietly for a span and listened to the noises, which suddenly included footsteps.
Tristus all but leapt to his feet at the realization that someone was near. “I apologize if I’ve intruded,” he said to the robed figure standing on the darkened path beneath a gracefully bent tree. Recalling the language barrier, he performed a hurried bow, hoping that it served to convey apology as well as respect.
“You learn quickly, Tristus Edainien,” a familiar voice said.
Relief and embarrassment forced him to sit back down. “Xu Liang, I didn’t recognize you...in the shadows.” He quickly reached out, as if to catch the words and drag them back. “I didn’t mean that I wouldn’t have apologized, had I known. I just...didn’t...”
“There is no need to explain yourself,” the mystic replied quietly. “I must apologize myself for having crept up on you. I believed all of you were sleeping.”
“We were. I was, anyway. I think the others are.”
“Do not be nervous,” Xu Liang said, still from the shadows. “I am through shouting for the night.”
“Shouting?” Tristus asked, unable to imagine it—at least, not in such blunt terms as it was mentioned. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing that need concern you at the moment.”
“You...saw your empress,” Tristus guessed. He felt slightly queasy after his somewhat grand speech of trust earlier in the day. He wondered if there was any way to get over the uncomfortable position he’d placed himself in at Vilciel. “Is she well?”
Xu Liang didn’t answer right away.
Tristus began to fear that something had happened to Sheng Fan’s ruler after all.
But then the mystic said, “She is well. Thank you for your concern.”
Tristus nodded, hoping to hide his unease with a smile. “So... how do things stand with the rest of us? Will your people allow us to help them?”
“Do you believe that you can?”
Tristus hadn’t expected the question. He managed to maintain some semblance of intellectual balance by saying, “I would like to.”
Xu Liang was silent for several moments afterward.
Tristus felt his heart begin to throb in his ears, and scarcely heard the mystic when he spoke again.
“The Celestial Swords will be presented soon before the Empress,” Xu Liang said.
The words filtered through slowly. Tristus was mystified by the notion of appearing before a foreign queen, particularly this one that Xu Liang served with such caring devotion. “What will happen then?” he asked.
“It will be determined how the Blades should be used.” The mystic paused. “It will be a difficult decision with no tangible enemy to target.”
“You mean the Dragon,” Tristus said and again Xu Liang was strangely quiet. Tristus cleared his throat. He hadn’t spoken to the mystic this extensively since...well, he had been trying to put that crushing moment out of his mind. “Earlier…you seemed unwell. Is everything all right? Are you well?”
“I’m fine,” Xu Liang answered, and there was no way under Heaven presently to tell if that was truth.
Tristus sighed. This was accomplishing nothing—whatever it was meant to accomplish. “I think I’ll go back inside. I hope that everything turns out all right.”
The shadow of Xu Liang’s form bowed. “I apologize for not seeing that you and the others were properly accommodated.”
“I don’t believe that any of us truly minded,” Tristus said, standing. “Well...Tarfan perhaps, was a little put out.”
“I shall wake you early,” the mystic informed, any lightness meant by mention of their endearing dwarf seemed to pass him by. When Tristus nodded agreeably, Xu Liang added, “I will see that you and the others are fitted for more presentable attire.”
“All right,” Tristus replied cooperatively. A moment ago he felt that he wanted to get away. He was surprised that Xu Liang wouldn’t let him.
“I hope you do not mind that I took the liberty of selecting the fabric,” Xu Liang added.
“No,” Tristus answered. “Not at all. Thank you...”
“Then I will say goodnight to you, Tristus Edainien,” Xu Liang concluded—though there seemed some hesitation in his voice—and then he disappeared further into the garden.
Tristus lingered beside the bench for a moment before finding his way back indoors. He was followed by no small amount of worry.
Loyalties
The following day Xu Liang did not leave his home immediately. He stayed indoors, studying and reorganizing after his extended absence, Tristus believed, based upon his observations. The mystic received several letters in a rather short period of time and was visited by many different people as well. Tristus watched as inconspicuously as he was able from the entryway of the suite they’d been granted within what was actually quite a large estate. He should have guessed that Xu Liang would be the equivalent of a landed nobleman within his country—his position was far too important to come without such trappings. He imagined that the dwelling place of the empress herself was not far. Like Vilciel, the Imperial City of Sheng Fan was spectacular, and larger than life in its own ways. He longed to have a better look, but knew that would be impossible for now.
“It’s not even been a full day yet since we arrived in this grand box, and my skin’s beginning to itch,” Tarfan complained. “If we could just know what was being planned for us.”
“We do know,” Tristus reminded the dwarf without looking back into the room. “Xu Liang has told us precisely what he has in mind.”
“What he has in mind…but what of what others have in mind?”
Tristus looked across the room now, at the stout elder seated quite comfortably for one who’d just complained of itching. “Of course, we’ve no control over what others may think, but…”
Tarfan held up a hand to silence him. “But you trust, lad. So you’ve said and said again.”
Tristus frowned, but decided against argument. He took note of the breakfast that had been set out on the room’s side table and walked over to it, recalling that he’d not yet eaten any of it. They’d been awakened early, as Xu Liang had warned, and invited to a meal while they waited. What they waited for, none of them were truly certain of.
With a sigh, Tristus looked over the food tables, which held a selection of various dishes that were not unlike some of the options they’d been offered in Vilciel in appearance. Shirisae seemed to think the same, or she was feeling adventurous; she’d put together a plate of reasonable portions of what appeared cooked vegetables and grains.
“You seem remarkably unworried, Shirisae,” Tristus said to her while taking up a plate for himself.
“I have not been given cause to be worried yet,” the fire elf replied. “Their behavior toward us is not different than our behavior was toward you.”
“Yes, that’s true,” Tristus agreed, and felt justified now in not sharing Tarfan’s anxiety.
“This is Xu Liang’s home,” Shirisae said next. “I will not anticipate harm while I’m a guest within its walls.”
Tristus began to nod, because he felt the same, but the apparent fact that Shirisae shared his trust quite so readily caused him to hesitate. “You have faith in him as well,” he said, recalling how much her faith had been in other things at first. He was glad that her perspective had changed.
The Phoenix Elf perceived that, and said, “I’ve learned to view him differently, as I have learned to view you differently.” She smiled. “I trust that brings you some relief.”
Tristus was wise to speaking too quickly, and decided to lead the topic away from himself and away from Xu Liang. “I think I’ll truly be relieved when you’ve taken on a new perspective of Alere.”
“There is no other perspective to take,” the lady elf informed him. “He’s as straightforward as he presents himself. He holds no secrets.”
Tristus didn’t really know what to say to that, since in many ways her words were true. Alere appeared to have no aspect of himself that he would hide. Even in discovery of things he might not have known of himself, he was quick to share as they were learned. Tristus’ experience with that had been firsthand and not easily forgotten.
His gaze sought the mountain elf, who had retired from stalking the premises in search of enemies or traps at some point during the night and was currently occupying a window seat framed with articulated lattice. The gardens were a beautiful backdrop of color against his monochromatic habits.
Tristus placed the dish that was in his hand back upon the table and went to the window where Alere was perched. “Did you sleep at all?” he asked while he leaned himself against the wall.
Alere didn’t answer.
Tristus followed the elf’s gray gaze outside, where he found—not the signs of a threat he half expected might be there—but Taya. The dwarf maiden was examining the wide variety of plants and flowers. She appeared to be quite engrossed and he was glad for that. At least one of them had found something of interest to occupy their minds over worrying.
That was when Alere said, “Something disturbs the people of this city.”
“I presume you mean other than our presence,” Tristus replied, and when Alere failed to dignify the comment, he felt he had received his answer. He took a moment to consider his next words before dropping them onto the disinterested elf. “Xu Liang did have a purpose in bringing us here. If nothing was amiss, I imagine he would not have made his journey west.”
Alere scarcely let the comment rest before making his own. “It has occurred to me fully—with time to reflect—that the men who had followed him and challenged him, both in Yvaria and at the bridge, meant to prevent him bringing the weapons together as he did, and to prevent him bringing them here.”
“Yes,” Tristus said, finding that much to be obvious. He suspected Alere was not merely informing him of what was obvious by mentioning it, however.
“He has enemies among his own people,” the elf continued. “Enemies willing to go to the same extents as he has in order to stop him.”
Tristus nodded. “What does that have you thinking, Alere?”
The elf finally looked at him. “That his enemies will continue to take measures against him, and us. We must be on our guard, and we must consider that—should Xu Liang be assassinated—we will be left on our own.”
Alere did have a valid point; Tristus could see that without much debate. They had placed themselves in a vulnerable place, more so than they had by trusting the Phoenix Elves, simply for the fact that they were all so very far away from their own homelands now. Still, Tristus liked to believe that, even should something disastrous befall Xu Liang, they would have some support from his guards, whom they had also traveled long with and formed some sense of kinship with, even with the language barrier. Guang Ci in particular.
“We’re not without friends here,” Tristus reminded the elf. “And, if we’re to consider things in the worst light, we’re not without our weapons; they’re only just in the neighboring room.”
“It would be a hard fight to escape this city,” Alere said, and in saying so simultaneously pointed out that it would not be impossible. Being able to express his concerns without combative argument seemed to enable him to relax, at least somewhat.
Tristus smiled a little—that Alere should find at least that amount of solace—and his ensuing urge was to take the elf’s hand. It surprised him how instantly he wanted to do so, and for that reason he was able to withhold the action. He knew it would not have offended Alere, but he did not want to lead him. His heart had settled itself elsewhere.
Alere seemed to notice his hesitation. It was in the way his gaze appeared to blatantly accuse Tristus of checking his actions. Beneath such scrutiny as a mountain elf’s, Tristus felt it better to join Taya in the garden, and he placed a careful hand onto Alere’s shoulder before he did so.
Xu Liang had indeed been absent from the Imperial City for quite some time. Upon first reentering the city, what had been described to him since arriving had not been visible at a glance. There had been no signs of rioting in the western district—not in the outlying settlements or the People’s City. Further inspection of the circumstances, through the correspondence of others had exonerated the Fortress General of any failing in the matter. Jiao Ren indeed had his men under control, and the peasant uprising that had taken place had been quashed weeks before Xu Liang’s return. As well, the patrol throughout the city had been elevated. Han Quan had selected not to inform him of that when listing their troubles upon his return. As to the elder’s theory of what inspired the city’s unrest—there did happen to be other incidents, though none as significant as what had transpired at the Gate of Eternal Balance—Xu Liang still did not believe that the uprising had occurred for a lack of presentation of the Empress. She was rarely on view for the public. They could not have known of her private meditation—however extended it had been. He believed that it was something else...rumors tailored for the public, or the Dragon. Perhaps it was both.
Among the letters he’d received were accounts from friends visiting the Imperial City from other kingdoms, many of which suggested that the atmosphere of the court and its surrounding districts felt ill. One in particular begged him to restore the health of Sheng Fan’s heart. Xu Liang wrote a letter in return, reminding his friend that the Empress would restore the health and vitality, not only to the Imperial City, but to all of Sheng Fan.
Song Da
-Xiao’s first command to him in accomplishing that had been to report to Fa Leng. He would do so swiftly, once the Blades were presented to her. He believed the weapons to be paramount in performing even the task she had given him. His immediate task was to present that belief as tangible evidence. First, he had to understand the weapons, not only as they were, but in relation to the historical, political, and environmental structure of Sheng Fan. Fortunately, he had been researching the matter since before the death of Song Bao.
The notion reminded him of the words of the men at the wine hall in the outer city. Two of their interests had been of the disaster that had befallen the Song family, and of rebellion.
Rebellions had been cropping up frequently—within the last decade especially. There would always be periods of unrest within the Empire, but none seemed more volatile—in account or experience—than what had recently been witnessed throughout Sheng Fan. Song Bao’s sudden death seemed the start of it, followed closely by the assassination of Song Lu. It was reasonable to assume that the people were still in a collective state of grief and shock over the loss. However, the timing of events coincided suspiciously with the stirring of the Dragon, just as the Oracle of Ding Zhu had foreseen.
The Empress’ nightmares had begun shortly after the passing of Song Bao. They had subsided only through efforts made by Xu Liang to calm her spirit with the presence of his own.
