Five Kingdoms

by T. A. Miles

  Unfortunately, his condition no longer allowed for direct spiritual comfort of the Empress. The movement of his spirit had become erratic and more instinctive than deliberate or planned. His priority now was to balance himself for the sake of performing his duties. A new focus had to be achieved, if he had to teach himself a new method by which to achieve it.

  That thought carried him to still another letter brought to him, by a man still present in his office. The prefect of the outer city had indeed brought a scroll from his daughter. Her written request was for Xu Liang to read her grievance, but not to share it, not even with her father. Xu Liang would have begrudged her the position such a request would have put him in, but that her letter had come concealed within a letter. That she had stuffed the smaller roll of parchment within the larger-sized official scroll was very nearly a violation. However, since it was evident that doing so had not meant breaking any seal of office or of reading confidential correspondence between officers, he could not be offended on his own behalf, or her father’s.

  Song Bin Ce’s brief letter expressed both an apology for complaint and a statement of grievance over impolite and accusatory statements passed by the Chancellor of the Court. Her concern was over Han Quan’s suggestion that he would lay charges against her for betrayal if she did not become a spy for him within the Empress’ personal residences, and assist him in spreading defamatory rumors regarding the interests of Xu Liang’s barbarian guests in order to stir unrest the Empress could not ignore. She furthered to express her love for the Empress, her high respect for him, and her hopes that the matter could be discretely resolved.

  Beneath the former consort’s letter was the detailed report made by the prefect, of his efforts during the rioting, and a summary of the tone of that district since. The conclusion was that the tone was uneasy. That atmosphere seemed to reach very broadly, and throughout all parts of the city.

  The sound of metal knocking against wood drew Xu Liang’s attention from the letters before him. He looked up at Zhu Meng, a man of sturdy frame and stern countenance. He had earned his role as the prefect of the People’s City through a long and accomplished military career. He had mentored Jiao Ren, and fought alongside Yuo Shang. Both of them had assisted in the appointment of Jiao Ren to Fortress General. A letter from Yuo Shang had, in fact, reported the efficiency of Jiao Ren’s defense at the Gate of Eternal Balance, which enabled Zhu Meng’s outer city forces to take control of the rioters. The report from the Supreme General set Xu Liang somewhat at ease over the tension demonstrated the night before. He understood that many of them were afraid. He understood also that fear was as dangerous as plague.

  Currently, the prefect studied the weapons lying side-by-side on a table inside the door of Xu Liang’s office. They were the twin blades of Ma Shou.

  With a studious frown, Zhu Meng said, “The Blades of Grace.”

  Xu Liang had not recognized them. “Are they?”

  Zhu Meng nodded while replacing the short sword he had been examining into its scabbard. “They were once thought lost at Hu Fang, during the Protest of the Crane Scholars. Apparently, they were recovered.”

  “They came to me by the hands of a mystic of fire by the name Ma Shou,” Xu Liang informed. “I intend to present them to the Empress.”

  “Along with the weapons I see are not on display.” The prefect swept his hand over the table top while placing the sword in his opposite hand down beside its twin.

  “The purpose of the Celestial Swords is not to be kept within an armory, or treasury,” Xu Liang told him.

  “No,” Zhu Meng seemed to agree. “But should they not be distributed to better hands by the Empress?”

  “There are no hands better suited than those selected by the gods,” Xu Liang said, frowning at the twinge of strain that danced beneath his skin at his temple and down his neck…into his chest. “I believe the Empress would agree.”

  “I see,” Zhu Meng said with a slow nod. He stepped away from the table and toward Xu Liang’s desk. “It has been suggested that you speak, not on the Empress’ behalf, but in her place.”

  Xu Liang believed now that he may have understood Song Bin Ce’s request for secrecy of her letter where her father was concerned. Still, he had no desire to come to a premature conclusion, particularly under the influence of pain—pain that was mysteriously absent during the previous night’s tension. “My obligation to Sheng Fan is to form advice on the basis of the Empress’ divinely granted wisdom and in the interest of the people she guides and protects.”

  The words were not a reprimand, nor adamantly delivered. They were simply-stated fact.

  Zhu Meng looked at him, and in making direct eye contact, the old warrior yielded. His complaint was not one stemming from pride, it would seem, or even one of accusation. Concern had inspired the topic.

  “Do not be troubled by the tongues of snakes,” Xu Liang said to him next. “The danger lies in their fangs.”

  The prefect bowed respectfully. However, his worries were not fully alleviated. “I fear that such a snake may poison the Empress against you, Imperial Tutor.”

  Xu Liang was relieved that the prefect’s worry was not that Xu Liang had been poisoning the Empress against her own people, and relieved to know that Zhu Meng and his daughter both maintained similar concerns. As to the prefect’s worry over the Empress’ trust in those who would abuse that trust…while they were not entirely without merit, Xu Liang believed they were unwarranted. He said, “The Empress is no longer the grief-stricken child that she was after her ascension. It will not be so easy for lies to affect her now.”

  “The fear in the hearts of many is no lie,” Zhu Meng pointed out.

  Xu Liang recognized the relevance of his statement, and nodded. “That is true, Zhu Meng, but I intend to quell the source of that fear.”

  Song Da-Xiao sat beneath the boughs of the Imperial Orchard’s trees, a portrait of youth and the charming attributes of her ancestors. Ladies in waiting surrounded Her Imperial Highness during her relaxation, sipping from delicate cups as they roosted upon low chairs at circular tables placed beneath the shade. The detailed layers of their colorful robes draped to the ground, along with their hair, though sections of their tresses were arranged in various looping and braided styles and adorned with beads and ribbon. The sight was one of serenity and beauty…despoiled by the hidden ugliness of the Song family.

  Han Quan had not been charmed by any of them, nor was he charmed by their ornamental bird, Xu Liang. He was gaining the Empress’ trust, gradually. When he had shaken away her faith in Xu Liang, he would see to the girl liege’s guidance himself. He would advance a new policy over that which the Song had used to promote themselves wrongly as the divine elect. They were upstarts and betrayers, and now that the Swords had been brought together, they would be proven counterfeits. And if not the weapons themselves, then their bearers. Han Quan would decide what was to be done with them, and when the Brotherhood inquired of them, or came looking, they would be met with a new Empire.

  He could only assume that Vorhaven had been killed, else the Night Blade would not have returned to Sheng Fan. Han Quan would see to investigating the matter once he had established his proper place in the court and dealt with Xu Liang. In dealing with the Imperial Tactician, he knew that he would have to deal with others as well who remained loyal to Xu Liang or to their child ruler. Zhu Meng had not been malleable, nor had there been much luck turning an ear of interest from Yuo Shang, but Han Quan yet believed he could affect the young Jiao Ren. The man was still a child himself, and charmed by the Empress. Loyalty among youth was often strongest at the heart, which was the most foolish of human attributes in its immature stages.

  Han Quan let the thought rest at that, and turned from his view of the orchard in the moments Xu Liang was arriving. He walked the length of the outer corridor, his gaze fixing on the shadow patterns of the latticework upon the sto
ne path. With each step, they seemed to loose themselves from their fixed shapes and take on the form of many small beings. Serpentine forms writhed, like a nest of snakes upon the stone. Small hands seemed to rise up, and the edges of wings flickered with the erratic motions of autumn leaves. The leaves had not begun to fall yet in the Imperial City.

  Not yet.

  The vision passed with the thought, a flick of Han Quan’s hand scattering a thin layer of dust in his wake as he left the orchard.

  “My Empress,” Xu Liang said, bowing before he approached Song Da-Xiao.

  He had scrolls in his arms and one of his servants in tow. The younger man with her Imperial Tutor had a severe aspect to his countenance, which was made sharper with the addition of stark lines of facial hair. She did not immediately recall the guard’s name, or if she had seen him in Xu Liang’s company before. But Xu Liang was responsible for appointing his own servants. It was possible that this one had come into service at a more recent time.

  “I have items to present you with that were obtained during my quest,” Xu Liang announced as the first order of business.

  “Not the Celestial Blades so soon,” Song Da-Xiao clarified.

  “Preparations are underway for their presentation,” her most beloved servant replied.

  He was that, but she wondered now if she should have allowed more than a day for him to prepare. Han Quan had pointed out that the terms had been Xu Liang’s, rather than her own. She had pointed out to the Chancellor that the terms were also the advisement of her tutor. She could not reasonably deny what he thought best and maintain his relevance in his station.

  It was then that Han Quan explained his point of view; that Xu Liang had grown too accustomed to tailoring his advice to suit his interests, even above hers. The elder reminded her that she had ordered him to take Fa Leng, and that he had rebutted her decision before her court of officers.

  She still believed that Xu Liang had been prioritizing, having an insight that she did not where the Celestial Blades were concerned. Though she did wonder if it would aid Xu Liang to witness her enforce more decision without his immediate guidance. After all, she was no longer the child he had rescued from her grief and the overbearing wills of her father’s and brother’s officers. Xu Liang had told her himself that he could not be her sole strength.

  The thoughts meandered in her mind without commitment one way or the other, and were ultimately set aside in favor of the presentation at hand.

  “Guang Ci,” Xu Liang instructed of his guard, who then stepped forward and lowered onto one knee before her table. The young man placed a pair of short blades onto the grass.

  “The Blades of Grace, I am told,” Xu Liang said. “Obtained from a man arrested in Ying on the charge of treason against the Empire. A horse was also acquired.”

  Song Da-Xiao accepted the items captured for the Empire. “And what of the prisoner?”

  “The man was a mystic, who appeared to set his own fire against himself,” Xu Liang explained. “He is presumed dead.”

  Song Da-Xiao nodded. She could not envision a man setting such a spell against himself. He must have been quite desperate.

  “These scrolls,” Xu Liang continued, laying them down beside the short swords, “Are the writings of the Scholar General, Cai Shi-meng.”

  She knew of the relics from her history studies, and she knew that Xu Liang appreciated them greatly as a scholar. For that reason, she smiled. “What good fortune. How were you able to obtain them?”

  “The scrolls were acquired during my passage to the western realms. The captain of an Aeran vessel had them in her possession, and was kind enough to return them to Sheng Fan as a token of her respect for our culture.”

  At the mention of a barbarian woman, Song Da-Xiao’s expression faded. She found herself quickly wondering whether or not Xu Liang had brought a woman of the outer realms with him. As someone he believed was meant to bear one of the Blades, such a woman would have been a warrior. Women were not warriors in Sheng Fan. Presenting her as one would be tantamount to presenting her as an incarnation of a god.

  Was that what Xu Liang believed? Perhaps some would believe that to mean that he had come to perceive himself as one as well since coming to bear the Moon Blade. Perhaps that was what Han Quan worried over. But if Xu Liang were willing to rest such significance upon outsiders…

  Before the thought had even finished forming, she dismissed it, recognizing it as lingering insecurity. Her tutor had been gone too long, and she had spent too much time during his absence relying on him. When their spiritual connection had been severed, she felt a weakness that compromised all of the strength she had built under his tutelage. She also believed that she had felt him die. It might have been true that Xu Liang had begun to hold himself too highly—not out of arrogance, but for the sake of expectations he had placed upon himself over his duties. She was now beginning to fear that he would leave her as abruptly as her brother did. There was no cause to overly justify the concerns of Han Quan and others. Xu Liang had long been viewed as quietly overzealous, just as she had been viewed as a child. She understood that she must begin to make decisions that would free them both from inaccurate perceptions.

  It was then that Xu Liang informed her of the status regarding the Temple of Divine Tranquility. It had been largely avoided for some time by now, owed to the curious instability of the atmosphere within, but now the Imperial Tactician had ordered it inaccessible to all. While he explained the events that inspired his decree, Song Da-Xiao was reminded of her nightmares. She agreed with him, that there was indeed something within the temple.

  “Should we not investigate it?” she asked her servant. She wondered if they should not send a fully armed unit of soldiers in, to face the beast she feared or to prove that her anxiety was over a phantom.

  “We should, Empress,” Xu Liang agreed. “But we must take care in the assignment.”

  He wanted to perform the investigation himself. Of course, he did—he was a scholar and a constant student of the elements. His studies took him to places she could not go. She believed that his studies would one day be his end. She wanted to deny him the option to further endanger himself, but he was her protector, first and foremost. He had assumed the role following the deaths of her father and brother. He was family. That was the nature of their relationship. Xu Liang was not an ambitious stranger. But if he were to die protecting her, she would be surrounded by them.

  She thought of Governor Xiang Wu’s suggestion. Would making a husband of Xu Liang make him any less her protector? No, she believed. It wouldn’t. But it would make him a consort prince, and, as a man, it would put him in a position to become emperor. She was beginning to understand precisely what it was Han Quan and others of Xu Liang’s critics feared. And, in regard to her own fears, she understood that ascension would place Xu Liang precisely in her position; safe. Undoubtedly, some would view such a maneuver as abdication. She argued with herself that even if it was, the result would be the protection of the man she loved and the safety of people of Sheng Fan, whom she also loved. It was an action she could take, as empress, that would fulfill her ultimate duty…and ultimately herself, some might say. She also understood well that her tutor would advise against such a course. He would do so strongly, because he believed none but a Song should be upon the throne.

  “Xu Liang,” Song Da-Xiao finally said, setting the matter aside, for now. “I will rely on your guidance, regarding the investigation of the Temple of Divine Tranquility. As well, I grant you the scrolls of Cai Shi-meng as a reward for your service.” She watched him bow in a display of gratitude, and then she felt her breath catch in the moment before she spoke her next words. “In the interest of peace and safety, I ask that you present the Celestial Swords and the individuals that have come with them in three days. The sooner these problematic mysteries are resolved, the sooner we can look ahead to a secure and prospe
rous Sheng Fan.”

  Xu Liang paused. His entire form hesitated while he was rising out of his bow and then lowering again to accept her new wishes. It filled her with sudden weakness that made her hands feel cold, especially when he said, “I shall do as you command.”

  The scrolls were retrieved by Guang Ci when command was given. Song Da-Xiao said nothing more, nor did Xu Liang while he took steps backward respectfully, then turned to go. The guards present along the edges of the enclosed orchard remained still as statues while he and his servant passed. Song Da-Xiao commanded one of them to life by ordering the collection of the Blades of Grace. Observing the retrieval of the weapons, she believed that nothing could cut so gracefully as Xu Liang.

  The day pressed on in Xu Liang’s home. Tristus scarcely noticed while he and the others were pestered by tailors. Poor Tarfan’s analogy of having pins stuck in him became a reality as the Fanese servants struggled with not only his diminutive stature, but the dwarf’s inability to stand still for more than a few seconds at a time.

  “I don’t see why we can’t just wear what we came with,” Tarfan grumbled. “I’ve stood before many queens in my day and—ouch! —I can tell you—oh! —there isn’t a one among them who—watch it, laddies! —had a problem with...that finishes it!” Tarfan jerked away from the tailors and began roaring curses.

  Tristus was laughing. Fortunately, he was between fitting sessions, wearing a simple robe with sleeves long enough to accommodate Fu Ran. He felt like he was wearing a sheet as he sat on the floor in audience to one of the funniest scenes he had ever witnessed, at the regrettable expense of a friend.

  “Can it be that even you have a cruel streak?” Alere wondered aloud.

  Tristus wiped his watering eyes and looked at the elf, averting his gaze not quickly enough when he caught sight of him switching robes in the midst of his own fitting. A glimpse of the lean and stunning white frame was enough to make him stop laughing at once. His face felt instantly warm and his pulse quickened. Before Tarfan could begin to wonder about things that Tristus wouldn’t have been comfortable with the dwarf knowing, Tristus brought attention to a detail of the elf’s form he had only noticed as an afterthought. “You must have seen a great deal of battle to have acquired so many scars, Alere.”