by T. A. Miles
Xu Liang’s view of all of it began to fade. He became loosely aware of footsteps, and a less hostile voice.
“My lord!”
The dream shut itself up like a box, and Xu Liang opened his eyes to look upon Gai Ping. The elder’s worry was clear, and though Xu Liang felt overheated and exhausted—and in no small amount of pain at his chest—he felt greatly relieved as well.
That relief began to drain from him, however, when Gai Ping said, “I came to inform you that there are visitors to your office. But when I saw that the nightmares…”
“Who has come?” Xu Liang interrupted, sitting up—not as quickly as his mind wanted him to.
Gai Ping put a hand out to steady him. “Lords Huang Shang-san and Han Quan. We weren’t inclined to their unannounced entry, but the insistence of the Chancellor persuaded us on your behalf.”
Xu Liang forced back the urge to abandon his bed for his office at once—his physical state assisted, by precluding such movement so soon after yet another debilitating state of dreaming. He nodded in response to the elder and said, “I’ll meet with them shortly.”
Once out of bed and dressed in layers suitable for presentation to his peers, Xu Liang made his way through the passages of his residence. Such movement seemed increasingly less separated from what he accomplished when asleep. In his dreams, he moved in spirit as if he were yet awake in body. During such dreams, he found himself increasingly conscious to his environment and of the placement of his spirit in relation to his body. It was not the same as maintaining multiple points of focus, which meditation and his understanding of astralmancy had allowed for in the past. It was more as if he’d become a ghost in his sleep. Through the eyes of his spirit and of his mind, he viewed not only what he knew existed in both past and present, but what he believed to be possibilities of the present or future. This form of travel had begun with his resurrection in Vilciel. He had been carried by the Phoenix, through the passages of his past regrets and his present fears. And he had been introduced to possibilities that he struggled to acknowledge. In the dark and, at times burning passages of the Phoenix, such visions seemed vivid and hostile—imminent. Awake, reason did not permit him to act. Not openly, at least, and not yet.
He would not ignore the messages, whether they were formed of his own subconscious deductions or delivered to him by the god who was also his tormentor. At the very least, the Phoenix, in bringing him back from the dead, had its own agenda. He believed it would not provide him warning only to usher him so soon to failure. If failure was its goal, it would not have brought him back at all. Still, he would continue to investigate Han Quan’s loyalties discreetly. First, the elements in the Jade Hall would be dispelled. Following that, Xu Liang would make an account to the Empress. He would do so while he presented her with the Celestial Swords and their bearers.
Those were the thoughts in his mind when he passed through the entryway to his office, and found two elders of the court awaiting his arrival. Morning salutations were shared and Xu Liang suggested that they share wine in the garden. Both of his fellow officers accepted, and it was in the garden of Xu Liang’s residence that the three of them discussed their various concerns. Han Quan made himself the most vocal—it seemed that Huang Shang-san had only come to offer moral support, to one of them—and the Chancellor’s grievances were vivid. It became quite clear who it was Huang Shang-san had come to support while he winced as discreetly as he was able behind an otherwise pleasantly attentive expression whenever Chancellor Han Quan complained.
“With the care of a criminal, those outsiders were ushered through darkness and into the temple,” the eldest of them described acidly. “In defiance of a verdict laid down by you, Imperial Tutor, our sacred passages were violated. The air of the city is ill enough with their presence—”
“The air,” Xu Liang interrupted firmly, “was ill already. Upon my return, there were not less than thirty-nine documented complaints of disruption even without including the reports of the rioting at the east gate. You exhibit disquieting haste in feeding the presence of the outsiders into the fire of malcontent. They have not come to fuel our fears, but to aid in quieting them.”
Han Quan’s already hard-drawn frown soured dramatically. “By what means? The Swords of the ancient gods, granted to us—if they were in fact granted at all—so that we, as the sons of Sheng Fan might wield them against a dragon? Even if such a sensational series of events should befall us, should those divine weapons not be in the hands of our own warriors?”
“You speak as if you yet support the archaic belief that the ancient gods created Sheng Fan alone, so that they might nest it within a cradle of disparate form and material, one from which we might never grow out of, or take steps away from.”
“This is not the time for philosophical debate, Xu Liang,” Han Quan rebuked. “Your time away has clearly impeded your judgment. I suspected that it was impeded before you left, and now that I see you edging nearer to incompetence, I feel that I must bring my concerns before the Empress at once and directly. I must tell her of the danger that her affection for you has clearly blinded her from seeing.”
“One who speaks in doubt of the Empress’ judgment does so with either fear or rebellion in their hearts,” Xu Liang warned. “Both are equally dangerous.”
“Do not twist my words!”
“Do not doubt the Empress’ clarity of vision!” Xu Liang loathed to shout at one he had long respected and considered a friend, but the shrillness in the elder’s tone brought about harsh reminders of dreams doused in jade flame. As well, the Chancellor’s dismissal of the Empress’ trust in one of her officials for young infatuation was intolerable. Song Da-Xiao understood and embraced her role. Xu Liang would have thought her demonstration of censure when he returned would have satisfied many—if not all—of his opponents within the court. Of course, at that time he would not have considered the Chancellor so willfully among them.
Perhaps sensing his dismay, Han Quan reneged. He took a moment to calm himself, then bowed apologetically. “Forgive me, Lord Xu Liang. Perhaps there has come to be some fear in my heart after all, with all that has been happening lately.”
Xu Liang, for a bitter moment, felt less concerned with accepting Han Quan’s apology, and more sensitive to Huang Shang-san’s potential discomfort. When he looked to the Minister of Ceremonies, the elder bobbed his head in an expression of patience. Xu Liang returned the gesture as one of gratitude, then said to Han Quan, “I must apologize as well, for my outburst.”
Han Quan straightened. His gaze moved between Xu Liang and Huang Shang-san. And then he said, “What did you discover in the temple?”
Realizing that his rise in temper and strain had caused a sudden tension in his chest, Xu Liang answered slowly, and as evenly as circumstances allowed. “I discovered that there is no dragon immediately present, but that spells had been placed.” He was careful to make certain eye contact with Han Quan when he continued. “Spells similar to what I had set in the Palace of Imperial Peace to guard against trespass during the Empress’ seclusion.”
“Spells of fire?” Han Quan inquired, not breaking their connected gazes. “The work of a pyromancer.”
“Clearly,” Xu Liang replied. He placed his cup down onto the garden table carefully. The addition of a geomancer’s spell was poised on the edge of his lips, but he refrained from mentioning it. Instead, he said, “Did you discover anything regarding the tremors throughout the city?”
“I have not yet,” the elder confessed. “There has scarcely been time since the task was appointed to me.”
Time enough to make himself aware of the goings on in the middle of the night and to compose an aggressive objection.
Xu Liang decided not to voice that thought. Instead, he said, “It is my plan to utilize the power of the Swords to negate the spell trap, and see for myself just what is being protected at the center of the temple.”<
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“I think that wise,” Huang Shang-san put in, perhaps to dissuade any further argument.
It seemed to work. Han Quan merely bowed, more agreeably than he had done anything since Xu Liang’s return to the Imperial City. “In the execution of the city’s defenses, I have no say.”
Xu Liang accepted the Chancellor’s yielding on the matter with a nod, then watched him place his cup down and leave the garden.
Huang Shang-san waited until the other elder had gone, then stepped closer to Xu Liang. “Lord Han Quan is not the only one afraid,” he said.
Xu Liang did not find the comment worthy of further attention. He had other matters that he’d been waiting to share with Huang Shang-san, those which concerned more than the strain his absence might have impressed upon the court, or the Dragon.
For a time, Xu Liang spoke of his quest and all that it had entailed. He summarized months of travel and mere moments of turmoil that would carry with him for years, if such an amount had been allotted to him in the broader scheme of Heaven. He was uncertain whether the magic of the Phoenix Elves would recover all that had initially been given him by the Jade Emperor, or if that had been lost and he was, in fact, forsaken. Just as the peculiar spirit in the Aeran forest had implied.
“I’m glad you have confided in me about the details of your journey into the West,” Huang Shang-san said, with a warmth in his voice that was very much welcome after the morning’s start. “It has been some time since I’ve ventured out of Sheng Fan myself. I had forgotten some of the dangers.”
Xu Liang smiled slightly, in spite of all that tormented him internally. “You sound as if you would like to face them again.”
Huang Shang-san laughed and waved the notion away quickly. Then he rested his hand on Xu Liang’s shoulder. “No, no, my dear young man. I have grown far too old for that sort of thing. I leave it to you.”
“And I must turn my focus inside now. I have neglected my duties to the Empress.” It had not been lost on him; that Han Quan was again correct in his criticisms.
“If the Swords are all that you say, you have fulfilled those duties,” Huang Shang-san assured him. “And as to your nightmares, I would not worry greatly about Lord Han Quan. He is even older than I am, and he fears what he has never taken the time to understand—and that is all that has to do with the outer realms. I would not fear him turning your heart into stone.”
Xu Liang sighed at the mention of that detail of his nightmares and decided to change the subject while his chest began to ache with such thoughts. “There is something else I’d like you to help me with, my friend.”
At the point they’d arrived at since coming to Sheng Fan, Tristus would have to admit that he was growing weary with the wait. It may have been in response to the near call to action they’d all experienced the night before. Looking upon what may have been the aftermath of that adventure in the garden was disheartening as well.
“There’s been a good deal of activity in Xu Liang’s house this morning,” Tristus felt inclined to note while he sat upon the perch that was typically Alere’s, being careful to not strain himself to see what was carrying on just out of his view. He had glimpsed enough and voices had carried enough that he knew he was indirectly witness to an argument among politicians.
“Yes, I’ve noticed,” Shirisae eventually replied, perched with a little less ease than she’d thus far demonstrated upon one of the chairs along the wall.
“I’m worried,” Taya added, curled in the chair beside the Phoenix Elf.
Alere had been to the stable that morning and come in after breakfast—and with Tristus in his window—so he seated himself upon the floor nearby. Tarfan was clenched in a tight ball of pending fury amid the pillows, claiming to have slept very poorly after the incident at the temple, and no one could blame him. They had all been witness to something incredible, yet again. For the second time, Tristus had witnessed the Phoenix. He could not begin to guess what that meant. Shirisae was unwilling to speak of it, which naturally inspired worry that something might have been wrong.
“Xu Liang!” Taya exclaimed suddenly, drawing all eyes to the room’s entrance.
“There is no need for concern,” Xu Liang said to all of them.
With him was an aged man in brown and red robes with white layers peeking from beneath. His gray hair was topped with a small hat that seemed to serve little purpose save adornment. The man’s face appeared rather a friendly one, offering a smile at the eyes. Tristus supposed that could have been contributed to the manner in which his years had pulled at his features.
“This is Lord Huang Shang-san,” Xu Liang introduced. The elder bowed to them while his title was given. “Minister of Ceremonies. He is a scholar of renown and accomplishment, and some experience outside of the borders of Sheng Fan as well. I would like you all to come to know him. It is my hope that you will be able to learn Fanese from him during your time within the Empire.”
So, perhaps they weren’t about to be tossed out, or imprisoned.
“I will also aid when I am able” Xu Liang continued. “Lord Huang Shang-san is aware that all of you are able to share the Yvarian language. We both understand that it has inspired many dialects and that its roots are elvish.”
Yes, they all did seem reasonably versed in the most amalgamated tongue that Tristus was aware of in Dryth. He knew nothing of elvish—and was quite lost when the elves chose to partake of private conversation—but he had learned Lower Yvarian, since Andaria and Yvaria shared the Alabaster range. As well, it was required of both Church Knights and clerics to be able to speak all regional languages. Among the priests, that was for purposes of conversion, but the Order Masters cast the assignment down to all ranks serving the Church of Andaria, and it included Yvarian, as well as Old Andarian and Treskan. Tristus did not know that he would ever be a fluent speaker of Xu Liang’s exotic language, but he would certainly do his best to learn it.
“Please, become acquainted,” Xu Liang invited. He continued in Fanese to the man who had arrived with him, and also to Gai Ping. Afterward, he returned to the tongue the rest of them were familiar with and said, “Alere, if you would accompany me.”
Tristus felt his brow lift with curiosity, looking from Xu Liang to Alere. When the elf stood, his gaze followed him across the room and to the entryway, where he did join their mystic and the both of them departed with Guang Ci and Cai Zheng Rui in tow.
“Well, I wonder what that’s about,” he murmured.
“I wondered how long I’d get away with remaining ignorant,” Tarfan mumbled, bringing the focus back to the topic of languages. The topic seemed to have relaxed him, else it was the same conclusion that Tristus had drawn; that they weren’t about to be escorted to the nearest border.
“You’ve known Xu Liang as long as you have and never learned his language?” Tristus said with his eyes still on the doorway Xu Liang and Alere had abandoned moments ago.
“I managed a word here and there, but it’s a very complicated tongue,” Tarfan answered. “I’ll be surprised if you can get by, lad.”
Tristus brought his focus back into the room—in part because the man they’d only just met seemed to be noticing the insistence of Tristus’ curiosity. And, as he currently had no ability to properly explain himself…
He said to Tarfan, “Meanwhile, Xu Liang has been able to communicate nearly as well as a native speaker, even discerning some elvish.”
“Can I help it if the mage is a master of languages? I must have forgotten to tell you of Xu Liang’s brilliance. The lad impressed the late emperor of this vast country at the age of seventeen. He began his career at fourteen, you know.”
Glancing in the direction of Master Huang Shang-san, Tristus noticed him following the conversation visually, angling his head as if to better hear or decipher words here and there. When he noticed Tristus looking at him, he gave a friendly bow.
/> “You did forget to tell us of that, Master Fairwind,” Tristus continued. “Tell me; how long did it take him to learn to speak Yvarian?”
“He’s had some practice at Aeran first, which is about as different from Yvarian as Andarian,” the dwarf went on. “Still, it helped him phonetically. Inside of the first months we’d spent traveling together, he was getting a grasp of the northern tongue—and forcing me to dust off my use of it as well, since it was the only common basis we had to start from. I suppose you only have two languages to your armor.”
“I have three, Master Fairwind,” Tristus informed him, smiling helplessly at the gruff demonstration of embarrassment that ensued from the dwarf when he looked at him. During Tarfan’s incoherent muttering, he added, “I intend to make it four.”
He began to move away, out of the window and toward Shirisae’s perch. And that was when the dwarf said after him, “I have four myself! Dwarven lands lay directly in the middle of everywhere, you know. A dwarf can’t get by without being able to communicate with his neighbors!”
“I only speak Yvarian and Treskan,” Taya put in.
Tristus smiled while he sat himself on the other side of Shirisae, whose red lips were also demonstrating some amusement, though there was some distance to her expression. He had no desire to kill a lighter moment, but he was concerned. His expression, his mood, and his posture slumped gradually after he’d seated himself. Leaning forward with his arms bent across his knees, he spoke quietly to Shirisae, “Do you have any idea what Xu Liang and Alere have set out to do?” He attempted to speak a little quieter, so as not to draw the ear of the friendly elder, who began exchanging words experimentally with Tarfan.
Shirisae looked over at him. “No, I don’t.”
Tristus could only accept that, and he did so with a nod that in no way could have communicated the level of his worry. Afterward, he folded his hands together and closed his eyes, praying in silence. It was then that Shirisae placed her hand over both of his. She said nothing, and she didn’t have to.
