by T. A. Miles
Xu Liang assured him that it would and thanked him for his support on the Empress’ behalf. Also on the Empress’ behalf, he ordered the transition of Jin Fu to a Ji stronghold and asked that Miao Yuntai continue to act as prefect while awaiting the official decree of the Empress. Also, for the time being, General Zhou Biao had been appointed to lead the defenses of the castle militarily. Forty thousand troops would be left to join Jin Fu’s thirty-eight thousand, of which some were likely to abandon the castle and flee further south.
The resident generals had been vouched for by Miao Yuntai, since it had been a full surrender that the majority of them had agreed upon. Miao Yuntai intended to defect from Ha Ming Jin’s state of rebellion and serve the Empress committedly. Without question, one or more of his higher officers would take the first opportunity to return to Ha Ming Jin. They would be allowed, so long as they did so peacefully. Xu Liang saw no reason to make arrests here, though he did inquire of Han Quan.
Miao Yuntai claimed to have neither seen nor heard of the whereabouts of the former chancellor. Xu Liang accepted his answer. He sent a letter back to Jianfeng ahead of him, telling the Empress to expect a victorious return.
SHIRISAE HAD BEEN nothing but observed by the people of Jin Fu since its surrender. The atmosphere of their stares were somewhat different than what she’d been receiving from Ji’s troops—more in line with the looks of curiosity and wariness she’d received alongside her friends when they’d first arrived at the Imperial City. In truth, she’d grown accustomed to being watched and wondered about. She had not been able to take offense because these were Xu Liang’s people, and she intended to be among them…with him. They would have to grow used to one another. It seemed that the Empress’ soldiers were doing so rapidly, and that concerned Xu Liang. When he explained that they were taking her, not only for his wife, but for divine, or a divinely appointed entity, she understood how that could create unease. Rejection would have been a worse strain, he admitted, but now he would have to carefully observe forming ideas and deter harmful exaggeration.
He had been referring to harm toward the Empress and he carefully expressed the nature of his relationship in the process of relating that to Shirisae. She sat across from him in a wide window sill overlooking the field that had nearly been the site of a battle between massive forces, watching the way the sunlight enfolded him and feeling warmed by his presence. It was the warmth of familiarity earned through significant time spent with him, both before and after the campaign to Fa Leng. She would have felt warm in the presence of any of her friends just now. This victory of Xu Liang’s seemed a marker that they all should have shared in, and of course they couldn’t. It probably should have been considered a victory for all of the bearers—previously allied and not—but Shirisae felt only a surface connection to the Empress and to the memory of Jiao Ren. At the moment, their value was seen through Xu Liang.
She had once asked him if he was in love with his empress, and he said he was not. She was, then and now, satisfied with that answer. It had not occurred to her to ask whether or not his empress was in love with him.
“My love has always been devotion, over desire,” Xu Liang said, seeming to form the words alongside the thought.
In reply, Shirisae said, “It’s odd to realize that mine has always been the opposite. Even in my devotion to the Phoenix, I’ve been more focused on what I wanted over what I felt should be supported…or nurtured. I’ve learned better because of you.”
Xu Liang looked at her then, accepting her statement with a bow of his head. “We have much to learn from each other,” he said. “I believe that we could commit a mortal lifetime to such an endeavor. I admit that I once believed that it would be much shorter for me.”
“So you rushed to brilliance, in order to achieve all that you could,” Shirisae said with a light smile.
He allowed her teasing with the customary nod that she found especially endearing under the circumstances. Such humor seemed to not always fall as intended upon Fanese ears, but in moments of doubt, Xu Liang tended to humbly accept over becoming indignant.
“I felt guided by my ancestors,” the mystic said.
“It may also have been that you were guided by other forces.”
“The phoenix is believed to be a guide for all scholars of Sheng Fan,” Xu Liang reminded.
“It may be a coincidence,” Shirisae answered. “Though I doubt it.”
“The Phoenix, as you know it and as I have come to understand it has been a visible force before the people of Sheng Fan. It appeared to confront a dragon that may have been an avatar…or a servant of Chaos. I fear that it has swayed the perspectives of many and that, by association, it has determined perspective regarding you.”
They had returned to conversation about the swiftness of her acceptance.
Xu Liang continued with some hesitation. “There are stories of a Silent Emperor…one who will rule without Mandate.”
“You,” Shirisae guessed easily. The evidence could not have been more plain, even to an outsider.
“I will not endeavor to fulfill such a role,” he said. In the golden daylight his eyes were shining. “Though I now fear that I have unwittingly contributed to the hopes of some, by bringing the Swords together as well as their bearers. There are some who believe the current dynasty is cursed and that the dragon was proof of that. Pressure against the Song will increase, not only with misplaced expectation, but through resistance to the implications brought by the presence of the Swords.”
Shirisae slid her hand across the window ledge, touching her fingertips lightly against the side of his hand. “The Song have you to defend them, and now all of us as well. Our success is also Song Da-Xiao’s, so long as all of us stay committed to each other and to standing against chaos.”
Xu Liang turned his hand over, and brought Shirisae’s fingers into it. He drew in a breath and released it quietly, closing his eyes in the process.
Shirisae wanted to move nearer to him, but she had begun to detect that such demonstration was not typical in Sheng Fan between unrelated males and females. It was not typical in Vilciel, before the pair had been in some way promised to one another. Among her people that promise could be what had already taken place between herself and Xu Liang. It did not require the approval of an outside party, except in her case…where it required the Phoenix. She was without doubt that she had that. She felt that in Sheng Fan, even with official betrothal or even marriage, it would be frowned upon to display affection too openly. At one time, she might have believed that was exclusive to Xu Liang, but she had learned otherwise, watching Xu Liang gradually open himself to his fellow bearers. He yet hesitated with Tristus, but she understood that better now as well.
Xu Liang opened his eyes once again, and said, “Rumors are only dangerous when they bear untruths.”
JIN FU’S PRISON was located in the same court as the barracks. Ma Shou could hear the movement of soldiers all around the building. The window was arranged too high for him to see out of, beyond a cluttered view of the sky and the light that passed through the bars. The floor was of solid stone, dusted with straw. Rather like a stable, he thought to himself. It was a reach toward what he had once known of himself. He scarcely felt like the same man. It didn’t seem to matter if he were a man at all—he could just as well have been a shadow. But the cell had plenty of those already.
Ma Shou watched them carefully and kept himself as much in the window light as possible. The silhouettes of men patrolling the balcony that surrounded the prison building moved across his sanctuary, but never lingered. If Ma Shou had been concerned with escape, he might have attempted some spell that would catch them when they passed by. Of course, the bars were metal, so he would only succeed in injuring or killing guards. The door was also of iron and, barring the straw carpeting, he had nothing to burn to any purpose save making himself uncomfortable…or dead.
He still wanted to resist that. He still wanted to survive, if it were somehow possibl
e to do so free of the threat of the necromancer. But he was tired and getting weak. He might not have had the strength to cast a spell, even if there had been a reason to.
The door opened. Xu Liang entered with two of his guards present. The other three were perhaps protecting his barbarian. At one time, Ma Shou might have thought her long and narrow features devilish, but he now knew better of such things.
“Ma Shou,” Xu Liang said, commanding his attention, as if he knew where Ma Shou’s thoughts had wandered to.
Ma Shou looked at him. Without conscious intent, he said, “Please, help me.”
“You will be taken to the School of the Seven Mystics,” Xu Liang told him. “To Master Che Wen Tai. I fear that you would not survive the journey back to the Imperial City.”
Ma Shou feared that he might not survive any journey, but he would put his hope to the Supreme Astralmancer. He bowed to show his appreciation for the Imperial Tactician’s care.
“There is one stipulation that you must agree to, Ma Shou.”
Ma Shou hesitated to rise.
Xu Liang said, “You must not attempt to leave the school, for any reason. Guards would not be welcome, so you will have only one attendant…a bodyguard. He will stay with you at the school for the remainder of this season, and the majority of the one to follow. Someone will return for you in the spring.”
“What if the masters insist that I leave?” Ma Shou asked, straightening.
“You are a student of the mystic arts,” Xu Liang reminded. “Any mystic is welcome to stay at Ding Fa indefinitely.”
“Except for one,” Ma Shou said, more helplessly than in challenge or contradiction. He raised his gaze to Xu Liang’s to observe his response.
The aeromancer held silent for a brief span. And then he said, “Lei Kui would still be at the school, had someone not aided his escape.”
His escape? “Han Quan?” Ma Shou blurted at once.
“Perhaps,” Xu Liang replied. “Though I have been unable to determine a motive.”
“Betrayal,” Ma Shou supplied, as if he knew. Perhaps he did. “Lei Kui was betrayed by Han Quan. I don’t know how, but I feel that it’s true.”
“I think he believes that he has been betrayed by all mystics,” Xu Liang said.
And with those words it dawned on Ma Shou why he had been tormented, and why he may yet be killed by the necromancer.
“Do I have your agreement, Ma Shou?”
Ma Shou nodded, because he yet believed that the last place he wanted to be in Sheng Fan was the Imperial City.
Hearts in Jianfeng
The day of the return of her troops had Song Da-Xiao seated in observation atop the heavily sheltered Sun Gate. The banners and the mass of soldiers they billowed over were visible in the distance. It was scarcely possible to discern individuals yet, but Song Da-Xiao felt that she could see Xu Liang already. And beside him, she could also see the flame-haired outsider she herself had granted the title of Clouded Fox. Clouded, because she was, in many ways, a mystery. Unfortunately, she seemed less a mystery now, as did Xu Liang.
Song Da-Xiao had spent the later part of the morning determined not to think about the report she’d received concerning the ‘wife’ of her tutor. Determining against such concerns only made them more urgent in her mind. Xu Liang did not have a wife. She would not allow herself to believe that he had behaved indiscreetly and, through such action, made the motions of taking a wife prematurely. With all they had struggled against, she could not accept that he would have surrendered to sudden and selfish desires. His reputation was nearly as important as her own, and he knew that.
If he’d done nothing to inspire the reference the report had made, then it was a vicious lie, and she wanted the person responsible brought before her. Of course, she would do nothing without speaking to Xu Liang first. Her helpless sensations of jealousy…of envy that she knew was not becoming an empress had her not wanting to speak to Xu Liang so immediately. At times, he was beyond her ability to suffer, and through no true fault of his own. The fault lay in the ever present fact that she was his empress.
The barbarian generals White Tiger and Iron Horse stood at the turret which connected the wall of the Sun Gate to the adjoining wall of the Storm Gate. She could see them from where she sat, representing change that no one seemed to fear, and which only a few were openly wary of—though those who were wary were exceedingly so. She understood the role of the new generals and that they had acted with honor in defense of the Imperial City. She understood that it was that very demonstration which had won many of the people, including several of her own officers. With Xu Liang’s guidance, she had only to usher them across the narrow space remaining between mystery that could lead to fear and rebellion, and divine importance that could pave the path to a better peace in Sheng Fan.
And so she had done, and so she had come to feel muted behind the glory of what should have been her fellow bearers. But as the Celestial Blades went, she bore nothing in actuality, except witness.
As the returning forces drew nearer, she put her mind to other matters, such as the letter from Xu Liang, which detailed all that had gone on at Jin Fu Castle. The surrender had been amicable. The only prisoner taken and kept throughout the campaign had been a rogue mystic, the same whose weapons and horse had been brought before her months ago. He was not dead, as originally had been presumed. Xu Liang assured her that he was in more peril than he could pose against the Empire and that he had been ordered to the school in the Chi Hao Mountains, where he would remain for a necessary period of physical and spiritual recovery, so that he might become a more reliable informant against the motivations of her former chancellor.
They would discuss the matter in better detail later. She suspected they would discuss other matters as well, beyond the politics of rebellion. Marriage was not a topic she anticipated hearing of from him again for some time.
TRISTUS HAD NOT seen the army leaving the Imperial City well over a month ago. Seeing them return was phenomenal, and as he was to understand it, not all of the troops who had departed were coming back. Sensibly, some had been stationed at the newly taken outpost. From what he had gathered, not many were lost to the fighting itself. He felt immensely proud of Xu Liang and Shirisae for having accomplished not only a victory, but one that ended in surrender rather than weeks more of fighting. Hopefully, those rebelling in the south would rethink their positions and cease aggression. He suspected that might have been a somewhat naïve hope, given the state of affairs in Sheng Fan, but he was inclined to hold onto it regardless.
Across the distance, he was able to see Shirisae’s fiery hair before he’d been able to discern Xu Liang’s presence among the soldiers. When he did manage to attain a sure look at the both of them, he smiled.
And that was when Tarfan issued complaint. “Damn all architects not of the Stormbright Caverns! How’s a dwarf to see?”
“Well, I’m not going to lift you up, Master Fairwind,” Tristus told the old complainer.
“Try it, pup, and I’ll…”
“There isn’t much to see anyway,” Tristus said. “They’re still too far out.”
The elder harrumphed and moved off nearer to Guang Ci in search of a better vantage.
Tristus watched him, then looked over at the paler of their elves, whose expression was held between placid and showing traces of concern. “What’s on your mind, Alere?”
Leaned against one of the red columns of the turret, Alere only glanced in Tristus’ direction. Afterward, he said, “Shirisae looks pleased.”
Tristus frowned, looking out to their oncoming friends. “How can you tell from this distance?”
Alere didn’t respond.
Looking, Tristus noticed it was because Alere had left his post to join Guang Ci as well. With Taya edging near to the Empress’ handmaidens, who seemed to take every opportunity to swallow her into their cloud of silk and flowers, he was left very much on his own. He strained to see the expressions of either Xu Liang or
Shirisae, but to no avail while they yet had so much ground to cover. “Pleased about what?”
THE JOURNEY BACK to the Imperial City had been a slightly less strenuous repeat of the route to the Southern Hills. It had been settled amongst Xu Liang’s bodyguards that Cai Zheng Rui be the one to accompany Ma Shou to the school. Two soldiers had gone with them to ensure that the pyromancer and bodyguard arrived at the mountaintop. The soldiers would then proceed to the Imperial City behind the others. Cai Zheng Rui and Ma Shou would both be retrieved in the spring.
Separate of that departure and all that it represented and would require of his attention, Xu Liang spent the majority of travel meditating and studying. He and Shirisae focused very deliberately on learning, and for it Shirisae had made leaps in comprehension of Fanese. They had begun to exchange small conversations. Xu Liang felt assured that the majority of what Shirisae had left to learn was the vocabulary itself. Once equipped with a greater catalog of words, he had no doubt that she would be able to wield them in proper context and with true meaning, just as she did Yvarian and her own native language.
Xu Liang focused primarily on the Phoenix, which had been still present in the majority of his dreams that he recalled, but which had not assailed him with purpose or revelation for some time. Shirisae informed him that to carry the Phoenix was not to be a period of ceaseless urgency. Its stillness was to be taken as a sign of settling, and of spiritual alignment. He accepted that, and accepted also that he had experienced far less weariness as a simple response to exertion of any kind. As well, he was able to admit that he did feel that his strength was more readily at hand than it had been for much of his life. They refrained from speaking directly of what had been developing between them emotionally. There were several obstacles ahead of them where that was concerned. Obstacles that perhaps neither of them were ready for.
