Crown of the Starry Sky: Book 11 of Painting the Mists

by Patrick Laplante

  “Will that be all, sir?” the waiter asked.

  “For now,” Wei Longshen replied. He gestured to the food and drink. “Please. Eat. I find it’s easier to talk if we’re eating.” He took a sip of the tea and nodded in appreciation. The girl, Hu Bi, only took a small sip. How will I get her to relax? He cleared his throat. “You know, this kind of tea isn’t very popular in this prefecture. It’s from somewhere else.”

  “Is it?” Hu Bi said, surprised. “I didn’t know.”

  “Most people wouldn’t,” Wei Longshen said. “It’s from a small village in the Yellow Snake Canyon Valley. The name eludes me, but there are three mountains there, small ones no more than two hundred meters tall, each of them equidistant from the village.”

  “Is the village called Running Willows?” Hu Bi asked.

  Baited and hooked. “Now that I think about it, you’re right,” Wei Longshen said. “Have you been there?”

  “I— No, I haven’t been there at all,” Hu Bi said, flushing with embarrassment. “It’s just that I made maps, and I remember making that one a few times, and… wait, I think you’re wrong about something.”

  “Oh?” Wei Longshen said. “Did I make a mistake again? I’ve always been terrible at geography.”

  “It’s a small one, and people make it all the time,” Hu Bi said. “Those three things aren’t mountains—they’re rocky hills. The kingdom has set the minimum height for mountains at six hundred meters. Now, if we were in the Seven Shades Kingdom, that would be a different matter. But that place is flat as bedsheets in a hospital ward.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Wei Longshen said. It was a lie, and he felt a little guilty for telling it. Lying wasn’t looked upon favorably in his family. Then again, it was imperative to be kind to others, so he thought it was worth the trade-off. “How many maps have you made during your career?”

  “Tens of thousands?” the woman said, shrugging. “It’s not that difficult. You just need the right ink, and the right memory jades to engrave, and a decent memory.”

  “I think it’s the memory part where most people fail,” Wei Longshen said. “That, and the inscription portion. I hear it’s very taxing on the mind and soul.”

  “Not as much as you’d think,” Hu Bi said. “The real problem is boredom. If you can get past that, you can get past anything.”

  “Which is why I was terrible at geography,” Wei Longshen said with a laugh. That part wasn’t a lie. “How do you deal with the boredom?”

  The woman hesitated. “Well, I guess it’s not a big secret. It doesn’t work for everyone. When I transcribe a map, I imagine I’m exploring the place I’m drawing. Bit by bit, looking over the natural features, the landmarks, and any villages or settlements. It’s easy to get lost in your work that way, and before you know it, the day has come and gone with many finished maps on your table.”

  “It’s a unique approach, I’ll grant you that,” Wei Longshen said. He helped himself to more tea and snacks, and Hu Bi joined him as well. She was no longer a nervous wreck, and was fully into the conversation. Moreover, she’d given him a few hints at where to go next. “Do you think you’re the best cartographer?”

  “Me?” Hu Bi said. Her eyes widened. This was an interview, and she’d likely prepared herself for many difficult questions. This one wasn’t asked often because the answer couldn’t possibly be yes. “No, I don’t think so.”

  Honesty. A good trait. “Why do you say that?”

  Hu Bi shrugged. “There are three others who are faster than me. They make less mistakes too. We’re twenty people in the group, but I’ll be the first to admit they’re better than I am.”

  “And why do you think that is?” Wei Longshen asked.

  The woman frowned. Usually, interviewers asked questions about you, not about other people.

  “Well, I personally think that it’s because they don’t care,” Hu Bi said.

  “They don’t care?” Wei Longshen said, aghast. “In my experience, people who are good at their job care about their job.”

  “Oh, they care about their job,” Hu Bi said quickly. “They care about accurately copying maps as quickly as possible. They’re sticklers for detail, and if they find inconsistencies between versions of existing maps, they’ll find out which ones are correct. They’re very dedicated. It’s only… How do I describe it? It’s like they don’t care about what’s in the map. They’re not drawn into it like I am. I’m good because I get drawn in, but I lose a bit of efficiency because, in all honesty, I’m daydreaming.” She laughed. “Seems silly, doesn’t it?”

  “Not at all,” Wei Longshen said. “Every person is different, Hu Bi. I think it’s good to imagine. Why don’t you tell me about a map you recently drew? What did you imagine then?”

  She thought for a moment as she took another sip of her tea. All the tension was gone from her shoulders, and in her eyes, he saw a glimmer of warmth. A hint of happiness. There it is, Wei Longshen thought. This was his job. Finding that one moment. Finding her personal song. Everyone had one, and if they sang it, everything would fall into place. Finding that spark was the only thing he enjoyed about the recruitment process. That, and bringing it out into the open.

  “Maybe you’ll find it silly, but just the other day, I was drawing a map of the Five Fire Mountain Range near the Iridescent Phoenix Clan. I was imagining wandering through the mountains. I read in a book about it once. Apparently, the Five Fire Mountain Range is a strange land where the four other prime elements coexist with fire as their core.”

  “And what did you see?” Wei Longshen asked.

  “I imagined hiking through the mountain range, dodging demonic goats and hiding from the clan’s patrols. They didn’t like us going there, and all our original maps are originally drawn by their artists. But I wanted to see what was actually there.”

  “And what did you see?” Wei Longshen prodded.

  “I saw… fires burning in the night,” Hu Bi said. Her gaze was wandering, not focusing on him. She was looking upward. “Tongues of five-colored fire burned in the night sky. For the most part, they avoided each other, putting on a light show unlike any other. But when they touched, sparks sprayed upon the earth. That was the reason why the mountains were so barren. People could die out there without the proper protection.”

  “That sounds amazing,” Wei Longshen said.

  “It was,” Hu Bi said. “I discovered something then. Something that sounds silly to most people. It wasn’t that the Iridescent Phoenix Clan wanted a monopoly on the maps of the area. The mountain range was dangerous, and they just wanted to protect people. That being said, they are a proud people and would rather die than acknowledge their good deed. For them, only unworthy deeds should be boasted about. The greatest of deeds should never be mentioned.” She blushed. “Anyway, it was a silly dream. I was a bit slow when I drew that map, now that I think about it.”

  “It sounds like you really hate making maps,” Wei Longshen said softly.

  She sighed. “Yes and no. There are ups and downs. It’s a good career, and if I keep at it, I’ll be able to discover even more places. I could start making shifting maps for demon territories, and interactive maps down to the smallest house. It’s hard, but I know I can improve. If I become one of the best, then I’ll be able to see the world.”

  “I see,” Wei Longshen said. He took a deep breath and prepared himself for the part of the job he hated. The most delicate part. Everyone had a hidden song that suited them best, but few people realized there was another song. It was the song they sang to themselves every day. The one that kept them going. The one that stopped them from hearing any other. To discover the hidden song, he’d have to make her realize the presence of the other. He’d have to make her understand her own satisfaction. “Hu Bi, I hate to say this, but I don’t think you should be a mapmaker.”

  Her expression fell, and she looked down. “I see,” she said. She shifted uncomfortably. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything about th
e daydreaming.”

  “A mapmaker’s job is consistency and attention to detail,” Wei Longshen said. “It’s about perfectly copying at speed. To do that, you need to detach yourself.”

  She nodded, and her eyes reddened. Tears came to her eyes, and she started to sniff. Many people in the tea house glared at him. How could he make a poor girl cry in such a public place?

  Wei Longshen nodded and leaned forward with his elbows on the table. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “You could never become one of the best mapmakers. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t in good conscience hire anyone who couldn’t be the best in their profession. You just don’t have what it takes to be a mapmaker.” She shuddered and cried some more. “However, I think you would make an excellent cartographer.”

  She sniffed, then looked up. “What?”

  “A cartographer, my dear,” Wei Longshen said. “Didn’t you hear yourself speaking? You imagined braving dangers, exploring new places. You imagined drawing a map yourself. And you might not know this, but you saw something. Something real. Something many people have never seen. Without ever being there. The Phoenix Clan and the reason they are there? That’s real. I know it’s real.”

  “But I dreamed it…” she said softly.

  “And that is what cartographers do,” Wei Longshen said. “They dream of a place they wish to see. They see that place and take in its wonder and make a record of it. It is tainted and far from accurate. In fact, mapmakers will butcher it, and they know it. But it was their dream that brought them to see those things and to bring the map into reality.

  “Do you want to be a scribe, a mapmaker who copies other people’s work? Or do you want to see things? That’s the difference between a mapmaker and a cartographer. As much as your company calls itself a cartography company, it’s actually a place where maps are copied and transcribed. They make copies of maps. They don’t discover or create them.”

  She sniffed, looking a little happier. “I guess that’s true.”

  “Names are funny things,” Wei Longshen continued. “Industry names especially. Every decade has a theme, and one year, everyone is a manager or a coordinator, and the next a specialist or an engineer. It’s just the one of things.” Then he winced. “Unfortunately, I don’t need an actual cartographer. I’m looking to get some mapmakers—some that are great at their jobs, and others with excellent potential. But you’re not a mapmaker. You’re not what I’m looking for.”

  “I see…” she said. She sniffed again. He could understand her feelings—she’d come here for an interview, and he’d given her a grilling.

  “But,” Wei Longshen said, “I do know someone who is looking for cartographers. I have a friend, and he and I look out for one another. If you’d be willing to talk to him, I would give you a glowing recommendation. Because I see that you have it in you to be one of the best. You have it in you to follow your dreams. Cartography is a dangerous profession, but I believe you can do it. You haven’t been happy, I can tell. But maybe if you change careers, you might be.”

  She nodded, her eyes still red. A waitress swooped by and picked up a pile of inkwell jades he placed on the table. He whispered something into her ear, and she nodded and left them, but soon returned with a large slice of cake. “I need to go now,” Wei Longshen said. “I’m a busy man. But you eat this slice of cake and you think on what I said.” He placed a small card on the table. “There’s no need for you to make a decision now, but if you do, contact this man. I’ll tell him about you in advance. Cheer up, all right?”

  She nodded. He only smiled when he saw her eating cake just as he was leaving.

  “Another crybaby, huh?” Fleet Singer said. He was waiting just outside the door.

  “That was fast,” Wei Longshen said. “Did you scout out my next mark already?

  “The next two,” he said with a toothy grin. He looked through the window. “She going to be all right?”

  “With luck,” Wei Longshen said. “But it had to be done. For her sake, not mine.” He took out his communication jade and sent a message to his contact in the Mi Clan. He wasn’t a friend, but a beneficial acquaintance. He received a near-immediate reply with a thank-you. The man owed him one. Again.

  “You really need to stop helping the competition like that,” Fleet Singer said.

  Wei Longshen shrugged. “Everyone has a job that suits them. Everyone has a career they enjoy. Why can’t I make that easier for them? Besides, it’s not like they don’t feed people back to me. I don’t personally have to find all the people we need.”

  “I guess not,” Fleet Singer said. “Say, I saw a strange person recently. Want to hear about him? Seems like someone you need to help out.”

  “Sure, why not?” Wei Longshen said. “We have time.”

  “Like I said, strange fellow,” Fleet Singer explained. “He looks confident and happy all the time, but I get this strange vibe from him. It’s a smell—you know how cat demons are. Anyway, I get this feeling about him, and it’s like he’s trying to make everyone else happy because he can’t be.”

  “Hush you,” Wei Longshen said. “We can’t all love what we do.”

  “It’s funny to hear you say that after what you said to that girl,” Fleet Singer said.

  “How long have you been out here?” Wei Longshen said.

  “Long enough,” Fleet Singer said. “And we’ve known each other for even longer. I just want you to start taking your own advice.”

  Wei Longshen shrugged. “There’s no helping it. I’m good at my job, and this is a productive way to help my family.”

  “Hey, I’m not judging,” Fleet Singer said. “I won’t complain about my job either. There’s something nice about stalking people and smelling weakness. Reminds me of my home in the Wild Lands.”

  “You’re a fair distance away from the Wild Lands,” Wei Longshen said. “Why did you even leave in the first place?”

  The cat demon pulled his ears back. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “Fine, keep your secrets,” Wei Longshen said. “Where to next?”

  “About ten blocks from here,” said Fleet Singer, who began leading the way. “I don’t think he’s who you’re looking for, though. He’s got that overconfident smell, and he seems quite happy to be where he is.”

  “Let’s see if I can’t change his mind,” Wei Longshen said. His job wasn’t about finding happy people. It was about finding unhappy people who didn’t know it.

  “Hey,” Fleet Singer said, “what would you do if you had a choice? If you didn’t have to worry about your family?”

  “I’d be a performer,” Wei Longshen said. “A flutist for large audiences. I would make music to inspire.”

  “Get out of here,” Fleet Singer said.

  “Do I look like I’m joking?” Wei Longshen said.

  “But the flute… it’s not very…”

  “It’s a very manly instrument,” Wei Longshen said. “Please stop insulting my favorite instrument, or you’ll find out firsthand how I made the Kingfisher Guard.”

  “But—” He flinched as Wei Longshen’s black flute cracked him on the back of the head. “You’re so violent for a human.”

  They laughed. They walked. It was just another day of work. He would find people he needed today, he was sure, but he would also find people he didn’t need. Which was fine. He had faith that he could help anyone find their way. Everyone had a song, a tune that they danced to. His job was to help them find it.

  He was a good recruiter. He knew that, and his family knew that too. But it would never be his first choice. He was only doing this job because that was what his parents wanted him to do. And he knew full well how important it was to obey your parents. He only wished they’d listen to him more. He only wished they cared about him.

  He barely remembered the secret meetings he’d had with Mi Fei in their youth. Those times in the moonlight, when they’d gone a step further than was proper. The promises they’d whispered to each other back then n
ow seemed like little more than a dream. They’d had something then, and now it was gone. All because of a silly thing called pride.

  But is this a bad thing? a voice whispered to him. Won’t she be happier this way? It wasn’t his personal song that said this, but the song he sang to himself every single day. It was the song that told him that even if he couldn’t be happy, others could be.

  Just as he could hear his own song, he could hear Mi Fei’s. It was a song that grew stronger by the day. It was free and unrestrained, and it was a song of wonder and adventure. A song unsuited to stability and family and commitment.

  Quiet, you, sang his selfish song. The eternal song that hid deep within his soul. Don’t ruin this, it said. You could be happy with her, and she’d be happy too. You could live a wonderful life together. It was this song that made him forget his duties for a moment and think.

  How can I change my parents? he wondered. How can I change their minds? Words were well and good, but he needed a reason for them to bend.

  Moreover, he was running out of time. Mi Fei was a wanderer and a dreamer. She wouldn’t stick around forever.

  Chapter 12: Interception

  The Burning Lake Prefectural City didn’t have tall walls like the Dripping Blade Prefectural City did. While it was larger and more important, it was also much closer to the core of the Brightmark Kingdom, which in turn meant that it was farther removed from the vast swaths of demon territory that could make up as much as half the land in lesser, more distant prefectures. As such, the city did not end at a thick wall of rock but at a thin barrier that was heavily guarded by inspectors and taxation officers at specific entry and exit points.

  Some distance away from one of these entry points, there was a faint ripple in the air. A distortion that should not have existed. No one noticed it, as it occurred in one of the eight major tracts of designated farmland adjacent to the city. By all rights, it and the others should have been occupied by settlements, sects, or clan estates that naturally extended from the city proper, but to this day, it had resisted all attempts. Five humans and five demons soon discovered why this was the case.