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

by Patrick Laplante

  “I heard you tell one last week,” one of the girls said. “It was scary. Aren’t you supposed to be playing music? That’s what you said you’d be doing.”

  Wei Longshen laughed. “Yes, I do tell stories instead of playing from time to time.” He looked around. His voice carried across the crowd that now consisted of several hundred people. They were mostly families, but also couples and the occasional curious elder who happened to be walking through. “You heard me tell a scary story before. That is a kind of ghost story. But tell me, have you ever heard a story from a ghost?” The people in the crowd shook their heads. Their anticipation kept them quiet.

  “There are many songs in the world,” Wei Longshen said. “Songs from nature and emotion. Every person has a song if they have a mind to hear it. There are also songs from ghosts and memories. It is those songs I play. Their music is not my own, but it is vivid when you hear it.” He put his black flute to his lips and played an eerie tune. The sky darkened despite the weather enchantment, and a chill breeze blew through the crowd. Three specters appeared, incorporeal and undefined. They were new souls he’d just acquired. They remembered much, even if they were several hundred years deceased.

  “These three ghosts were once real men,” Wei Longshen said. “They were proud brothers of the Wai Clan. And though they weren’t brothers of the same mother, they’d sworn to be closer than blood brothers and fight all injustices. Back then, this prefecture was called the Looming Garden Prefecture. It was named so until the prefecture lord of that era fell in battle.

  “But tell me this: These events happened long ago. Does anyone living truly remember what happened back then? Can words be trusted? Can memories even be trusted? What if we could obtain the truth from a being unchanged? What if we could obtain it from a ghost, whose memory never fades?”

  He played, and as he did, the three brothers began fighting spectral enemies. There were demons, yes, but most were people. They fought a major infestation of cultists that Daoist Looming Garden had chosen to ignore, much to the detriment of the outlying farms and villages. He was distracted. He cared nothing for the little people. All he wished to do was build his masterpiece of a city whose phantom hovered in the air for all to see.

  Meanwhile, the three brothers fought. Not just shadowy apparitions—those would have made poor opponents for such mighty men. Instead, they fought the souls of cultists Wei Longshen had trapped in exchange for reprieve from the Yellow River. They weren’t the original souls of the cultists the three men had fought, but what did that matter? He was a soul piper. They were actors in a play. Whereas soul oracles collected real souls, soul pipers focused on a few specific souls and collecting songs. What truly defined them was music, and more importantly, the emotions left behind by the living and the dead. With memories, his music could bring life to any story he collected.

  The three brothers rode into battle. The music was shrill and intense. They fought on despite lack of reinforcements. The ghostly figures fought, and to the audience, it felt like seven years had passed—the amount of time they spent before they were forced to retreat into the city. By then, their hearts were twisted and broken.

  They did not return with smiles or laughter. They returned with grief and anger. They were furious when they arrived. For while the prefecture lord thanked them for their hard work, not once had he sent reinforcements. Not once had he personally intervened. He’d even neglected to call in the Kingfisher Guard, whose interference would have been warranted. As such, they challenged him for his incompetence. Enough was enough, and he had to die. But they were weak, and they fell. Only their rage lived on.

  The prefecture lord, upset at their rebellion, slaughtered their entire clan. The three stayed as ghosts to haunt him. Due to their interference, he could no longer cultivate, for when he closed his eyes, he heard their curses.

  Wei Longshen’s fingers moved quickly. His music was of many battles. He was but one instrument among many, for ghostly figures behind him played the drums, stringed instruments, and horns. Noble families, upset at what had transpired, joined together. The Li Clan, the Wei Clan, the Xia Clan, the Mi Clan, and the Cao Clan joined forces. They allied with the five great sects and made Dao God Burning Lake their leader. Together, they hunted the cultists down. They ended the many problems in the prefecture. The people were overjoyed.

  The families and sects, having done great good in the world, glowed bright with merit. Dao God Burning Lake, tired of Daoist Looming Garden’s indifference, challenged him for leadership of the prefecture. He had momentum and support of the people, and besides, Looming Garden was no longer the man he once was.

  Perhaps Looming Garden would have won. Once upon a time. But he was tired now, weak from doing battle with the ghosts that haunted his every waking moment. As his body fought Dao God Burning Lake, the three ghosts attacked his spiritual sea. He was destroyed, body and soul.

  “From that moment forward, the Hanging Garden Prefecture became the Burning Lake Prefecture,” Wei Longshen said. “My clan, the Wei Clan, was one of the five great clans. The hanging gardens of that era still remain, however, as their beauty could not be questioned.”

  There were many other nuances to the song and story, of course. Love. Friendship. Victory. Defeat. Wei Longshen’s music encompassed them all. It was a long song. A varied song with many movements. The ghosts vanished as the music ended, and with them went the soul of the song. For this was not just a song, but a story told by ghosts. It was a memory. A piece of history. An eternal song. One that would live on even if it was forgotten, waiting for anyone willing to find it.

  “How did you find the ghosts?” the boy asked when he was finished. It wasn’t a short song. Wei Longshen was covered in sweat, and he’d played for over half an hour. His audience was sitting, transfixed. The dark presence in the sky left, the sun shone again, and the people began talking. They listened, for they were curious.

  “I’d heard of their story, so I looked for them,” Wei Longshen said. “There are many things that have faded from memory. My goal is to find them all. All songs are eternal, it is said. They must simply be found and sung again.”

  “Isn’t it impossible to find them all?” the boy asked.

  “Of course,” Wei Longshen said. “It’s the work of many lifetimes. But a man can dream, can’t he?” Though, he admitted it would be much faster if he could quit his day job and not have to worry about the family’s leadership. Such was life.

  “You say these songs aren’t yours,” the girl from before said. “Don’t you have your own songs? Don’t you make your own?”

  “I’m not that kind of musician,” Wei Longshen said.

  “Then what kind are you?” she asked.

  “The kind who plays what people need,” Wei Longshen said. “I’ve only ever written one song. A single tune among the many I know. Truth be told, I’ve never played it for anyone. I’m not sure it’s worth keeping.”

  “Why not?” the girl asked.

  “Perhaps I’m frightened,” he said. “I’m afraid she won’t want to hear it.”

  “But you’re a good player,” the girl said. “I think she’ll listen.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Wei Longshen said. “Now, off with you. Everyone else is gone, and your father is waiting on you.”

  She ran off after the man, who smiled and picked her up. Wei Longshen felt her emotions as though they were his own. How he wished they were his own. But the void soon returned, and he contented himself with the knowledge that even if he had never had an ideal relationship with his father, it was wonderful that she could.

  “You play as well as ever,” a voice said.

  Wei Longshen turned around and greeted the speaker. He bowed lightly to the graying man who’d appeared just as the crowd was parting. “Elder Yimu. I wasn’t sure if you were still alive.”

  “Still kicking,” Wei Yimu said. “Your soul piper arts have improved. You couldn’t summon a ghostly play before. Though I admit, most s
oul pipers focus less on performance and more on battle.”

  “I’m not a fighter, even if I’m good at it,” Wei Longshen said. “I’m a performer. I entertain.”

  “A fine ideal,” Wei Yimu said. “One I won’t detract you from.”

  “Did you just end your seclusion?” Wei Longshen asked.

  “I did,” Wei Yimu said. “I was going to see the Patriarch first, but then I thought it would be much nicer to see a young face instead. Mind heading back with me?”

  “Why not?” Wei Longshen said. They made their way out of the park, and the elder summoned his personal ship—one that could seat sixteen passengers if he liked. A custodian flew the ship slowly over one of the lower-level roads. They took the long way around the park, since otherwise, they’d be home in no time at all. Not good if your aim was conversation.

  “Privacy,” Wei Yimu said. “It’s so hard to come by these days. There’s always someone listening. The only good thing about secluded cultivation is that you get more privacy than you could ever dream of.”

  “I doubt anyone would be interested in our conversation,” Wei Longshen said. “You’re my mentor. Not the Patriarch or any of the grand elders. You never give me orders.”

  Wei Yimu shrugged. “You’d be surprised. They chewed me out pretty badly when I told you you’d make a great soul piper. They’ve kept an eye on me ever since.”

  “But you were right,” Wei Longshen said. “And here we are. They should be applauding you, not watching you.”

  “True,” Wei Yimu said. He opened a compartment between his seat and the neighboring one and pulled out a clay jar. “Wine?”

  “It’s barely one in the afternoon, Uncle,” Wei Longshen said. “Why not tea instead?”

  “Tea?” Wei Yimu said indignantly. “Who drinks tea?”

  “I’ve taken to drinking it,” Wei Longshen said with a shrug. “A friend of mine introduced me to stuff that wasn’t complete trash, and I have to admit, laying off wine more often than not means I can enjoy it more when I do drink it.”

  Wei Yimu scowled when Wei Longshen pulled out his tea set. He grumbled and put the clay jar back. “If this ‘tea’ of yours disappoints me, I’m feeding you wine until you remember what a proper drink tastes like.”

  “Just give it a chance,” Wei Longshen said. “That’s all I’m asking.” His great-uncle, an elder in the family, probably only remembered the bitter mockery of tea their family served to guests. It was no wonder they mostly drank wine. “I’m surprised you came out so quickly. I was told that last time you were gone for five years.”

  “Gathering runes is tricky business,” Wei Yimu said. “I got lucky this time.”

  “Did you break through?” he asked. “No, never mind. I can see your presence hasn’t changed much.”

  Wei Yimu shook his head. “Breaking through gets harder and harder. It’s not just cultivating but understanding fragments of laws. Your core carving, your motivations. Any contradictions that come up can shatter any rune you try to gather. I doubt I’ll ever get past early rune gathering. Only one or two other elders might, though your father might pull through.”

  Wei Longshen nodded slowly. “He was gifted with full storm cultivation, wind and lightning. Lucky for him.”

  “Luck is a big factor when choosing the head of a family,” the elder said. “So. Has he started grooming you yet?”

  “Oh, yes,” Wei Longshen said. “Apparently, I’m good with people. I scout talent. I even have a team now.”

  “Of course you’re good with people,” Wei Yimu said. “You’re a performer. You need to know your crowd. More importantly, you’re a soul piper.” Then he gave him a long look. “You don’t seem so happy about your situation.”

  Wei Longshen grimaced. “I hate my job.”

  “Then you should quit,” the elder said.

  Wei Longshen raised an eyebrow. “You try talking to my father. He only cares about talent and nurturing talent.”

  “Sure, sure,” Wei Yimu said. “Like that time where he almost banned you from practicing your soul piping arts, even though you were one of the most talented the guild had ever seen.”

  “He was worried about my future,” Wei Longshen said. “To be fair, he relented when he learned soul pipers could be deadly in combat.”

  “Do you have any idea how much work it took to convince him?” Wei Yimu said. “I had to grovel and beg and use every trick in my arsenal. Though I think what really convinced him was when you joined the Guard.”

  “Actions speak louder than words,” Wei Longshen said. “Perhaps that’s my problem. Maybe I need to do something big and surprise him.” He sighed, then poured the elder a cup.

  “Good tea,” Wei Yimu said after a sip. “Come to think of it, I’ve had good tea a total of three times in my life. Counting now, I mean.”

  “Our family serves garbage,” Wei Longshen said. “And apparently, drinking tea numbs your tastebuds to wine in a very slight way.”

  “Maybe mortal tastebuds,” Wei Yimu said.

  Wei Longshen nodded. “My thoughts exactly.” He ran his hand through his hair. Where to begin? Things have not been the same since you began your seclusion, Uncle.”

  “Tell me about it,” Wei Yimu grumbled. “Canceling an engagement my brother made? Spitting on his grave?”

  “Dishonor aside, I quite like her,” Wei Longshen said. “I want to change my father’s mind, but he’s a stubborn fool. I’ve tried thrice already.”

  “Tricky,” Wei Yimu said. “Returning to a reneged engagement is a double embarrassment. And you know how strict he is.”

  “Strict as my grandfather, I’d imagine,” Wei Longshen said. “Or your father, for that matter. It seems our family has one such character in every generation. My brother is that way. Maybe I could convince Father to let him inherit?”

  “Won’t work,” Wei Yimu said. “You’re the only one with guard-level combat prowess. Your talent is top notch even across the prefecture. You’re in the spotlight. You know more than I do how much my dear nephew the Patriarch hates embarrassment.”

  “I do,” Wei Longshen said. He sighed once again. “It’s not fair to her, you know. She’s a monstrous talent. And she’s suffered so much, both from her own family and ours.”

  “Do you love her?” Wei Yimu said.

  “I want her to be happy,” Wei Longshen said. “So in the strictest sense, I do love her. Then again, we haven’t exactly had a chance to be intimate recently. You know, family rules and all. And chaperoning elders breathing down our neck.”

  “Coward,” Wei Yimu said.

  “For one, if my behavior became any less than proper, an elder would likely physically separate us,” Wei Longshen said. “For another, there is a case to be made for propriety and respect.”

  “When I was your age, I was very active in sampling the local wine stock, if you know what I’m saying,” Wei Yimu said. “It took me a while to find one to my taste. Had a few I thought would work fine for everyday drinking, but then they didn’t. I’m telling you—you need to figure this out, and soon. If she’s the one, propriety be damned, you get together with her and elope. Come back married. Deal with the rest later.”

  “I’d honestly rather chop off my own arm than disrespect her so much,” Wei Longshen said. “No. I’ll do this the proper way. I’ll convince him.”

  “If you say so,” Wei Yimu said. “So. Job.”

  “Job,” Wei Longshen agreed. “I need a change, but it’s hard in my case. Anything I do must be a useful or respectful occupation for a head of the family.”

  “I take it a concert flutist is out of the picture?” Wei Yimu said.

  “It took me forever to convince my father to let me play in public,” Wei Longshen said. “I told him it helps my soul piper profession—and it really does. There’s a reason my advancement has been so quick.”

  “Late rune carving.” The elder nodded. “Impressive for your age.”

  “I’m slowing down,” Wei Longsh
en said. “The key to my growth is to participate in memorable encounters. I need to meet great people and emulate their Dao. Failing that, I need to witness wonders firsthand to find the memory in their ruins. I won’t be making much progress for the next few years. Not cooped up at the Wei Clan estate. It could be a decade before I advance.”

  “We’ll see,” Wei Yimu said. “There’s a lot of drama going on behind the scenes. Your girl and your friend are up-and-coming powerhouses, and there’s trouble brewing. I can smell it.”

  “I’m wounded,” Wei Longshen said. “I thought I was the first one you’d spoken to.” But he nodded, looking at the prefectural city stretching out before him. “I just hope there won’t be too much drama. I don’t think our family is in a position to handle it.”

  “You’d know better than I would,” Wei Yimu said. He wasn’t active in managing the family, and his main function was to deter aggression and provide aggressive political leverage. In other words, he was a thug. And he behaved like one too.

  “How about ditching this recruiter business?” Wei Yimu said. “Just go straight to management.”

  “Not a chance,” Wei Longshen said. “I’d rather hang myself.”

  “What about being a lawyer?”

  Wei Longshen laughed. “I could, but then I’d have to apprentice myself for years to people I can’t stand.”

  “Judge?”

  “I’d need to be a lawyer first.”

  “Government official?”

  “And live a life of dishonesty?”

  “You wouldn’t have to be dishonest.”

  “Then I’d be a pauper.”

  “Such is the great contradiction of the ruling class,” Wei Yimu said.

  He was right, of course. Wei Longshen did need a change of pace. It had to be something big, where he could make many waves. Their discussion continued the entire way back, and when they arrived, they still hadn’t found anything suitable.

  “What’s this?” Wei Yimu asked as they arrived. There was a small crowd at the entrance.