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

by Patrick Laplante

  “Ah,” Elder Ling said. He gave him a knowing look. “But will she want to be pulled back? Will she be the same person?”

  Cha Ming fell silent.

  “Don’t let me discourage you, boy, but think on it.”

  Cha Ming chose not to answer those questions. Instead, he continued his tale. He spoke of healing his core, the Sea God’s Herald, and Zhou Li’s treachery. He told the story of the Blacksmith Pai Xiao. Finally, he recounted the war and its atrocities.

  “I’d hoped you could transcend before that thing broke free,” Elder Ling said regretfully. “I wasn’t nearly skilled enough to seal it. A Taotie…” He shuddered. “That is an eater of worlds. That you defeated it can only be called a miracle.”

  “It wasn’t a solo act,” Cha Ming said. “Everyone did their best. Many died in the process. Everything just seemed to come together in the end. Somehow.”

  “And what have I told you about such things?” Elder Ling asked.

  Cha Ming grinned and recalled his unhelpful piece of advice. “Aim to get lucky.”

  “You are a genuine karmic anomaly,” Elder Ling said. “You make your own luck. If you reach for an answer, and it exists, it will do its best to find you. Your friend, the general, was blessed by causality, but he was a victim of it like everyone else. But you… you are an architect. I can feel it in these old bones of mine. It wasn’t coincidence that led you to defeat the Taotie. It was fate.”

  “Fate?” Cha Ming muttered. “Then everything was preordained?” He’d come to terms with that, as much as it bothered him. One day, he would cease to be an instrument of fate.

  “I don’t think you understand how fate works,” Elder Ling said. “Your will is free. So is everyone else’s. There are many forks in the road, and you choose where you go.” He held up his hand, and white light flew out from it the shape of an intricate web. One of the pieces lit up with a blue light. “There was a path, and that path was a difficult one to travel. It happened to be there. The fact that only you could travel it can be explained by the fact that you are a karmic anomaly. But no matter what, it was only an option. You had to be willing to walk that path. A man is defined as much by the roads he travels as the ones that he doesn’t.”

  “I don’t know much about fate,” Cha Ming admitted. “But I think I understand. I was caught up in a story. The story could play out a few set ways.” He paused, then looked at the board, which they still hadn’t cleared. “Fate was like the first half of our game: predetermined. Dictated by power. You made me play that game, by the way. You forced it. I wouldn’t play that badly these days.”

  “Yet you broke free,” Elder Ling said. “You cast away my control. We had a pleasant conversation. The first half of the game was determined. A starting point, just like your center play.”

  “I believe the Ling Nan Plane was much like the beginning of this game,” Cha Ming said. “It wasn’t perfect. People died, and I felt not much was under my control. Yet now, I begin to see the game. A pattern is playing out before my eyes. I feel that soon, I’ll be able to get some breathing room. If only a little.”

  Elder Ling nodded. “Such is the fate of karmic anomalies—if they survive. They are born to change the world. Your leader, that young boy that calls himself a captain, will explain, I’m sure.”

  “You know him?” Cha Ming asked. Could he be his student?

  Elder Ling nodded. “Great lad. Experienced. I hear he’s apprenticed himself directly to the current emperor. Captain Xing is a harsh man, but he’s fair. He’s just like his master. If he makes a promise, he’ll always keep it.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Cha Ming said.

  Elder Ling smiled. He scratched his still-scraggly beard. The man’s sloppy sense of fashion transcended worlds. “I’m afraid I need to get going, boy. Pressing matters. First, though, a word of advice. I’ve noticed you’ve recruited a group of unusual monkeys.”

  “Do you know anything about them?” Cha Ming asked.

  “I have speculations on their origins,” Elder Ling said. “I feel they are important. I believe you were right to take them in.”

  “It was a small inconvenience,” Cha Ming said. “I’m glad to get some confirmation. I just hope I can find out what they’re good at so they’ll stop fighting with Huxian’s friends.”

  “Ah,” Elder Ling said. “Demons. They’re territorial and unruly.” He scratched his scraggly beard once more and hummed softly. “It’s tough to say anything definitive about the monkeys, but my gut is that their abilities have to do with ink.”

  “They can dye fabric,” Cha Ming volunteered.

  “I’m sure they can do much more than that,” Elder Ling said. “I suggest you try teaching them a variety of things. Human things, even.”

  “Human things?” Cha Ming asked. “I didn’t think demons did human things.”

  “They don’t,” Elder Ling said. “But variety is key. It can’t hurt to try.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Cha Ming said. “Maybe I can experiment with runic arts.”

  “Talismans are the Inkwell Clan’s domain, I’m afraid,” Elder Ling said. “Though to be fair, the Runebound Pythons have a gift for formations, so it’s not unheard of.”

  “Variety,” Cha Ming said.

  “Indeed,” Elder Ling said. He rose and brushed off his robes. The blanket and the Angels and Devils board vanished into some kind of storage space, though Cha Ming saw no storage ring on his finger or bag of holding at his waist. “Ah. One last thing, before I forget.” An object appeared in his hand. It was an inky-black tower built in a traditional style. “A gift.”

  “For me?” Cha Ming asked. He accepted the object. It reminded him of a curio one might buy at a souvenir shop.

  “It’s a congratulatory gift,” Elder Ling said. “For transcending. Good job, lad!”

  “It looks nice,” Cha Ming said politely.

  “It’s a puzzle,” Elder Ling said excitedly. “Try painting it.”

  “Painting?” Cha Ming asked, confused. He took out the Clear Sky Brush. Elder Ling’s expression flickered upon seeing it, though only briefly.

  “Yes. You see the patterns? See anything that’s out of place?” Elder Ling pointed at the top segment of the three-story pagoda.

  “Hm…” Cha Ming looked it over. There were many patterns on the tower he was familiar with. As for the tower itself, it didn’t feel like a treasure. It didn’t give off that kind of aura. But then again, Elder Ling was no simple man. He looked it over for a good minute before finally spotting the crux of the problem. “There’s a section missing here,” he said.

  “Paint it,” Elder Ling instructed.

  Cha Ming did so. The moment he finished, the line glowed, and the puzzle shifted. The lines rearranged themselves before his eyes.

  “I didn’t sense anything from this artifact,” Cha Ming said, eyeing it. “No runic energy. No qi.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Elder Ling said, not answering the unasked question. “This is my gift to you. It is a game. A puzzle. I’d wager the more you play it, the better you’ll get at all sorts of puzzles. You’ll even improve at Angels and Devils.” He grinned. “The real reward is inside. There are three levels to this game, and once you’ve done a level, it will pop open. You won’t earn what I’ve prepared for you until you finish it. How’s that for a present?”

  “I’ve always liked puzzles,” Cha Ming admitted. “And if it will help me beat you to pulp at Angels and Devils, you can bet I’ll solve it.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Elder Ling said. “A few words of warning before we part. There are some powerful people in the area. There will be trouble soon. If you can’t handle it, get out.”

  Cha Ming frowned. “I don’t think I can. I’m on a mission.”

  “Then be careful,” Elder Ling said. “Whatever danger you’re in, I can’t interfere. Let’s call it… etiquette among higher powers.”

  “Thank you for the warning,” Cha Ming said.


  “It’s all I can give,” Elder Ling said sadly. “Alas, this is all the time we have for now.” He turned, and Mr. Mao Mao hopped back onto his shoulder. “It was nice to see you again, boy. And you too, little fox.”

  “Thank you, sir!” Huxian said. He was unusually polite. So, too, was Lei Jiang, the wildest among them.

  “Little fox, don’t forget that questing isn’t everything,” Elder Ling said. “You can eat. Make sure to eat. Eating is very important.”

  “I will!” Huxian said. They blinked, and one moment he was there, the other he was gone. He disappeared from their sight without any of them noticing. So had Mr. Mao Mao.

  “You were right,” Silverwing said gravely. “Powerful. Mighty.”

  “I never thought I could respect a cat,” Lei Jiang said, sniffing. “I was wrong. So wrong.”

  “It’s a good thing I thought to prepare a gift, just in case,” Huxian said. They all nodded solemnly.

  “What did you guys get him?” Cha Ming asked out of curiosity.

  “Fish,” Huxian said. “Expensive fish. Rare ones.”

  “Hard to find,” Silverwing agreed.

  “I spent a month finding some in this lake’s waters,” Miyue said sadly. “They weren’t difficult to catch, but fortunately, cats hate getting wet. The gift was well received.”

  “I nearly died fighting it,” Lei Jiang muttered.

  “It was worth it,” Mr. Mountain said. They all agreed. Even Gua was significantly more humble than usual.

  “Why do I feel you got the better end of the deal?” Cha Ming asked. “Is it customary to gift something back?”

  “Memories,” Huxian said.

  “Even for me,” Gua added.

  They nodded solemnly, and Cha Ming remembered that the toad didn’t have ancestral memories.

  “Well, we’d best get going,” Cha Ming said. It was time to return to the shop. They walked back, and as they did, everything looked different.

  It was a strange experience for Cha Ming. Before, when he’d walked, he’d taken everything in. He’d focused on the greater picture. But now, he focused on the details. A crying baby. A simple step. A single wave crashing against the rocky shore. A tiny fish tangled in the weeds twenty meters out. Each step back wasn’t just a beginning, but also a story unto itself.

  “I think this will be a fun puzzle,” Cha Ming said as he walked, tossing the pagoda up and down in his hand. It was much lighter than the weight of the task before him. Still, the pressure from before had eased somewhat, despite him not having figured anything out.

  It better be fun, Sun Wukong said, appearing beside him. He eyed the object curiously, then touched it. He yelped as the thing attacked him. It took everything I had to fight to hide from him, you know. What a powerful man. And that thing you’re holding? Law-stitching artifact.

  “Law—” He cut off before saying it. Law-stitching grade? Can I even hold this in public without getting mugged? There was no greater misfortunate for a weak man than finding a powerful treasure he couldn’t protect.

  Apparently it’s cloaked, Sun Wukong said, quite pleased with himself. I could barely spot it. How about you, old hag?

  This incarnation only sees a rune-carving trinket, the Spirit of the Clockwork Ancestor said. Which is odd. The monkey wouldn’t lie, and he is more experienced in deceit. This is also his main soul. She was a proud creature, and deferring to the Monkey King on anything was nothing short of amazing.

  So I won’t get killed just holding it? Cha Ming asked.

  Not a chance, Sun Wukong said. Unless there are other immortals poking around.

  Then what about the Greenwind Pavilion? Cha Ming asked. Should I stop visiting?

  It was the Clockwork Ancestor who laughed this time. Elder Zhong is no thief. A dragon’s word on it. He will sense it, and he may offer something for it, but his word is golden. He trades. He never steals.

  Relieved, they returned home. Some things were different. Most were the same. They were up a pleasant visit, a different mindset, and a mysterious artifact that Cha Ming couldn’t yet open. Oh, and memories left behind by a powerful demonic housecat. Simple and relaxing though it may be, Cha Ming felt this walk was a turning point in their journey. A snag in the pattern. A twist in their story.

  Chapter 21: Gift

  Runes. They were subtle things. Not in that they had no power, for anyone could see they had plenty of that. No, they were subtle in the sense that they went unnoticed despite their presence in everyday life. But people either ignored them or took them for granted.

  Few people sought out runes. Craftsmen, mostly, but cultivators also. For without runes, it was impossible to transcend to the next level. And when they were noticed, it was easy to get lost in their complexity.

  But what defined runes? Was it their shape or their form? Was it their composition or the ink they were made of? Was it the intent behind painting them? And what of their depth? There were many layers to runes. Some were as shallow as frozen spring puddles or as deep as ocean chasms.

  These were all important questions in Cha Ming’s opinion, but he was beginning to realize they were only part of a greater definition. It seemed that where the runes were painted and their connections to others were equally as important.

  Today was a slow day in the M&T Tailors shop, just as last night had been a slow night. That didn’t bother Cha Ming as he worked. He sat in the courtyard, enjoying the peace and quiet as he did what he did best: painting talismans. His hands held the Clear Sky Brush, steadily painting every line in exaggerated detail in a way that others could clearly see.

  He was painting a middle-grade talisman: Ten Thousand Blossoms of Surging Strength. The same talisman he kept failing to master at a higher level. It was a wood-based talisman, however, so it was probably the most appropriate one to paint. He was currently testing the theory that the ink-variant Star-Eye Monkeys could learn to make talismans. That would make sense, wouldn’t it? Ink and talismans. Problem solved.

  Unfortunately, few of the many monkey demons who filed through his work area took interest. Most only stayed a few hours at most. Not only was his craft uninteresting to them, but many had failed at initial attempts spectacularly. Few bothered to come anymore. It was only Clever Dusk who stayed behind to keep him company.

  “Does talisman crafting actually interest you?” Cha Ming asked as he painted. “Or are you here to show solidarity?” Though he needed to concentrate, idle chitchat wasn’t overly taxing. He’d painted this talisman many times. Even without using Words of Creation.

  “I do not believe it is a suitable craft for us,” Clever Dusk said.

  “Then why do you stay?” Cha Ming asked. “Most of your kin have only given it a passing glance.”

  “True,” Clever Dusk said, watching intently as he worked. “Perhaps it is not the crafting I find curious, but the person. You are an interesting man, Du Cha Ming.”

  He didn’t have the luxury of being able to look up, but if he did, he would have seen a familiar sight. Her eyes were deep pools of sparkling knowledge. Stars swirled inside them. Even among her people, she was unnaturally talented in this regard. She was a quick study, and whatever she learned, she learned it well. In fact, she could make talismans now, albeit weak ones.

  “And why do you find me curious?” Cha Ming asked. He’d already painted the first two layers of the talisman and was applying the finishing touches to the third. They linked together as he painted, and as long as he painted the remaining strokes in order, nothing would go wrong. It was something he was slowly discovering while painting the talisman manually. He’d never had to worry about stroke order when using Words of Creation. What did it matter, if he could simply create a talisman all at once?

  “You are a human who cares for demons, when even other demons do not,” Clever Dusk replied. “You have a soft heart that is wounded constantly. You invite hurtful contradictions into your life rather than compromise your ideals.”

  “Just that?” Cha Ming
asked.

  “Just that,” Clever Dusk confirmed.

  “Well, I hate to disappoint you, but many people do the same,” Cha Ming said. “People are walking contradictions, just not all for the same things.”

  “Yet it is curious to us,” Clever Dusk said. “It is not the demon way. The strongest survive. We support the group. But anyone outside our group, we would leave to die.”

  “Yet your chieftain has made an exception to that rule for your group,” Cha Ming said. “He has cast out your kin to improve your clan’s odds of survival. In a way, he is doing the same as me.”

  “In what sense?” Clever Dusk asked.

  “Contradiction,” Cha Ming said grimly. He painted a few brown strokes on the sheet of paper. They hummed as they clicked together. “He is putting the few at risk for the sake of the many. As for me, I am the leader of my team in the Kingfisher Guard. Have I not endangered my team to save strangers, despite the mission not requiring it? Yet I did so. It was necessary.”

  “That is different,” Clever Dusk said. “One goal is noble, and the other callous.”

  “True,” Cha Ming said. “Though that didn’t stop me from endangering my friends and companions. And I do not believe your chieftain is selfish in this matter. I believe he is pained, and he is doing what he thinks is right for his tribe.” It was one of the many difficult questions she had asked.

  Clever Dusk was young—perhaps in her thirties. A child by demon standards. She was an adult, yet she had ten thousand years ahead of her, assuming she didn’t die or advance to the next level. Despite her youth, however, she was unusually well spoken and well mannered. She was an old soul in a young person’s shell. The others all wanted to have fun. She just wanted to learn. And speak. And argue for the sake of arguing.

  “You shouldn’t use your abilities so often,” Cha Ming said, noticing the telltale afterglow in her eyes from her technique.

  “I believe our talks are important,” she said. “Something tells me I should be here. A whisper from the stars. There is a road here for us… if we are fortunate enough to see it.”