Five Kingdoms (35 page)

Looking to the window beside the desk he’d come to immediately after the orchard, he felt compelled to go to it. He was not satisfied by the sight of Xu Liang’s retreating back; he felt the need to observe him leaving the building entirely. Leaning carefully out, he searched the lower area of the pavilion until he spied the edges of the Imperial Tactician’s robes and hair following after him. He found that satisfactory for the moment. He found it curious that the interior lanterns and banners all swayed in the direction his fellow mystic had gone, as if pulled by a spell the aeromancer had cast in passing. But that was not it. It felt more as if something had followed after Xu Liang, perhaps without him knowing.

It was in coming to that determination, that he believed he espied a form. It was merely a specter, but it seemed to occupy a significant space. Experimentally, Han Quan performed a quick spell, lifting a layer of dust from the stone below. It rose as if a net. A form began to press against it—tall and feral—and then a sand-etched impression of a face spun in his direction.

Han Quan’s breath was snatched out of him in that instant. He leaned quickly forward and drew the shutters in, latching them. He stayed there, still, for several moments, curious yet fearful. Roving spirits were exceptionally dangerous, and for just an instant he considered that he might have invoked the presence of a vengeful ghost, as if Song Lu had finally become perceptive to the efforts Han Quan had made against his family. He was not prepared to be discovered yet, though he knew that his ploys had nearly been spent and that the value of implementing them was swiftly diminishing. Even sensing Xu Liang’s victory, he would hold out until the proper time.

The east court
was known also as the Court of Spring, and so held the Moon Pavilion, among other buildings dedicated to and inspired by Mei Qiao and all that she presided over as the goddess of the moon, of rain and flowers, literature, and mental balance. East was the direction of life and of water. For all of this, it was troubling that the worst of the rioting had occurred at the Gate of Eternal Balance, by peasants who had marched to the inner city, demanding—the report from Zhu Meng had said—to see the Empress. That was unprecedented, and conveniently aligned with the complaints and fears of Han Quan. It was one of many details that had inspired Xu Liang to go to the Chancellor directly, to give him instruction that would make it clear to him that action was being taken against the disturbances, that he might relax his aggressive worry. It was not Xu Liang’s desire to return after a long absence and remove men of talent and of long years of loyal service from office.

“Lord Xu Liang,” Guang Ci said.

Xu Liang looked over at him, inviting him to continue. “Speak what is on your mind, Guang Ci.”

The young guard said, “We are being followed.”

With a frown, Xu Liang looked behind them. At the same time, he drew Blue Crane to a stop, turning the steed partway around while he examined the court behind them. At this hour, the pathways were little traveled, except by shadows cast beneath the moon’s glow and the lights of the city. There were no forms behind them…none that were readily apparent.

Xu Liang looked long into the patches of light and darkness that composed the court around them. A breeze stirred and carried on it the breath of danger. The presence was one which he had not felt since the western realms, and while he could not readily see it while his spirit was not in an extended state, he could feel it. Guang Ci was right, and what impressed him in the moment was not the stalking spirit that harassed their knight, but that Guang Ci had become sensitive to it. He wondered at once what that meant—Guang Ci was not a man harboring vengeance or the level of past trauma that would have such a being target him for its own use, which was how he had come to understand the berserker state. And if Guang Ci was not a candidate for that much rage to channel through, then he must have been guided by other elements.

“Do you know what lingers around us?” he asked his guard.

“No,” Guang Ci replied, and felt compelled to bow his head apologetically.

“How long have you noticed it?”

Guang Ci considered the question, then said, “Not before now.”

Xu Liang accepted his answer. “It is not an immediate threat. We must not dignify it.” On those words, he guided Blue Crane toward the north court once again.

Guang Ci followed suit.

“It may be that the Night Blade has awakened new sensitivities within you,” Xu Liang explained, for both their benefits. “It comes with responsibilities that will…carry you beyond your service as a bodyguard.”

Guang Ci’s expression grew tight with discomfort.

Xu Liang watched him for several moments, recalling the man’s youth and the dedication to service he had demonstrated from the beginning of his appointment. “Guang Ci, you came from the ranks of foot soldiers, selected for your determination and endurance. You were recommended by General Tian Qi, and from the beginning it was made apparent that such high responsibility would challenge you. It would challenge your discipline and your patience with yourself.”

The words inspired a deeper frown, and also a nearly reflexive bow that was too often asking for forgiveness. He was more intolerant of error than any master would have been, even Xu Hong.

Xu Liang sighed softly and looked ahead of them, realizing that his observation of the younger man may have been applying more pressure than was necessary in the moment. “It has been a long journey teaching you to not punish yourself for your missteps more than any man ought to, and to help you realize that perfection is not a human trait, but a divine one. Perfection will only come in moments, through clarity granted by the Heavens. It is not a man’s role to be perfect, but only to strive for excellence in service to the Empress. By serving me, you serve the Empress, and now you will serve her differently, Guang Ci…as a bearer of one of the Celestial Swords. You must come to understand that. You must study and ponder, so that you might know the weapon granted you by the gods.”

He sensed Guang Ci looking at him now, and maintained a patient tone and expression.

“You have the path of Zan Dexiu ahead of you,” Xu Liang said. “You must travel it with discipline and fortitude. We will all look to you for strength and guidance in darkness.”

“Lord Xu Liang,” Guang Ci said. “I feel a sense of brotherhood with my fellow bearers…and fear what may become of our unity if the merit of the Swords is not recognized by others.”

Xu Liang had not expected to be presented with such a concern, but perhaps he should have been. It would be dishonest of him to deny that he felt any connection to the others, not only as bearers, but in some ways…familial as well. They had all come over long distances together, been endangered together, and protected one another. So, Guang Ci had already advanced beyond a bodyguard and was, perhaps, ahead of them all in the process of coming together.

“I have not only taught you, Guang Ci,” Xu Liang said to him with a bow. “You have taught me as well. I am grateful.”

Guang Ci answered with the only response known to him, which was to twist toward Xu Liang and bow in return with his fist pressed into his other hand.

Xu Liang accepted the gesture with the dignity of his station as Imperial Tutor, but less specifically as the younger man’s master.

A heavy door
closed in his dreams.

Xu Liang stopped, looking around him at the outer chamber of the Temple of Divine Tranquility. Polished stone walls inlaid with carvings of floral medallions and rimmed with bright murals of tree-ornamented mountains and scrolling clouds surrounded the space. Lanterns that were hung by chains cast a golden wash upon all of it. Ahead of him lay the tracery-framed entry to the corridor leading to the inner sanctum of the temple. Behind him sat the double doors that had closed, which he held no memory of having opened or passed through.

The chamber felt still, and yet something alive moved through the space, something other than himself, and which he recognized.

It was with recognition that the form of the demon appeared, tendrils of hazy light manifesting from the shadow and weaving the body that appeared as a demonic rendition of an elf. It stalked the outer rim of the chamber like a tiger, cloaked in the fires of its own destructive passion.

“We’re becoming familiar with one another,” the spirit of the knight’s fury said while it paced the edges of the room. “It grows easier for us to see one another.”

“Tristus Edainien is not here,” Xu Liang pointed out. “Why are you?”

“I am not confined by what I possess!” the demon roared, aspects of its form and its fire leaning aggressively toward the center of the chamber, where Xu Liang stood both still and calm.

He did not know why he should be so undaunted in the face of this spirit. Perhaps it was that the nature of this beast was so raw and so simple in its motivations. There was nothing about it that attempted to confuse. “Why have you come here?” he asked of it.

“You draw me,” the demon replied, making a nearer path while it continued to move around the edges of the room. “You lure me…as you come nearer to my realm in leaving yours. You offend me as you try to stand in the way of my revenge.”

“It is not your revenge, but Tristus’.”

“All revenge is mine!” the demon bellowed, the fire of its being raising to the chamber’s ceiling. It licked across the space, damaging nothing, and then was gone. The lanterns swayed on their chains and a silence that was filled with the sound of itself swelled throughout the room. It was the sound of presence, one which saturated deeper than the demon of vengeance alone. Very slowly, it took on the pattern of breath, filling the air around Xu Liang. The sound of something deeper tumbled beneath the breathing, echoing after itself in a slow, drumming rhythm.

Ahead of Xu Liang, the Jade Hall became lit with the glow of fire, just as it had when he and his colleagues had entered before.

The ancient manual for slaying a dragon drifted to the front of Xu Liang’s mind.

Stab through its eyes and it cannot see. Cut open its stomach and it cannot eat. Severe its spine and it cannot move. Puncture its lungs and it cannot breathe. Impale its heart and it must die.

The last step repeated itself in his thoughts more than once, to the rhythmic beating in the air. The beating of Chaos’ heart. The rhythm became heavier, drowning…oppressive.

The air began to distort, its dimensions patterned with fire and shadow. The heartbeat became quicker. The shapes of the keirveshen formed of the shadows. Among them was Han Quan, grinning as if his sensibilities had left him.

“All revenge is mine!” came the shouting of Tristus’ demon once again. “And there is much of it here.”

The rhythm of the dragon’s heart quickened and grew harsher, until Xu Liang could feel it in his own chest.

It was pain that woke him from his dreams, and fear.

He rose from his bed, trailed by his hair and his night robes, which glided softly across the floor. The boards were cool against his feet and the air still, though he yet felt the hot and active atmosphere of his nightmare. He went to the long table beside the room’s wardrobe, where
Pearl Moon
rested upon its stand. A soft blue glow emitted from beneath the scabbard. It had done so frequently since returning to Sheng Fan—he assumed it had to do with all of the Blades being within such close proximity. His dreams suggested otherwise.

Lifting
Pearl Moon
from its base, he unsheathed the sword, looking upon the light that traced its edges and began to extend over his hand and arm. “Is it the Dragon?” he whispered.