by JC Kang
Hong hid his scoff. Chief Minister Tan, as one of the Tianzi’s favorites, probably believed he would be awarded a fief and Yu-Ming status if new lands came under Hua rule. “If I may ask, why did you want to assassinate the Tarkothi prince? It does not seem to have any relevance to our goals of expanding the nation, and if anything, would make Hua look very bad in the eyes of our trading partners. And there are those, such as Lord Peng, who wanted to ally with Tarkoth.”
Tan waved his hand dismissively. “He was simply a necessary casualty, an expendable target that would not needlessly kill one of our own lords. We needed to create the appearance that nobody was safe; that Madura, Rotuvi, and their allies were meddling in our affairs. That is why we have tried to implicate Madura time and time again.”
“Which explains why you had the Golden Phoenix’s water barrels sabotaged.” Hong feigned sudden epiphany. “To keep Princess Kaiya from travelling to Vyara City. As soon as she talked to the Madurans, she would find out they had nothing to do with our own internal problems.”
“Exactly!” Tan said, beaming. “I should have recruited you earlier, since you seem to have an eye for conspiracy.”
More than Tan realized. Hong raised an eyebrow. “And all of the attacks on the lords? Your doing?”
Tan shrugged. “All but the debacle in Lord Peng’s compound that night. None of my planned attacks, save the attempt on Lord Han, were meant to be fatal; just enough to scare the Tai-Ming into pushing for punitive action against Madura. I was worried when you began to propose troop movements, especially away from the borders, since that is where we will eventually launch our expansion.”
Sweat beaded on Hong’s head. It was hot, and not just because of the steam. “How were you able to recruit the insurgents?”
“Insurgents?” Tan’s brow furrowed. “I had nothing to do with them. I procured the services of patriots. There are enough former Hua soldiers who are tired of hiring themselves out to foreign armies, who share our vision of Hua’s greatness. All it took was the recruitment of one of the Tianzi’s agents, a real Moquan, I believe. He did the rest.”
Moquan? Hong’s forehead scrunched. Tan really believed they existed.
The girl massaging Tan’s neck paused momentarily and Tan smirked. “Do not worry, my sweet, you have nothing to fear from the Moquan. They only kidnap babies. And do the Tianzi’s dirty work.”
The girl smiled nervously and returned to her kneading.
Hong lifted his hand, letting the warm water slither off. “So there really is no foreign threat, is there?”
Tan scowled for a split second. “There is no imminent foreign threat. However, our neighbors covet our wealth. Mark my words, it will only be a matter of time before the Teleri Empire and its satellites pressure us. We must expand our buffer territory, to protect the Hua heartland from their machinations.”
“Certainly you have shared your concerns with the Tianzi? He is a reasonable man.”
Tan sighed. “I have. But he has become too tentative with age. He will not budge in his mindset without significant pressure from the hereditary lords. His sons are too weak-willed to do anything. The realm will stagnate and fall to ruin under them.”
“But if the princess negotiates a lasting peace with the Madurans—”
“She will not.” Tan slapped his hand down on the water’s surface. “She has been ill for two days, and the Golden Phoenix would not sail even if she were well.”
Ill! Hong’s chest tightened. His ultimate prize, sick.
Tan continued, “I have many ways to keep the ship anchored. If we do not show for our meeting with the Madurans, they may take offense. Perhaps they will attack us first.”
“When do you plan on pushing Expansionism? The Tianzi dismissed the notion at the last Tai-Ming Council.”
Tan leveled his stare. “The next council meeting, in three months. By then, all of my pieces will have fallen in place, and I will remonstrate the Tianzi to come to a resolution.”
Hong grinned. Tan had effectively incriminated himself, and it was time to deliver the coup-de-grace. “I would like to remonstrate the Tianzi.”
“That is not your place as Household Minister.” Tan glowered at him.
Hong’s grin curved into a toothy smirk. “But it would be, if I were Chief Minister.”
“The only way for you to become Chief Minister…” Realization bloomed on Tan’s face. He turned to the girl beside him. “Go, summon my guards!”
The sliding doors to the room crashed open, revealing six shadowy figures brandishing lacquered swords. Unlike the brash Young Lord Zheng, who had tried to win all the glory by uncovering one plot himself, Hong had gone to the Tianzi and secured the help of imperial agents.
“Yes, the position will be vacant,” Hong said. “You, old friend, have revealed enough tonight to seal your fate.”
“Ungrateful cur!” Tan bolted up in the tub. “You will not have the satisfaction of seeing my downfall, and I will not have to suffer witnessing a fishmonger’s ascension to Chief Minister!” His eyes flashed, the infuriated look of a man whose lifelong dreams had just been quashed. He started to lunge across the tub toward Hong, arms outstretched as if he would choke the life out of him with his bare hands.
Yet before the Chief Minister had even had a chance to launch himself, the young woman beside him tangled up his legs with her own, and he floundered unceremoniously, face-first into the water.
She yanked his head out of the water by his hair, and placed him in an unrelenting choke hold. Tan clutched desperately at her slim arms, frantically trying to break her precise grip, fighting the inevitable shutting down of his brain.
Hong laughed to himself. He would never be allowed in this bath house again. It did not matter. It was time to start calling in the Tai-Ming lords’ agreements to have him named Chief Minister.
CHAPTER 24:
Visions
Kaiya woke to the sound of frog trills and bird chirps outside her open window, still singing in orchestra with the ocean rumbling in the distance. She yawned. How refreshing! Never again would she take for granted a comfortable bed which didn’t rock with the seas.
She blinked away the unladylike gunk from her eyes. Outside, the black of night faded to an inky blue at the horizon. Dawn, and with it, the Paladins’ morning meditation, fast approached.
Kaiya jumped to her feet and flashed a disdainful eye at her travelling clothes, still inundated with the stench of brine and—she shuddered—sweat. With nothing else to wear, she threw them on nonetheless.
On the other bed, Jie might have been hibernating. The poor girl needed her sleep, and it would take time to wake her, anyway. Precious time. Scarlet lined the horizon.
Kaiya flung the door open and dashed out. She almost careened into a boy on the mezzanine, who nonchalantly sidestepped her just outside the door. Not even the Insolent Retainer could have reacted so fast.
Or could she? Back in the room, the half-elf’s feet padded on the floor. Kaiya looked down at the boy.
Gayan, their guide from the day before, stared back with bright eyes. He placed a yellow flower in her hand. “No need to hurry, miss. The Oracle said you wished to speak to him. He sent me to meet you here.”
“How did he know?” Kaiya stared at the boy.
He giggled. “He is the Oracle, after all. Come, follow me to morning meditation.” He took her hand with a blush.
The touch might have been impertinent if he weren’t so cute. She let him guide her down the steps, out the door and into the street.
Outside, Master Sabal towered over a dozen boys and girls, all dressed in white kurtas. “Good morning, Your Highness. I am glad you could join us.” He pressed his hands together and the children followed suit.
Kaiya imitated the greeting. “Good morning, Master. Thank you for guiding me.”
They set off at a brisk walk with Master Sabal leading. He didn’t speak a word, and it seemed inappropriate to break the silence. Behind her, the entourage of children trailed like
a line of ducklings, so unlike her usual retinue of handmaidens and imperial guards.
After a few minutes, they came to a life-sized statue of a handsome, middle-aged man in the center of the road. Sitting in a lotus position, he held a shattered naga sword in his left hand, out to the side with the tip down. Over his heart, his right hand cupped a fist-sized gemstone with countless facets, round at the bottom and tapered on top. The statue itself was made of a greyish blue metal and pulsated with the same energy as the island.
The children each added a yellow flower to the hill of yellow blossoms on the stone base. They then pressed their hands together and bobbed their heads, like pecking baby chicks.
“This is part of our morning ritual: to salute Acharya, the first Oracle.” Master Sabal prompted her to add her own flower to the pile.
As she knelt to do so, she saw the shards of the sword at the figure’s feet. “I did not think an Oracle would need a sword.”
“In his younger years, when the chaotic aftermath of the Hellstorm and Long Winter still gripped Ayuri lands, Acharya led a band of Bahaadur mercenaries.”
The term, to Kaiya’s understanding, implied heroism—she’d always associated it with Prince Hardeep, who must have trained at this very island. A mercenary hardly evoked the image of honor. “He fought for money?”
Master Sabal smiled. “In desperate times, people do what they must.”
Definitely not the image of heroism. Her lip twitched into a curl. “I guess I had a different understanding of the term Bahaadur.”
“You speak our language well,” he said, “but this word has a long history. It is a thousand years old, from when the elves taught the gifted among our ancestors to channel their prana life force into superhuman martial abilities. We used those skills to overthrow our orc masters during the War of Ancient Gods.”
“Just as elves trained Cathayi girls how to evoke magic through the arts.” Kaiya watched the children shuffle away.
He nodded. “The Cathayi and the Ayuri people share a similar history of consolidation. The Bahaadur played a major role in ours. For seven centuries after the War of Ancient Gods, tribal chieftains used them to carve out kingdoms; kings sought them out to build an empire; and the Emperor of the Ayuri organized them in the Hundred Years of War against the Arkothi Empire in the North. To our people, they were heroes.”
“Even the mercenaries?” Kaiya pursed her lips.
Master Sabal leveled his gaze at her. “Our life experiences can help us transcend our origins. In his middle years, Acharya made a pilgrimage to this island, where he received his first vision. It inspired him to systemize Bahaadur training methods and lay the groundwork for the Paladin Order. It brought peace to most of our lands.”
Kaiya contemplated his words. Her own ancestor had reunified Hua, sometimes through brutal methods. Yet, historians described him as a heroic figure, and she accepted it without question. Who was she to judge the leaders who had lived through the upheaval of the Hellstorm?
Master Sabal gestured toward the naga shards. “Acharya took up residence here and became the first Oracle, living to be one hundred and twelve years old. He shattered his own sword, to represent the precedence of wisdom over martial skill. Our young students are reminded every morning. Speaking of which, look, they have already continued without us. Come, perhaps the current Oracle will tell you more if he sees fit.”
It was a short distance to the Temple of the Moon. Cathayi books and scrolls had never described the famed temple itself. Expecting a magnificent structure of spires and domes characteristic of ancient Ayuri architecture, Kaiya was sorely disappointed. She found nothing but a broad stone-paved park facing a flat-topped mesa, with Ayudra hill’s cliff face as a backdrop. A semicircle of several dozen megaliths surrounded the plaza. Above her was the open sky.
And the Iridescent Moon, now waning to half. It appeared larger than ever, its soap-bubble colors swirling more vibrantly than usual.
Picking her way through the couple hundred sitting Paladin students, knights, and masters, Kaiya found an open spot and settled into a lotus position. She looked up to contemplate the mesa.
It jutted up some fifty feet. A cone of pale blue light sprayed from the top, upwards toward the Iridescent Moon. This had been the core of the ancient Ayuri pyramid, which originally towered some four hundred feet above the low-lying delta in the shadows of Mount Ayudra.
Kaiya closed her eyes and listened. The Paladins breathed in unison, synchronizing with the wind in the trees, the twittering of birds, and the ocean waves in the distance. She joined her breath to theirs, the thump of her heart slowing to beat in time with the island.
She opened her eyes. Sounds flashed in a multitude of colors, coalescing with one another and painting fleeting images, both beautiful and grotesque. The unworldly pictures should’ve evoked emotional responses, yet the sounds lulled her into calm.
Minutes passed as seconds, and before Kaiya realized it, morning meditation had ended. The images slipped from her memory. Master Paladins dismissed students, sending them to their next tasks. The handful of Paladin knights talked among themselves.
Beside her, Jie rose to her feet, expression serene. When had she arrived? She’d never looked so calm.
Gayan beckoned. “Come, the Oracle awaits you. Your maid must wait here, though.”
Kaiya nodded at Jie, giving her the tacit order to stay. Surprisingly, the Insolent Retainer actually complied.
The boy took Kaiya’s hand and pulled her along through the dispersing throng of Paladins and students, toward the cliff behind the mesa.
They came to steps hewn into the cliff face and climbed. Halfway up, Kaiya peeked over the edge, only to hug the side the rest of the way. At the summit, a white-bearded man draped in long white robes sat in lotus position.
Looking at him, Kaiya bent, hands on knees, to catch her breath. Cathayi records placed his age at eighty-one, but he didn’t seem a day over fifty. Yet when he gazed at her, his eyes bared her soul with an ancient wisdom.
She bowed low, respectful of the mysterious man’s dignified aura. He was only the fourth Oracle in two hundred years, and there might not be another in her lifetime.
“Go back to your studies, young one,” the Oracle said to Gayan. “Though I know you will be back soon.” He laughed with a wink.
Once the boy departed, the Oracle stood with a swirl of his robes and motioned to a stone bridge that crossed over to the mesa. “Come with me, young lady of Cathay.”
She followed him over the bridge, to the top of the rock column. From this new vantage point, she saw that the almost perfectly flat top of the rock was about thirty feet in diameter. In its center was a circular hole, the size of her fist, from which the ray of pale blue light emerged.
“You have questions,” he said just as she was opening her mouth to speak.
“I feel as if the island is trying to speak to me.”
He laughed. “When a Paladin apprentice finishes his service with his mentor, he often comes here to meditate and feel the vibrations of the world. What he experiences becomes a vision of his life’s work. Throughout his career, he receives assignments from the Council of Elders of the Crystal Citadel in Vyara City, yet ultimately, it is the vision that guides his path.”
“Where does the vision come from? The island?” She waved her hand from horizon to horizon.
He gestured for her to sit near the hole. “There are other places in the world where people have been documented to have received these types of visions. Around all of the pyramids. In the valleys of the two elven realms. Wild Turkey Island on the Kanin plateau. Around Haikou Island in your own country. Supposedly the Forbidden Island of the Eldaeri.”
Sitting, she contained a scoff. “Then the Paladins place a lot of trust in architectural ruins, if their vision guides their life.”
“What can we trust more than that which comes from within ourselves?” He sat down across from her, on the other side of the hole. The light cast his
complexion in turquoise hues.
She must’ve looked the same to him. Her brows furrowed as she considered her words. Did the vision come from oneself, or from the location?
He smiled and placed his hand over his heart. “The vision is what separates the Ayuri Paladin from the Maduran Golden Scorpion, for power without guidance leads to a selfish sense of superiority and self-righteousness. Even worse is power which is manipulated by dogma. The Bovyan Knights, who inspired Acharya to form the Paladin Order, deferred to the Keepers of the Shrine of Geros, who interpret their Founder’s last will. They are now the Teleri Imperial Army, whose very existence is sustained by institutional rape.”
“Is the Paladin’s vision so clear? I do not understand what I heard.” She stared into the cone of blue light.
“Understanding the vision requires special training in harmonizing one’s own life force to the vibrations of the world. All Paladins begin this study when they are children and practice as you saw them do today. Yet even with this life-long training, they oftentimes come to me to help them make sense of what they feel.” He ran his hand through the light. “You said the island spoke to you, that you do not understand what you heard. This is different from how we describe what the Paladins feel. What exactly are you hearing?”
They were speaking a different language, it seemed. “All of the sounds around me are harmonized, from the beating of your heart, to my breathing, to the sounds of the ocean waves. It is a symphony of sounds. During the morning meditation, I could almost see these sounds as colors, coalescing into fleeting images.”
His lips formed a perfect circle. “This is why you played your flute yesterday. You were answering the call of the island.”
“How did you hear my flute from all the way over here?” She gawped at him.
He laughed again. “Have you not been listening? I did not hear it, I felt it. The notes you played merged with the vibrations of the world and came to me. So, you saw the sound as colors this morning?”
Kaiya nodded.
“Fascinating. I have heard that in ages past, your people could do astonishing things with the fine arts, whether it was music, dance, sculpture, or painting. This warrants further investigation by the Paladin Order.” He reached across and took her hands in his, pulling them into the light. “Now, perhaps I can help you understand your images. Please, tell them to me.”