by Justin Hill
Shulien and Silent Wolf bowed, and Sir Te bowed back and gestured to where a table had been set for tea.
It was a stone table, with stone stools in the morning shade of the bamboo. The tall stalks were bright green with the fresh leaves, long and slender like almonds, or arrowheads. They fluttered gently in the early summer breeze. They had an odd way of twisting in the wind, and the light that fell through them was green with leaf-life, yellow with sun.
Snow Vase watched the patterns on the floor at her feet.
“Tea?” Sir Te asked. She started, and looked up.
Sir Te held an ugly little pot in his hand. It had a fat body and thick handle and a little curved spout. He filled it with pale green spirals: the first bud and leaf twisted together, scented with flowers.
“Jasmine,” he said. “Picked this spring.”
He poured the first soaking away into the slats of his tea tray. “This washes the leaves,” he said, “and releases the perfumes.”
Snow Vase gave a noncommittal smile.
Sir Te smiled tolerantly back. “You are not a tea-drinker?”
“I drink,” she said.
Sir Te lifted the lid of the pot. A string, beaded with jade and pearls, connected the handle and the lid. It allowed the top to be lifted off without falling and breaking. He smelled the tea inside and offered it to Snow Vase to smell.
Snow Vase watched Sir Te carefully. The duke’s son was so content with little rituals like tea-making, or calligraphy, or admiring the moon from his bamboo gardens. When she’d arrived she had thought him pitiful, contemptible and weak.
But now she was not as sure as she had been. Now, she saw peacefulness and gentleness and humility as well. Things worth fighting for, she thought. Perhaps more worth fighting for than fame or glory.
Sir Te filled a white porcelain jug with the first brew, refilled the pot, and after a slightly longer infusion he added that to the jug as well. One by one he filled their cups, and offered them, two-handed, to his guests.
First he served Silent Wolf, then Shulien and finally Snow Vase.
She smiled as she took the cup, and the fragrance was shockingly clear and fresh.
Each of them sipped. There were murmurs of appreciation. Snow Vase felt Sir Te watching her, and her cheeks colored.
“It is good,” she said.
Sir Te seemed satisfied. He refilled the kettle with spring water, and set it back on the coals.
“So,” he said. “Here we are to discuss what to do with the sword. My father was a martial man, but I am not. You have all fought and sacrificed for us. It is my turn. I have spoken to my family, and they are all agreed. We shall look after this thing. We will do what is necessary.”
Snow Vase watched him speak. She saw that his hand was trembling. He is as scared as a mouse, she thought.
“Sir Te,” Shulien said. “You have done much. But you are not the man to guard the Green Destiny.”
Sir Te’s mouth opened. Shulien put up her hand. “You are not your father,” she said.
Sir Te stammered, and he hung his head. Shulien watched him for a moment. Her eyes were gentle, and when she spoke her words were soft. “It is nothing to be ashamed of. Sir Te, each man has a different road to travel. The road is set according to each man’s nature. Unhappiness comes when a man tries to follow the road that is not destined for him. Your road is not the Iron Way. You should not feel ashamed of this. What are we for, if not to protect men like you? Your pleasures are gentle. Tea, gardens, growing things. These are the spheres within which you excel.”
Sir Te seemed deeply ashamed.
Shulien reached out to him. “Sir Te,” she said. “Let us take the Green Destiny. There is no shame here for you. Only honor that you stood up against Hades Dai, when no one else would help us.”
Sir Te looked up. He took in a deep breath and sighed. “I am not my father,” he said.
“And he is not you,” Shulien told him. “You have skills he could not dream of. I saw his efforts to grow chrysanthemums.”
The comment brought a brief smile to Sir Te’s face. “You’re right, he was not much of a gardener. When I was young I wanted so much to be like him. He trained me, but I could see in the way he looked at me that he was disappointed. It is hard on a father not to have the kind of son he wanted.”
“And it is hard on the son whose father sees disappointment in him.” It was Snow Vase who spoke, and her words seemed to have more effect than Shulien’s.
He took in a deep breath. “So you will take the Green Destiny.”
The three fighters nodded.
“And my family will not be troubled anymore?”
“No,” Shulien assured him.
Sir Te looked up. “Thank heavens,” he said. The kettle had boiled. He took it off the coals and set it aside to cool a little. Boiling water was too hot for jasmine tea. It needed a more delicate temperature. He refilled their cups, sipped his tea, and savored the flavor.
“How is Wei-fang?” he asked.
Snow Vase bowed her head. “I think he will live.”
“And the others?”
“Flying Blade will live. We have burned offerings for the others. Their ghosts will dine well.”
Sir Te smiled sadly. “So many have died, and it always seems the sadder when they are young. I am cheered to hear Flying Blade will live. And this Wei-fang. That is very heartening. He is a good man, is he not?”
His tone seemed uncertain, and he looked to Shulien and she smiled and nodded. “Yes. He was misled for a while, but his heart is good.”
Snow Vase looked at her. She had never heard her teacher speak so positively of Wei-fang before. “I am glad you think so,” she said.
Shulien smiled. “Well. Much happens in the world that we wish we could control, but cannot. I would have had things differently, but now that the battle is fought, and won, perhaps it was all meant to be.”
Snow Vase nodded. A gentle breeze carried the note of the midday bell. She sipped her cup, and refused a refill. “I will go and see Wei-fang,” she said, and stood and bowed.
Sir Te watched her go, and when she had slipped through the moon gate the three of them exchanged looks. “I never had a daughter, but if I had I would wish her to be as beautiful as Snow Vase.” There was a long pause. “It is not easy being young. I feel for her.” He poured another round of tea. “You know,” he said, as they raised their cups to one another, “some men yearn to recapture their youth. I would not be young again for any coin.”
Shulien half smiled. “No?” she said.
“No,” Sir Te said. “When I was young I had so many things to do. Now I am gray, I have a wife and children, and I see what I have done with my life and I am content. I thank you for your words. I think perhaps I have been traveling the right road for me. I see my sons, my wife, my gardens, and I am content.”
“That is a good feeling to have,” Shulien said, and felt a deep sadness within her, because she could not say the same. Sir Te looked at her, and she tried to smile, and almost succeeded.
“To the quiet life,” she said, and they all drained their cups.
The afternoon shadows were lengthening when Wei-fang woke.
He sat up, and winced.
“Where are we?”
“You are safe, and healing, and your enemy is dead.”
“Flying Blade?”
“Will live.”
“And the others. I tried to help Thunder Fist . . .”
She hushed him, and moved to slip a cushion behind his back. “They fell valiantly.”
He sighed, winced once more and fell back onto the pillows.
“How do you feel?” she said.
“I’ve felt better.”
“Can you move your arm?”
Wei-fang wiggled his fingers. It was clear that that was t
he limit of his ability.
“Do you think you will be able to fight again?” she said.
Wei-fang pursed his lips. “I don’t know if I want to fight again.”
She looked at him. “No?”
“No,” he said. “I used to think that fighting was the supreme art. The most glorious thing a man could do. But now I have fought with the greatest, and I know I will never be as great as them.”
“Why not?”
“I am not like Hades Dai or Silent Wolf or Shulien,” he said.
“No?”
She sat on the edge of the bed. He reached out a hand and found hers and held it. He smiled and looked down at the hand that was bandaged and held in a sling. “I only have one hand,” he said.
“And what would you do if that hand were free?”
“I would touch your cheek,” he said. Snow Vase’s cheeks colored a little. They were like the flowers of the magnolia, which blush to pink at their base.
The two of them sat in silence for a while.
“Look at Shulien,” he said. “Silent Wolf comes sniffing and she gathers in her skirts and sits with her knees together as if she is a nun. And he cannot bring himself to say to her what he feels.”
Snow Vase smiled. There was a wicked light in her eyes, as if she had seen the same thing too.
“So you want to be a scholar like your father?”
“Heavens no,” Wei-fang said. His face was ashen. He looked about the room and swallowed. “No. I had a long time to think. Before the battle. Let me tell you. When I was growing up, I found an old teacher and he was kind to me, and I loved to go and visit him. He had no sons, so I was like a child to him. He taught me his skills. I wish he had lived longer, or that I had been more disciplined. But my mother forbade me from visiting him, and when I had the courage to go myself, he had died.
“I did not belong to my family. They were oil and I was water. We did not mix. When we sat at meals I could not bear to hear their conversation. They drove me mad. My father was only interested in the Buddha, and poor people and how much suffering he had alleviated. My mother . . . my mother cared about who was marrying who, how many grandchildren her friends had, and when I was going to produce grandchildren for her to spoil.
“I could not bear it. I was a warrior. I wanted a different life. I wanted freedom, adventure. I wanted a life worthy of living. I wanted to see the world. And so I fled. My mother had found me a wife and I fled from her like a coward. I was not proud of it, but I would have gone mad if I’d stayed. It was desperation.
“And then I was alone, and I wandered. I was lost. There was no one like me, I thought as I passed through villages and towns and saw families sitting around their evening tables, happily chatting and eating.”
Snow Vase squeezed his good hand as he talked.
“Then I found Iron Crow. I think he was a good man. At the start. Hades Dai had a power over men. Iron Crow feared him, and his fear undid him. It undid me too. I feared having my head added to the pile. And for once I was not alone, and loneliness was what I feared more than anything.”
“And now?” she said.
Wei-fang swallowed and laughed, and shook his head. “I still fear it.”
They looked at one another.
“But now I understand what loneliness is.”
“Really?”
He nodded.
“I found you,” he said. “How could I be alone when you are in the world?”
She did not blush, but looked at him and held his gaze. After a long pause she leaned forward and put his hand to her cheek. “It is not cold,” she said.
He cupped her face in his good hand.
“No. It is warm. And soft, and tender.”
Snow Vase kissed his palm and looked at him. He was hers, she thought, and leaned forward and kissed him. But she thought of Shulien, and what she had always said about love, and stood up abruptly.
Wei-fang did not know what he had done to cause this.
“I think I should leave,’ she said.
He watched her with a strange sense of loss. There was a light within her face, like a candle flame that shone on those around her and gave them warmth and a deep yellow glow. As she moved across the room it seemed the darkness pressed in around him and he longed for her touch.
Snow Vase hesitated at the door and looked back. He thought for a moment that she would pause, but with a last fleeting glimpse, such as a startled deer in the dappled forest shadows might give, she stepped out of his sight, and he took in a deep sigh, put his hand to his head, and closed his eyes.
Snow Vase was pensive that night; even when they had finished sparring, and she had acquitted herself very well indeed; Shulien had spoken to her kindly. “Very good.”
“Thank you, teacher.”
Snow Vase bowed, sheathed her sword, and walked inside without anymore conversation. She hung her sword on the peg on her wall, and sat down.
Shulien followed her in.
“How should a warrior live?” Snow Vase said suddenly.
Shulien sat down opposite her. “How do you mean?”
“I mean: what code should a warrior live by?”
Shulien sat back. “A warrior should be hard and disciplined and stern and honest.”
“Should they deny themselves pleasure?”
“Why?”
Snow Vase did not answer. “You never married.”
“No,” Shulien said.
“Why not?”
Shulien stopped.
“You say you loved him. Why didn’t you marry Mubai?”
Shulien took in a deep breath. “We did not marry,” she said, speaking slowly, “because of honor.”
“Really?”
The question had an odd effect on her teacher. Shulien clenched her jaw hard, and it seemed to take a great effort to speak. “Yes,” she said. The word came out like a strangled gasp. “But I would never have been as fine a warrior. If you want to be a great warrior, then you must do as I have done. Love is a distraction.”
Snow Vase looked at Shulien. Children and students knew their elders ways’ much better than their elders knew theirs. Snow Vase had spent more time than anyone with Shulien. Her teacher gave off an appearance of calm, like still lake-water, dappled with the reflections of trees and clouds. But there was much hidden under that calm.
“Really?” she repeated.
Shulien paused, and shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said.
There was a knock on the door. Both women turned to look. Silent Wolf stepped inside. He nodded to Snow Vase first, then pulled a stool out and sat down.
“So,” he said.
Shulien looked at him. “So?”
“What shall we do with the sword?”
“We?”
He laughed. “Yes. We.”
“Mubai entrusted this sword to Duke Te,” she said. “I helped him in this. It is I who should decide what happens to the sword.”
Silent Wolf held her gaze for a long time. “I think you are wrong,” he said. “It is a matter too serious for any single person to deal with. We all helped save it from Hades Dai. I think that means we all have a voice in what should happen with the Green Destiny.”
Shulien looked from one to the other. “I do not agree,” she said. Silent Wolf was staring at her.
“You were not the only one close to Mubai,” he said. “I knew him in a way you did not. I was his oath brother. You were never his wife.”
Shulien looked stung by these words. She turned away. “I will think on this,” she said. The silence deepened. At last she said, “I will listen to your words. But I will decide.”
Silent Wolf and Snow Vase looked from one to the other. There was a brief moment and she took it. “If we are to discuss this, then I think we should ask Wei-fang what he thi
nks as well,” Snow Vase said. She spoke carefully. “His fate is closely bound to that of the sword. He carried the sword against our foe.”
Her words had weight. The air felt heavy. The silence stretched. Shulien’s frown deepened, but at last Silent Wolf nodded. “I think you speak right,” he said. “Shulien. We should go to Wei-fang’s room, and there we can decide what will happen with the sword.”
“I decide,” Shulien said. When she turned back to them her face was hard.
“Let us talk first,” Silent Wolf said.
30
Wei-fang spent an uncomfortable night. He could not lie on his right side without his shoulder aching, and the wound was itching terribly but he could not scratch it through the bandages. It was three hours after dawn when Sir Te’s doctor came. He was a tall, gangly man, whose robes seemed too large for him. He wore heavy glasses with frames of bronze and lenses of ground crystal. He peered over these as he picked up Wei-fang’s wrist, placed middle, index and ring finger on it and took the three pulses at the same time, each one representing the heart, the liver and the kidney.
“Hmm!” he said as he let the wrist go. Wei-fang was not sure if this was a good sign or not.
“Let me see,” he said as he started peeling away the dark-stained bandages from around his shoulder and under his arm.
“It itches,” Wei-fang said.
“Hmm,” the doctor said. He was clearly uninterested in the opinions of the patient. His skin had a thick look to it, and his cheeks were deeply pitted with acne scars or the ruin of childhood pox. But his eyes were bright and sharp, and made Wei-fang think of the house rat that sits in the corner and watches and waits. He unwrapped the bandages, carefully peeled the poultice off. The ground-up medicines had formed a damp dark cake which came away with the dressing. Wei-fang looked down. The skin was stained dark and around the wound was pale and puckered. The doctor bent to it, sniffed it and then put his fingers to either side of the wound. Wei-fang gritted his teeth as the doctor squeezed. He held back his groan as pus oozed out, pale and green and with red mixed in as well.