by Brian Thomas
“I think we have found someone who can help, Lieutenant. The man on whose wife the priest performed the miracle.” Mading didn’t look quite as pleased as the discovery should have made him. “It is no secret here. It is the talk of the place and everyone seems to know the man and his wife. His brother has a building across the street, where he dyes silk for local weavers.”
Zun was pleased. They had been hearing of the miracle for days. While everyone knew of the miracle and that it had been a Temple priest who performed it to save both mother and infant, bringing the mother back from the dead in many accounts, none had seen it first hand or could say where mother and infant might be found. It hadn’t taken long for the story of the rogue Temple priest and the miracle performing Temple priest to be connected, giving both stories new impetus. Seeing Mading’s concern Zun asked, “What is the problem Mading?”
“The problem is the priest, Lieutenant. I have spoken to half a dozen people this evening who have spoken to the mother and seen the infant, while the father is on the stage playing. It seems the miracle is real.” Mading took a generous swallow of the acrid rice wine. “It seems he used his knife to cut her belly open when she was dead or near dead and took out the child before sewing her up again like a silk purse. The next day she was up and about, when all of the attending midwives expected her and the infant to perish.”
Mading looked up from the beaker he nursed between his big hands. “What manner of man is it we chase, who can take and give life so easily? Perhaps the other rumours, the ones about him being possessed are right as well and we would do better never to catch up with him.”
Zun frowned across at Mading. “He is just a man Mading. He has lived in a place of learning all of his life. He also trained in the martial arts until he can do things few others are capable of, much as we warriors raised in the academies and barracks of the Great Houses but more so. He has studied and as a result knows things you and I do not. You do not need to be possessed to be a better swordsman than the next man or to have learnt knowledge another man has not heard of. He is just a man. A special man perhaps, but a man who bleeds just as you and I do.”
Mading gave a small snort while staring into his beaker. “A man perhaps but not like me or even you. There is less talk now of him being possessed by evil demons and more of him being blessed by the Spirits. Sent by them to aid the poor against the masters.”
As Mading said the last he gave a small glance from under his brows at his lieutenant. Mading was coming to like the young lieutenant but Zun was still an academy warrior sworn to a House, born into the role and trained from an infant. This different upbringing engendered different values, which would always separate them. Mading was a realist, he made the best he could of the world in which he lived but he did not have to like it. He had no great love for the masters but he would rather serve them and have a better life as a consequence than he would if scrabbling in the dirt like the peasants, only to have the lion’s share of any produce taken away to support the masters and their House’s.
Zun only listened to Mading with half an ear, he had heard the same overexcited speculations himself but it would soon end when this priest was eventually captured and executed. The people’s daydreams dying with him. Zun had been listening to the singer on the stage after Mading had identified him as the husband and father to the two saved by the priest. He had not been paying too much attention to the tune before, an old country favourite, the kind of bawdy song he would readily have associated with this tavern. But as he listened Zun realised the singer had put new words to the old tune.
Ha, ha , ha says the emperor’s kin
Put their chicken in the pot and let the peasants rot
While we wait, Priest do my bidding
Go amongst the people and do some killing!
Chicken in the pot, I think not!
Emperor’s man goes Chop, Chop, Chop!
Mercy Master, can’t they live?
Without their lives how can they dig?
Dawn to dusk work they must
Their lives in you they do trust!
Chicken in the pot, I think not!
Emperor’s man goes Chop, Chop, Chop!
In runs the Guard, brave and bold
Honour and courage for all to behold,
Too late for their master but with honour for the priest
Come too late they join the feast!
Chicken in the pot, I think not!
Emperor’s man goes Chop, Chop, Chop!
Mother on her death bed, babe in her belly
Father by the bedside quivers like a jelly
Priest calls on the Spirits to deliver the babe
No says the babe I’m happy in the shade!
Chicken in the pot, I think not!
Emperor’s man goes Chop, Chop, Chop!
It was obvious the audience had heard the tune before and were enthusiastically joining in with the chorus. Zun sat bristling with indignation that the death of the emperor’s nephew was being taken so lightly and the treacherous actions of the rogue priest being openly supported by the people in the tavern. “They dare mock the emperor!” Without realising Zun had whispered out loud, astonished at the audacity of such an open display against the emperor and, more significantly, the way it was being encouraged by the crowd. They were laughing at each new verse which was tripped out to the jaunty little tune.
Mading, still lost in his own thoughts also replied without thinking. “Can’t say I blame them, who else takes a stand against the masters for them and wins? This priest is their hero.”
Zun turned sharply to his sergeant, who suddenly sat stiffly under his lieutenant’s glare. Mading cursed for his unthinking words as Zun admonished him severely. “This singer risks his life with his songs and these people do themselves no favours by such flagrant disrespect for their emperor!”
Mading wondered how much of Zun’s indignation was genuine. He was starting to believe his lieutenant had far more sympathy with the people than he was willing to admit. “And yet, still they do it.” Looking at the stage Mading sought to deflect another angry admonishment. “I bought the players a jug of rice wine and asked the singer to join us when he finished.”
Abruptly the crowd broke into applause as the song finished and Zun could see the singer make his way to their table, holding his pipe instrument aloft in one hand in acknowledgement of the tavern’s enthusiastic appreciation. Zun forced his frown away and smiled a greeting for their guest as he reached their table. “You sing well, though it is not a song I have heard before.”
The singer slid into a chair giving them a sharp appraisal as he sat down. “I am pleased you enjoyed it, though I am merely a poor artist inspired by events. I have titled it “The Last Charge of the Life Guard” but the people keep calling out for the Chicken Song.” Chuckling he added, “How the heady aspirations of artists are brought down to earth by the masses!”
The singer tilted his head speculatively at Zun. “I am still working on the verses and I am inspired by events to write new ones on a regular basis. Only this morning I heard how a contingent of soldiers which have been searching for the priest are camped outside of the town, though their commander, who was with them the last time they were here, has disappeared. I was thinking of adding a new verse along the lines of:
The emperor’s men search far and wide
They march without success across the countryside
They search day and night in great haste
Sent by the people on a wild goose chase
The singer’s eyes glittered in the dim light as he looked at Zun curiously, who now sat up stiffly, while Mading tried to smother a smile in his clay beaker.
“I expect a man would think twice before insulting the emperor so publicly with such a song.” Zun tried to quell his own irritation, with what he hoped was an encouraging smile.
The singer grinned and helped himself to a generous helping from the jug on the table. “Ah, was it ever thus. That an arti
st is a victim to his art? My public demand I sing it, and who am I to deny them?” Looking directly at Zun he added. “Besides, we are all good friends here, so who would tell the emperor? It is of such a trivial nature and the emperor has a reputation for executing those who bring him news he does not wish to hear, does he not?”
Zun had an uncomfortable feeling the singer knew exactly who he was and the man was toying with him, almost goading him into some sort of reaction. “Of course we are all friends and you sing well. It would just be a shame to lose your head for a song, especially as you are a new father I understand. We have heard much of the priest’s miracle and can hardly believe it. Could you tell us of it, I believe you were there and saw it all first hand?” His identity exposed or not, Zun determined he would focus on the mission and extract what information he could.
The singer glanced over Zun’s shoulder, giving a brief shake of his head. Following his glance Zun saw four men with cudgels give their group a brief look before moving on. Still smiling, the singer leaned back against the screen. “Ah. The miracle! Yes I was there and saw it with my own eyes. The wives of this village said that nothing could be done. They called me to hold my wife’s hand while she died and took our unborn child with her.”
Losing his smile for a moment the singer took a gulp of wine, shuddering at the memory. “My Shisee was as good as dead when I got there, her body convulsing with pain and the baby unable to get out. I do not know whether it was magic or learning, though I believe the priest would say it was learning.” Shrugging, the man looked at Zun steadily. “But the result was the same whichever it was. What I do know, is that he took a knife and opened up my Shisee’s belly so the baby fell into his hands,” cupping both his hands as he spoke, the man’s face took on some of the awe at what he had seen, “and then he sewed her up and the wife and child I had been told were gone, were back from the grave.”
Smiling at the intent faces of his audience, he made no attempt to hide either his pleasure or awe at what the priest had done. “Magic or not, to me it was a miracle. I would have given the priest everything I had; little enough though it is. But he wanted nothing other than for me to write a song to keep the memory of the friends he slew in battle alive a little longer.” With a casual flick of his hand he concluded. “If such a simple thing as singing a song in his friend’s memory places me in danger, then it is little enough for what he gave me. Besides,” he smiled conspiratorially at the two men who were sitting on the edge of their seats as they listened, “I think the hint of danger in poking a little fun at the emperor and his men is part of the attraction to those of us who enjoy the song. Laughter is all we have!”
Zun raised his eyebrows a little at the man’s tale, respecting his motives and courage at such a public display which could only make him vulnerable to retribution. It would only take someone seeking favour with the authorities to lead to his death and this man must know it. “And where is the priest who saved your wife and child now then?” Zun hoped the question sounded casual as he rolled the empty beaker between his hands.
The singer gave them both a broad smile. “I have no doubt he is where the Spirits guide him and he is doing what Temple priests of old did when amongst the people, being their saviour and strong arm against aggressors. I am but a simple singer and am not included in the deliberations of the Spirits.” the singer lost most of his smile, his eyes hardening as he added, “So I don’t know but if I did I would not say.” Standing he reached for his instrument giving them both a brief bow and a flash of his infectious smile. “And now, it is time for me to return to my wife and new child. I wish you fellows’ good fortune, if no success.”
Zun also stood and gave a bow, hastily followed by a surprised Mading. “I wish you and your family long life and happiness. I have no doubt you will acquire infamy if not fame. Take care, singer.” The singer took his leave and Mading looked at his strange lieutenant, liking him even more despite himself.
Mading ventured hopefully. “So we are no wiser then, Lieutenant?”
Zun followed the singer’s progress through the crowd as he received bows and pats on the back from well-wishers he squeezed past. “A man who would knowingly accept the retribution his song is bound to bring with no means of defence and certain death if taken has an unusual courage Mading. But in answer to your question, perhaps he gave away more than he intended.”
Turning to the bemused Mading, Zun continued. “The Temple priests of old travelled around the country offering their services as healers and wise men to commoner and lord alike. As he is unlikely to be offering any services to the wealthy and the poor are an unlikely target for the learned wisdom of an academic, perhaps we should stop seeking a Temple priest and start searching for an herb or medicine man, catering for the poor and needy.” Zun nodded confidently. “There are three routes into this town, the way we came, the way we were sent in misdirection and the way we will go tomorrow. Only now we must seek our quarry who has no doubt sought to change his appearance, much as we have done.” Zun smiled ruefully. “I suspect his attempt at disguising his true self will be no more successful than our own.” Zun turned to Mading, his excitement evident. “When we see him we shall know him for what he is and then we will have him!”
Chapter 16
The villagers were sparing in pairs, practising the fighting techniques which Li Chin had shown them. Li Chin sparred with Shushan and had to restrain a smile at her intense look of concentration as she tried to remember previous lessons, her wooden knife flicking out, searching for his vulnerable spots. Despite his amusement Li Chin was pleased and surprised at her progress. He had expected the villagers’ initial enthusiasm to gradually tail off as they realised skill only came after long hours of demanding practise. Instead, they seemed to enjoy the training and revel in the slow but steady progress they made.
Li Chin weaved and stepped aside to avoid the stabbing and slicing blade, using his empty hands to occasionally push the practise blade away and, when appropriate, administer a slap to punish a poor delivery. Shushan was a natural athlete and driven to learn as much as she could while Li Chin was still with them. Strong for a woman and deceivingly fast Li Chin believed with time she could become accomplished with both sword and knife, if she were to survive that long. He was saddened by the thought of how unlikely it was these people who showed so much promise would even reach the land they sought, let alone be allowed to establish their settlement and thrive.
As Shushan overextended her reach with a fresh thrust he deftly gripped her wrist and pulled her sharply towards him turned and used her own weight to lever her over his hip and shoulder, throwing her to the dirt. As she gasped at the fall, he wondered if he was wrong to show them the techniques he did if in doing so he gave them a false confidence likely to end in getting them killed before they were even partially competent.
Winded, Shushan struggled for breath before regaining her feet, fighting back the tears which threatened. Li Chin was pleased to see the tears were more a result of frustration than anything else and decided that if there was a wrong, it was not his training but that they might be deprived of the opportunity to reach their potential. He would not fail to take up a task just because it might come to nothing. On such a basis no difficult task would ever be completed.
Shushan spluttered in frustration. “How am I supposed to reach you when each time I strike you throw me to the ground?”
“You must always retain your balance. Keep both feet on the ground, your weight spread as evenly as you can between them. You should practise many such movements during the day in all situations, until it becomes second nature. You will gain poise and grace when you have it right. If you lean forward and use your toes to bear your weight, you are overextended and off balance. Without balance you are vulnerable, your own movements become poorly co-ordinated, your strikes weak and your defence poor as you try to recover what should not have been lost in the first place. When you have poor balance you become an easy target; slow to
defend against attack and unable to strike effectively. You need to learn patience. Change your position to put your opponent off balance. Let your opponent make their own mistakes and punish them for their weakness. Do not commit yourself until you are sure. If you are wrong, you may never get a second chance.”
Shushan let out an explosive sigh. “I understand the lesson, but the implementation is so hard.”
Li Chin’s expression remained severe. “Understanding the lesson is an important part. Many who fight know what is right, they have been told and shown many times over and yet in the heat of battle forget the importance of the lessons learnt. The rest is down to practise. Practise which makes your movement second nature. Practise which makes you confident of your own abilities. Practise which gives you the courage of confidence to win against great odds.”
Shushan listened carefully to what Li Chin said as her breathing calmed from the training. After a brief period she looked up with an impish grin, which emphasised what a striking young woman she was becoming. “And what of ability, teacher, surely that plays a part.”
Li Chin looked at this young woman, whom he had grown to like a good deal. He kept his own voice and expression serious as he imparted another important lesson, again one which many students knew but failed to take to heart. “Shushan, you have ability which the training will develop and bring out. You have the potential to be a great swordswoman but this is not a gift which comes easily. It requires much practise and hard work to develop. You may face a more gifted opponent and yet win, because you trained harder and developed your own skills beyond those of your more gifted opponent. Similarly, you may lose to a less gifted opponent who trained harder than you or displays more courage on the day.”