Five Kingdoms (16 page)

They were not
brought to a prison, but to a barracks…one that may have been lately arranged to serve as a form of incarceration. The beds were simple mats upon simple wooden frames, arranged in an orderly fashion. There were more beds than were required for their group, and yet there was no one else to occupy them.

Alere had stepped into the room first, and begun inspecting it. While there seemed no immediate danger, the room’s emptiness and the emptiness of adjoining rooms held a particularly unpleasant flavor. As well, the neighboring rooms were barred at the entryways by wooden gates that Alere knew from experience were sometimes used to section off areas to be used for the containment of either the diseased or the distrusted. It seemed clear to him that he and the others were considered both in this land.

The appearance of the room warranted a look in Tristus’ direction, that he might communicate with the knight silently that they were, as he suspected, not honored guests. The expression he received in return from Tristus while the knight looked the room over in a similar fashion to Alere was one of resignation to the facts as they appeared to be.

“Somehow, I doubt Xu Liang will be joining us,” Tristus said after a moment.

It was needless to say, and Alere offered no response.

“It could be worse,” Tristus said next, perhaps for his own benefit.

“If it were to get much worse than this disdain, and I’d be willing to start my own rebellion,” Tarfan muttered, testing the firmness of one of the beds before climbing up on to it.

“You’d be fantastically outnumbered, Master Fairwind,” the knight replied while propping the Dawn Blade in the corner nearest to the bed he had selected for himself.

“We’ve been that, boy,” the dwarf retorted with a dry chortle. He settled himself back against his pack, hands folded on his broad chest. In the lantern light, his dark hair and beard appeared a grizzled mess. The glint of his green eyes beneath his heavy brow gave him a somewhat feral look.

By appearances, he was quite different from what Alere had seen of the Fanese so far, as were they all, with the natural exception of those in their group already belonging to the culture. If there was an elven population this far east of the shores of Yvaria and Callipry, Alere had not heard of them. He had his doubts that Shirisae had either.

The Phoenix Elf currently situated the Storm Blade beside her selected bed, and afterward situated Taya onto a bed that was arranged adjacent to her own. It would seem that among themselves, the company had begun to coexist without cultural boundaries. Before arriving in Sheng Fan, that included Xu Liang. But now the mystic had been taken back into the familiar comforts, and perhaps the familiar arrogance of his own people. That the others were not openly threatened by the occupants of the stronghold amounted to very little to Alere. The only gesture that he felt comfortable with was that they had not been asked to separate from either their weapons, or from one another.

He decided on a place for himself, and took steps toward an unoccupied corner beneath a uniquely configured window with four sides that met at angles which graduated from the top down. He’d only just begun to place his small pack down upon the bed when he noticed eyes on him. He looked at Tristus and felt an unexpectedly immediate pull toward him. His emotional attraction had grown over time, but since recognizing it, he discovered that the ensuing physical attraction arrived suddenly. If he were a less controlled individual, it would have lent him to worse haste than that which he had already exhibited. For that reason, he might have ignored Tristus’ gaze, but neither caution nor pride could override his growing sentimentality regarding the knight. He wanted Tristus to realize that he loved him, and so he offered a smile instead of silence. That it earned Alere a smile in return was both unexpected, and uplifting.

That night,
Xu Liang composed a letter to be sent by envoy to the Imperial City ahead of him, addressed to Empress Song Da-Xiao. At first, it was quite lengthy, detailing all that had happened to him since their spiritual connection was lost and offering multiple apologies for the inconveniences and concerns he had caused as well as giving advice on what should be done concerning the deteriorating situation at Fa Leng. In the end, he edited it to simply:
My Beloved Imperial Highness, I have returned. Await good news upon my arrival in your great city within the next twenty days. I remain your devoted officer and a loyal servant to the Empire, whose glory sustains by your divine wisdom and aegis.

Song Da-Xiao sat
within one of her many offices within the administrative palaces, no longer alone. For several weeks she had been outside of the sanctuary Xu Liang had arranged for her. He had done it to protect her from treachery, because her brother had been assassinated and because her father’s sudden death could as easily have been the result of poison, over the unexpected illness that had been blamed. Xu Liang had acted in the interest of her and of the people. The threat had seemed so much more realistic months ago with him present to remind her of the danger, and the protection had seemed so much more genuine with their spirits in communication. Since coming out of their shared meditation, Song Da-Xiao felt abandoned. It made her wish for her oath brother’s return all the more, and at the same time, it made her wonder if they were both still in bereavement over the Empire’s tragedy.

Fully conscious to the world immediately around her, it seemed possible that her nightmares were inspired more by trauma than by reality. It could seem that Xu Liang’s intense method of protection was a response to his own trauma. Song Lu had once said that it was Xu Liang’s duty to worry even when it wasn’t necessary, and that it was his love for them that made his devotion to his duty so powerful. Such words, especially on reflection, increased her love for her tutor. His loyalty may have been the only solid assurance she had, apart from her own devotion to the people. Her role was to protect and guide. In moments of confusion or doubt, it was Xu Liang’s place to advise and assure. He had done so.

And now he was gone. He might have been killed, fallen victim to the savagery of the outer realms. How long could she wait to hear from him before appointing another?

The room immediately around her was empty, but the adjoining offices housed others—guards mostly, but also officers who had yet to retire and who would not, so long as she remained awake. Even so, the air was quiet. Only on occasion did she hear the murmurs of voices from outside of the room. Primarily the sounds that reached her ears were the crackling of fire from the braziers and the poetry of crickets.

A book lay open on the table she’d been sitting at for over an hour. The soft pages, carefully bound with string, lay open to one of the verses of the Creation Histories, contained within the Annals of Winter, which referred to the longest era of Sheng Fan’s history. This particular verse, scribed by Fei Lao centuries ago, was among the writings that Xu Liang had referenced during his study of the Swords. Song Da-Xiao had been trying to read it for days, but each time she visited the manuscript, she found herself halted in the same place.

Slowly, the remaining Celestial Dragons retreated from the Throne of Heaven, whereupon the largest of the Spirit Dragons, calling itself Chaos, killed all but two of its fellows and set itself upon the Throne.

“Chaos,” she whispered to herself.

Was it rebelling again? Would it break through the surface of the world and destroy all of Sheng Fan?

As a girl, she had been terrified of this legend. It had always been her brother and Xu Liang who made her feel safe. Song Lu feared nothing, and Xu Liang always knew the right words to banish her fear. She had neither with her now.

Footsteps sounded in the room, and she looked over her shoulder. There were only three individuals who were allowed in her presence without escort. With Xu Liang absent, there were only two. She’d seen much of both the Supreme General and the Chancellor of the Court since coming out of the sequestering, but of the two she’d seen more of the chancellor. Han Quan had been a pillar of support since the break from meditation, which had left her ill and weak for a time. Though the elder was a stern and officious man, she felt that he desired to protect her and she understood his grievance against Xu Liang over the sequestering. It was possible that Xu Liang had been allowed to be overprotective.

Looking toward Han Quan did not bring a sense of joy or of kinship, but it did come with some relief and welcome. She spent many of her hours surrounded, yet alone. Han Quan made an effort to include her human concerns as well as to acknowledge her divine station.

The elder came to within several paces of the table, the vast length of the office’s paneled walls outstretched behind him. He had not walked long enough to have come through the main doors, which meant that he had passed through the pillared entryway to Song Da-Xiao’s right, where the office adjoined with the palace courtyard. Her handmaidens were gathered there. There were guards at every entrance. No one would have attempted to stop the Chancellor, not even Xu Liang, though with the sequestering he had challenged the loyalty of every other officer. She had been convinced of the value and importance of such a maneuver at the time, but now she wondered if her trust in her tutor hadn’t been too implicit.

Han Quan bowed. “My Empress, I implore you to take your rest. The hour grows late and your strength may not yet be at its best.”

Song Da-Xiao appreciated the concern from her officer and acknowledged that with a small smile. The expression fled quickly, however, while she considered what had inspired Xu Liang’s excessive protection. “Do you believe the Dragon is real, Chancellor?”

Han Quan remained bowed at the waist for a moment longer, then straightened, tucking his hands into his robes. “Have your nightmares returned?”

That was not an answer. Song Da-Xiao doubted she would receive one without commanding it. Either the Dragon was real, and her scholars sought to protect her from that truth or it wasn’t, and her scholars refrained from speaking in terms that would seem to contradict her, or her senses.

“They have,” she said of her nightmares.

“At the very least, the sequestering seems to have eased your suffering in that regard…while it lasted,” Han Quan replied. “It is unfortunate that Xu Liang may no longer be able to assist you in such a manner.”

The words brought immediate and helpless tears to her eyes, though she made a specific effort not to shed them. Before the subject of appointing a new Imperial Tutor, or perhaps of reappointing Han Quan to the position, she dismissed the elder with a reminder. “I have given my order regarding the current absence of my supreme advisor.”

Han Quan bowed. “It has been taken to heart, my Empress. I’ve asked Zhu Meng to submit his reports concerning the riots. I shall bring them to you personally tomorrow, along with the latest word from Fa Leng.”

Song Da-Xiao accepted his words with a nod, then summoned the attention of servants. Four of her handmaidens came to help her collect the many layers she wore and to accompany her to her chambers. Four guards would fall in step along the way, and she would be properly escorted and protected. Xu Liang had not considered that proper protection when he left. He seemed at the time to only trust himself with her safety, and while she knew his reasoning and preferred his protection to others, had anything happened to her during the sequestering, he would have been viewed as the danger. Criticism in the court had already become volatile. It would give birth to defaming rumors if Xu Liang did not return soon with evidence to support his strategy for the current year, one which seemed to neglect the ongoing rebellion of the Southern Kingdom.