The Art of Legend, page 12
Exit Plan
Taishi dropped by the cottage to change into her padded cloaks. It was late and she might need some protection where she planned to go next. She added a few knives to her small arsenal alongside the opera sword, and then wolfed down half a loaf of bread before heading out again. She checked Jian’s room and was surprised to find his bed empty. Was he not back yet? Where was that fool boy? Probably joined the volunteer corps. Well, no time to worry. She had to trust that he was all right.
She would deal with him later, as long as he was ready to leave.
Fausan, Sohn, and Bhasani were waiting at the front gates chatting with Solum. The massive Hansoo was crouching on one knee, as he often did when chatting with the diminutive drowned fist. He saw her approach and rose to his full height.
“We need to go out.”
“Are you sure? The streets are tense tonight. The city can flip to battle, panic, or devolve into a riot at any moment.”
She pointed at the other three masters waiting on her. “Nothing they can’t manage.”
“The four of you look like you belong in a gambling parlor more than a war zone.” Solum grunted. “I wish I could assign a Hansoo to you.”
“You should. I promise I’ll return him in one piece.”
“I don’t believe you.” The war monk chuckled. “However, you’re a dowager nun. You don’t need my permission to leave the temple. If your group of seniors wishes to venture forth, to danger, then by all means.” He shouted at the monks manning the closed gates. “Form up. Gates opening.” He turned back to Taishi. “Make it back before the fighting reaches these slopes. The temple goes on lockdown, and the gates won’t open no matter what, not even for a dowager nun.”
“Understood.” Taishi led the group of seniors out through the gates, waiting to speak until after they were out of earshot. “Are your disciples with Jian?”
Fausan shook his head. “Hachi said he needed to head to the other side of town. Something about a box shop?”
Bhasani looked perplexed. “You didn’t see Sonaya? She said she was going to visit Jian at your cottage.”
Taishi shrugged. “Those kids are somewhere, but not at home.”
It was a long way down the path to the base of the hill. Fortunately, there was a lift that could take them down to the lower levels. Some entrepreneurial monks several centuries back had realized that the temple could profit handsomely if they built a lift that carried the devout and clergy up and down the temple hill. Technically, monks weren’t supposed to earn and hold wealth, but no one took that seriously. The business became so successful that the temple promoted him to an abbot and then claimed ownership of the lift.
The rides were free for the nobility with a recommendation for a tip, a modest sum for the wealthy, and exorbitantly priced for commoners. The abbot who now ran the lift had explained to her that pricing out the poor and making them walk all the way up the hill was the only way to stay in business. This all sounded backward to Taishi, but then again, she didn’t have good business acumen, so what did she know?
Vauzan late at night in the eastern wards was understandably tense while also eerily quiet. The city had never had a vibrant nightlife, unlike Allanto or Manjing, but no capital city in the Enlightened States ever truly slept. Taishi could make out the clashes in the distance, either from rioting or Caobiu sleeper cells. Magistrates moving in pairs patrolled the streets while soldiers erected barricades at major checkpoints and intersections.
Sohn, leading the way, signaled for a stop as they neared Holy Glow Plaza, the main public square at the base of Peony Peak that began the trek toward the temple. This was an important center where six streets converged, making it a critical position to control. The city guard had erected checkpoints at the main intersections, bottlenecking traffic as people fled from the east side of the city toward the west. Most appeared to be families carrying everything they owned on their backs while fleeing the brunt of the attack.
“There’s no way around it.” The eternal bright light master sighed.
“We can go around or take to the roofs.” Fausan looked at Taishi. “Think you can still handle it?”
“Not with that added weight.” She looked at his ever-expanding belly. “Congratulations on the happy news. Twins by the look of it. Did you pick out names yet?”
He grinned and smacked his generous midsection. “Don’t blame me for knowing how to enjoy my latter years, unlike someone else I know.”
That much was true. Taishi had never seen Fausan and Bhasani so happy as they were in their golden years. How annoying.
“It’ll take an hour to get through that line,” said Sohn. “We better get started.”
Taishi held her ground. She crossed her arms. “I am not young anymore. I am not waiting in line for anything unless there’s a drink at the end of it.”
“I agree,” said Bhasani.
“I don’t know about that,” said Fausan. “Putting soldiers in the infirmary on the eve of an invasion may send the wrong signal about which side we’re on.”
“How about we just knock them unconscious,” said Sohn. “They’ll wake up in a few hours refreshed for the slaughter the next day.”
“You’re all a bunch of stunted eggs. I’ll take care of this.” Bhasani moved out into the open before anyone could stop her. Instead of heading to the back of the line, she walked up to the guard manning the checkpoint. Taishi and the men had little choice but to follow.
“Cutter rat,” more than one person made sure to say as they passed.
Taishi didn’t care. Ling Taishi was not a known line-cutter, except for once or twice. Dowager Nun Nai Roha, on the other hand, was an entitled and terrible person.
The soldier waving wagons past the checkpoint spat at Bhasani’s feet as she approached. “You think you’re going to just show your wrinkled ass and walk on through, eh? Fat chance—”
“It’s not wrinkled. It’s spectacular.” Bhasani’s skill with compulsion was unmatched. Her strong jing slammed into the soldier. She had this smooth, silky delivery that seemed so casual at first.
His eyes widened and he stood up taller. He craned his head around to gawk at her backside. “You’re right. It’s amazing. Absolutely spectacular.”
“We need to go through so you can watch my beautiful, smooth, perfectly round ass as we walk past.”
“Absolutely, mistress. Thank you, mistress.” He waved them through, much to the line’s outrage. Catcalls rained down upon them. Taishi barely avoided thrown potatoes. A pear bounced off Fausan’s head. He turned and caught it on the second bounce and bit into it. He pinky-waved back, further infuriating the crowd. The guard continued to stare at Bhasani’s travel cloak as if it were the best view in the house.
She winked at him. “Be a dear and arrest anyone who is rude to us.”
“Yes, mistress,” the soldier replied. He turned to face the line. “I want the maggot who threw that apple—”
“A pear,” Fausan called.
“—pear at the dowager nun and the fat one!”
“Hey!” the whipfinger replied.
“If he isn’t presented to me right now, then I’m closing down the checkpoint and you can get crispy as the city burns.” The line gave up the fruit-thrower immediately, shoving him forward and passing him along to the guard.
“Well, that escalated quickly,” said Fausan, looking back. “Was that necessary?”
Bhasani put a hand on his arm. “He threw something at you, my love, and that’s like throwing something at me. No one gets away with throwing anything at me.”
“How did you just turn me getting pelted into something about you?” he asked.
The four continued moving, taking the right fork of the street that curved toward the lower levels leading to the buried wards. They moved at a dawdling, relaxed pace. It was safe to say none of them was enjoying this walk. Taishi’s knees didn’t respond well to descents, while Fausan was starting to hobble. Bhasani was just lazy, while Sohn’s fighting style was designed to stand in place.
Eventually, they reached the Nightrun, the largest of the buried wards, which also housed the densest criminal elements in the city. The streets were little more than needle-thin alleyways. Buildings were stacked upon each other like toy blocks, and everything was squat, from the buildings to the walls to the low ceilings, adding to the feeling of claustrophobia. The walls flanking each narrow street seemed to lean over them. They stopped briefly as a mischief of rats scurried out of an alley across onto the street and then over to the other side.
“I’ve never been a fan of this place,” said Fausan. “Why are we here?”
Taishi turned the corner and pointed at a garish green building with large signage in yellow letters painted above the front doors. She scowled at the long line of people waiting to get inside.
The whipfinger master sighed. “I was afraid you would point there.”
Copper Crane 8888 was an infamous restaurant in Vauzan, but not for its cuisine. It was home to the Worst Today Boys. The underworld organization had especially come to prominence over the past three years with the rise of their new, mysterious leader. The Worst Todays also controlled the teamster routes and shipping lanes in Vauzan, which meant they would have to be who she dealt with to escape the city.
“You know we can’t just walk in there, war arts masters or not,” said Fausan.
“Mori took care of the introduction,” said Taishi.
“What could a dowager nun possibly have to bargain with the underworld?” said Bhasani.
“He took care of that too.”
Taishi walked up the ramp to the restaurant and stopped in front of a beefy young thug. He looked puzzled. Very few nuns probably wandered down here.
It didn’t matter. He gestured for them to leave. “Everyone has business here, not just you. Back of the line, cutter.”
“I’m here to see Beautiful Boy.”
“Doesn’t matter.” The guy didn’t budge. “What business do you have with the boss?”
“Your head if you don’t let me through.”
The young meathead sneered, but Taishi’s confidence was enough to give him pause. He stood and stuck his head through a curtain-beaded doorway. “There’s a bunch of raisins demanding to see the boss. They won’t leave. Look, man, I’m not good with punching geriatrics. I draw the line at beating up nanas. What should I do?” He turned back to face them. “Listen, lady, get out of here or we’re both going to have really bad days.”
Someone else looked out from behind the doorway. This time, it was a young woman with the left side of her head shaved. “Hang on, Jap, is one of the raisins a nun?”
“Yeah.”
The woman whacked him on the head with a stick. “Let them in, you boiled egg! Never keep our best clients waiting!”
“I’m surprised the temple deals with the underworld, and the Worst Boys, of all people,” said Fausan as the young thug stepped aside.
“The temple’s one of the underworld’s biggest clients, actually,” said Taishi.
“I’m surprised, but I guess I shouldn’t be,” said Fausan.
The four were allowed into the restaurant and were immediately surrounded by a group of toughs, all looking as if they were auditioning to be Hansoos in a local opera. The interior of the Copper Crane 8888 looked like a restaurant, with tables and chairs and a bar running along the right side, but that was as far as it went. The room was thick with smoke that stunk of tobacco, opium, and seaweed. Several groups of burly men, broad-shouldered, clustered around comically small tables, playing cards, tiles, dice, and games of Siege. A few raised their heads and looked their way, but none offered more than a casual glance before returning to their games. Cups were everywhere, sitting on tables, rolling on their sides along the floor, piled into a corner. This place was filthy. Taishi couldn’t help but feel disappointed. She’d expected more.
“Do you think we can fight our way out of this alive?” Fausan said to Sohn, not sounding remotely confident.
The eternal bright light master looked around. “We might lose one of the ladies along the way, but I’m pretty sure one of us will make it.”
Taishi snorted, noting the gutter trash in the room. “Sohn wouldn’t even break a sweat with these house cats.”
“I appreciate your confidence in my great ability,” he remarked.
“No, they’re just that bad.”
“This looks like a scene from a bad Burning Hearts romance novel,” remarked Bhasani. “At least their clothing was clean.”
Taishi had noticed that too.
They passed through the main dining hall and entered a cramped hallway with a row of wooden doors along one side and a wall of weapons hanging along the other. Most were street weapons: clubs, hammers, maces, and chains. All looked cheaply made, disposable gear wielded by disposable henchmen. Underground outfits usually came two ways: small but elite, or large and expendable. The Worst Boys appeared to be the latter. That made sense, considering the amateur display out in the main room. How did the gang manage to gain control of something as important as the mercantile routes?
They entered a large room in the back that was for parties. There was a long, rectangular table running down the center. Flickering candles on sconces diffused the light, hazing the room with shadows that constantly changed shades. There were ten people on each side of the table, drinking and yelling like the drunk thugs they were. Sitting at the far end, on an elevated dais, was a man who must be Beautiful Boy. Taishi had to admit she was disappointed there too. He was decent-looking, but hardly worthy of his name.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” said Bhasani. “Like a solid seven, at best.”
“Hardly beautiful,” Taishi agreed.
Beautiful Boy was a man in his late thirties with sharp eyes and nose, and hair pulled into a tassel in the back. Tattoos of falling orchids ran along the right side of his face and body. His shirt was plain and open in the middle, revealing more tattoos, this time of a dragon and blade.
Sitting to his left was a woman. Her garb was modest but disheveled. The boy’s mistress, perhaps. Sitting at a table at the far end of the room, near the door, was another woman, this one with a handsome face. She looked bored and fixed their group with a deadpan expression. Perhaps the boss’s sister? No, they looked nothing alike.
“So,” said Beautiful Boy. He chewed loudly. “Temple never sent a nun as a messenger before. Mori must be hard up on able bodies.”
Taishi kept it brisk. “This is a personal request.”
“Yet the templeabbot is covering the marker.”
“That’s his business, not yours.”
Beautiful Boy’s eyes flickered to the side, then he lounged back in the cushions. “What’s the personal ask then, nun?”
“I have a wagon that needs to be smuggled out of the city.”
“What’s the cargo?”
“People.”
Beautiful Boy barked a rough laugh. “Ha, don’t get cute with me. We both know not all people are created equal. A lord is not gutter trash. A general is not his arrow fodder. A war arts master is not mustered infantries, so come on, give up the manifest if you want a ride: names, ranks, and deeds.”
Taishi shook her head. “Just family and a few companions. My nephew, a few old no-ones of note, and their assistants. That’s it.”
Beautiful Boy considered and then stood. “I don’t believe you. Not with the pay that the temple is offering. Who are you really stealing away?”
“I think I am quite of note,” whispered Fausan.
“Shut up,” hissed Bhasani.
“Shutting up,” said the whipfinger.
Beautiful Boy glanced at the woman sitting to his left and then paced down that side of the room. He studied the four gray-haired—or in Sohn’s case, no-haired—masters. “Why would the temple pay a gold liang to move a retired nun out of the city?” He stopped in front of Taishi. “Who are you to them, or what are you holding over them? In any case, please convey to the templeabbot that while the Worst Boys usually would love to accommodate the Temple of the Tiandi, these are extraordinary times and we’ll be unable to fulfill his request at the usual agreed-upon price. The Worst Boys require a favor, however. One of my sub-bosses has a devout cousin who has answered the calling of the Tiandi. He is now serving the Tiandi at the Jade Tower of the Vigilant Spirit in Lawkan. He has been passed over for templeabbot several times now. It would please us greatly if Templeabbot Lee Mori could see to the promotion he so richly deserves.”
It wasn’t surprising that the underworld had infiltrated the temple. They probably had people embedded everywhere: in the army, the magistrate corps, the teamsters, probably even the Shulan Court. Of course, they would have seeded someone into the ranks of the Tiandi religion. To have someone elevated to abbot, however, meant that the Worst Boys had infiltrated the highest ranks within the Tiandi hierarchy.
What was shocking, however, was an underworld abbot ascending to the rank of templeabbot. The training to become a templeabbot was rigorous with a detailed vetting process. They took their ideological purity seriously. For an underworld to rise to the position of templeabbot would cause a scandal. There was no chance Mori would accept this offer. The Tiandi abbots would never allow the underworld to sink their claws into their leadership. The templeabbots would root this infiltrator out and brand them a non-person throughout the Enlightened States. That was worse than death. This was valuable information Beautiful Boy had given her for free. It was certainly a clumsy pivot. She was insulted that he even asked.
She caught Beautiful Boy looking over her shoulder. This was the second time. Taishi followed the gaze to the back room. That was when it clicked. Now she knew what was happening.
“Sure,” she said aloud. “It’s probably just an oversight. We’ll have that devout cousin raised to templeabbot, on my word.” The stakes were too high to worry about such trivial matters.
