The Art of Legend, page 23
The young man was cupping a warm bowl of congee in both hands, practically pouring the food into his mouth. “My older brother Shum’s the sergeant of that outfit. Figured I’d be safe with family, or at least have his back in a fight. Our parents perished with most of our neighborhood at the Teapot Ward on the third day from an artillery blast. We’re all we have now, Shum and me.”
Jian bit his lip. It was a painfully common story, made worse by the fact that Jian took responsibility for each of them personally. The burden felt heavier with each passing day. The Shulan Court had used him to inspire the city and bring in volunteers. How many were here because of him, and how many would still be alive after this siege was over?
“What were you studying at university?” asked Jian.
Puo broke into a shy smile. “You, Wen Jian. I was preparing for my monastic entrance exam.”
A small shudder passed through him. It weirded him out that people thought he was some sort of divine being. He used to think he knew what greatness was, but then he left the Celestial Palace and realized how minuscule he actually was in the grand scope of the heavens.
“Well, once this is over, you can tell them that the Prophesied Hero of the Tiandi thinks you are worthy to join the temple.” He raised a finger. “In fact…”
A robed war artist rushed through the gates into the main courtyard, yelling something Jian couldn’t make out. Shouts answered, and then the message began to ripple through the crowds.
He beckoned at a passing blue-robed magistrate. “What’s going on, sir?”
The magistrate looked stunned. “Three Punch just fell to the Caobiu. The ward’s split open. The Caobiu were ready for our crews. They smashed every defender we had.”
It took a moment for the facts to register. The Three Punch field had housed hundreds of refugees and was located in a main area surrounded by several Shulan wards. Now they were all exposed. Jian looked at Puo, whose face had turned white.
“Any news on the surviving corps?” he asked the magistrate in a soft, pained voice.
The man shook his head. “No survivors, son.”
Puo began to breathe heavily. “I have to go.”
“Hang on,” said Jian. “It’s too dangerous to go on your own. I’m sure the Shulan are formulating a response. We can join them.”
“I have to go,” the boy repeated. He looked over at Jian one more time and then ran off.
A wave of numbness washed over Jian. He stood helpless. Bringing him here had at least kept Puo from his brother. Would he blame Jian for this? It shouldn’t matter, but it did. Jian probably had saved Puo’s life, but it didn’t make him feel any better.
He turned and walked past the main temple and continued into the bamboo forest where their small cottage sat, untouched by the outside world. Jian’s shoulders finally unclenched. It felt like weeks since he last felt at ease. He walked through the door, suddenly breathing heavily.
“You look terrible,” Taishi said, sitting at the table poring over a map. Jian stumbled toward her. Taishi’s face grew more alarmed. “What’s wrong? Are you injured, boy?”
Jian slipped to one knee and buried his head into her lap, and he began to sob.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Progress
Jian fell asleep, using Taishi’s lap as a pillow for most of the night. She was annoyed and angry, but not because of his pain and grief. She was angry for him. It hurt her soul to see him in such agony. Taishi understood too well the damage that trauma inflicted upon the soul. She would have been disturbed if the horrors of war hadn’t affected him so deeply. Empathy was an important trait in a good leader, and that was something Jian possessed in abundance. Too much, sometimes. He was a good egg, that boy, but his shell was too soft.
What really annoyed Taishi was that Jian didn’t wash up before he fell asleep on her lap, so now the room smelled like shit, sweat, and unwashed young man. Even worse, her legs had gone numb and she had to pee. When did his head get so heavy?
This charade Oban and the rest of the Shulan Court were conducting by propping up Jian was disgraceful. Putting him in danger so they could show his face to rile up the crowds was a mockery of the Champion of the Five Under Heaven. It was an unnecessary risk not only to Jian’s life but also to the Prophecy of the Tiandi. Unfortunately, as she had dreaded, once he was revealed to the masses, his legend had taken on a life of its own. Now he belonged to everyone, not just Taishi, which made him harder to protect and control.
People—the emotional, reactive masses—during times of crisis could turn stupid, greedy, and shortsighted. They might care about the Prophesied Hero of the Tiandi fighting on their side, but not a soul cared a whit about Wen Jian, the young man with a whole life still ahead of him.
Taishi had to finally dump Jian off her lap shortly before dawn. If she lost any more circulation to her lower extremities, they would have to amputate. It was difficult enough being a one-armed woman. What was she going to do if she only had one leg?
She bucked his head off her knee and tsked as tingling pain shot up her body. Jian’s head lolled to the side and came to rest on a nearby pillow. His light snoring didn’t miss a beat. Taishi could have gotten up hours ago, but she relished that quiet moment. She was spending less time with him lately. Jian was growing up. His world was expanding. She couldn’t shelter him any longer. He was once again the Prophesied Hero of the Tiandi, the Savior of the Zhuun. He was the most beloved, hated, desired, and most wanted man in all the Enlightened States, possibly even the world.
Taishi had to grit some of her last remaining teeth while she hobbled toward bed. Every step felt like the sting of a thousand bees. It was times like this that she wished she actually had eaten a sword in battle so she wouldn’t have to put up with the slow torture of growing old.
She snorted. “You’re just too damn good, Taishi.”
She passed through the kitchen, stopping by the stove to watch the goat stew from last night. The boy probably hadn’t eaten since Tiandi knows when. He had been so distracted lately he might forget to eat when he woke up. Or worse, one of those court vultures might come to steal him away again. Taishi’s hand curled into a fist, and she felt an intense need to cook.
She pulled out yesterday’s leftover banana leaf sticky rice alongside the previous day’s garlic green beans. The day before that was meat. She wasn’t sure exactly what, but it was edible. Taishi plated the tray and left it on the table next to the couch. Jian still hadn’t budged off that pillow. His body slumped over in what looked like a deeply uncomfortable position, but still he snored. She wasn’t going to be the only one with an achy back tomorrow. Taishi looked over Jian. The lines around his eyes were deep. His eyes had been bloodshot. Her nails dug into her palm.
She stormed out of the cottage and made for the front gate, striding from the bamboo forest, past the field where the monks trained. There must be at least forty bodies practicing staff forms. By the looks of the sweat on their brows, they must have been here since dawn.
Taishi entered the courtyard. Even at this hour the temple was awake. Initiates were running about preparing for the day, fetching water and stoking fires, pulling a wagon full of incense vases toward the back of the main temple, or carrying long poles with racks of smoked duck from the kitchen.
Solum was standing at the front gates barking orders when Taishi arrived. He was either up early or hadn’t gone to bed yet. The Hansoo, like bears and infants, generally required a lot of sleep. An under-slept Hansoo was as effective as a drunk one.
The senior Hansoo arched an eyebrow as she approached the gate. “Going somewhere, dowager?”
“I’m off to court to beat some sense into Oban.”
“The wily Defender of Vauzan may not take too kindly to being beaten so early in the morning.”
“There’s no good time for a beating, so we might as well get it over with.” Taishi bristled at the front gates, still closed. “Open up.”
Solum shrugged. “The streets are not safe. Allow me to have an escort accompany you. I don’t have the bodies to spare now. Can you wait an hour?”
Taishi shook her head. She was already tired and would pass out if she had to sit around. “I’ll be fine. Besides, everyone knows the city is safest before breakfast.”
He looked as if he were about to deny her, and then shrugged. “Open the gates.”
“Thank you.” Taishi paused as she walked past the senior war monk. “By the way, put a guard on Jian today. He’s had a hard few days. He needs rest. Don’t let any of the garrison or court jackals get to him while I’m gone.”
Solum nodded. “I’ll assign one of my initiates.”
Taishi was soon outside the temple for the first time in over a week, and she rode the lift down Peony Peak.
The streets of Vauzan were quiet this morning. Taishi picked her way across the rubble-strewn streets, passing broken houses and leveled buildings, with the aftermath of the battle strewn across the field: rotting bodies, random pieces of armor and weapons, and the remnants of barricaded positions. She could reconstruct what had transpired. The center of this intersection was where the two sides had fought. To her left were the bodies of a group of magistrate corps near the entrance to an alley. They must have come to help the garrison but found little success. Magistrate and volunteer corps had varying skill levels and disciplines. Magistrates individually might be quality war artists, but single and small-group combat required a different skill set.
The stream of bodies led down one street. That must be the direction where the defenders retreated. Several were aligned in one direction face down with injuries across their backs. Then, once they were past the intersection, the number of red-and-yellow uniformed bodies grew. Several had arrow puncture wounds. Taishi glanced up. Archers from second-story windows had fired upon the attacking Caobiu. By the many types of hunting, competition, and even practice arrows, they appeared to be volunteer corps. The ambush continued down to the end of the block, where another garrison cut off the Caobiu.
Taishi stopped in the middle of the narrow battlefield. This was where the Cinder Legions made their last stand. She studied a streak of blood ending at the entrance to the alley. “They took prisoners.” Vauzan won this fight, but by the looks of the Shulan bodies on the ground it was, at best, a Pyrrhic victory.
Taishi reached the fork in the road that either traveled up a slope leading to the front gates of the Court Citadel or forked right down to a valley where a cluster of underground bunkers served as the Shulan Court. The citadel, located near the center of the city, was out of range of Caobiu artillery. As a precaution, the high lords had moved to buried wards, which was where they coordinated and led the city’s resistance to the Caobiu onslaught. One lord, however, stayed aboveground. This was the one Taishi needed to speak with tonight.
She rolled her eyes when the Tower of Humblest Modesty came into view. Oban was making a mockery of his political opponents. There was nothing humble or modest about this garish glass tower with its excessive glitter perched on a private pillar that was crossable only by a double-wide wooden roped bridge. She was surprised the Caobiu hadn’t taken potshots at this eyesore.
She walked into the tower past four displayguards. No common soldier would dare stop a dowager nun. Any who dared raise an eyebrow was beaten to submission by her pinpoint gaze.
An older, tall woman with a sharp, imperial nose and narrow eyes intercepted her on the way to the lift. “Dowager, the high lord is not expecting you this morning.”
“You know who I am. Take me to him.”
The woman’s face remained neutral. There were few secrets a lord could keep without their Voice of the Court knowing about it. “The high lord is not available at this time, regrettably.”
Taishi didn’t move, just stared the woman down. The two guards standing near the doorway exchanged glances and then took a step toward Taishi.
“That won’t be necessary.” The woman’s voice was sharp. She offered a stiff bow to Taishi. “This way…dowager.”
It was good to know her reputation still carried weight. The Voice of the Court escorted her through the large double doors, which led to a flight of curved stairs, and then back out to the large balcony where Oban had last received her. This time, he was having breakfast alone at a small table.
The Voice of the Court stopped at the entranceway. “Grand Dowager Nun Nai Roha.”
Taishi stepped forward and bowed.
Oban looked up from what appeared to be battle plans and eyed Taishi. “Close off this floor.”
“Yes, high lord,” the woman said.
Within a few minutes, they were alone.
Oban looked on. “The fight does go well.”
“Aye, it does, but you’re still losing.”
“For now. War is fickle.”
“You’re using Jian like he is a piece in a game.”
He turned to face her. “Aren’t we all, though, just pieces in some game?”
“We are, perhaps,” she said. “The Prophesied Hero of the Tiandi isn’t. He’s the only piece that’s important, and you’re using him as a recruitment tool.”
“That’s where he’s most useful, Taishi. His presence brings flocks of volunteers to the defense of the city.”
“And you’re still losing. You’re going to get them killed if you don’t turn it around.” Taishi took a breath and went for it. “I want to take him out of the city. It’s too dangerous, and he’s far too important to the Tiandi to risk parading about in a war zone.”
“He is central to our war efforts, Taishi.”
“He’s central to all Zhuun. This war with Sunri is a distraction to his greater responsibility.”
Oban was about to take a bite of a flaky bun when he stopped and tilted his head at her like an inquisitive cat. “What responsibility could one have that’s greater than protecting both home and duchy?”
“You mean, other than saving the Zhuun?”
“From an immortal being who has been dead for nearly a decade.”
“If that’s the case, why are you dressing Jian up and parading him all over the city?”
“Because he’s more useful playing that role than being a warrior on the battlefield.” Taishi’s eyes narrowed. Her face went sharp. Oban continued, unfazed. “I’ve watched him fight for weeks now. He’s talented and skilled, but even you have to admit his is a dim light next to yours. He will never be the type of war artist who can change the tide of battles on his own.”
She was just happy he’d stopped crashing into trees. She tried another tactic. “Now that he’s returned, use him to recruit allies from outside Vauzan. Face it, your numbers have plateaued. Anyone who was going to join the resistance would have done so by now. You need help.”
Oban snorted. “Like whom? Lawkan won’t lift a finger for us. They only have boats anyway. Xing’s too far away and they won’t help us, either.” He raised a finger. “No mercenary outfit will sign up for this meat grinder. Most of the underworlds are too busy profiting from this chaos to help, as are the trade conglomerate, the dairy cabal, silkspinners, and just about every lunar court entity. It’s a dangerous time, Taishi. Everyone is looking out for themselves.”
“What about the Tiandi religion?”
Oban sneered. “What about them? Neutral to a fault.” Then he growled, “Smart bastards.”
“But if they joined Vauzan, they would make a difference. Jian is the central figure to the Tiandi. He can command them to come.”
“Not even the prophesied hero is worth the Tiandi religion breaking neutrality. Vauzan is too small. The templeabbots would never jeopardize their place within the realm by antagonizing the next empress of the Enlightened States. Not even if the Prophesied Hero of the Tiandi ordered them to. They would more likely kidnap him than listen to him. Hand over Jian to them and you will never see him again.”
“He’s his own man, Oban. They must listen. Let him try.”
“Tell you what.” The high lord stood. “Wen Jian is invited to send a message to the Jade Tower of the Vigilant Spirit. Send a courier, fly a pigeon, use a mindseer, I don’t care. If he has the influence you say, then they will answer that summons. In any case, Wen Jian is not to leave the city. He is one of us. He belongs to the Shulan, and we will not relinquish him under any circumstance. Any attempt to do so will be considered high treason. This will be the last we speak of this, understood?”
Taishi would have killed Oban right there if she could. Jian certainly did not belong to the Shulan. She averted her eyes and bit her lips as she seethed.
“Do I have your word, Taishi?”
She continued to stare at the floor, the lines around her eyes deepening.
Oban put a hand on the hilt of his blade, which was a laughable threat. “Your lord commands you.”
Finally, Taishi looked up and bowed. “As the high lord commands.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sunjawa
The trade barge Sali had hijacked, ironically named the Honest Run, turned off the main gyre and rolled off the jungle shoreline into a shallow lake that kept the craft buoyant just below the center bore of the barge’s eighteen wheels, which continued to spin and operate as paddles.
“Your money is good?” asked the yar.
She nodded. “I have Zhuun liang and Happan chips. Exchange them for rooples on your own if you wish.”
Hanus snorted. “Not even the Tsunarcos want to use our currency.”
The two sides had settled on an arrangement. Nezra would take control of the Honest Run to transport Sali into Sunjawa. In exchange, they would return the trade barge and cargo back to the yar and crew undisturbed. Any supplies acquired from the barge’s hold would be compensated at a fair market price. The only stipulation Sali had with the crew of the Honest Run was that they would not be allowed to disembark until after the third day the barge was in port. Sali’s business should be concluded by then. It was a fair compromise and far more generous than the crew of any hijacked barge could have expected. Sali had misstepped giving Daewon the job of negotiating with the yar on what they considered fair market prices. They were still haggling about it two days later.
