The Art of Legend, page 38
Taishi cut across the courtyard, taking care to step around the many wounded scattered across the ground. She made a slow turn as she walked. The triage was much more crowded than usual. The injured were abundant, while the number of healers and monks caring for them very few.
Taishi saw a familiar face sitting among a group of injured packed tightly together. She stopped to greet their leader. “What are you doing here, Beautiful Boy?”
“Here for the same reason as everyone else. I have a dozen injured, and the temple is one of the few places still accepting wounded.” The leader of the Worst Todays underworld looked like she had taken a swim in the sewers. Her hair was plastered to her head. Ash smudged across her face. Blood and mud caked the rest of her.
“What happened to your healers?”
“Taken by the Caobiu. Every bloody one,” Beautiful Boy said. “Healers and smiths.”
One of the first things the Caobiu did when they took over Sunsheng University was conscript or lock up every student studying to be a healer. They hunted the rest. It had become an epidemic.
“Have the Cinder Legions attacked the buried wards yet?”
“They’re trying to cut off the Undertunnel. We all rose up to meet them.” Beautiful Boy nodded. “The fighting’s been bad. We’re holding but for how much longer I cannot say.”
“Do what you can and then leave. Survive. You got that, underworld boss?”
“Not this fight.” She shook her head. A nun finally arrived to see to the group. Beautiful Boy’s attention pivoted toward the care of her people. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have lives to try to save, and a few to end.”
Taishi continued on, stepping around a group of injured displayguards. Then she noticed the line of ducal carriages, including the court doctor and the magistrate. Those were Oban’s flags. His presence made no sense. He couldn’t fight, so he would serve as a distraction for his forces. She chuckled, imagining the soft potato of a man wearing tin decorative armor and nearly falling off his horse while leading a charge. That would have been a sight.
Taishi was about to head down the path leading to the training yard and then back to her cottage in the bamboo grove when she caught sight of Sonaya sitting off to the side against a building. She had her arms wrapped around her knees. Her head was leaning back and her eyes were closed.
Taishi changed directions toward Sonaya. She got a better look at the drowned fist’s face as she got near. Sonaya looked asleep, if not for the wrinkle in her brow and the redness around her eyes. Her hair was matted, and she was wearing her battle garb, bloodied. That was when the hairs on the back of Taishi’s neck rose. Her fingers began to sweat.
She hurried over to the drowned fist. “Girl, what happened?”
Sonaya opened her eyes and that was all Taishi needed to see.
The girl looked devastated. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her face was covered with bruises and cuts. “The infirmary. We were on a mission…”
Taishi heard nothing else. She took off toward the infirmary, moving as fast as her tired and already beat-up legs could manage.
“Calm yourself, stupid woman,” she growled under her breath. “You’re going to burst your heart at this rate.” But she couldn’t help but imagine the worst. What was that ass brain heir of hers thinking, running a mission without her approval?
Taishi wasn’t sure which building was the infirmary—the monks didn’t label their buildings—but she found it easily enough when she spied four displayguards standing at attention around a plain building with an ugly green door. This must be the right place. That was when she noticed some twenty other displayguards standing along the block.
She stared contemptuously as they lowered their spears at her. “Get your sticks out of my face before I rip apart your spleens.”
As expected, the threat did not earn a reaction.
The infirmary door opened, and a familiar face looked out. “I can hear you through the door, dowager nun,” said Oban. “Come in.”
Taishi didn’t wait until the door was shut before she snapped at the most powerful man in Shulan. “Where’s Jian? Take me to him.”
The high lord looked haggard as if he hadn’t slept all night. “He’s still in surgery. He’s under the care of the court’s best doctors. We have no less than two moxibusts, three acupuncturists, two energy healers, as well as every Tiandi monk doctor in the temple working on him. He is young and strong. They believe Wen Jian will survive.”
“They believe?” Taishi barely suppressed a scream. She vented her rage at the next best thing. “Tell me what happened!”
“Wen Jian led an operation to target a high-ranking Caobiu general whose goal was to cut a corridor through the Death Sleet. It would sever the southeastern corner from the rest of the city’s defenders. We couldn’t allow it to happen.”
“Why not? It’s insignificant,” said Taishi. “Those are residential wards. As long as we hold the buried wards, it doesn’t matter if they control the Death Sleet. It’s a resource sink for whoever controls it anyway.”
“The Peace Abundance Highway has always been the heart of the city. Retaking it is a symbolic victory for the city.”
“You risked his life to cheer people up?” Taishi was about to break his spleen, with her bare claws if she had to. She wanted to throw him off the nearest tower. It was all she could manage to mask her rage. Taishi knew a thousand ways to kill a man, and she couldn’t use any of them right now. Oban was still a high lord. If she pushed too hard, she could lose the support of the Shulan Court.
“It couldn’t be helped, Taishi.” Oban was not fazed by her wrath. “The mission was too important. Jian needs to be seen leading the city at our darkest moment. The Champion of the Five Under Heaven fought well, until…”
“What happened?”
“Until he came face-to-face with Lord Akai Hujo.”
Taishi was dumbfounded. “Hujo, that rat bastard Longsleeves? That’s the general you sent Jian to kill? That filthy mouth Hujo? Are you koi-brained? Where was Hachi?”
“The whipfinger was attending to personal matters today.”
Taishi wanted to scream. “Jian went into a pitched battle without his protector?”
“From the reports of the survivors, Jian fought General Hujo to a standstill long enough for the rest of the soldiers to retreat after they were caught in cross fire. The reports from witnesses say it was heroic. The young man had a good showing.”
“Who cares about his showing!” she roared, swinging a fist in the air a little too close to his face.
He stared at her coldly. “Get a hold of yourself, Taishi. Remember whom you are addressing.”
“Forgive me, my lord,” she said. “I’m trying extremely hard to resist the urge to rip your spine out of your body. You have him chasing a lord general, in public, in broad daylight, in the Death Sleet.” She was yelling again. Oban could probably count on one hand the number of people who raised their voices at him. Taishi didn’t care. “Against fucking Longsleeves! Are you trying to get Jian killed?”
Oban’s expression darkened. “Watch yourself, Taishi. You are revered for your legend, but do not mistake your reputation as a shield for your actions. We are friends, but I am still your lord.”
Taishi lowered her eyes even as she clenched her good hand into a fist. “Forgive me for overstepping, high lord, but I do not understand the significance of putting the Prophesied Hero of the Tiandi into such danger for so little gain. Also, if Jian dies, I’m going to crack open your head and drain your brains out through your nose.”
“How is he supposed to defeat the Eternal Khan if he can’t beat a guy fighting with his sleeves?” Oban said it like an accusation.
“I used to have problems with Longsleeves.” She wanted to wring his neck. “We had a deal! No missions without clearing it with me first.”
“You weren’t around to consult,” he snapped. “This was an emergency. I sent for you when we arrived. The templeabbot said you were on an escort mission. Sounds beneath you, Taishi.”
“That depends on who is being escorted,” she shot back. “By the way, Thorned Garden fell today. The city’s center is now exposed.”
Oban looked battered. Of course he knew. He certainly cared more about it than she did. “I was made aware a few hours ago. I’m pulling remnants of the Fifth and Ninth Winged Axes to shore the new border. Rest assured—”
“You have to consider a negotiated surrender, Oban. While you still can. At this point, you have little other choice.”
Anger flashed on his face. “I will not surrender the greatest city in the world to that bloodthirsty witch.”
“Use your head, not your balls,” she replied. “The people of Vauzan, capital of Shulan, have risen up as proud and loyal citizens to their duke. They fought with courage and vigor, inspired by hope and patriotism. Your honor is not in question, but it is time to look toward saving lives.”
“Sunri will raze the city if she wins,” said Oban. “I refuse to die on my back.”
Taishi’s temper flared. “You don’t do anything. You’re not the one fighting. You’re not the one dying. You have no sons and your daughter has witnessed only six cycles in life.”
“Saan was like a son to me!” Oban roared. The two mute men in the room with them came to life and advanced on her. Taishi had been so focused on the high lord that she had overlooked them.
“Love is a bad excuse to rule poorly.” She held her ground. The worst they could do was kill her for disrespecting the high lord, which she couldn’t do anything about. However, she understood his mind better because of this, and tried a different tactic. Berating the man would more likely send her to jail than win the high lord over. “Jian is like a son to me too, Oban.”
“Sunri butchered him in front of my eyes, in his own pavilion, in front of his own men!” His voice broke. “The dishonor. The people of Shulan need justice!”
“You need revenge,” she corrected. “And at what price, the death of thousands of innocents? People need to live. Don’t throw their lives away for a lost cause.”
Oban’s face twisted. He looked as if he were about to strike her down with his words but then closed his eyes. The lines cutting across his face relaxed. For a moment, Taishi thought she had reached past his anger. A few quiet seconds passed, and then he spoke in a clear voice. “Your concern for the Champion of the Five Under Heaven is appreciated, dowager nun. The court has the matter well in hand. With respect to your position, a courier will inform you when Wen Jian is awake. You are dismissed.”
“Don’t cut me out, Oban.” She had intended it to be more a threat than a warning, but the results were the same.
Oban turned his back, and the two mute men moved between them, ending their conversation. Taishi stood outside the closed infirmary doors a few moments later. She stared at the thick fire-tempered wooden doors and seethed. A few years ago, she could have shattered them with one blow. Now the only thing shattering would be her wrists. She hated feeling so impotent. All she could do was wait and pray.
Taishi looked toward the main temple. It had been years since the last time she prayed, but now was as good a time as any. If it could help Jian’s odds of survival even a little, it would be worthwhile. She changed directions and walked up the stairs, past the offering vase, and to the Mosaic of the Tiandi hanging prominently against the back wall. Only one monk was here at this late hour. He bowed to her as she plucked two incense sticks from their vases off to the side, yellow and white, health and longevity, and lit them over the soft flame. Taishi fell to one knee and raised her right palm over her chest, the incense sticks burning fragrance that smelled like spring flowers and honey.
A rush of déjà vu swept over Taishi. She had done something similar a long time ago, on her knees, praying. Back then, she was praying for Sanso to survive his final test.
Would her prayer now come to the same conclusion as before?
If only there was a way to stop the fighting…
Taishi’s head snapped up. She blinked. Maybe there was. She clambered back to her feet and broke into a slow sprint.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Down in the Drink
Sali sprinted across the floating docks of the first water level of Sunjawa, her arms pumping. She hated running. She made a poor decision to look back to see that all of Sunjawa had risen against her. It started with the oarsmen, these grasshoppers, as the shadowkill called them, chasing her. Then the rest of the settlement got in on the fun, joining the guards in the chase.
The wave of determined residents nipped at her heels. She tripped over the hitch of a courier wagon, and then plowed into a stack of wooden barrels. Sali stayed on her feet; viperstrikes were trained to have exceptional balance. She hunched forward, her chest heaving.
This day was not going the way Sali expected. She had woken full of optimism, believing that Sunjawa would come to terms by day’s end. It would have been a coup for their rebellion. The northern rim clan was important and held considerable influence over its neighbors. The new alliance would have created a legitimate military force to oppose Katuia. All her hopes had been dashed by noon as she ran for her life with half the city howling for her blood.
A young lad with a dumb death wish stepped in her way, his fists curled around his oar’s shaft. She didn’t slow. He swung as she moved within range. She pounced, darting close to his face. The oar smacked her shoulder. Sali shoved the lad gently to the side, and he fell with a splash into the drink. Sali checked on him to make sure he wasn’t going to drown in his father’s armor.
A rock flew past her, as did half a head of cabbage. She sensed a flood of people closing in and threw a looping kick that connected with two bodies. Sali bobbed and weaved, slipping out of people’s grasps. She kept fighting, hacking and punching. The crowd engulfed her, but she moved with the fluid grace of a master. Soon, the attackers dwindled. The fighting became less fierce until finally, Sali stood alone.
She hunched over, labored, huffing deep breaths of air. “Damn hobbyists.”
The pause in the fighting bought her a few seconds to catch her breath. More were bound to be on their way. Sali had participated in more than her fair share of mob attacks, but it was rare to see a group so enthusiastic as the one pursuing her right now. They were relentless. What was in the water here at Sunjawa? Either the people wished for a glorious death, or they were deeply Samaritan. It was then that a teenage girl ringing a bell walked by, calling out in a loud voice: “Attention Sunjawa, housing elevation opportunity to lower third level for the capture of Salminde the Viperstrike, fugitive, traitorous Nezra agent and cannibal.”
Four street vendors farther down the path stepped in front of her. Two were unarmed, a third wielded a large cooking wok, and the last a fishing pole. Four fools with a death wish trying to take down a viperstrike. This was madness.
“Move, you limpweeds!” she barked before barreling into them.
Their feeble attempts to stop her went as expected. Sali didn’t slow down as she smashed the bravest—and probably dumbest—of the four. He was the only one still standing in her way. She dropped him with a sharp elbow swing that likely cracked his cheekbones.
The fisherman whacked her across the head with his fishing pole and had only a moment to look startled that she was still standing, and then she slammed him low with a hip check that sent him somersaulting. The third tried to crack her with his wok. The thing was so large, unwieldy, and slow that Sali had all the time in the world to react. She gave the man a light shove as he finished the attack, sending him sprawling onto his belly. That left the last of the four Samaritans, an elderly man dressed in rags who looked more skin and bones than flesh. What was he thinking? Then the thought occurred to her; this guy could probably use a house.
Sali didn’t have time for this. She put her hands on her hips. “Stand aside.”
The old man, wiser than the rest, did as instructed. Sali checked. The mob was less than thirty paces behind and gaining ground.
Sali hurtled away from the rumble, pushing past bodies as she went in a random direction at each turn, getting twisted around and lost, but hopefully losing the mob as well. The tall walls of the weed made the sun difficult to spot and so made it harder to navigate. She tried to follow the shadows that traveled from the opening of the Blooming Tulip.
She looked up and could see that she was still heading south. She lowered her gaze a few degrees and saw a large wooden wheel in the distance scooping up troughs of water and raising them to higher levels. That contraption certainly looked like what she was searching for.
Sali kept the spinning wooden wheel as a visual anchor and made her way toward it. She was nearing the edge of the settlement butting up against walls of the gigaweeds. This part of the tulip was wetter than the rest of the settlement. Dozens of small streams splashed down to the drink from above. The ropes and platforms around this space were smaller and more numerous, casting shadows on the bottom level. Pretty bunches of flowers and colorful weeds rose from the water’s surface, giving this area a garden-like feeling.
She glanced forward and realized her mistake too late. The floating wooden docks came to an abrupt stop, ending at a small lake of the drink. There was a gap of roughly five body lengths to a platform on the other side, but there was no other place to go. The mob made sure of that.
Sali weighed her options. She could probably take out ten people before they overwhelmed her, or she could try to make the jump. She might be able to clear it without armor and on a good day, except she was fully armored and definitely not having a good day. Desperation gave people strength, however. She looked back at the mob and made a decision. Better to leave this world with your body and armor intact than be torn apart by a pack of rabid dogs.
