CHAPTER SEVEN
MASTER AND STUDENT
The Crane Swoops Over the Lake.
Wave Hands Like Rolling Storm.
The Hungry Monk Grinds the Grain.
“Slow down,” Taishi barked from her stool. “There’s no ribbon for finishing first.”
“I can do this in my sleep,” he replied without missing a breath as he slipped into Green Snake Slithers in the Tall Weeds.
Taishi grunted as she sipped tea. He probably could. Just as the first time she witnessed him in action, she was enamored of the boy’s potential. Though she was having him run through fundamental movements, Jian was executing them with speed and precision. His form was powerful, decisive, and effortless. He changed directions and linked techniques smoothly, like water babbling down a stony brook. The boy’s body and mind were in sync, his balance exceptional, and the jing that flowed inside him had more potential than any she had ever seen.
Still, a pretty sparkle couldn’t mask all the cracks. Any warm body could learn to run forms. His true abilities lagged far behind his training and capabilities. It was a crime that he couldn’t control his jing by now.
The ability to manifest jing was the true indicator of a war artist’s mastery. That was what allowed one to appear unnaturally strong or fast, to control the elements, to seemingly fly. It was a difficult hurdle to externally manifest jing, one often celebrated by both student and master. That was the true difference between just any war artist and those with real ability.
Fifteen was young to manifest jing, but not unheard of for the truly talented, especially with proper training. Taishi herself had first shown glimpses of her ability at thirteen, Sanso at twelve. Jian was paying the price for a gaggle of idiots getting to him first. It was an embarrassment. So much time and potential wasted. Or perhaps Jian simply didn’t have the talent to make that leap. Taishi couldn’t be sure. He was certainly diligent enough.
Taishi wasn’t sure how to address this problem. The boy was too skilled to simply wipe clean and start over, but he also had too many holes in his training to evolve further. He was at a dead end. It was like trying to fix a house infested with termites. It would be better just to burn the house down and rebuild. Except the boy wasn’t a house to just demolish. Taishi scratched her chin as she puzzled over this conundrum.
While Taishi watched Jian practice, a memory of Sanso running through the exact same form filled her mind. The two both had that intense focus that made their faces furrow as if they were scowling. It was technically a tell—a war artist’s face should remain neutral in battle—but Taishi had always found the raisin-brow endearing.
Both boys had the same hurriedness in their movements as well, as if finishing first meant they were winning. When Jian exhaled and shouted during his form, she could almost hear Sanso’s voice. The two were so similar in so many ways, equally great and equally impatient, and both wanted to do more than they were able or ready to do. And just like with Sanso, watching Jian move made her fall in love with the art of war all over again.
“Stop, stop,” she drawled. “Your form bores me. You only know one speed. It’s like you’re hurrying so you can go piss. Your movements need space to pause and breathe, but the jing within you is spinning in place. It should be coursing through your body, reaching the tips of your fingers and toes. You’re better off just standing still.”
“I can’t listen and focus at the same time,” he retorted. “My masters always gave feedback after I finished the form.”
“Ah, so listening and moving is too difficult for you?” she mocked. “What about thinking and breathing? Imagine how distracted you would be if you had a Katuia sickle buried in your back.”
That was another problem. Unlearning his bad habits simply required time and repetition. That she could correct. But the boy’s focus broke far too easily. Everything threw him off. Taishi once saw a buzzing fly break his form. A servant walking across his line of sight caused him to drop his horse-cutter.
Finally, Taishi had seen enough. She rose from her seat and flipped the hourglass on the table. “You’ve been in such a hurry to move fast. Now I want to see you move still. Horse stance until the water drains.”
A scowl flashed across his face, and then slowly drained away, reluctantly. For now, he was honoring their arrangement. Jian dragged his feet to a spot in front of her, spread his stance wide, and then crouched down with his fists chambered at his sides. Once he had accepted Taishi’s guidance, even if she wasn’t his master, they had settled into an adequate working relationship. He still bristled at her every command, but he did as he was told. It didn’t matter to Taishi how much the boy—Jian, she corrected herself—liked her commands, as long as he followed them. At the very least this week wasn’t ending in quite the same disaster as the last.
Taishi leaned back in her chair. “I want to go over the teachings of Zhangan and Marci.”
Jian was disciplined enough to keep his head locked forward and his eyes staring ahead, unfocused, commonly referred to as the thousand-mile-stare. “Actually, I have a suggestion regarding my training.”
Taishi tapped the side of the hourglass. It was an hour of slow-moving drips. She’d been hoping for a quieter life after she was discharged from the war, but this wasn’t what she had in mind. “Go on.”
“I was just thinking. You and I are practically strangers. Some of my masters have trained with me since I was young. They know me well. Perhaps it would be wise to bring one back.”
Taishi’s face melted a little at the thought, but she continued to humor the boy. Yes, the boy. “Do you have someone in mind?”
“Master Sinsin hasn’t left yet. Maybe you can bring him on in an advisory role.”
That man was a fungus that would not go away. There was only one way to kill fungus. “And you think this will help.”
Jian broke form by nodding vigorously.
“This is your idea? Not Sinsin’s?”
There was a slight hesitation. “Of course not.”
That was another deep failing she would have to remedy. The last thing the Zhuun needed was for their Prophesied Hero to be a laughably offensive liar.
“Your idea has merit,” said Taishi, standing up. “I assume you know exactly where Sinsin is right now. Please have him meet me at the northwestern tower. We can discuss a possible arrangement for his services.”
Jian nodded enthusiastically and scurried away, thankful to skip the hour-long stance. Add “gullible” to the list of traits she was going to have to beat out of him. Taishi splashed the remainder of her tea onto the ground and strolled to her meeting with Master Sinsin.
Fifteen minutes later, she had him dangling over the side of the wall.
“Please, please,” Sinsin screamed. His toes clawed at the stones for dear life.
“What did I tell you the day you were dismissed?” she pressed.
“To leave the palace at once…but the responsibility of raising the Hero of Prophecy is so heavy. Surely you could use some support, someone with inside knowledge. I can be of great assistance to you. Perhaps—”
“Did I ask for help?” she hissed. “What were my exact words?”
Sinsin scrunched his face. “You said…your exact words were ‘get your fungus-rotted empty vessel out of here.’ ”
“So why is this empty vessel still here speaking to me?”
“I’ve trained with Jian for over six years. I know everything about him. I know his weaknesses and strengths. I know how to motivate—”
Taishi let go of his sleeve and Sinsin began to tip over the side. He experienced a moment of free fall before she grabbed the front of his shirt again. She wouldn’t admit it, but she had almost muffed that grab. Sinsin was still screaming for several seconds after she had a hold on him. Unfortunately, the strong winds had sent the bottom of his robes almost horizontal and Taishi got a front-row view of his pants staining as he blubbered for his life.
Taishi turned away in disgust. That was when she saw it. At first, she thought it a mirage, but several blinks and squints did not make the vision disappear. There, snaking up Qilin Road from the distant horizon, like a golden serpent with scales glittering in the sheen of the King, Queen, and Prince. It required several squints for her aged eyes to notice the fluttering green banner.
“What is Waylin doing here?” she muttered. From the size of the procession, the Duke of Xing seemed to be on his way here in person. A second glimmer out of the corner of her eye caught Taishi’s attention. Her gaze followed the light and she saw another procession approaching the palace from Shojo Road. This one was much closer, and the yellow banners of the Caobiu State could not be mistaken. At the head of the procession riding in her legendary peacock chariot was Duchess Sunri herself.
Taishi’s mouth fell open and her breath caught. What in the name of the Goramh’s marble scrotum was going on? If two of the five dukes of Zhuun were here, something significant was about to happen. It could mean anything. They could be here to settle a dispute, work out a trade agreement, or even declare war on each other.
A chill passed through her. Or worse. They were going to have a wedding.
The Prophesied Hero needed a few more years to mature and train before he could lead the Zhuun to victory over the Eternal Khan and the Katuia. These fracturing dukes had to hold it together just a little longer. A marriage between the two states would skewer the delicate peace they kept, and plunge the Zhuun into civil war. Taishi would bet her good arm that the wedding ritual would end with bloodshed, assuming the other dukes allowed it to get that far. Any hope of defeating the Katuia would disappear in a wisp of smoke.
Taishi actually almost did let Sinsin plummet to his death this second time. Only his frantic cry reminded her that he was still dangling over the side of the wall. Taishi heaved him back onto the pathway and stomped away.
“Thank you for sparing my life, master,” he blubbered. “Does that mean you’ll let me—”
“If every step you take from this point on isn’t carrying you closer to the front gates, then I’ll make sure you never take another step again.”
Taishi left Sinsin to clean up his own mess and hurried down to the Heavenly Grounds. The center of the palace was a hive of chaos and panic. The staff certainly knew what was coming; they had just neglected to mention it to her. Hosting one of the five dukes was a major event, usually requiring several days of preparation. Two was exponentially more difficult, with the host having to juggle not only the demands and comforts of two dukes, but the peace between their finicky retinues. Luckily, it was still an easy half day’s journey for those slow processions to hike up Wunshan Mountain to reach the Celestial Palace.
Taishi found Faaru crossing the grounds, barking instructions to attendants like a general planning a battle. The bald man’s robes had only a few buttons clinging together to keep him respectable. His mushroom hat was missing, the few wisps of hair on his knotty head were frazzled, and the collar around his neck was drenched with sweat. He was speaking so quickly his words slurred together as if he were drunk. Spittle continuously sprayed out of his mouth, and he was huffing heavily as if someone had just loosed a pack of dogs on him.
“Take out the winter’s stores. The next season’s as well. Just take them all out. Bring up all the caskets. I don’t care if some haven’t aged. Send three wagons to Hengyu to procure more. Give them a marker for credit. Head out to all the farms. We’ll take whatever livestock they can spare. Yes, put that on marker too. Draft any servants from the local merchants you can find. Tell them we’ll put that on marker as—” He roared when one of his attendants asked a question that displeased him. “I don’t care if they don’t want a marker. Rob them then!”
Taishi fell in line as he passed her, taking the opportunity to find out what was going on as he paused from his chatter to wheeze for breath. “Palacelord, do you know why Waylin and Sunri are coming? You might want to ready the Celestial Guard in case this situation deteriorates.”
“It’s not just them,” he snapped reflexively, then he realized whom he was addressing. He continued in a more respectful tone. “Pardon my hastiness, master, but it’s for all five dukes. Dongshi arrived last night. Saan and Yanso are arriving later this evening.”
Taishi was stunned. She could count on one hand the number of times all five heads of the Enlightened States were in one place. The first was at the emperor’s funeral. The second was when the Hero of Prophecy was discovered. That meant the only reason they could be meeting now was…
“Where’s Jian?”
Sheer worry appeared to have given Faaru a spine. “How am I supposed to know?” he snapped. “You should be taking care of your own ward. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a thousand tasks to complete.”
Taishi let that jibe slide. A thought slammed into her head and she froze. The palacelord was right. She did have to take care of her own ward. She hurried away from this chaos of activity as she prepared her own list of things that she had to do with Jian before this event.
Thirty minutes later, Taishi barged into the Tower of Eternal Heroism. As she bounded up the stairs, she reminded herself for the twentieth time to take a chisel to that stupid placard displaying the tower’s name. In fact, she planned to eventually ban all references to “hero” in the Celestial Palace.
She kicked open Jian’s bedroom and found him sticking his body half out the window facing the Heavenly Grounds. He rocked back inside and beamed from ear to ear as he jumped excitedly. “Can you believe this? All five dukes are here, to see me! Have you ever seen so many soldiers?” He looked over her shoulder. “Who are they?”
Taishi pointed to her left and right. “That’s the Mistress of Etiquette. He’s the Court Facemaker. The bald one is a tailor I pulled off the streets.” She clapped her hands. “Get to it.”
The Mistress of Etiquette immediately began asking Jian how much instruction he had in courtly manners, which of course ended up being none. From how to properly bow to the dukes to recognizing the ranks and functions of the court via the hats to properly holding chopsticks, Jian was in many ways more uncultured than commoners. They at least knew how to address their lords.
Taishi had been so busy she kept forgetting to tell Faaru to put out a call for educators. The boy needed to know more than eight ways to throw a punch. She needed to hire teachers: philosophers, mathematicians, politicians…and probably someone to teach him how to dress himself. He would need to be versed in diplomacy, cultures, logistics, art, and etiquette. Half of a leader’s job was to not be an idiot. The other half was to not act like an ignorant peasant. If Jian were to succeed in killing the Khan and bringing peace to the Enlightened States, he would need allies. His most important battles would be waged at the negotiating table.
While the Mistress of Etiquette worked on Jian’s posture, the facemaker got busy matching Jian’s skin tone. “This just won’t do,” the older gentleman huffed, his hands whipping several different colors together like an artist. “The savior’s face is weathered like a farmer. His hands cracked like a bricklayer. I’ll need days to soften his complexion and make him presentable.”
“You have three hours.” Taishi turned to the tailor. “Go through the boy’s wardrobe. Choose his finest robe and then stitch the colors of the five states around his wrists and collar. No matter what, keep the green away from the white, and the blue away from the yellow. The red must never be in between two other colors.”
The tailor looked confused. “But…”
“Just do it,” snapped Taishi. “Also, as the Hero of Prophecy, he must wear a silver waistband with matching trim. Do not use commoner gray or I swear I will hang you off this tower with that very cloth. All of us need to be presentable at the dukes’ pleasure.”
The poor man’s eyes widened and then he swallowed, bowing. “Yes, master.”
All of us. That meant her as well. Taishi closed her eyes. She grabbed the tailor by the collar before he could slip away. “I’ll need clothing to match the boy’s.”
The poor man’s face turned white. “An entire robe? In a day?”
“In a few hours.” She walked up to Jian and raised his chin with her finger. A fleeting image of Sanso flashed through her head. “Listen closely, Jian, the five dukes coming together is not an event to celebrate. Anything can happen. A civil war may break out. One of them may decide to kidnap you to hold as leverage over the others, possibly marry you off to one of their daughters. Sunri might decide to just marry you herself. For all we know, they may call you forth to fulfill your destiny today.” Before he could reply, she poked his nose with her finger. “You’re not ready. Don’t even think about it. No matter what, you are not to leave the tower without me by your side. Do you understand?”
“I—”
“Don’t talk. Just nod.”
He nodded.
“Good.” Taishi sat down in a chair and crossed her arms, and watched over the Mistress of Etiquette, the facemaker, and the tailor as they worked.
Within a few short hours, the three managed to pull off a minor miracle. Jian was bathed, was groomed, and had the mop on top of his head cut and styled into a semblance of presentability for court. His skin was oiled like a pig’s, and his face powdered white. To even Taishi’s approval, the tailor turned out a perfectly adequate set of matching robes for the two.
The Mistress of Etiquette did what she could with the time she had. “He won’t make a fool of himself as long as he doesn’t dine with them,” she proclaimed stiffly.
Everything was passable, barely. That was good enough. All that was left was to wait for the eventual summons. She ordered the Mistress of Etiquette to bring her some tea and settled in for the duration.
Taishi had not expected to wait long, at the very latest until after the evening meal. She was surprised to still be waiting well after the Queen began her nightly ascent. Surely at least one of the five rulers would have asked to meet with the Hero of the Tiandi Prophecy. Taishi began to worry. Something was wrong.
She herself finally turned in when the Twins reached their midnight peak.
Jian had fallen asleep after exhausting himself first with anticipation, then boredom. Taishi retired for the night to the guest room. “I’m too old to stay up this late,” she grumbled as she scrubbed off the facemaker’s gunk. “And too old to wear this crap. No amount of powder is going to erase the last forty years.”
No sooner had she wiped the last of the powder off her face and slipped into bed than there was a knock on the door. “Master Ling Taishi, you are being summoned.”
“Piss, are you serious? At this hour?” Taishi bolted out of bed and swung the door open, her nightshirt threatening to reveal more than anyone needed to see.
The Court Voice awaiting her at the other side did not flinch. If he noticed her impropriety, he did not show it. “All Zhuun wait at the pleasure of their divine dukes.”
“Of course they do. I’ll wake the hero.”
The Voice shook his head. “Only your presence is requested, master.”
Taishi hesitated, and then nodded. “Give me a minute. Let me dress and put my face on.”
“The five are not to be kept waiting. Only modesty is required.”
The five? All five rulers of the Enlightened States wanted to meet with her. By herself. In the middle of the night. Taishi’s stomach churned as she bit back her worry.
She hastily threw on the robe the tailor had sewn for her and followed the Court Voice down the stairs to an intricately and richly adorned rickshaw. Behind it were half a dozen men on horseback. Official summons indeed. Taishi climbed inside. The Voice climbed onto the back, and the rickshaw rumbled forward. Her unease grew as the Tower of Eternal Heroism disappeared from view. Taishi did not like leaving Jian alone, but it couldn’t be helped. Summonses by the dukes were not to be trifled with.
The Tiandi Throne was the obvious stop. It was the only place in the Celestial Palace fit for the dukes of the Enlightened States. What Taishi wasn’t prepared for, however, were the thousands of soldiers standing at attention in neat columns and rows on the Heavenly Grounds, all wearing their respective state colors. Banners and flags flapped in the wind. Lanterns hanging off spears swayed in a brilliant array, tiny lights against the dark night. There was a gap between two of the groups of soldiers just wide enough for the rickshaw to turn and cut through toward the throne room. Taishi also noted that while their banners and tunics were ceremonial, their armor and weapons were not.
“Don’t they ever sleep?” she said to no one in particular as the cart’s wooden wheels ground against the stone. She was also interested to note that the soldiers were facing the throne, not away. These men standing watch all night were not looking for an outside threat; they were guarding against one another.
The rickshaw pulled to the bottom of the stairs, and a stool was quickly placed next to it. The Voice exited first and offered Taishi a hand. She ignored him as she stepped out, looked up at the Thousand Steps to Heaven, and sighed. “Let’s get on with this.”
To her delight, a palanquin of servants appeared a moment later to ferry her up the stairs. By the time Taishi had reached the top, she was beginning to reconsider all her disdain for court life. She wondered if Saan’s offer to make her Court Warmaster was still good.
The large doors opened with the sound of a gong, and the Voice announced Taishi’s arrival. She was momentarily disoriented when she walked in. The cavernous throne room felt strangely desolate. It was dark inside save for the dais, where the throne resided. The throne itself was empty, but five cushioned seats were lined up in front of it.
That empty seat was the price of peace.
Nestled on the cushions were the rear ends of the five who one day hoped to change that.
It took Taishi a few moments to realize that the room was actually brimming with people. Not just people, but the personal guards of the dukes, the infamous Mute Men, also known as the Quiet Death. Bodyguards trained from childhood to protect nobility, the Mute Men were elite warriors who had their tongues cut off and were never taught to read. Fanatic devotion. They rarely left the dukes’ sides, standing like silent statues until action was required. Taishi had witnessed these black-clad nightmares fight many times, and considered their reputations well earned. It was said that the mere sight of approaching Mute Men’s winged cloaks fluttering in the wind could cause entire militias to surrender or cities to throw open their gates.
The rest of the assembly hall, the side corridors, and the balconies above were all filled with the silhouettes of the advisers, diplomats, and scholars. They were shrouded in darkness until their wisdom or input was required. Only the area around the throne was brightly lit, to the point of being almost blinding.
Taishi had been so busy taking in the environment like a commoner that she hadn’t realized the dukes were already holding an audience. A small group of men were standing on their knees before the five, talking over one another. Their animated and garbled buzzing echoed through the room. It wasn’t until she distinctly heard her name spoken that Taishi realized who they were. Faaru and all eight of Jian’s former masters. Here. Giving testimony about her, and about him.
So much for leaving town. I swear I will hunt them all down and hang them by their fat toes.
“And then,” Hili continued. “Right during the most critical time in the hero’s training, she bans us from the palace. We pleaded for her to see wisdom, but Master Ling was adamant in her selfish and cruel ways.”
Sunri, the Duchess of Caobiu, the Desert Lioness, former emperor’s concubine who had risen to become the general of all of the emperor’s armies, and likely still the most eligible woman in Zhuun, gave that gaggle of useless men the exact look they deserved. Her jet-black hair was intricately embroidered and twisted up, and held together by a golden phoenix crown, which Taishi thought was honestly a bit presumptuous. The duchess loosed a long, derisive sigh and drummed her long fingernails against the side of her famously sharp chin. “And how prepared is our hero? His training is incomplete? He is not ready yet?”
“Oh we’re very close,” said Pai. “Or at least we were. I daresay we don’t know how much damage Ling has done to the hero. She must be recalled, and we must be reinstated. For the good of the Enlightened States!”
Waylin, the former emperor’s brother-in-law’s cousin (of some description or another) who had somehow weaseled and killed his way up, looked over at Sunri and then back at the masters. Waylin was the least imposing of the dukes, but had the support of most of the nobility. “Why would the emissary who was sent to check the hero’s progress take matters into her own hands?”
Jang huffed, sucking in a labored breath. He was a large bald man with a thick beard and an even thicker waistline. “I believe Master Ling’s ambition is to usurp the hero’s training and take credit for his successes once he fulfills his destiny.”
Several of his peers nodded. “It’s a disgrace,” someone barked.
“Despicable.” More chatter as each man tried to sound more indignant than the next.
That continued for a few moments longer before Dongshi, the cunning Duke of Lawkan, the former emperor’s whisperlord and leader of the brutal secret police, the Ten Hounds, belched. He looked amused as he turned toward the end. “Well, Saan, what do you have to say for yourself? She’s your emissary. You’re the one who gave her the Ducal Mandate. Why would she undermine the masters?”
Saan of Shulan, the second and only surviving son of the late emperor, looked nothing like his lazy, bald father. Tall, with a mane of carefully coifed hair and always with a layer of dark eyeliner, he was known as the Painted Tiger. A fierce and famed war artist, Saan and his allies at the court had been on the western front putting down the Straw Hat Rebellion when the old emperor died. By the time word of his father’s death reached him, the empire had already fragmented. He opted not to plunge his people into civil war, a decision that likely saved them from obliteration by the Katuia Hordes.
Taishi was fond of Saan, but was secretly glad the emperor’s stupid-looking nub hat and gaudy golden chain did not rest on that man’s head and shoulders. Anyone else playing the Way of the Courts would not have allowed themselves to be sent away to the distant front so easily. Saan was an honorable and brave warrior who strictly followed Goramh’s Tenets of Nobility, but, to put it bluntly, Saan had a head as soft as an overripe melon baking in the sun. He could fight his way through a hundred men but couldn’t count to twenty-one without help.
Fortunately for him, Saan’s simplemindedness sometimes resulted in profundity, which was how Taishi ended up here at the Celestial Palace in the first place. Now he pointed toward her, smiled, and said, “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
Before she realized what was happening, two servants carrying lanterns appeared next to her, illuminating her for all the throne room to see.
Dongshi squinted. “Well, Master Ling? Is what these masters say true? Are you trying to steal the Hero of Prophecy all for yourself?”
Taishi became the focus of a hundred pairs of glimmering eyes reflecting the lights of the lanterns back at her. She may have been one of the great masters of the war arts, but she was still that shy little girl when it came to crowds. She gulped and coughed and found her fingers itchy and sweaty. She was trying to come up with something flowery and diplomatic to save face, but came up short. The seconds ticked by.
Finally, Taishi decided to go with a neutral answer. “I believe the noble and wise dukes can judge for themselves once they see the Champion of the Five Under Heaven in action.”
Saan spoke. “But you, Master Ling, have actually fought the Eternal Khan before. How would our hero have fared against him?”
Squashed like a shit-eating shit beetle. Taishi tried to go with something gentler, but diplomacy was truly escaping her right now. She heard herself saying, “As of right now, Wen Jian can’t fight his way out of an old women’s knitting circle. The Khan would chew through that boy like a snack and then use his bones to pick his teeth.”
Saan cut off the outraged masters’ fresh round of yapping. “So the boy isn’t ready. That is why Master Ling took the steps she thought necessary. He is no threat to anyone.” The way he spoke those last words caught Taishi’s attention. What did he mean by that?
Yanso of Gyian spoke next. “Let me understand this properly.” He began ticking off his fingers. “As part of our truce, each state agreed to tithe ten percent of our resources and military powers to maintain and protect the Celestial Palace for the Hero of Prophecy, to prepare him to defeat the Katuia Hordes. The boy lives like an emperor in the emperor’s former home with a very well-equipped and very expensive standing army protecting him. After fifteen years, all we have to show for our considerable cost is a useless boy who may or may not defeat my ten-year-old daughter in a duel?” He began to laugh, his voice echoing loudly across the room.
Yanso was easily the smartest, the richest, and widely acknowledged to be the most powerful of the five dukes. The former purselord just happened to have had control of the gold repository and factories that minted all the liang when the emperor died. That vast wealth guaranteed him power and control of Gyian State. Aside from this, Yanso’s daughter was quite the prodigy.
She bowed. “Yanliu sets a high bar, my lord.”
Saan pressed. “But as of right now, he isn’t ready.”
Taishi bowed deeply. “Far from it, my lord.”
He turned to the other dukes. “If this is indeed the case, the cost has already been sunk. We should just follow the simplest solution and send everyone home.”
Home? Taishi couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What about the Tiandi Prophecy?” she asked. “Wen Jian is not beneath saving. He has great potential. We still have time—”
Saan cut her off. “That’s enough, Master Ling.”
The other dukes exchanged glances. Sunri spoke next. “Two weeks ago, one of our patrols in the Grass Sea was attacked by a giant, naked, drunk man. The patrol fought valiantly, but the giant killed everyone in the unit down to the last, except for one lone survivor, footman Ho Manji, who claimed to have killed this giant.”
“There are many giants among the hordes. Hell, the riders of Keenyan are all two heads taller tha—”
“A thought we shared, Master Ling,” interrupted Sunri. “But it has been verified: The Eternal Khan of the Katuia is dead.”
Taishi was stunned. “The God of the Grass? The Immortal Horseman? The man who cannot be killed…has fallen?”
“A spear through the back,” replied Sunri matter-of-factly. “Ho Manji’s story is likely riddled with lies, but it does not matter. Our great enemy is no more.”
“Shortly after he died,” added Yanso, “that unit’s position was overrun by the entire horde army. All their mounted cavalry, their metal dragons and bixis, and four of their twelve cities. It was an ill-planned attack, no doubt ordered in haste to save their Khan.”
Taishi was still in shock. “What of the battle?”
A smile grew on Yanso’s face. “Total victory. The Army of the Enlightened routed the hordes, scattered their riders, and razed several of their cities.”
“We five are on our way to the signing of the armistice,” said Waylin. “We just stopped by the Celestial Palace to meet so we can agree on the terms for their unconditional surrender.”
“This is joyous news,” said Taishi, still not believing it. “When the people—”
“Word of this will not reach the masses until the armistice is signed, and we know what to do about the Tiandi Prophecy and the supposed Champion of the Five Under Heaven,” Sunri interrupted. “That is a ducal decree on pain of death. We must determine how to deal with the Tiandi faithful.”
“Can you believe this superstitious peasant shit?” spat Waylin. “Winning the war isn’t good enough for them. They insist on winning the war their way. Damn fanatics.”
“The question,” said Dongshi slowly, “is what do we do with this hero now that he is no longer necessary.”
“As Master Ling said,” said Saan. “He is weak and is no threat to anyone.”
“Of course you would say that,” retorted Sunri. “Wen Jian is from your region. He would make a useful pawn.”
“May I remind you,” added Waylin, “that an entire religion practically sprang from the earth around him. Even with the prophecy broken, he will carry influence wherever he goes.”
Saan shook his head. “Who cares about those fools? Once it is revealed that the prophecy is no longer necessary, they will wither away all on their own. His followers will move on to other legends. Perhaps even some prophecies divined by our own soothsayers.”
Dongshi slapped his drink down. “Someone will find a way to manipulate him to their own advantage. I won’t allow it. He belongs to all five of us, or to none.”
Sunri agreed. “That boy remains a threat as long as he lives.”
“We cannot simply kill the boy,” said Saan. “That will only make a martyr out of him.”
“That’s true,” Dongshi conceded. “It’s harder to kill martyrs after they’re dead.”
Yanso was quiet as the others went back and forth. When he finally spoke, it was with a solution. “None of us can have him, and after what we’ve heard, I suspect none of us want him. The hero cannot be killed, but it appears he is a hassle to all of us alive unless he dies of natural causes. I propose we send him off to a distant monastery. Declare that he intends to live a life of meditation. Let him fade into obscurity. Eventually, the religion will fade away, and all this tithing we did will have been a very expensive lesson for us all.”
Saan frowned. “What is the difference between housing him here and in some faraway monastery?”
Yanso barked a crude laugh. “So we don’t have to pay for this heavens-forsaken palace and army anymore. We have all paid too much. The Tiandi Prophecy has been a costly gold brick around all our necks for years. Send the boy away with a bribe and let the monks deal with feeding and clothing him.”
Saan still looked uncertain, but the decision was four to one. Jian’s fate was sealed. The dukes would ship him away to a monastery the location of which only they would know. Chances were, no one would ever hear from him again until some report came out in half a century about him dying from old age or disease. It wasn’t a good solution for the boy, but it was acceptable to the dukes, and that was all that mattered. Something didn’t sit right with Taishi, however.
Sunri looked to Faaru. “See that the boy is ready to travel immediately, Palacelord. Begin winding down all operations in the Celestial Palace. Leave only a skeleton staff to maintain the facilities and grounds.”
“As you wish, my lords.” Faaru bowed profusely.
“Now for the important matter at hand. The armistice,” said Sunri. “A once-in-a-generation opportunity. How do we get fat off these savages so they can’t start another war?”
The other dukes laughed.
Just like that, Jian was forgotten. The Prophecy of the Tiandi was dead, ending without even a whimper.
Everyone else bowed and began to file out of the throne room. As Taishi turned to depart, Waylin called after her. “Master Ling, stay. You had a long, glorious career fighting the hordes. You’ve spent many years living in the Grass Sea. Your insight on them will be most welcome.”
There was nothing Taishi wanted to do less right now than help the dukes squeeze out every last drop of blood the Katuia had left. But she had no choice. “I would be honored.” She bowed deeply and took her place next to the group of scholars waiting in the darkened balcony. Taishi suffered in silence for the next hour, with only her grinding teeth betraying her nerves. Though she remained perfectly still, her mind raced in every direction, and nearly all her thoughts ended in a dark place.