CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

ORACLE

“You must have many questions.”

That could have been the biggest understatement Taishi had ever heard. It had been almost a week since she had discovered that the Oracle of the Tiandi was still alive, and she still hadn’t recovered from the revelation. “You bet your soft shell I have questions.”

The two sat across from each other at a small table in the holding room she shared with Zofi, otherwise used for grain storage. When it wasn’t being used as a jail cell. Taishi had surrendered to the Hansoo the moment she realized the damn Oracle of the Tiandi in the flesh was standing before her. The monks had moved the two women here while they deliberated their fate.

For a whole week, Taishi and Zofi rotted in here. Taishi didn’t mind, really. She could have broken through the flimsy wooden door at any time, but the food was delicious, the room clean and dry, and the beds surprisingly soft. Other than an annoyingly wobbly chair and a table so covered in splinters she might as well have been petting a porcupine, this was a pretty nice jail. Taishi caught up on much-needed sleep.

The monks must have finally come to a decision on the morning of the sixth or seventh day—Taishi had lost track. Sanu appeared at the door carrying a tray of tea. “Let me begin with the oracle,” he continued. “To understand who he is, it’s important to know what he is.”

“And how he’s five hundred years old,” said Taishi. “Is that man I saw the actual oracle? It’s not possible.”

“There is only one Voice of the Divine, and he is indeed five hundred years old. As to whether he is the actual oracle, the answer to that is a bit more nuanced. His Holiness is and is not the original oracle who birthed the prophecy.” The abbot hovered the pot over her cup. “More tea?”

“That’s not helpful in the slightest, and no thank you.” Taishi had taken one sip of her tea and not touched it since.

Sanu refreshed his own cup. “The original oracle was a man by the name of Sang Junfan.”

“I don’t need a children’s lesson on the Tiandi, Templeabbot.”

“Junfan was responsible for the Prophecy of the Tiandi,” continued Sanu, speaking as if giving a well-worn lecture. “A few months after he passed, an infant in this village by the name of Huangxi was born possessing the gift. He became the next oracle. For eight generations, the Voice of the Divine has reincarnated in this very settlement.”

That explained why there were so many children here. Many of the most devout probably lived here with the slim hope of raising the next Oracle of the Tiandi. “So the oracle I saw isn’t the original one, but the eighth man in line in reincarnation?”

“Two of the oracles were women.”

“If all eight were women, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” she muttered.

“Sorry? I don’t understand.”

“You wouldn’t. If two of the oracles were women, why have all depictions of the oracle shown the same man?” She pointed at the picture embroidered on Sanu’s chest. “In fact, the oracle I saw in the room the other day looks exactly like him, except dirtier. How is that possible?”

“To properly answer your question, it is important you understand how the gift is passed,” said Sanu. “Once a child is gifted the Voice of the Divine, they become the vessel of the oracle and experience a divine metamorphosis that alters body, mind, and soul. In every way and essence, they incarnate into the original oracle, even possessing the memories of the oracles’ previous lives.” Sanu gestured at her cup. “Your tea has cooled. Would you like it refreshed?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” She was terribly thirsty, but she also had standards. “Do these oracles still have—” She waved her hand. “—oracle abilities? Do they still have visions and predict the future? Can they still form prophecies that have wide-reaching effects on an entire race of people and culture and dictate government policies for half a millennium only to fall apart right as the prophecy is about to get fulfilled?” Her lingering thoughts were almost as bitter as the tea.

“The gift of prophecy remains unchanged in all the oracles,” Sanu replied cryptically. There was a pained hesitation in his voice. “However, the burden of having lived so many lives is tremendous.”

Taishi wasn’t sure what that meant; she didn’t care either. This information, while interesting, was hardly relevant to the crisis at hand. “So the oracle is alive and his oracle-ing still works. That doesn’t explain why the prophecy failed so spectacularly.”

“Ah, the prophecy. That is a separate matter entirely. Let’s continue this discussion in a more pleasant environment. Walk with me.”

Sanu must have finally decided she was no threat to the temple. That or he had run out of awful tea. Taishi was more than happy to oblige. While her jail was comfortable, there wasn’t much else to do other than sleep. She had been contemplating breaking out just to have something to do. Pahm fell in beside them as they left the storage room. The young war monk had not strayed more than a few feet away from her since she had arrived.

“Where’s my traitorous companion?” Taishi asked.

“Some of the brothers are giving a pottery lesson.”

Taishi grunted. For reasons unbeknownst to her, the Tiandi monks had decided right away that Zofi was no threat, and allowed her to walk around freely, returning her to the grain storage room only for the night. The girl had struck up a friendship with Pahm and had voluntarily spent hours on end with him while he guarded Taishi’s jail.

The three walked through several hallways to the rear of the temple through the kitchen, living quarters, and prayer rooms, passing several monks going about their daily lives. Without fail, every monk stopped what they were doing and bowed as they passed. The abbot ran a tight ship here, a far cry from what she had witnessed in Vauzan.

“How many live here?” she asked as a girl no older than five bumped into her on her way to embrace Sanu.

The templeabbot patted her head and sent her on her way. “Thirty or so, and eighteen children currently. We always have a few come and go. Temple life is difficult for most; it is even harder here in this isolated place. Many of our brothers and sisters last only for a short while before moving on. This calling is not for everyone.”

Taishi could see why. She had been dismayed at the primitive conditions. There was no running water, heating pipes, papyrus on the windows, or any other modern amenities. She had not even seen any water clocks, ice chests, or even mirrors. Only after watching the monks go about their lives had she learned to appreciate this world free from distraction. Unlike their brethren in the cities, these monks did not involve themselves with political, societal, or cultural issues. The need for donations, however, was universal in every temple. The older monks referred to it as secular taint.

Sanu led them several stories up a staircase carved directly from stone to a leveled garden area at the top of the hill. Taishi stood at the doorway and raised her chin, welcoming the King’s rays. Pahm, ever the guard dog, crossed his arms and took his place next to the door while Sanu exchanged words with several monks tending the rows of vegetables and fruits along the graduated terraces at the top of the hill. He reached a wooden sitting area with a bench and table at the opposite end and beckoned for Taishi to join him.

She walked past him up to the edge of the wooden platform jutting out of the side of the hill and surveyed the vast sprawl of Fulkan Forest. There was the Monkey’s Paw, surprisingly closer than she imagined it would be. Farther was the near edge of the Sand Snake. If she squinted hard enough, she thought she could make out the other shore, where Sanba lay.

An initiate appeared with a tray. Sanu accepted a cup of tea and offered her one. “Now, where did we leave off? Tea?”

“No thank you. We were about to talk about the prophecy and why it failed so spectacularly.”

“Yes, although I would disagree with your conclusion that the prophecy failed in any way. Tell me, Master Ling, what do you know about how prophecies work?”

Taishi studied the five levels of graduated terraces that dropped off sharply. The tomatoes wanted picking. “What’s there to know? They’re supposed to come true.”

A chuckle escaped the abbot’s lips. “Your belief is common among the masses, and that’s the problem. Nuance and context have become lost arts. The people desire simple, direct answers, easy to digest and process. All they want is for someone to point them in the direction to walk, without realizing that some places require turns and multiple stops before they reach their destination. The great misconception about the Prophecy of the Tiandi is that prophecy is destiny.”

“Well, isn’t it?” said Taishi. “What is the point of having a prophecy if it doesn’t come true?”

“Prophecy cannot predict free will,” explained Sanu. “The visions of the Voice of the Divine are true, but only so within the context that people make the choices that lead to those visions.”

Taishi mulled his words over for several moments before she came up with a response. She exploded. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. If people make choices that differ from what the oracle saw, then that destiny will not come true? If the Prophecy of the Tiandi requires everyone and everything to happen exactly as it needs for it to come true, then of course it’s not going to work. The entire thing is…is worthless!”

“Free will can be such a hassle,” smiled Sanu wryly. “Would you prefer that destiny robs you of choice?”

“I prefer that a prophecy actually works the way it’s supposed to work, especially if our entire civilization has placed all our faith in it.” Taishi had hoped to discover why the prophecy had broken, hopefully to find a way to repair it. She hadn’t expected to learn that the damn thing was never supposed to be right at all. “What is the point of all this? The oracle could have at least warned us about this free will crap. Then maybe the Zhuun wouldn’t have taken this stink so seriously.”

“Oh, but he did.”

She perked up. “That is not mentioned in the sacred texts.”

“The oracle did warn that the prophecy did not free the people from responsibility. The Zhuun still had to make the right choices to see our desired outcome. Because he knew free will could lead destiny astray, the oracle decreed directly to Empress Yihsanna to return every nineteen years to hear his refreshed vision of the prophecy. It was his hope that these insights would offer the wisdom to help forge a better future.”

“So what happened?”

“No one came.”

Taishi couldn’t believe it. “What do you mean ‘no one came’? Even if the emperors decided to skip the prophecy, how could the Tiandi monks allow it?”

Sanu raised his palms to the air in a shrug. “Because monks are people, fallible and susceptible to secular taint.”

“That’s an awfully roundabout way of saying they were bribed.”

The abbot looked pained. “Bribery is such a harsh term. Change can be difficult to embrace. The next emperor, Yihsanna’s son Yiyue, actually did visit the oracle nineteen years later. By that time, the Tiandi religion had swept across the Enlightened States and become the Zhuun’s official religion. It was the agent that, for the first time in history, united our people as one. The masses embraced the belief that a Prophesied Hero would rise to unite them to defeat their mortal enemies, the Katuia Hordes and their dreaded Eternal Khan.

“Emperor Yiyue, however, had just ascended the throne when he made his pilgrimage. He did not like what he heard. He had not yet consolidated his power in court, and feared that unrest would follow if the people learned that their faith was as solid as slowsand. Yiyue made a deal with the Tiandi monks in power to suppress the truth about the prophecy’s changes in order to maintain peace and stability, to keep the people united as one.”

Taishi’s blood had reached a boiling point. “Why would the Tiandi monks agree to such a thing? Religious doctrine and prophecy should not be up for debate. What could the emperor possibly have to offer them?”

“Why do you think there is a large, beautiful Temple of the Tiandi in every city in the Enlightened States?”

That stopped her dead, but only for a moment. “The prophecy isn’t broken. People are such lazy, soft-brained idiots,” Taishi spat out in disgust.

“Our fates are in the hands of heaven.” Sanu put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Put your trust in the Tiandi. Let the divine work in its own ways. The River of Fate will guide us where we need to go.”

“Don’t touch me!” The abbot was just trying to help, but his attempts to soothe Taishi only enraged her. Everyone, from the abbots to the dukes to those pathetic masters to even that blasted emperor five hundred years ago, was just looking for the easiest, most convenient excuse to do nothing.

“Better to hand the problem off than make the hard choices. Let future generations deal with it instead of getting it right at the source,” she lamented through clenched teeth. That was when the idea, like lightning, struck. Taishi’s eyes flared open and she grabbed a fistful of the abbot’s robes. “Take me to the source. Take me to the oracle. If he still has the vision, then he can determine what to do next. He was the one that got us into this mess. He can get us through it.”

Sanu did not show fear as she shook him like a rag doll. “I’m afraid that’s impossible. The oracle no longer offers his guidance.”

“He’d better for me,” she growled. “The prophecy owes us answers. I threw away my entire life to save the Prophesied Hero. Both our lives are now forfeit. At the very least, I need to hear from his mouth that Wen Jian, the Champion of the Five Under Heaven, is truly free from his destiny.”

“How dare you lay a hand on the templeabbot!” Pahm roared as he barreled down toward them. She wondered if the big man was nimble enough to stop before plummeting off the edge. Part of her was curious to find out.

Sanu waved the war monk off. “No, Brother Pahm, it is all right. Master Ling and I are just having a spirited discussion.”

The Hansoo hovered close by and shot Taishi an icy glare. “It will be best if you release him.”

Taishi suddenly remembered where she was and who she was manhandling. There were more than enough failures to go around, but to take it out on him was misguided. She let go, ashamed. “Please forgive me, Templeabbot. I was not right in the moment.”

Sanu looked resigned. “I see that you will not be satisfied until you have your audience with His Holiness. I warn you: You will not like what you see.”

“I don’t care what I see. It’s what I hear that’s important. If things have changed so much from the original prophecy, then maybe it’s time someone actually listens to the oracle to correct our course, like it was originally intended.”

The abbot stood and adjusted his robes. “Very well. I will take you to him now. He may not answer you, however.”

“We’ll see about that,” she muttered.

A low, guttural growl emanated from the Hansoo.

Sanu led them back down the stairs and back to the heart of the temple. The kitchen was bustling as a small army of cooks prepared meals for the entire temple. The smell of roast duck and egg drop soup wafted to her nostrils. A group of monks were sitting in a row at a long table wrapping dumplings. Two of the younger monks were flicking flour at each other as their brothers nearby cheered them on. The situation nearly escalated to a full-blown battle of white powder before one of the cooks snatched their bowls away and admonished them. Even in her sour mood, Taishi couldn’t help but smile. She had always considered Tiandi monks a serious, humorless lot.

They continued to the front of the temple, weaving their way through the main hallway when they ran into Zofi, who must have just finished her pottery class. The girl was now the proud owner of a misshapen thing that looked somewhat like an oversized chamber pot.

She beamed, struggling to wrap her arms around it and walk at the same time. “Look at what I made.”

“That will come in handy if you ever need to piss ten times in a night,” Taishi replied drily.

“It’s a water pitcher.”

“That will do the job too.”

She frowned at the somber group. “Where are you going?”

“Master Ling has requested an audience with the oracle.”

Zofi’s eyes widened. “Can I come too?’

“Might as well. At least you can keep Pahm here company.”

The normally sour-faced Hansoo had brightened at the sight of her. Zofi fell in line next to the war monk, who was more than happy to take the chamber pot off her hands. The two chatted animatedly, Taishi and Sanu already forgotten.

Taishi hoped all that had blossomed between them was a kindred friendship. She had intimate experience with loving someone married to their religion. The abbot led them to a guarded room just behind the prayer hall in the heart of the temple. It wasn’t until after they had walked inside that she realized this was the temple heart sanctum. While this traditionally was the abbot’s residence, it made sense that in this particular temple, the sanctum would be reserved for the oracle.

The first thing that hit Taishi when they entered the dimly lit room was the odor. What had smelled like stagnant water escalated to something that had her gagging. The room was windowless, and had only a daybed in the center of the room. An entranceway off to the side led to what appeared to be a bedroom of sorts. Scattered pipes, half-eaten plates of food, and dirty clothes littered the floor. Piles of gourds and bottles stood on a small table leaning against the near wall, all empty.

Zofi sniffed and waved her hands side to side, swirling the heavy smoke the hung in the air. “What’s that stink?”

“Opium and head dust.” Taishi scowled.

They found the oracle in the bedroom, splayed out on the bed on his side, a gourd of plum wine next to him overturned, its dark-red contents staining the sheets. At first, she thought him sleeping, then she noticed his blank eyes open and the long, thin pipe huddled close to his body as a wisp of smoke puffed from its opening.

Taishi gawked at the rail-thin man with the sunken cheeks and skin as blotched as his robes. His head lolled in an awkward angle against his pillow as if he were too weak to lift it. This was the oracle who had birthed the Tiandi religion that had spread across every corner of the Enlightened States? The man whose wisdom had not only united the Zhuun, but guided fifteen generations of emperors?

Furious, she rounded on Sanu. “The founder of the Tiandi religion is a drunk and an addict? How could you let this happen?”

“I warned you that you wouldn’t like what you saw,” the templeabbot replied, resigned. “The burden of this gift is great, especially after the spirit of the oracle has lived so many lives. We’ve tried to help him, but this is the only way he can ward off his nightmares.”

She knelt next to the bed. The oracle’s eyes were lazy, unfocused, and staring off into nothing. If he had noticed her there, he offered no indication.

“Your Holiness,” she said. “Can you hear me? I require your wisdom.”

No response.

Taishi tried again, speaking louder and closer to his face. When was the last time this man had taken a bath?

Still nothing.

She snapped her fingers in front of him and patted his face. She turned to Sanu. “How long has he been like this? Is he coherent at all?”

“His Holiness has been declining for nearly two decades. We fear his time on this plane will soon come to an end.”

“Some gift,” she muttered. “How do I get through to him?”

“He has good and bad days,” he replied. “More bad than good. We do what we can to make him comfortable, but the only thing we can do is to wait until he experiences a lucid moment.”

“When does that come about?”

“Sometimes days, sometimes weeks.”

“I can wait. I’m not leaving until I get my answers,” Taishi declared.

Sanu nodded. “I honor your piety to the prophecy and the Tiandi.”

Taishi dragged a chair next to the bed and sat down, crossing her arms. “Bring food and drink. I’ll sit in this shit-stinking room for the next decade if I have to.”

The next decade lasted for only four days. In her defense, it was because of the screams coming from outside the sanctum.