The following days, Ling Qi threw herself into training and meditation to distract herself from the confusion and uncomfortable feelings that filled her thoughts. With such frantic focus, the second level of the Argent Mirror Art came to her swiftly. It was not a comfortable experience; the art was focused on self-reflection and clearsightedness, and further mastery only left her less able to hide from her thoughts.

  She found herself thinking over past events. Su Ling’s words came back to her, as did her actions since her stab-induced vision. Had she been more affected by her elements than she thought? On reflection, she did feel like she had changed as of late. Was that due to her arts or simple evolution of the self? Ling Qi wasn’t sure, but she resolved to be more mindful of such things in the future.

  The other matter which her self-reflection brought up was more recent: Meizhen and what had happened at the lake. Ling Qi…… did not feel that way. She did not think of Meizhen as anything more than a good friend and had felt nothing but surprise and confusion during that moment. But it was clear that her friend did feel differently. Even the clarity of Argent Mirror did not grant her knowledge of what to do about Meizhen’s feelings though.

  Ling Qi had time to think while sitting in the Medicine Hall. Ling Qi couldn’t afford to miss her treatment; the curse, while fairly mild in its current form, could rapidly worsen if left unattended for more than a week or two. It was, according to the words of the Medicine Hall disciple treating her, meant to inflict a sort of wasting sickness on its victims. She wondered if its relatively mild first stage was meant to cloak its spread.

  That was a matter for Elders. She had more than enough concerns of her own without getting involved in something so far above her head. She wished Su Ling luck in looking into medicines. After the treatment was over, she found herself with a free afternoon.

  Ling Qi decided to stay a little longer at the Medicine Hall. She had asked around and been told that Li Suyin was doing chores in the area and should be finishing soon. Upon reaching the doorway with a sign indicating the end of the ‘free’ part of the hall, Ling Qi leaned against the wall to wait, entertaining herself by idling studying the tiny formation characters etched into wood around her.

  There was the usual stuff she had grown used to seeing on Sect buildings, simple repeating patterns to ward against basic wear and tear, as well as patterns to increase durability and fire resistance. The somehow orderly tangle of characters etched into webs at each of the four corners were beyond her skill level though; she was pretty sure she would regret tampering with them or trying to bypass the warded door. Which made sense, considering this hall was Sect property.

  Ling Qi continued to study the top right inscription circle for potential weaknesses as she waited. It was about a quarter hour later that she heard footsteps approaching from the other side of the doors.

  Li Suyin emerged as the door opened, a distracted look on her face. Suyin’s short hair was tied back and hidden under a cloth, and she wore a long grey smock over the front of her gown like an apron. Smudges of dust were apparent on her cheeks, as were blots of ink on her fingers. Ling Qi supposed they must have had her cleaning and organizing things in the storage area.

  “Li Suyin, how have you been?” Ling Qi greeted, straightening up from the wall.

  Her friend blinked as she glanced up, noticing Ling Qi. “Oh, Ling Qi, hello,” she said, smiling slightly as she let the door drift shut. Ling Qi couldn’t help but note the faint throb of the qi running through the wood as the door closed and the formation sealed itself again. “I’ve been doing well. I’m sorry for not visiting you when you came in,” she apologized, looking chagrined. “I’ve just been kept so busy, and I was assured Su Ling and you didn’t have any serious injuries……”


  “Don’t worry about it,” Ling Qi replied, following her friend as the girl moved to start walking toward the main section of the hall. She didn’t know how much she could say on the recent mission so she elected to just change the subject. “They must be working you hard. I hardly see you at our place anymore.”


  Li Suyin caught her eye, clearly understanding her meaning. “Ah, yes. The mornings are a very busy time for the hall so I have to be available for assignment. Well, for a few more weeks at least,” she corrected. “If I can pass the second exam and officially become an assistant, I will receive a little more latitude in the matter.”


  Ling Qi hummed to herself, looking her friend over out of the corner of her eye. “So they make you do a month or two of grunt work before they actually show you anything important?”


  Li Suyin flushed, fidgeting with her sleeves. “W-well, I wouldn’t call it that. It’s important not to waste actual Medicine Hall disciples’ time with insufficiently dedicated assistants. Besides, I have been receiving instruction,” she replied a bit defensively. “Even if it’s not exactly orthodox……” she added under her breath.

  Ling Qi gave Suyin a concerned look as they rounded a corner, the sounds of the entrance hall starting to reach their ears. “What’s that supposed to mean?”


  “Well, you see……” Li Suyin begun somewhat anxiously as they entered the main hall.

  “Assistant Li.” A flat female voice cut off her words before Suyin could continue. Ling Qi swung her gaze around to find the speaker, who had been leaning against the wall herself before stepping out in front of them.

  What she saw was…… strange. The girl who had spoken was almost as tall as her and was even more lanky and thin than Ling Qi. She was pale with slightly gaunt features and dark circles under her eyes and black hair tied back in a loose and careless tail. Some kind of face mask hung loosely around her neck.

  The girl wore a bizarre and almost skin tight dark green silk shirt under a black leather vest with similarly figure-hugging pants tucked into knee-high heavy leather boots. Her arms were likewise covered to the elbow by gloves of some kind of scaly animal hide. Her qi hung about her like a cloud of weblike strands, ominous and twitching; she was fully in the third realm.

  Suyin seemed to recognize her given the way she hurriedly bowed her head. “Ah, Senior Sister Bao, my apologies. I did not know you would be waiting.” Li Suyin glanced at Ling Qi, who raised her eyebrows, looking between the blue-haired girl and the newcomer. “Ling Qi, this is Senior Sister Bao Qingling. She has been gracious enough to allow me to assist her.”


  “I thought Inner Sect disciples weren’t allowed on the outer mountain,” Ling Qi said a little dubiously, not quite liking the way the older girl had simply glanced over her and promptly dismissed her.

  “The rule does not apply to Medicine Hall disciples assigned to this hall. Outer Sect riffraff can hardly be trusted with complex procedures,” the older disciple answered disinterestedly, words that should have sounded malicious or arrogant seeming matter-of-fact.

  Li Suyin laughed awkwardly, glancing nervously at Ling Qi. Ling Qi simply gave her a reassuring look. Even if this Bao Qingling’s attitude was grating, she wasn’t going to say something dumb to an Inner Sect disciple just for being abrasive. Besides, she was probably partially at fault for the girl’s presence what with the curse and Sun Liling’s recent rampage.

  “I see. I guess I should be thanking you for taking care of my good friend Li Suyin, Elder Sister Bao.”


  The girl looked at her a little longer this time although her gaze remained apathetic. “Mm. You are welcome. Assistant Li has a good hand for delicate matters. It seems this year’s Outer Disciples are less useless than usual,” she said bluntly. Ling Qi had a feeling that that was as close to an acknowledgement as she would get from the girl. The Inner Disciple’s gaze returned to Li Suyin. “Assistant Li, I require another set of hands for the preparation of today’s procedures. Come along.”


  Bao Qingling turned away from them, walking away toward the exit of the hall without even waiting for a response. Li Suyin shot Ling Qi an apologetic look. “.…… I am sorry, Ling Qi. I will have to talk to you later. Thank you for coming to visit me. We can catch up tomorrow I’m sure.”


  “Don’t worry about it,” Ling Qi said easily. Maybe she would be bristling if she was the same person she had been when she first came to the mountain, but she had come far enough to recognize the difference between a generally abrasive attitude and targeted contempt. She couldn’t say she liked the older girl though. “Just…… don’t get caught up in anything weird, alright?”


  Li Suyin laughed quietly, apparently taking her words as a joke and nodded before hurrying after the retreating figure of the older girl. Ling Qi shook her head. Since Li Suyin was busy, she would start preparing to meet the tutor she had hired.

  The next day, she received a note to meet an hour after noon at the gate that marked the entrance to the main road of the outer mountain. Her tutor would be a boy named Ruan Shen. It wasn’t far from noon by that time so she was soon on the path down the mountain. Sore and fatigued as she still felt, she stuck to the road instead of using the more direct path of hopping down the cliffside, but even then, it wasn’t a long walk anymore.

  The gate was a tall arched structure, a dozen meters high or more, stretching over a road wide enough for several horses to pass side by side. She wasn’t the only disciple on the path but neither was there a crowd or heavy foot traffic so her gaze quickly caught on a figure that seemed likely to be her tutor.

  Ruan Shen looked a few years older than her, although she was aware of how little that could mean, and was fairly tall with a head of shaggy and untamed black hair that faded to light blue at the tips. His bangs hung down over his eyes, concealing his face somewhat as he plucked at the strings of a lute of some kind.

  Ling Qi always had trouble remembering the exact names of the different instrument types, but now that she thought of it, his name on the note had been written with the same character as the instrument, the ruan, so that seemed a likely guess. He glanced upward as she approached, idly scanning the light traffic with a lazy gaze.

  She could admit her tutor was pretty handsome. Clearly, he kept up on his physical cultivation given what she could see due to the loose blue and white robe he wore. It hung pretty far open in the front; she had no idea how he kept it from falling off his shoulders. Ling Qi averted her eyes from that quickly enough, any admiration she might have felt quashed under awkward memories of Meizhen’s lips and the resurgence of her own insecurities.

  Shaking her head, she dismissed such thoughts and picked up her pace. It didn’t take long before the older boy’s gaze came to rest on her, his eyes assessing despite the seemingly permanently amused expression on his face.

  “Hey there. I suppose you’re Ling Qi?” he asked, raising a hand in greeting. A few of the other disciples passing by glanced their way but only momentarily.

  Ling Qi crossed her arms, some awkwardness surfacing despite her efforts to keep her thoughts in order. “Yeah, that’s me,” she said, before wincing. She pulled out the note with the Sect seal to show him. “I mean, yes. I am Ling Qi. Thank you for taking the time to teach me, Senior Brother Ruan,” she corrected, coughing into her hand. “I suppose they must have given you a description?”


  He chuckled slightly, pushing himself up from the pillar he leaned against and lowering his instrument to his side as he fished a matching seal-marked note from his pocket to confirm his identity. “Yeah, they did. No reason to be so stiff though. You can call me Shen if you’d like. It won’t bother me.”


  “Senior Brother Shen,” Ling Qi responded after a moment as she stopped in front of him, dipping her head. If he said it was fine, she could relax a little. “I haven’t done this before. What exactly are we going to do?”


  He hummed thoughtfully, looking her over, and Ling Qi shifted uncomfortably. It wasn’t that he was being a pervert or anything, but his eyes were disturbingly piercing. It almost felt like he was looking through her, but she was having trouble feeling his qi at all.

  “Well, as much as I like the idea of having a cute little junior sis,” he began before pausing and giving her another look over. “Or not so little as the case may be.”


  Ling Qi frowned at him. …… Some errant part of her mind felt the need to point out that he hadn’t retracted the cute descriptor. “Is there a problem?” she asked politely.

  “Nah, nothing like that,” Ruan Shen said, waving his free hand dismissively. “I’m just gonna need to test you a bit. Gotta see what kind of melodies you have in your repertoire before I can teach you. Not too many disciples follow the musician’s path so I hope this isn’t just a whim on your part. That’d just be real sad.”


  Ling Qi drew herself up, summoning her flute to her hand. “I’m not an amateur,” she said with a hint of fierceness. “And I’m not just dabbling. My music is one of my best skills.”


  Her tutor studied her expression then laughed. “Well, I’m glad. Why don’t we find a better spot though? As much as this bunch would enjoy the free concert, I think we’d do better to go without distractions today. Follow me.”


  She wasn’t entirely certain what to make of the other disciple. But for all that her instincts cried out at the idea of following a stranger to an out of the way place, he had the Sect seal, and tutors doing something untoward with their authority was supposed to be punished pretty heavily.

  In the end, she followed him out a short distance into the foothills, and they stopped in a small clearing at the top of a steep hill studded with several large boulders. For the first day, Ling Qi played for him, first with her flute then with other instruments as he tested the limits of her musical knowledge and ability.

  Ruan Shen was mostly unreadable that day, offering little except simple instruction and the occasional pointer on improving her technical skill or correction for errors, but…… she thought he seemed impressed or at least, not disappointed. Her tutor cheerfully instructed her to meet him at the same spot the next day.

  Things settled into a routine. Ling Qi would work on cleansing a head meridian at the argent vent in the morning then swing by the Medicine Hall to chat with Li Suyin when the girl had time. Despite the less than stellar introduction, Li Suyin was apparently enjoying playing assistant to that Qingling girl. She was mostly tasked with preparing ingredients and helping with time-sensitive tasks, but the older girl apparently thought aloud enough that Li Suyin was picking up a fair bit of knowledge just from listening in, along with the occasional borrowed scroll.

  In the afternoons, she would go to her tutoring sessions, which seemed to largely consist of improvised duets and musical tests accompanied by discussions on music theory and its relation to qi and cultivation. In the evenings, between hunting with Han Jian’s group and training with Meizhen, she reached Late Silver.

  Sometimes, the training with Meizhen even managed to only be half again as awkward as they had been before the lake celebration.

  Threads 75-Normalcy 3

  Ling Qi was in a good mood by the next morning. After her friends had left, she had spent more time with her mother and sister and discussed what they were going to do.

  The offer to fund a trip back to a settlement of their choice had been extended to the staff, and to Ling Qi’s mild surprise, no one had taken it. Given what the women had been doing before, Ling Qi wasn’t too surprised. Ling Qi reminded herself to budget for extra space when it came time to design a proper “panic room” for the house. They weren’t family, not to her, but to mother……

  Well, she would work out the details with Li Suyin tomorrow. She had already sent a message to the other girl and received a reply; Suyin would be happy to help. Ling Qi had even haggled her up to accepting two green stones, more than cost for her work. Ling Qi chuckled to herself as she remembered the fierce battle of words against her friend’s generosity.

  Ling Qi paused along the mountain path, peering out toward the province interior for a moment. She was still worried, still anxious, and still angry, but she had done what she could.

  She rolled her shoulders, grimacing at the twinge of pain from her still healing wound. It was going to linger for another day or two, the medics said. Ling Qi would be glad to see it gone, but for now, she had to head up the Inner Sect mountain to meet her liege. Cai Renxiang would undoubtedly have marching orders for her. She just wondered what exactly the Duchess had in mind.

  However, as she reached the top of the cliffside path, Ling Qi paused, feeling a familiar qi. It emerged from the blank space that represented Cai Renxiang’s home in her spiritual senses. She was not terribly surprised to feel Meizhen’s aura, but she was not alone. A moment later, as she reached the top of the path, she saw them.

  Bai Meizhen was immaculate in her usual way, gliding down the path, unmarked by the recent violence. At her side was a tall and gangly figure, Li Suyin’s mentor, Bao Qingling. She could not hear their words of course, obscured as they were by a dense web of qi filaments and the pressure of the deep, but the sight still seemed strange.

  Each time she had met Bao Qingling, the girl had been stiff, taciturn, and irritable. She was like Su Ling except condescending and arrogant, and yet there was something more animated about her as she spoke with Bai Meizhen, gesticulating with her hands. The sharp, jerky movements reminded her of a spider plucking at its web.

  Meizhen was as sedate as ever, only responding periodically, nodding or smiling faintly in response. She was also, Ling Qi noted clinically, walking a bit closer to Bao Qingling’s side than was strictly appropriate, and the prickly Bao did not seem to find this objectionable. It made her feel odd, and the dark qi in her channels stirred sluggishly. She clamped down on it. It was unfair of her to feel that way, and she had grown past that. She was happy that her friend was making more connections.

  Meizhen met her eyes then, and the girl blinked in surprise. Suddenly, the pressure that surrounded the pair faded. “Ling Qi? I did not recognize you. Are you well?” she asked, a touch of concern in her voice.

  Ling Qi smiled wanly, stopping at the top of the path. “My ‘treatment’ just unsettled my qi. I should be fine in a day or two. Sorry I haven’t been in contact. I spent yesterday taking care of some things.”


  “You’re lucky you’re as sturdy as you are,” Bao Qingling said, her animated expression fading back into her usual disgruntlement now that the two had been interrupted. She folded her arms under her chest, going eerily still. “And that the Sect broke out the good medicines.”


  Ling Qi glanced over at her, raising an eyebrow. Why was she even commenting? “Oh? I’m glad that they did, but……”


  “Bao Qingling has been quite busy with medical duties in the wake of events,” Meizhen cut in smoothly. “She was the one who informed me of your status.”


  “It was a mess,” Bao Qingling said sourly. “It might have saved you, but your body reacted to the sun qi about as well as it did to the poison. I had to do a lot of cutting.”


  Ling Qi couldn’t help but pull a face, imagining the pallid girl looming over her with a surgeon’s knife. Unconsciously, she reached up to rub her bandaged shoulder. “I’m glad it went well.”


  The other girl cocked her head to the side, and Ling Qi noticed, not for the first time, the way the girl didn’t seem to fully look anywhere with her eyes. Bao Qingling wasn’t blind, but it was clear that she relied far more heavily on other senses than most. Despite not turning her head, she seemed to notice Meizhen’s slightly sour expression. “I destroyed the tissue once the toxin traces had been strained out of course.”


  “Of course. How did it compare to the other toxins collected?” Meizhen asked, changing the subject.

  “Manufactured for certain,” Bao Qingling said. “Similar enough compositional traces that I suspect a master alchemist somewhere in the enemy’s supply chain.”


  “You think someone in the Empire is supplying them?” Ling Qi asked with alarm.

  “No,” Bao Qingling replied bluntly.

  “An unpopular opinion, to ascribe such sophistication to mere barbarians,” Meizhen mused.

  “And I already told you where they can stuff their popular opinions. I’m not going to underestimate my enemies.” Bao Qingling’s lip curled in disgust. “Regardless, I need to get back to my workshop. The antidote projects won’t finish themselves. I’ll leave you to your friend, Bai Meizhen.”


  “I will be happy to assist you later, but farewell for now, Bao Qingling,” Meizhen said, briefly dipping her head.

  “Thank you for your work,” Ling Qi added with a slightly deeper bow. She received a terse nod in return as the other girl strode past her, heading down the mountain path. A few moments of silence passed between them.

  “I am glad you are well, Qi,” Meizhen said quietly. “Please endeavor not to get so badly injured in the future.”


  “I’ll work on it, Meizhen,” Ling Qi chuckled. “I’m glad you came out unscathed as well. Were you involved in the fighting?”


  “Only peripherally,” her friend replied. “My situation is complicated enough that none chose to command me. I suspect that will change in the future. I have a duty to show solidarity with our allies.”


  So she would not be leaving the Sect then. That was good. Ling Qi had already heard rumors of disciples preparing to leave. Going by what Su Ling and Xiao Fen had said, it was worse in the Outer Sect. “Ah, I saw Xiao Fen. She says she will break through soon and be prepared to serve you.” It felt weird to say, but teasing the younger girl aside, she had agreed to pass the message.

  “Reassuring,” Meizhen said with a faint smile. Ling Qi followed her gaze down the mountain path.

  “Are you sure of what you’re doing?” Ling Qi asked.

  “As sure as I can be without broaching the matter directly with her,” Bai Meizhen said. Despite the swirl of events, her friend seemed content. “Which is…… soon, perhaps. War does not leave time for regrets, as they say.”


  “I can’t say that I understand,” Ling Qi sighed. She wanted nothing to do with that sort of thing. “But I wish you luck all the same.”


  “And I cannot fully understand your reticence,” Meizhen said sadly. “Perhaps life in the Emerald Seas has made me soft, but I find myself looking forward to a little youthful indiscretion. Life is to be lived, after all.”


  “Meizhen!” Ling Qi hissed, scandalized.

  Bai Meizhen let out a soft laugh, covering her mouth with her sleeve. “My apologies, Qi.”


  “You’ve changed, Meizhen,” Ling Qi said after a moment. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

  “Haven’t we all?” her friend asked airily. “Will you be free for tea this evening?”


  “I was intending to spend it with Zhengui,” Ling Qi replied apologetically. “If you do not mind the setting, you’re welcome to join me. I’m sure he would appreciate a visit from Cui.”


  “Then we shall be there,” Meizhen agreed. “Now, do not leave Renxiang waiting. She is having a stressful enough day, I think.”


  They both made their farewells, and Ling Qi turned back to her destination. She knew she had many things to speak of with Cai Renxiang, but the first thing on her mind was what the internal response of the province had been like.

  ***

  “Good afternoon, Lady Cai,” Ling Qi said politely, bowing her head low as the door of the other girl’s study drifted shut behind her, nudged by the wind. “I hope your day finds you well.”


  “Well enough, all things considered. It pleases me that you have been released from the Medicine Hall so soon,” Cai Renxiang said, looking up from her task. For once, she was not behind her desk, but instead, she was seated in one of the other chairs set around the room. Her saber, Cifeng, lay naked across her lap. The heiress was running an oil cloth over the silvery metal, and the blade seemed to almost purr at her meticulous polishing.

  “The Sect has many skilled physicians,” Ling Qi agreed. “I am told that I should be in good condition within another day or two.” She took a seat near Cai Renxiang, sinking into the soft cushioning with a sigh. Normally, it would have been rude to take a seat without invitation, but the heiress didn’t mind little indiscretions in private. As she settled into her seat though, she took a second look at her liege.

  Although there were no obvious physical signs of it, there was a certain haggard air to Cai Renxiang as she sat there, quietly polishing her saber. She had no wounds nor any dark circles around her eyes, not a single split end or strand of hair out of place. Yet on some level, to Ling Qi, she felt frayed, for lack of a better word. It reminded her of that day during the tournament after Cai Renxiang had spent the night with the Duchess.

  “And you, Lady Renxiang? Were you injured in battle?” It was a little bit of a gamble to use such familiar terms to talk to Cai Renxiang. She had never been given an invitation to do so, but Lin Hai’s words returned to her thoughts.

  Cai Renxiang gave her a sharp look, and in her lap, Cifeng shook imperceptibly, but the girl did not chide her. “Do not allow the demeanor of Sir Lin to corrupt you, Ling Qi. Neither you nor I are so highly placed that we might afford undue indiscretion.”


  “I will keep that in mind,” Ling Qi replied demurely, folding her hands in her lap. Renxiang had not told her off. “My question?”


  “I required no treatment from the physicians,” Cai Renxiang replied. That was a pretty obvious dodge. Her liege really was tired. Still, she wasn’t going to push her luck and press the matter.

  “I’m glad,” Ling Qi said simply. “You said in your note that you had been in contact with the capital. How did the Duchess take the news?”


  “I believe my honored Mother to be somewhat vexed,” Cai Renxiang answered carefully. Her white gowl rippled, the ‘eyes’ splayed across her chest flashing with inner light, and in her mind, Ling Qi felt the low beastial growl that emanated from the other girl’s gown. “News of a new enemy is not going over well among the nobility.”


  Ling Qi hesitated before speaking. “Are they really new though? I have known about various things beneath the earth for some time, and the elders knew as well. Surely no one was really unaware of the caverns and the things that live in them.”


  “I have no doubt that they were aware enough. I have no doubt that Mother was aware as well,” Cai Renxiang said. She gazed into the gemstone set in Cifeng’s side. Ling Qi sensed a faint pulse of sharp metallic qi, echoing through Cai Renxiang’s aura. “However, that is not the issue.”


  It took Ling Qi a moment to mull over what she meant. “Ah. They can’t just treat it as a deadly wilderness anymore.”


  Cai Renxiang let out a long breath and flicked her wrist, storing the oilcloth away. She studied the blade in the light of her own radiance before raising her eyes to meet Ling Qi’s. “It is not only that. Mother has unsealed a number of archives that indicate certain interests into exploiting those realms in the most recent century.”


  “Wait. Then……” Ling Qi frowned, thinking of her own expedition with Li Suyin.

  “I find it unlikely that the timing is unrelated, and whatever else one might say, the coordination necessary to stage this attack and make alliance with several Cloud Tribes indicates a certain sophistication among these subterrene barbarians,” Cai Renxiang said. Pale blue thread spun into existence, reforming the sheath of her saber.

  It seemed that the province lords and the Argent Peak Sect might have been poking at a long buried wasp’s nest then, Ling Qi mused, and now, they had gotten stung for it. “How are the clans reacting to this? They’ll rally obviously, but that only means so much.”


  “The Bao are the most affected. Their interests mostly lie in and beneath the earth, though mostly in healthier caverns. They seem to be the most discontent, but I have not been able to ascertain why beyond the obvious costs to their business.”


  “I’ll look into it,” Ling Qi acknowledged. Bao Qingling’s comment about the subterrene barbarians’ sophistication struck her. Was there something more there? Bao Qian seemed the sort that might be in the know, too, so she might have an avenue there as well.

  “My thanks,” Cai Renxiang said. “Of the Meng, they turn inward as always, and my sources at court indicate that they blame other clans’ delvings for this, the Bao, in particular. There has been a grudge between those clans since the days of the Hui when the Bao used the chaos to expand their borders through the Meng’s northern lands. It concerns me to see such fractures flaring up again.”


  It still struck her as strange, Ling Qi thought, to imagine days when nobles of the same province were openly fighting each other and expanding at one another’s expense. They were all people of the Empire. It gave her a disquieting feeling. “And the Diao?”


  “The Prime Minister will not allow any complaints,” Cai Renxiang replied dryly, and Ling Qi eyed her curiously. Was that a hint of genuine antipathy or had she just imagined things? “However, some elements grumble regardless. They would rather mount proper retaliation than abandon their delvings, and the Jia clan remains in their camp. The Luo are happy enough to build their defenses, I believe. If you could speak with Sir Luo on that matter, I would be appreciative.”


  “I will do so,” Ling Qi agreed. “Will you be canceling your gatherings?”


  “Barring actual military need, I will not,” Cai Renxiang said bluntly. Ling Qi had suspected she wouldn’t. Cancelling would show weakness in an unacceptable way. “Leaving all that aside however, I require your talents for a more sustained task.”


  Ling Qi blinked. “I will try to fulfill it to the best of my ability,” Ling Qi said slowly.

  Cai Renxiang gave her a curt nod of acknowledgement. “I require you to make friends with Wang Chao. His clan is making aggressive rumblings, and I worry that they are beginning to drift from the Cai family’s orbit. While their connections to the Diao are well and fine, the Prime Minister will not be Matriarch forever.”


  Ling Qi grimaced, recalling the boy from Cai’s parties. He had not left a good impression on her, but she would try. It felt odd to set out to ‘make friends’ with someone based on a command, but she would just have to do her best. Perhaps she could speak with him at the next gathering? “As you command, Lady Cai.”


  “Very good,” the heiress breathed out, and the light that played around her shoulders brightened. “Allow me to commend the efforts you have made already,” she added. “Without your show of martial prowess, the task might be impossible. Many indiscretions may be ignored in victory. You performed above my expectations.”


  “Thank you, Lady Renxiang,” Ling Qi replied with some surprise. “I will make sure to build on my victories.”


  “I am certain that you will,” Cai Renxiang agreed, and Ling Qi briefly caught a faint upward quirk of her lips before her expression smoothed. “There is another matter you should be aware of. My younger sister, Cai Tienli, was born twelve days ago. She is in good health by all reports.”


  Ling Qi shot the heiress a sympathetic look. Even without being able to see it on her face, she could sense the conflicted tone in the other girl’s words. She began to work out her reply, but then there was a faint burst of smoke, drawing both of their eyes.

  A fluttering scrap of parchment drifted down, and Ling Qi snatched it from the air. Her eyes scanned over the hastily scribbled words. Zhengui was awake.

  “Is something amiss?” Cai Renxiang cut in sharply, eyeing the paper.

  “No. My spirit Zhengui has just awoken though, and……” Ling Qi said, eyeing the door. She didn’t want to be rude, but……

  “Go,” Cai Renxiang dismissed, gesturing to the door. “We have covered the most important matters.”


  Ling Qi shot to her feet immediately and bowed. “Thank you, my Lady.”


  Theads 176-Emissary 11

  “Once, there was a girl and her mother. They lived in a sad and dying city where purpose had long been lost. The girl and mother loved one another, but her mother had a hard and ugly job, respected by no one, least of all herself.”


  Storytelling was not really a skill she practiced, but it was not so different from singing. There was a cadence to it, and it had the same effort of condensing complex meaning into more concise lines.

  She drummed her fingers on the table as memories came back. Mortal memories were such funny things, soft and fuzzy and unclear compared to memories after cultivation. But she still remembered the contours of their little apartment and the downcast expression her mother wore even then. Sixiang echoed her words in her mind, and together, their voices resonated, and the air shimmered with trace imagery.

  “Her mother did her best for the girl, trying to teach the girl the things she would need to be something better, but the girl was impatient and disobedient as children often are.”


  How much had it cost them in ink and paper for her mother to teach her literacy and sums when so few in the Outer Tonghou had the time for such things?

  “And her mother was young too, so young, and her clients were often cruel. One day, their trust was broken, and things were said that were not meant, and the girl fled her mother. She told herself it was because her mother was a petty tyrant. In truth, she had seen that her mother could not protect her. Foolishly, thought the girl, freedom from responsibility and ties would bring her fulfillment.”


  The memories that crept up were ugly things, and Ling Qi did not let them linger in her mind or taint the resonance around her much. They were things not forgotten nor forgiven, but they were less important now.

  “It was cold that winter, and the girl nearly died were it not for a kind old man’s blankets,” Ling Qi continued. “But the ‘freedom’ she had gained left no room for kindness, and so she was alone. The world of freedom was cruel and lonely, and so the girl became cruel and lonely too, but the stubborn girl convinced herself that it was better all the same and she missed her mother not.”


  Across from her, Jaromila sat silently, nursing her drink. Ling Qi couldn’t read her expression at all. But she had already started the story; she could hardly stop now.

  “Eventually, there came a man who knew that the girl could hear spirits and touch the energy of the world. She was taken to a place to learn these things properly, but in the beginning, the girl was not really any different than she had been in the cold streets.”


  Snappish, paranoid, and suspicious. That was how she had been at the start, even as she told herself to be better.

  “But there came a test, and there, she met a smiling spirit, a face of the moon who saw something in her and thought it good,” Ling Qi said. At the time, it had been buried by other concerns, but that really was the first time in many years that something like an adult had expressed confidence in her. “And there she earned her first gifts: a song, a step, and a way of breathing. It was enough to let her make a path. She succeeded at the test, and when her peers doubted her, she found that she had a friend too.”


  That moment, when Fan Yu had been berating her while she had been surrounded by disinterested or amused disciples and then Meizhen had chastised and scattered them, was probably the moment when she had first begun to trust her best friend. But this was not that story.

  “But though the girl began to prosper and even change, she was still missing something. Though she knew it not, the face of the moon knew and nudged things in her favor. On the high mountain paths, she met her teacher in music and her precocious daughter.”


  Ling Qi looked over to Hanyi, remembering their meeting and the game of tag in the snow. Hanyi smiled sheepishly, and Ling Qi paused to let out a small laugh as well. Her smile faded back into an expression of contemplation as she turned her thoughts back to Zeqing.

  “In many ways, her teacher was what the girl wished her mother had been. She was strong and beautiful, seemingly unassailable and unflappable.”


  Hanyi’s own good cheer faded away, leaving her looking down at her hands with her hair hanging over her eyes.

  “Though her teacher rebuked her for it when the sentiment came out, it did not truly go away.” Ling Qi recalled that day on the mountain, bloodied and harried by Sun Liling, saved from humiliation and ruin only by the chance whim of Fu Xiang. All the strength she had cultivated had been shown to be nothing against the Sun Princess.

  “And in time, when guilt drove the girl to use her new power to free her mother from that sad city, despite her best intentions, she did not really respect the bent, subservient woman she met there.”


  It was harsh, but it was the truth. In those first months, she had treated her mother like an ornament, precious, yes, but fragile and best kept insulated from the world.

  “But the truth was, her teacher was not perfect and invincible either. The Songstress of Endings was never meant to be a teacher or a mother. Zeqing chose to be them all the same. Endings are inevitable, but everything before them can change.”


  Ling Qi blew out a harsh breath, remembering the last moments in Zeqing’s domain, where a spirit of Inevitably chose to change her course.

  “And that was the final lesson from her teacher. The next morning the girl spoke to her mother without holding back because she knew that there was no time to waste.”


  Beside her, Hanyi looked up, a thoughtful expression on her young face. In her dantian, she felt Zhengui stir.

  Jaromila’s eyes had drifted shut somewhere during her story, but the woman’s grip on her empty cup showed it wasn’t drowsiness. As the silence stretched on, she opened her eyes. “I suppose the story goes on from there?”


  “It hasn’t been written yet,” Ling Qi agreed. Things were better now, but she was still struggling to organize her life and the many things she wanted to and had to do.

  “It’s your turn,” Hanyi said, looking at the foreign woman.

  “It is,” Jaromila mused. “For that tale… there is only one I can share and call it equal.”


  “Please go ahead,” Ling Qi said, settling in her seat and taking up her cup. It was, of course, still cold.

  “Once, there was a woman of the oldest of the Polar confederations. She was of an old and storied family whose lands and wealth were among the greatest in the land,” Jaromila began. The tap of her fingernails against the tabletop matching the cadence of her words.

  “From her youth, great things were expected of her and all the teachings of the nation were at her fingertips. A great emissary she would be, advancing the family’s interests throughout the confederation.” Jaromila smiled faintly as she spoke as if in remembrance.

  Ling Qi listened attentively. It seemed that the regal air the other woman had on the battlefield was not just affectation.

  “But as often happens with those who make plans within plans, the great family failed to account for the whims of fate and human feelings. There was a man in the Glittering City, a handsome, hard working and joyful man whose hearty songs brought warmth to the girl’s heart. In time, the girl became a woman, and passing fancy became a deep bond.”


  Ling Qi listened intently, but the conviction in Jaromila’s voice didn’t leave any room for niggling doubts. Nonetheless, it seemed her first impression might be wrong if this wasn’t a story of Jaromila herself…


  “The woman’s kin were enraged when she made her choice. The man was unacceptable. He was a man of the new tribes with hair of straw and pallid skin, shiftless and untrustworthy by definition.” Jaromila spoke the last words with only a slight bitter twist. “Yet it is law that none may force another to choose their marriage. They could not stop her, but wealth is a law unto itself, and so they could punish her.”


  Some things were true, no matter how foreign a land was or how strange its laws and ways, Ling Qi mused. She was beginning to suspect the shape of this story. In the sparkling frost that glittered on the iron leaves of the ceiling, Ling Qi saw the faint images of a woman stout and sturdy, ruddy of skin and hair, hand in hand with a tall, thin man with pale skin and hair like straw.

  “They went north, always north, chased by ill rumors and sabotage. Those who gave them shelter found the eyes of the summer traders cold and aid in the winter slow to come. Even the kindest headmen eventually asked them to leave, for the town’s sake if nothing else. Yet in their travels, they were happy, for they had one another, even in the darkest trials.”


  Ling Qi saw the shadows of blizzards and beasts in the frost, but always, the man and the woman remained hand in hand. It stirred a complicated feeling in her chest that she couldn’t quite identify. Doubt was a part of it, and yet, so was yearning for such a refutation of loneliness was something close to her heart.

  “Eventually, they found their succor in the wild lands of the White Sky, far from the Glittering City and the wealth of the south. Here, it seemed the limits of her family's influence finally ran dry. Among the hardy people of the north, they found home and companionship. There were few who spoke to the spirits that both found their labors needed, and soon, they built a life among their neighbors. Their years were not without sorrow—their firstborn bore the touch of the Crone—but in time, there came a second, and both the man and the woman were overjoyed when a girl was born hale and healthy with the look of her father about her.”


  Ling Qi’s eyes flicked up to Jaromila’s golden hair, so different from the other foreigners she had seen here.

  Here, at last, Jaromila paused, closing her eyes. “But in a winter scant years later, sorrow came. As he had done often, the man, now a respected priest of the sun, took up the duty to guide a caravan through the fall snows and deepening twilight forming the veins of support between the settlements of the north. He did not return. Tales came of a ragged survivor, speaking of a sun priest who had given in the whispers of the void and ended them all before being slain himself.”


  “The demons of Outer Night are weak in the north, so far from the gates,” Jaromila explained. “And the woman knew the man to not be of weak and avaricious temperament. He would not fall so, she thought. Others humored her, thinking it grief until the day she went unto the survivors traveling south to hear their story. The woman had grown strong by then, and mighty in the emissaries’ arts.”


  “There had been no void demon,” Jaromila said tightly. “And though the oaths upon the soldiers were strong and left her with no proof, she knew well where to turn her eyes.”


  That was… Ling Qi couldn’t call it unthinkable, to kill so many of your own people for such a petty reason. She knew well enough the vicious games that could be played among the nobility of the Empire. She had even seen the scars of it in many of her friends.

  “It broke the woman, and her daughter saw every step of her decline. She learned the cruelty wrought of unthinking hate and refusal of understanding,” Jaromila continued. “Through her mother’s eyes and her lessons in the south, she learned the wages wrought by stagnation.”


  “And when her mother chose to become part of the Land to end her pain, that girl gave herself over to the temple where she learned the role of emissary to connect and to speak, to foster understanding and strike down hate. She learned, too, how so many failed to live up to the words of the gods.”


  “She would not be like them.”


  Ling Qi placed down her emptied cup as the other woman’s words faded, feeling the emotions implicit in the words in her mind. Finally, as the silence began to stretch, she said, “Ice is cold and privation. It is the truth that awaits out in the world for those who are alone. Family is what keeps us warm and protects us from the chill.”


  Jaromila smiled. “Ice is the solid which is liquid. New layers, change, engenders motion, placing pressure on the old, and even the most stolid glacier must flow in time. This is winter, which ends the old and makes way for the new.”


  “Ice is beauty. It gave people time to tell stories and make pretty things, and it makes them appreciate all the work they did when it was warm,” Hanyi muttered.

  “Ice is many things, it seems,” Ling Qi concluded quietly.

  “It is, isn’t it? I find your interpretations pleasing as well,” Jaromila said. “I cannot speak for your nation, Emissary Lingchee, but you, at least, I think I trust.”


  “It’s Ling Qi,” she said, emphasising the pause and tone. “And I think I can say the same. Let’s hope our superiors can be kept in agreement.”


  “I believe I will toast to that,” Jaromila chuckled. “Shall we have another drink?”


  ***?

  They had spent a while longer, just drinking kvass, keeping their talk to minor topics because they knew they would be back to negotiating in the morning. Eventually, Ling Qi was escorted back to the guest rooms, and like everyone else, she set to work clearing her head from the day's activities.

  Naturally, she decided to cultivate. With Sixiang’s help, she kept her practice of the chords of the Beast King’s Savage Dirge from escaping the confines of her room.

  Yet as she played the song, she found her readings of the art mingling with the considerations brought to mind earlier. In her mind’s eye, she saw the impetuous Eagle King die alone for his foolish charge, bound in grapnels and nets, brought to earth by the defenders of Xiangmen. She saw the cunning but imperious King of Wolves, spending his pack’s lives like water, assured of his own superiority.

  Isolation, physical, spiritual, and mental, was the root of failure. Raw might could only take her so far, and when she reached that edge, what came after but the plunge?

  Ling Qi opened her eyes, looking over her room. Zhengui slept in the hearth, flickering red and green flames burning around his shell, and Hanyi sat in a chair by the single window, looking up at the night sky. Ling Qi placed a hand over her chest, feeling the ache there. But without strength, nothing she accomplished could matter either; it would be easily swept away by those who did have power.

  Sixiang murmured.

  That was true, too.

  So what was she to do?

  She still didn’t know how to reconcile her thoughts yet.

  “Are you okay, Big Sis?” Hanyi asked her, tilting her head.

  Ling Qi put on a smile and lowered her hand. “I’m fine, just thinking. What about you, Hanyi? It hasn’t been the easiest day.”


  “Yeah,” Hanyi agreed, resting her chin on her hand. “But it helped, I think.”


  “Did it?”


  “A lot of Momma’s relatives kinda suck. I don’t think I wanna try and be like them either,” Hanyi decided. “I think I just gotta keep singing. That’s the thing that’s most important.”


  That was such a… Hanyi thing to say. Ling Qi couldn’t help but laugh, and Hanyi pouted at her for it.

  “Hey, don’t laugh,” Hanyi complained, hooping down from her seat to put her hands on her hips. Ling Qi tilted her head. Had Hanyi grown taller?

  “I’m sorry,” Ling Qi said, covering her mouth with her sleeve. “I think it’s good that you’ve resolved to do something.”


  “Yeah, I have,” Hanyi said before looking at her in silence for a moment. Before Ling Qi could ask her what had brought on her silence though, she spoke. “Hey, Big Sis, you know, even if I can’t always follow you into fights and stuff, I’ll still be helping, right? That’s what a junior’s supposed to do when the senior’s busy with big stuff.”


  Ling Qi’s smile fell as Hanyi broached her thoughts. If she left Hanyi behind though, was that really alright?

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she acknowledged.

  She should get back to cultivating Beast King’s Sage Dirge. She knew she was on the verge of mastering the next technique, one that would allow her to call on the cunning Wolf God.

  She wondered how things were going back home.