Chapter 3.6: Crow Boy

Chariot was preparing a ledger for Chang'an when Hun Chengde slid the door back. "May this unworthy one impose on your afternoon, Minister Chariot?"

Chariot nodded and put the finishing strokes on a last character. Washing his brush, he gestured Chengde to a chair. "You are adopting Yan Xiangling's custom, I see."

"The better to get closer to her heart."

"I remember a certain Crow Boy."

"That is good; it is evidence that your mind is not yet failing you."

"Yet?"

"My master pretends it is the eventual fate of all mento slip first into infirmity and then into insanity, that the mind will follow the body's autumn."

Chariot stroked his beard and nodded his head, which made the wings on his minister's cap bob crazily. Leopard Sword was stifling a giggle when he pronounced, "All things must submit to change."

"A question haunts my thoughts."

"Well then, by all means exorcise it."

"Who is Crow Boy?"

"She is the youngest of the Yan amazons, of course."

Chengde noted the minister's casual disparaging with pleasure. "I have not had the pleasure to meet her."

"Naturally not."

"How, naturally?"

"She is cloistered as a Buddhist nun at Guangdong. Therefore, it would be most unnatural for you to encounter her here, unless she has learned the kung fu which allows her to be in two places at once!"

"That would be unnatural indeed."

"Though she would have the honour of being the youngest master of Seperated Butterfly martial arts."

"Are you so certain?"

"Falling-from-a-Great-Height only takes disciples after their thirteenth year. I would be most deeply impressed to see Crow Boy practice a technique five years prior to having learned it."

"How, a nun at the age of eight?"

"Exactly."

"You must think that I am a fool."

"I may and I may not, but I have no reason to lie to you."

"Why has Crow Boy entered the clergy at such a tender age?"

Chariot looked away briefly. "The family does not discuss it."

"When I mentioned closeness to Xiangling's heart, you named Crow Boy," Chengde backpedalled.

"You are perspicacious."

"I wonder why this is."

"It is not a complicated reason." It was at this point that a maid arrived, carrying a tray of sweetmeats and little savouries, enough for two. By a system of concealed signals, Chariot had been able to inform her to prepare the afternoon meal with a guest taken into account.

"Oh?"

"Not even slightly."

"I remain baffled."

"Simply put, Crow Boy's methodology was identical to yours. Its results were comparably successful."

"I am not sure," Chengde noted, "whether to interpret that as advice or mockery."

"She sees your desire, but thinks it's for another."

"How can that be? She is the only eligible woman of Niaochao."

"There is Vermillion Sparrow."

"Juanyun's face is darkened with the sun; her hands are scarred like a man's."

"You think she is beautiful."

"But less so."

"It must not be this way, if you desire Ceramic Dove. She must be the only object of your esteem, or she will not accept it."

"She is selfish."

"She is the eldest."

"Does that make it right?"

The minister did not say whether it was or not, but, "It is proper."

Leopard Sword didn't bother closing the door behind him.

Chapter 3.5: Following the Characters

Juanyun was following the characters.

They had not been there the day before, but now they were ubiquitous; it was like a sudden, beetle-infested summer had come alive in her apartments, and each beetle was a gnarled acrobat in some unlikely pose. They lurked in places she could not miss them, inked under and beside things that she used every day; loomed up in places where her gaze was accustomed to rest. After a time, they began to appear in subtler places; the folds of a curtain, the shadows cast by an ornamental tree, the makeup brushes scattered on her vanity. There was no way to piece the characters into a story, but neither was there any need; their message was obvious.

Book. Library. Secret. Discover. Treasure. Betrayal. Father. Grandfather. Ancestor. Inheritance. Skill. Fear. Power.

There was something in Niaochao, and Vermillion Sparrow was going to find it.

And, upsettingly, someone was making her find it.

But, regardless, she followed the characters, and after a time, she began to hunt them, to reply to them. Treasure? It became Where?, and that became Darkness, and soon the girl was wandering through the catacombs of her forebears with torch and brush in hand. The characters preceded her, carved in the dust or painted into the walls, warned her of spiders and led the way to the left and right.

Finally, Yan Juanyun came to a door, enigmatically marked with the character niao, bird. Beneath it was a geomancer's compass, marked with characters and numbers and the nonsense glyphs of the feng shui code, a rosette of concentric rings. There was a handle in its centre, where the needle should have been. She touched the wheel, and the rings spun under her fingers, smoothly, as though they had recently been oiled. What to do? She looked again. Niao, in red ink; wheels of characters and numbers and nonsense...the numbers were written in red.

Swearing under her breath, Juanyun struggled to remember the calligrapher's rhyme, and spun the wheels to line up the numbers that contained the strokes of niao; 6-4-2-10,000...and then the wheel spun. More sixes? What matched the four dots? Surely not 6 again. Then she noticed that some of the characters didn't spin with the wheels, but rotated as they turned, remaining upright. She tried those. Then, tiles began to flake off the rings and new characters appeared...

After three more tries, the door clicked open. Behind it was a featureless hall. There were no characters there, only a wide, wet, inky scar trailing down the floor. The hall was cut regularly out of stone, but as she walked along, Juanyun saw the workmanship fade off; the walls became rough, rounded; in some places the stone formations of a cave were as yet unbroken. The tunnel ended in a moon gate, a white ring that was obviously carved of the rare "Winter's Heart" alabaster from the Eastern Nation of Decorum. It was odd to find it here, she thought, and not yet discolored from the clinging, mineraly moisture.

The gate had no barrier, and so Juanyun thrust her torch into the other side. What it illuminated was nothing short of astonishing, though she knew immediately who had built it.

The cave walls receded into the darkness, and Vermillion Sparrow could see a precise replica of Niaochao, at half size, built in silver wire. Ha, a bird cage after the Birdcage. Inside, golden swallows roosted on a silver tree. As she approached, they stirred, and the torchlight flashed painfully off their metal wings. They did not rustle, but clicked and jingled like little strings of coins. Juanyun did not notice it, but above the cage there was the vast, pierced darkness of the sky.

She came closer, and stooped through the closest cage gate. One of the swallows landed in her hand. It had the half-lidded eyes and fiery crown of a little Buddha; a beautiful woman's face! Over it, it had a tiny tied-on beak. It raised its head and chirped words at her.

"Dance with us, little sparrow of Yan." So they danced, and Juanyun smelled the resin of the herbs she crushed with her feet.

Chapter 3.4: Balcony

Hun Chengde sat on the balcony where the note had said to wait. He held a package in his hand. During that age, it was the custom for young men to bring gifts, not only to the ladies they courted, but to their circle of friends and family. He hoped that his gift would be appropriate; he did not know who would be recieving it.

The screen slid back to reveal a girl with a white-powdered face; her hair was carefully tied back with delicate ivory combs shaped like maple leaves. Her robe was striped white and black. The only colour in that figure was in her lips and eyes, red-brown like dried blood. It was Vermillion Sparrow. "Hush, quickly, I have a dance lesson to attend, I am only here to give you this..." She gave him an envelope.

When she had darted back out of the balcony, Chengde opened it. The message, frustratingly, was a meaningless ramble of characters. The paper smelled of cherry blossoms and the sea. Most puzzling of all, where the signature should be, there was only a sun with sixteen rays, drawn carefully with red ink. As he walked back to his rooms, Chengde studied the paper. Some of the characters were drawn with strokes that were distinctly incorrect, it seemed, but here and there he could see a phrase: needstrange, my heart oddity desolate chimera... it was clearly a love letter, and in a language that he did not know.

Chapter 3.3: Training

Fa fa fa. Fingers thudded into the leather cushion. Shu shu shu. Hands whistled through the air. Kan kan kan. Feet shifted on the gravel. They moved through the pattern of 64 forms, fighting a battle with an imaginary opponent. The forms expanded into a great chrysanthemum flower, and then contracted into a circle of eight steps as the sun sank down the sky. The figure performing them staggered, stumbled; he bit his lip and moved on. At the end of that evening, when he could practice no longer, he collapsed in the center of the rings he had paced out, surrounded by a whirlpool of red---the marks from his ravaged, bleeding feet.

Innkeeper Lance was learning kung fu.

Chapter 3.2: Doctor

"I can change the toxin into something less dangerous," said the doctor, "but I cannot remove it."

Upright Tiger sighed. "What will it be?"

"Nightmares; the Devil Face Ultimate Demise toxin is a principal ingredient in the Flying Demon Dream drug that is used to deprive bureaucrats of sleep. I can perform the alchemy inside your body, but it will be difficult."

"Life is hard." What else was there to do? Zhao Peng was not going to arrive at Niaochao upside-down.

The doctor carried Upright Tiger to a bamboo cot that, while being obviously unconventional, looked very familiar to him. He understood when the doctor put a lid on it. He was inside a giant steamer. "First, we must nourish your inner Yang fire." The doctor lit some noxious herbs under the steamer and conversed quietly with Wizard Stork while the smoke filled the air and darkened Zhao Peng's eyes.

Then the dreams began.

Daggers fell from the moon and swam into his eyes. A red snake with the head of a dog ripped out bits of his flesh, sank its head into his entrails, and squirmed through there, glutting itself on his innards. A woman screamed.

The fog changed in color, and then he was falling, falling through darkness with a sword in his hands and there was a man with a spear! He cut and thrust and he was too slow! The spear moved once, twice; he said goodbye to his arms.

The fog thickened, and he was no longer falling through air but sinking into sand---he felt an enormous, suffocating weight, unseen, pressing at him from all sides. Finally he opened his mouth to breathe his last.

The fog bloomed in his lungs, and there it become the red haze of anger; he saw the world for a moment, like a Buddha of universal ire, each person doing precisely the thing that upset him most.

When the mist cleared, Zhao Peng's throat was raw from screaming, and a map of the sky had been drawn on him in acupuncture needles. "This will realign your chi so that the toxin will reformulate itself. Drink this tea, also." He poured a hot, bitter liquid gently into his mouth. Peng felt the edge of a scalpel, fine as a silk thread, sink through his skin. The incision was not painful, only a little wet and a little cold.

The dreams started again, and for some time they did not improve.

Chapter 3.1: Manuals

It is a matter of common knowledge that the great martial arts of the warrior clans are traditionally kept, recorded, in manuals of various description. The monks of Shaolin are said to have inscribed theirs on the floors of their temples; the Falling Wren Society keeps a rack of swords whose kung fu is encoded in their precise arrangement. This ensures that, even when no living masters are to be found, the knowledge of the bloodline is not lost, and further, it provides the most essential thing to the martial arts world: justification.

Because the knowledge is there to be stolen, the skill perpetuates itself in living hands, so that those hands can protect their own secrets, or capture those of enemies, or betray the trust of friends. Books, like mighty swords, change hands many times in their lifetime, each the precious territory around which a little war is waged.

This matter had weighed heavily on the mind of Yan An these past few days. He had been thinking, and his thoughts had made him worry, and his worries had made him grieve, for soon it would be time to pass on the library of Yan's secret kung fu, and he could not give it to his son, who seemed determined to poison his name. He could not give it to his daughter, whose kung fu was as slow and blunt as a temple bell. He could not give it to brilliant Vermillion Sparrow, for although she was beautiful and strong and there was truth and beauty in her huazhang, doing so would break the hearts of his children. He considered letting the matter lie; they could sort it out amongst themselves when the need was more urgent.

"But, what good is that? Better that I should not allow any of them to inherit."

"Your line is too valuable to be broken, Horned Falcon." It was Paradise Mirror!

"You have not lost the quiet tread of your youth," said Yan An.

"How, lost?"

"We are no longer young, Gongming."

"This fact had escaped my observation," he replied. "I shall in the future remember to display infirmities more appropriate to someone of my no doubt advanced age. Am I to conclude, also, that you are not still young?"

"You can see the years written in my hair with white ink."

"So it is. I shall also remember to remind you of your own venerableness, should it appear to slip your mind."

"I am forever in your debt, O observant one."

"Tell me, what is this about inheritance? Surely the proud scions of Yan are amply deserving."

"I will describe my problem to you."

"Ah, wait! Meetings are no time for such gloomy business. Come here to my rooms, I have something for you and your wife.

They proceeded down the hallways discussing the weather; the year was turning, and with the coming of the sun and rain, the state of Jin was stained with scarlet and white, as the trees began to awaken to the warm months. Drifts of petals hung in the sky like flocks of birds, and in the distance, the fleshy curves of mountains blushed pink and golden.

When they arrived at the Persian Horse Flute suites, Gongming took something from a closet, while sending an attendant for tea. It was a box, wrapped in plain green silk. "Mingzhen is in the baths, but she sends these with her compliments. Look."

Obediently, An opened the box. It was filled with tall, slender cylinders of glass, each one brilliant scarlet and decorated with a strange pattern of curves and squares. "These are beautiful wine cups, Gongming."

"I am glad you approve; our student Sand Abbot brought them from Arabia. He tells me that this design is the Moslem script, and each glass is inscribed with a different name of the Moslem god."

Yan An turned a glass around in his hand, examining it critically. "I begin to see; it is like the Mongolian hanging language, but fallen on its side." Gongming nodded. "See how they have arranged the letters so their dots and loops are illuminated by the bubbles in the glass? We would do well to learn from these calligraphers, I think."

"I had hoped that you would be impressed by the workmanship. It is indeed very fine; when we saw these things, and the rest that Sand Abbot carried back, we immediately sent him to find the glassworker and learn his kung fu."

Horned Falcon nodded. "That is right; it's our duty to the Middle Kingdom to learn all such techniques."

"Duty?"

"Yes, a work required of one by virtue of his position or privileges; a responsibility toward the great---"

"This discussion of duty reminds me of the other things which the house of Yan is responsible for."

"You are referring to the inheritance."

"You are jumping to conclusions."

"I am?"

"I did not suggest that your landing was on an incorrect one."

"I see."

"Now, tell me of this famous problem."

Once he had explained, his friend leaned back in his chair and sipped tea, thoughtfully. "This tea grows cold."

"I had wondered if I were becoming feverish."

"No; it is not you that is hot; the drink is the source of discrepancy."

"Well, that is a relief."

"But still." He gestured at a passing servant. "Bring steamed buns and wine. Now, concerning your problem."

"And also beef, cooked in the southern style. My problem."

"My suggestion is that you make the decision you wish to make, but escape the complications of that decision."

Yan An's eyes widened in an immense smile. "I had not considered this, but now that you say it, I see that it is exactly correct! Yes! We will escape the consequences!"

"You are making fun of me."

"Impossible!"

"And now you are lying to me."

"I am twice ashamed," said Yan An, eyes downcast.

"What brought on this roguish paroxysm?"

"My brother pretends that I often suggest plans without considering them fully."

"I would suggest that this is, in fact, your habit."

"Acting on my knowledge of this particular idiosyncrasy, I merely spoke to give you time to formulate a more appropriate plan, secure in the knowledge that you and I share a habit."

"Ah, yes, An. But you have forgotten!"

"What is it that I have forgotten?"

"Why, the most obvious thing."

"You have something in your teeth."

"No, that is not it."

"In this respect you are incorrect."

"Very well." Paradice Mirror stepped over to a mirror and examined his grimace.

"So now, tell me what this less-than-most obvious thing is."

"Why, naturally, there is more to my plan."

"Of course."

"Namely, the manner in which you will escape the consequences which you have so carefully examined."

"You are ever considering such essential things."

"It is a habit of mine. I find it rewarding."

"I shall try your habit and see whether it agrees with me."

"The way you shall do this thing is this: your tournament will offer, as a reward, the kung fu manuals of the Yan family."

Yan An wrinkled his brow. "That sounds like a good way to lose our tradition completely."

"You know, however, that Vermillion Sparrow's kung fu is unmatched in three kingdoms, and no force under Heaven would make her do less than her best under so many eyes."

"It is as you say. But still, I doubt."

"Then you have one more thing you can do."

"What?"

"Give her The Rosemary Idol."

At hearing this he flinched back as if dodging a blow. "No one has dared that manual since the disaster at Lion's Face."

"Then that is so much better. It will be as though she has developed a new martial art entirely, unknown and unexpected, and the surprise will lend power to her strikes."

The scrape of a sliding door interrupted them; it was Mingzhen and Juanyun. "Uncle! I see you have greeted the Xians."

"No, only the one. Mingzhen, it has been too long!" He embraced her, and then the ladies took seats and cakes.

"Do not let us interrupt you," Mingzhen said.

"You were not interrupting at all; we had just finished discussing the disposition of the various guests of Niaochao."

"An had just remarked on the amusing coincidence of your apartment and your gift."

She glanced at the plump horses and scimitar-brandishing Arabs painted on the walls. "Ah, yes; I had noted that myself. Did you like them?"

"We shall use them at dinner tonight!"

"Uncle, I notice that you have opened the winter mansion out-of-season."

"You are observant."

"Merely attentive. When the maids vanished, I enquired regarding their disappearance."

"It is a good thing," noted Gongming, "that the house of An keeps no secrets."

Horned Falcon grunted. "The sparrow and dove do not permit it."

"I might begin to wonder about this mansion," Sparrow continued.

"I will lay your mind at rest. My son is to be housed there upon his arrival."

"Ah, then I am secure in your good graces, for I retain the Grieving Diamonds apartment."

Mingzhen interrupted then. "Juanyun, I have not had a chance to greet your mother and the ladies of the house. Where can they be found?"

"I will take you to them; here is my hand." The ladies departed, and Yan An breathed a deep sigh.

"Intelligent and excellent, yes, but she makes me very nervous."

Gongming poured his friend more wine. "Drink for bravery, Yan An. She will be the lady of this house someday, and you will have to be a lion then."

Chapter 2.6: The Stranger

Trident and Tower shook their heads. Lance was spreading bad news again. What was this about? An addled martial artist was running about destroying inns in the name of goodwill, deny entry to any man carrying a halberd and wearing the swallow crest of Yan. Fair enough.

It was at this moment that a man matching this description took a seat at the bar, accompanied by none other than Iron Governor, and called for dumplings and spiced wine.

The wild-haired Trident smiled, but his eyes held nothing but fright. Quickly as he could, he brought them their order and wheezed, "Begging your pardon, Governor, but may we impose our unworthy dialogue upon your excellent guest?"

Iron Governor inclined his head, though he hesitated when emaciated Tower added, "We mean no trouble, Excellency, our intentions are entirely friendly."

"What is it," interrupted Bo-tiao, "that you would ask?"

"We wonder," they answered, "whether you have heard of a man who is wandering down burning villages in the name of benevolence."

"I have heard of this man," said someone at a table. "They say that he has ten heads and each has a different version of the character for 'demon' branded on its forehead."

"I have heard of this man," said someone by the fire. "They say that he met the Buddha in the road, and slapped the Buddha in the face."

"I have heard of this man," said someone in the door. "They say that he swallowed a mandarin whole, from the ruby button on his cap to the Mongols on the soles of his slippers."

"I have heard of this man, challenged someone with angry eyes. "They say that he carries a halberd and wears the swallow crest of Yan."

Yan Bo-tiao rose from his stool. "Will you permit me to answer this challenge, Governor of Luo, without penalty?"

The governor took Exploding Crane's wine cup. "I will, Yan Bo-Tiao, if you and your opponent will agree to one thing."

Neither waited for him to specify; they bowed without hesitation.

"When your duel is over, everything will be as it was before. Not a teacup is to be overturned, not a hair on a man's head to be cut or pulled from place. Like the sun and the wind, your battle will pass us by with nothing but a flicker of heat or a motion of air."

Before he had done speaking, the men had fallen into battle stances; the angry stranger's hands undulated in Palm of the Western Sea, while the Yan heir's fingers were bent in the classical pose of Eagle Claw.

"There is a story in the Feather and Talon Manual," said Yan Bo-tiao, taking a soundless step forward. He attacked, and the stranger's parry led into some enigmatic motion, by which Bo-tiao found himself turned around and about to attack a jacket, hanging from a hook. "Fight me like a man! The story concerns the exploits of Maiden Without Wings and the Eyeless Hero, the progenitors of the Yan Clan." His kick was likewise evaded, pulled in out of his control until he fell of his own overextension.

"I have seen that kung fu before," Iron Governor murmured.

Eagle Claws became fluttering Songbird Hands, darting about seemingly without direction or intent. "Maiden Without Wings lived in a castle stitched of her own hair; she was trapped by its beauty. She could not stop singing praises for it." Songbird Hands drowned in the defence of the Western Sea; Bo-tiao had to twitch them back before he struck holes in the floor.

"Now that you have seen Rising and Falling Tide, you can understand the Wave," instructed the stranger. He touched Bo-tiao on the shoulder, gently, and Bo-tiao fell to the ground. But he was not helpless there; without delay his foot spun out to sweep the other man down. His heel struck the other's foot, and there it stopped. "That is Springing from the Earth," he noted, and stepped back so that the Yan might rise.

"Eyeless Hero heard of this Maiden," said Exploding Crane, and now his movements were long and straight, and determination stiffened his gestures and hardened his eyes, "and he said, 'I will rescue her from herself.' So," he leapt forward in a strike, and felt the Western Sea pull it inward. He touched the stranger's vital points, sealing his Water Chi. "So, he shut his eyes and followed her voice until he reached her, and then he pulled her out, following the direction of most enthusiastic screams."

The stranger's hand crackled with the motion of his joints, and he froze, in pain. Bo-tiao touched his spleen, and his limbs went supple and graceful again. "This is the power of Spear of Victorious Swallow's Wings, to make perfection defeat itself."

Iron Governor looked at the angry man critically, and announced, "The duel is over."

Meanwhile, Exploding Crane was checking over his opponent to ensure that no serious injury had occurred. It appeared as though he was unharmed, "but you should avoid very Earthy foods such as mung beans and tofu for the next week or so, in case they absorb too much of your Water Chi and cause paralysis again. Who are you, stranger?"