Swan and I stood
looking out a window outside the conference hall where we would
engage the File of Nine in negotiations. Eventually. It took them a
while to sneak into Khang Phi, then change their disguises so their
identities would remain unknown. We saw nothing below but mist.
Swan did not waste his stone. I said, “I thought I was back
in shape. I was wrong. I ache all over.”
Swan said, “They say some people here go their whole lives
without ever moving more than a floor or two after they finish
their apprenticeship and get their assignments.”
“Kind of people that balance out you and me,” I
said. Swan had not traveled as far as I had but at a world’s
remove an extra few thousand miles does not seem important. I tried
to make out the rocky ground we had traversed approaching Khang
Phi. The mist just seemed darker when I looked down.
“Thinking about taking the easy way back down?” Swan
asked.
“No. I’m thinking being isolated like this might
leave you with a very limited worldview.” Not to mention the
impact of the scarcity of females in Khang Phi. The few there are
belong to an order of celibate nuns who care for the donated
infants, the very old and the very sick. The rest of the population
consists of monks, all of whom were donated and all of whom are
sworn to chastity, too. The more fanatic brothers render themselves
physically incapable of yielding to temptation. Which makes most of
my brothers shudder and consider them more bizarre than
Tobo’s shadowy friends. No soldier likes the thought of
losing his best friend and favorite toy.
“A narrow view can be as much a strength as a weakness,
Liberator,” a voice observed from behind us. We turned.
Sleepy’s friend, Surendranath Santaraksita, was joining us.
The scholar has gone native, adopting local garb and assuming the
Khang Phi haircut—which is no hair at all—but only a deaf and blind
man would take him for a local monk. His skin is more brown and
less translucent than that of any native and his features are
shaped more like mine and Swan’s. “That mist and their
narrowness of vision allows the monks to avoid forming worldly
attachments. Thus their neutrality remains beyond
reproach.”
I did not mention Khang Phi’s one-time role as an
apologist for and collaborator with the reign of the Shadowmasters.
That embarrassing dab of history was being expunged by the acids of
time and relentless lie.
Santaraksita was happy. He was convinced that in this place
learned men did not have to prostitute themselves to temporal
powers in order to remain scholars. He believed even the File of
Nine deferred to the wisdom of the eldest monks. He was unable to
see that if the Nine acquired more power Khang Phi’s
relationship to the File would soon lapse into subservience. Master
Santaraksita is brilliant but naive.
“How’s that?” I asked him.
“These monks are so innocent of the world that they
don’t try to impose anything on it.”
“Yet the File of Nine presume to speak from here.”
The File enjoy issuing bulls which are, more often than not,
ignored by the population and warlords.
“They will, yes. The Elders want them to. In hopes that a
little wisdom will rub off before their power becomes more than
symbolic.”
I said nothing about leading horses to water. I made no
observations concerning the wisdom of backing a cabal of secret
masters in preference to one strongman or the remnant aristocracy
of the Court of All Seasons. I did admit, “It does look like
they’re trying to do what’s best for Hsien. But I
don’t trust anybody who’ll bet their pot on guys who
hide behind masks.” No need to tell him the File have no
secrets from us. Little that they do or discuss goes unremarked by
Tobo’s familiars. None of their identities are secrets to
us.
We operate on the assumption that both the File and the other
warlords have placed spies among our recruits. Which explains why
there is little resistance to our recruiting amongst the Children
of the Dead.
It is not difficult to identify most of the spies. Sleepy shows
them what she wants them to see. Being a spiteful, vengeful little
witch, I am sure she plans to use those spies cruelly at some later
time.
She worries me. She has her own old hatreds to redress but their
objects escaped life unpunished a long time ago. But there is
always the chance she might choose somebody else to take the heat,
which would not be to the Company’s advantage.
I asked Santaraksita, “What did you want?”
“Nothing special.” His face went coolly neutral. He
is Sleepy’s friend. I make him uncomfortable. He has read my
Annals. Despite what Sleepy has dragged him through he cannot yet
come to grips with the cruel realities of our sort of life. I am
sure that he will not go home with us. “I did hope to see
Dorabee again before you went into conference. It could be
important.”
“I don’t know what happened to her. Shiki’s
missing, too. They were supposed to meet us here.” Local
mores made it impossible for women to share quarters with men. Even
Sahra has to room separately from Murgen, though they are legally
married. And Shikhandini’s presence saddled Sahra with
special obligations. She wanted the holy men distracted but not to
the point where they went berserk. Just enough, maybe, so they
would give way on a subtle point or two. Though distraction would
not be Shiki’s principal mission.
Master Santaraksita wrung his hands briefly, then folded his
arms. His hands disappeared into the sleeves of his robe. He was
worried. I looked closer. He knew something. I glanced at Swan.
Swan shrugged.
Murgen and Thai Dei puffed into the room. Murgen demanded,
“Where are they?” Thai Dei looked worried but said
nothing. He would not. The man seldom says anything. It was a pity
his sister could not learn from his example.
Thai Dei knew something, too.
“Haven’t shown yet,” Swan said.
“The File of Nine will be angry,” I added.
“Are Sleepy and Sahra dealing some kind of game?”
Santaraksita backed away nervously. “The Unknowns
aren’t here yet, either.”
My companions were a diverse bunch. Once Sleepy arrived we would
include five races. Six counting Santaraksita as one of us. Sleepy
believes our sheer diversity intimidates the File of Nine.
Sleepy entertains other notions even more strange.
I do not know why she thought cowing them would mean anything.
All we needed from them was their permission to research the
knowledge needed to mend and manipulate shadowgates. The monks of
Khang Phi were willing to share that knowledge. The stronger we
grow the more eagerly the monks want us gone. They are more
frightened of the heresies we propagate than they are of any armies
we might bring back later.
The latter dread keeps the warlords awake at night. But they do
want us gone, too, because the stronger we grow here the more real
and immediate a threat do they perceive. And I do not blame them
for thinking that way. I would do so myself, in their boots. The
entirety of human experiences argues on behalf of suspicion of
strangers laden with weapons.
The womenfolk made their advent. Willow Swan spread his arms
wide and declaimed dramatically, “Where have you been?”
He struck a second pose and tried the line another way. Then he
went with a third. Making fun.
Sahra told Thai Dei, “Your daughter kept flirting with the
acolytes we encountered along the way.”
I glanced at Shiki, frowned. The girl seemed almost ethereal,
not at all vampish. I blinked but the fuzzy quality did not go
away. I blamed my damaged eye. The girl seemed more a distracted
ghost than a boy in disguise having fun with a role.
In Hsien’s eyes Thai Dei passed as Shiki’s father
because it was well known that Sahra had just the one son. Her
brother, Thai Dei, has managed to remain so obscure that even at
the Abode of Ravens the locals never raise a question about the
fact that the seldom-seen Shikhandini would have had to have been
born while her father was buried beneath the plain. Nor did anyone
seem much inclined to ask what had become of the girl’s
mother. She could be dismissed with a few vague, angry mutters.
Shiki was always empty-headed, always in minor trouble, always
considered a threat only to the equilibrium of young men’s
minds.
Shiki solidified. She pouted. She said, “I wasn’t
flirting, Father. I was just talking.” Her words should have
been argumentative but just sounded flat, rote.
“You were told not to speak to the monks. That’s the
law here.”
“But Father . . . ”
The act never stopped once it started. There might be watchers.
But it was an act. And a pretty good one, at least to those of us
unaccustomed to dealing with very young women.
Master Santaraksita kept whispering to Sleepy. He must have said
something she wanted to hear because her face lit up like a beacon.
She did not bother to report to the Annalist, though. These
Captains are all alike. Always playing their hands close to their
chest. Except for me, of course. I was a paragon of openness in my
time.
Thai Dei and his daughter continued to squabble till he issued
some loud diktat in heated Nyueng Bao that left her sulking and
silent.
Swan and I stood
looking out a window outside the conference hall where we would
engage the File of Nine in negotiations. Eventually. It took them a
while to sneak into Khang Phi, then change their disguises so their
identities would remain unknown. We saw nothing below but mist.
Swan did not waste his stone. I said, “I thought I was back
in shape. I was wrong. I ache all over.”
Swan said, “They say some people here go their whole lives
without ever moving more than a floor or two after they finish
their apprenticeship and get their assignments.”
“Kind of people that balance out you and me,” I
said. Swan had not traveled as far as I had but at a world’s
remove an extra few thousand miles does not seem important. I tried
to make out the rocky ground we had traversed approaching Khang
Phi. The mist just seemed darker when I looked down.
“Thinking about taking the easy way back down?” Swan
asked.
“No. I’m thinking being isolated like this might
leave you with a very limited worldview.” Not to mention the
impact of the scarcity of females in Khang Phi. The few there are
belong to an order of celibate nuns who care for the donated
infants, the very old and the very sick. The rest of the population
consists of monks, all of whom were donated and all of whom are
sworn to chastity, too. The more fanatic brothers render themselves
physically incapable of yielding to temptation. Which makes most of
my brothers shudder and consider them more bizarre than
Tobo’s shadowy friends. No soldier likes the thought of
losing his best friend and favorite toy.
“A narrow view can be as much a strength as a weakness,
Liberator,” a voice observed from behind us. We turned.
Sleepy’s friend, Surendranath Santaraksita, was joining us.
The scholar has gone native, adopting local garb and assuming the
Khang Phi haircut—which is no hair at all—but only a deaf and blind
man would take him for a local monk. His skin is more brown and
less translucent than that of any native and his features are
shaped more like mine and Swan’s. “That mist and their
narrowness of vision allows the monks to avoid forming worldly
attachments. Thus their neutrality remains beyond
reproach.”
I did not mention Khang Phi’s one-time role as an
apologist for and collaborator with the reign of the Shadowmasters.
That embarrassing dab of history was being expunged by the acids of
time and relentless lie.
Santaraksita was happy. He was convinced that in this place
learned men did not have to prostitute themselves to temporal
powers in order to remain scholars. He believed even the File of
Nine deferred to the wisdom of the eldest monks. He was unable to
see that if the Nine acquired more power Khang Phi’s
relationship to the File would soon lapse into subservience. Master
Santaraksita is brilliant but naive.
“How’s that?” I asked him.
“These monks are so innocent of the world that they
don’t try to impose anything on it.”
“Yet the File of Nine presume to speak from here.”
The File enjoy issuing bulls which are, more often than not,
ignored by the population and warlords.
“They will, yes. The Elders want them to. In hopes that a
little wisdom will rub off before their power becomes more than
symbolic.”
I said nothing about leading horses to water. I made no
observations concerning the wisdom of backing a cabal of secret
masters in preference to one strongman or the remnant aristocracy
of the Court of All Seasons. I did admit, “It does look like
they’re trying to do what’s best for Hsien. But I
don’t trust anybody who’ll bet their pot on guys who
hide behind masks.” No need to tell him the File have no
secrets from us. Little that they do or discuss goes unremarked by
Tobo’s familiars. None of their identities are secrets to
us.
We operate on the assumption that both the File and the other
warlords have placed spies among our recruits. Which explains why
there is little resistance to our recruiting amongst the Children
of the Dead.
It is not difficult to identify most of the spies. Sleepy shows
them what she wants them to see. Being a spiteful, vengeful little
witch, I am sure she plans to use those spies cruelly at some later
time.
She worries me. She has her own old hatreds to redress but their
objects escaped life unpunished a long time ago. But there is
always the chance she might choose somebody else to take the heat,
which would not be to the Company’s advantage.
I asked Santaraksita, “What did you want?”
“Nothing special.” His face went coolly neutral. He
is Sleepy’s friend. I make him uncomfortable. He has read my
Annals. Despite what Sleepy has dragged him through he cannot yet
come to grips with the cruel realities of our sort of life. I am
sure that he will not go home with us. “I did hope to see
Dorabee again before you went into conference. It could be
important.”
“I don’t know what happened to her. Shiki’s
missing, too. They were supposed to meet us here.” Local
mores made it impossible for women to share quarters with men. Even
Sahra has to room separately from Murgen, though they are legally
married. And Shikhandini’s presence saddled Sahra with
special obligations. She wanted the holy men distracted but not to
the point where they went berserk. Just enough, maybe, so they
would give way on a subtle point or two. Though distraction would
not be Shiki’s principal mission.
Master Santaraksita wrung his hands briefly, then folded his
arms. His hands disappeared into the sleeves of his robe. He was
worried. I looked closer. He knew something. I glanced at Swan.
Swan shrugged.
Murgen and Thai Dei puffed into the room. Murgen demanded,
“Where are they?” Thai Dei looked worried but said
nothing. He would not. The man seldom says anything. It was a pity
his sister could not learn from his example.
Thai Dei knew something, too.
“Haven’t shown yet,” Swan said.
“The File of Nine will be angry,” I added.
“Are Sleepy and Sahra dealing some kind of game?”
Santaraksita backed away nervously. “The Unknowns
aren’t here yet, either.”
My companions were a diverse bunch. Once Sleepy arrived we would
include five races. Six counting Santaraksita as one of us. Sleepy
believes our sheer diversity intimidates the File of Nine.
Sleepy entertains other notions even more strange.
I do not know why she thought cowing them would mean anything.
All we needed from them was their permission to research the
knowledge needed to mend and manipulate shadowgates. The monks of
Khang Phi were willing to share that knowledge. The stronger we
grow the more eagerly the monks want us gone. They are more
frightened of the heresies we propagate than they are of any armies
we might bring back later.
The latter dread keeps the warlords awake at night. But they do
want us gone, too, because the stronger we grow here the more real
and immediate a threat do they perceive. And I do not blame them
for thinking that way. I would do so myself, in their boots. The
entirety of human experiences argues on behalf of suspicion of
strangers laden with weapons.
The womenfolk made their advent. Willow Swan spread his arms
wide and declaimed dramatically, “Where have you been?”
He struck a second pose and tried the line another way. Then he
went with a third. Making fun.
Sahra told Thai Dei, “Your daughter kept flirting with the
acolytes we encountered along the way.”
I glanced at Shiki, frowned. The girl seemed almost ethereal,
not at all vampish. I blinked but the fuzzy quality did not go
away. I blamed my damaged eye. The girl seemed more a distracted
ghost than a boy in disguise having fun with a role.
In Hsien’s eyes Thai Dei passed as Shiki’s father
because it was well known that Sahra had just the one son. Her
brother, Thai Dei, has managed to remain so obscure that even at
the Abode of Ravens the locals never raise a question about the
fact that the seldom-seen Shikhandini would have had to have been
born while her father was buried beneath the plain. Nor did anyone
seem much inclined to ask what had become of the girl’s
mother. She could be dismissed with a few vague, angry mutters.
Shiki was always empty-headed, always in minor trouble, always
considered a threat only to the equilibrium of young men’s
minds.
Shiki solidified. She pouted. She said, “I wasn’t
flirting, Father. I was just talking.” Her words should have
been argumentative but just sounded flat, rote.
“You were told not to speak to the monks. That’s the
law here.”
“But Father . . . ”
The act never stopped once it started. There might be watchers.
But it was an act. And a pretty good one, at least to those of us
unaccustomed to dealing with very young women.
Master Santaraksita kept whispering to Sleepy. He must have said
something she wanted to hear because her face lit up like a beacon.
She did not bother to report to the Annalist, though. These
Captains are all alike. Always playing their hands close to their
chest. Except for me, of course. I was a paragon of openness in my
time.
Thai Dei and his daughter continued to squabble till he issued
some loud diktat in heated Nyueng Bao that left her sulking and
silent.