Electric Sky #29: Mid-Autumn Festival - Part 4/4 (Lin Moniao Series)

[ilthit]

Name: Mid-Autumn Festival - Part 4
Story: Lin Moniao Series (AO3 link)
Colors: Electric Sky #29 (Force of Gravity)
Supplies and Styles: gesso; cartography, chiaroscuro, interactive art, mural
Word Count: 24K
Rating: mature
Warnings: Graphic deadly violence, character death, minor surgery, blackmail, kidnapping, body horror, suicide, poison, murder, betrayal, grief.
Summary: The sect is honored with an invitation to the palace.
Note: Co-written with minutia_r. Also available in full and with illustrations on AO3 here. This part includes chapters 10-13 (differently numbered on AO3).

*

Chapter Ten: Escape

Notes: This chapter contains a minor surgery.


Shouts ring out from the front of the house, and a crash from the back--there have been several crashes, as the guards try to break their way out of the room they were jammed in, but everything has been happening so quickly, it barely registered. Mu Liqiang touches Lin Moniao's shoulder, pulls at it. "Shixiong, we have to go, now."

Heng Wanxue looks back at the scared child tied up in his own robes, back towards the sounds, twirling in place, undecided. Then she grabs Xiao Mao's arm and tries to pull him up. "Come on, kid, you can't stay here. Look at you, you're covered in his blood."

He yanks his arm back. "Stay away from me!" His hand is still holding the dagger, and he swipes at her blindly. It cuts through her dark trousers and leaves a red line on her thigh.

"Fuck! Shit! Alright, have it your way!" She hops away from him and breaks into a slightly hobbled run towards the window. "Come on, come on, come on!!"

Lin Moniao blinks up at Mu Liqiang and staggers to his feet. When Heng Wanxue calls, he follows her, moving like a sleepwalker, but moving.

Xiao Mao leans back over Shi Minhua's body, shaking him, putting his hand over the wound in is neck, calling for his master. Mu Liqiang half-pushes Lin Moniao out through the window and into a run down the narrow alleyway.

There is the shape of a man with his face covered running up to meet them, but he stops when he sees them, and after a moment turns and starts running back. Once back out of the darkness of the alley, they recognize the expensive, somber robes Master Wu had selected for this outing and his cover story. "Hurry up," he calls sternly, herding them all out to the street.

One carriage is already riding down the street, the other is still waiting, the doors open for them to pile into. Further, beyond the canal, someone has begun playing cymbals in the park. Inside the house, even through the thick walls, they can hear a commotion of shouts, but no-one is coming out:

Lin Moniao woke up a little more at the sound of his master's voice; by the time they reach the carriage, he almost feels like himself again. His mother is reaching down to pull him inside, and he slides in next to her, talking over each other as Mu Liqiang and Heng Wanxue squeeze into the opposite seat.

"That man insisted I stay behind--"

"It was already done, there was nothing you could--"

"--very inconsiderate, when you might have been--"

"--fine, truly, I'm alright--"

At last they wind down enough to take turns. He squeezes her arm and she kisses his forehead, heedless for once of her makeup and the bloodstains. "You will be glad to know," she says, "that your young healer brought all her charges to the other carriage without incident; they are on their way to safety now."

He sighs and relaxes against the seat. "I am. Very glad." Shen Shanwei is safe--from one enemy, anyway--and the juniors are safe, and Ran Ah is avenged, and Shi Jia doesn't need to be afraid anymore. And Mo Yun and Mo Henshui are together. Maybe it wasn't Lin Moniao's job to make that right, but he has, and it is.

It's only then that he notices the cut on Heng Wanxue's leg. "Peony, you're hurt," he says, stricken. When did that happen, and how did he not see?

"I'm not, M--I'm not, it's just a scratch," she rushes to reassure him. She melts back into the shadows, to give mother and son space, but there's not much further to go unless she wants to sit on Mu Liqiang's lap. She knew Zhu Chen at a different time, and now does not know quite how to behave around her. But she is shaking too, not from the cut, which has already stopped bleeding, but from the rush still coursing through her body.

She bumps into Mu Liqiang, who puts an arm around her shoulder and squeezes her to his side.

Time has been on their side. The guards inside did not see the carriages; the guards outside did not know of any trouble until they had already passed; and by the time anyone pays attention, they are gone. Any delay, and things could have ended very differently.

Even so, Lin Moniao is down a Blood Sparrow.

--

The carriage lurches through the city streets. Shi Jia is driving it at a good pace, only just slow enough not to attract attention. Inside, Yi Zifan is hemmed in with the former prisoners and Mo Henshui, who has not yet stopped touching his son's shoulders and head, openly weeping. Mo Yun lets him, tired and dazed with pain as he must be.

The boys cling to each other like brothers; the old man is hugging himself, occasionally making a confused noise. The older brother, pale and plain but strongly built, wipes his eyes and points at the old man. "His name is Silvio. He has something in his neck. Can you help him?"

Back at Shi Minhua's house, Yi Zifan had checked the prisoners for any obvious injuries or poisoning; there hadn't been time to do more. She leans over to the old man now and the first thing she senses is a block in his energies. Taking his hands to get a clearer feel--it's like a dam, one that has been in place for some time, his qi, like a river system, long since having found pathways to reroute around it. Afterwards, feeling the back of his neck, it's almost unsurprising to find something hard and metallic lodged there.

"Oh, how gruesome," she says, fascinated. "I didn't know you could do that. I'm surprised he isn't dead. I think it'd better wait until I have more light, and we're stopped, before I try anything. It may be like pulling an arrow from a wound--if it's not done carefully, it can be more fatal than the shot itself."

The older brother sniffs. He hasn't cried, neither of the boys has, but he's not far from it. "They took something from all of us. Like Xiao Erha's tongue. It's just not always obvious. Where are we going?"

"There's a restaurant that hides a tunnel leading outside the city. I understand there are people at the other end waiting to help you--or rather, waiting to help Mo Henshui and Mo Yun. We didn't plan for--we knew there were other prisoners, but we didn't know what to expect, exactly. Do you have anywhere to go? Presumably, like Mo Yun, you were being held as leverage against somebody. You could go back to them."

"We have family." He sniffs again, face twisting with the effort of staying strong. The younger brother looks up at him questioningly, and he smiles and signs to the boy. "They are in Shandong. Silvio came from Shanghai." He puts a hand over his mouth to hide his lips and asks, "Won't they just come and get us again, though? Won't they kill us all? Who are you?"

"They're friends," Mo Henshui says. "They'll get you back to your family. Who is your father?"

"Long Yang of the Dragon Clan."

"Oh! Then he may be in the capital for the festival. Representatives of a lot of sects are, and they all want antidotes, and they all think their explanations for why they want antidotes are interesting. Does he want you back?" Yi Zifan says, a moment before it occurs to her that it's an indelicate question to ask. "That is... um."

The youth looks a little crestfallen. "We hope so. Maybe he's forgotten us."

"He hasn't," Mo Henshui interjects. "I promise you he hasn't." He looks a little alarmed, however, and casts a worried look at Yi Zifan.

A voice comes from the front of the carriage; Shi Jia. "Long Yang is in town, guaranteed. The boys can stay here. Everyone, get changed, we're almost there."

Even as he speaks, the carriage is slowing down. Here, closer to the looming wall, the streets are more crowded as the area filled with restaurants and inns bustles with the late crowd.

"Oh, yes," Yi Zifan says, hunting for the bundle of spare clothes they brought along. They knew they would likely need something for Mo Yun, so there's a plain gray robe in his size, which Yi Zifan hands to Mo Henshui. The rest is a random jumble of sizes, styles, and colors, whatever could be scrounged up that wouldn't draw too much attention, but Silvio and the older Long-gongzi should be able to find something. The younger one may have to stay as he is. They didn't think to bring anything for a child.

The carriage comes to a stop on a busy street. There is no hiding the younger brother's bare feet, though with a little dusting down and straightening up, he can pass for a servant boy, but the others look presentable and nondescript enough.

Shi Jia opens the front from the driver's side and leans into the carriage to speak in a low tone to Yi Zifan. "Their family and relatives are staying at the Golden Dragonfly Inn. They took the whole inn. If you drop them off there, do not stay to answer questions. Otherwise--maybe Master Wu Zhenghao can do this more... diplomatically." Then he says more loudly, "Mo Henshui, Mo Yun--we're here. Let's go."

"Just a moment." Yi Zifan lights the lantern in the carriage and opens her medical kit on the floor between her feet. She puts her hand on the back of Silvio's neck. "I'm going to try to take this out, if I can do it without hurting you," she says, although she's not sure he understands. But he must have communicated with the brothers somehow, for them to know his name and where he comes from, mustn't he?

It's a metal spike embedded in his neck, somewhat thicker than an acupuncture needle. It doesn't seem shaped to be removed, so it's hard to get a good grasp on it. In her other hand, she holds a bandage, bracing herself against his back and ready to apply pressure to the area immediately if there's any blood. She matches her breathing to his, gathering her energies to send him healing, and to push his own back into his body if they try to escape. She closes her eyes for a moment, opens them, and yanks, with a sickening scrape of metal on bone.

"Ahh!" She had a good enough grasp on him that he doesn't quite headbutt her with the back of his head. A little blood spurts out, but no more than a cut, and he does not fall in a boneless puddle, but reaches up to touch his neck with shaking hands. His qi will take some time to learn to flow freely again, but she's done it. "Thank you," he says with a heavy accent, his tones shaky.

Shi Jia's expression is dark as he hops off the driver's seat, opens the door and holds a hand out respectfully to Silvio. "Come, Uncle."

Mo Henshui also offers his thanks, and supports his son out of the carriage, and the three of them cross the street over to the lights of the inn.

Yi Zifan acknowledges the thanks absently, most of her attention taken by the spike that she drew out of Silvio's neck. "What a curious thing," she says softly to herself, turning it one way and another.

Finally she wrenches her attention away and wraps it in a scrap of cloth, tucking it into her medical kit with a few other interesting items she carries with her, a fraction of her full collection. Then she looks up at the two boys from the Dragon Clan.

She's sure Master Wu would handle this more diplomatically. She herself has no training in diplomacy, no knack for it, and very little interest in it either. But they want to go to their father, and they believe he wants them, so what else needs to be said?

"From here on," she says, "I don't know anything of what happened tonight; I'm only someone who was hired to drive you. If everything's alright at the inn--send a servant to pay off the driver. Otherwise I'll know something is wrong."

Probably Shi Jia was right that she should just drive away. It's one thing to make up a simple lie, and another to tell it convincingly to anyone who might question her. But she won't feel easy unless she knows that they've really reached safety.

The older boy nods and signs to his brother. "Thank you," says the younger brother.

The Golden Dragonfly is not difficult to find; in fact, it is difficult to miss. It stands very near the center, one of the last inns before the zone of finer houses around the palace, and takes up an entire block by itself. It doesn't go so far as to paint itself imperial yellow, but the bright tones that run around its sides and the sign above the wide central door suggest that it restrains itself at some cost. It is the most ostentatious inn in the city. The lower half on the right is still lit, as that is the restaurant, but the rooms above are dark.

The boys say goodbye to Yi Zifan, squeeze her hands, and make their way up to the inn's door. From the shadows on the roadside, she can see the older one argue with the man at the door, before they are let in.

Time passes. The lights in the restaurant start to go out; many night-time establishments in the street leading from here down to the main gate have already gone dark. Then, as she waits, the door bursts open and three strong-looking men with swords by their sides rush out, hands on the hilts of their swords, dressed in maroon robes with thick leather belts like soldiers. One points to the carriage and shouts, and they all run down the steps towards Yi Zifan.

Should she drive away? Should she get help? How many houses can she expect Lin Moniao and his friends to break into tonight, because she made a miscalculation? If they're even--if they're still--

In the end, she does nothing, only sits on the driver's seat of the carriage, trying to look like a driver, and waits for the men to come.

When they come, they don't pay her or ask any questions. One of them yanks open the carriage door to check inside while another jumps up on the driver's foot-rest and grabs her arm. "Are you the one who brought Long-gongzi's sons? Get up! You're coming with us."

Instinctively, she jerks her arm away. That's wrong, a driver wouldn't fight, would they? But it might be too late for that already, they'll find her things, and how can she explain them?

She could still run. But if she was going to do that, she should have done it already. She's already left Lin Moniao and Heng Wanxue and Mu Liqiang. She's not going to leave anyone else tonight.

Once the man sees she is cooperating, his grip on her arm loosens, but they still herd her firmly inside, flanking her on each side. A finely dressed servant is waiting with a lamp inside the door, and lights the way upstairs, and to a set of rooms on the third floor.

The crowded reception room is lit with several lamps. Long Yang's sons are there--a well dressed gongzi has an arm around each of them. He bears a striking resemblance to the younger boy. This, then, could be their father, though if so, he married young.

There are several martial looking men in the room, another young gongzi, and an older man in splendid maroon and gold robes, who would be still handsome if it wasn't for his smile, unnaturally wide and filled with pointed teeth.

"You are the one who brought them?" the first young gentleman demands. "Where did you find them? Who paid you?"

The older boy looks embarrassed, and shakes his head at Yi Zifan.

A guard pushes Yi Zifan forward and down, indicating she should bow low.

Yi Zifan stumbles forward before falling to her knees. She reaches for her beads at her left wrist, but they're not there--she left them behind with her uniform and everything else identifying, except for her medical kit, because she needs that.

It's not that she resents showing respect to the head of a clan; it's only that she hates being manhandled.

With her gaze on the floor, she tries to remember what she saw at first, to make sense of it. The boys aren't being treated as prisoners. They're in the arms of their father--or some other relative--they're fine. Shi Jia is clever and he knows how to act, and she should have listened to him. But how could she, without knowing--even now, how can she know--is the older boy only apologetic that she'd been picked up, or is he trying to tell her that there's something worse wrong?

"It was at a park by the canal. There was a party of stargazers," she stammers. "He--was unremarkable. He covered his face. He didn't give a name. I was told the boys' father was here."

All of that is what someone who really was who she's claiming to be would say, isn't it? And none of it is exactly false. Maybe they'll take her confusion for simple fear in the presence of such great men.

The young boy tugs at his father's sleeve. "Where is mother?"

"Not now, A-Xie," says Long Yang, but he doesn't sign, and the boy keeps looking up at him, not understanding. "Which park? I need to know who did this to my sons!"

"Don't you know already, Long Yang?" Though it shouldn't be possible, the old lord's smile grows even wider, sharp teeth gleaming in the lamplight. "Now it makes sense why you haven't brought your wife and children around to the manor in the past two years. Why don't you tell us who's had you on a leash this whole time?"

"Father!" Long Yang stiffens.

"You are a fool and a weakling, Long Yang. If it had been you and one of your brothers, I would have let you rot."

Long Yang throws his father a look of unguarded hatred, but Long Dawang is no longer paying him attention. He has turned to Yi Zifan. "You, if you see this 'unremarkable man' again, tell him--" He stops to laugh. "Tell him well done, and to try that again at his peril."

Yi Zifan presses her forehead to the floor and doesn't answer in words. Are they letting her go? She's seen how it is, anyway, and it doesn't look like the boys can be usefully rescued any further.

"Take her out."

A pair of rough hands pick her up and half push her out the door. She is marched back to the front door and shoved out, and the doors close behind her with finality.

Outside the inn, Yi Zifan straightens her shoulders. She doesn't have her beads, but she still has the words in her mind. "By the power of the Buddha," she recites through clenched teeth, "all will be able to see the land of purity as if one were looking at one's own face in a clear mirror..."

It takes several repetitions before she feels ready to return to the carriage and drive.

Chapter Eleven: The Imperial Banquet

Notes: This chapter contains murder, and somewhat graphic depiction of murdered corpses and the handling thereof.


An imperial banquet is about display. Having witnessed the excesses of the finest houses in Kaifeng, from golden plates and cups, to finely embroidered blankets casually tossed aside, and masterful paintings rifled by ink-stained childish hands, any guests here would say still there is nothing to compare to the palace--and that's how it should be. It would be a travesty for a mere merchant or landowner to outshine the Son of Heaven, the favorite of the gods and the linchpin of the world.

Before the forbidden inner palace lie four courtyards and four successive gates. In the morning of the Mid-Autumn Festival, the first courtyard is jammed full of guests and their servants, with carts and carriages of presents ready to be presented to the emperor. They have passed the first gate, but the second will not open until the Emperor and Empress return from the temple of Chang'e outside the city, where they have been paying their respects since early morning. Then, there is to be a reception in the second courtyard, and only once every contingent's representatives have presented themselves will they be able to follow the emperor through to the grand reception hall for the banquet.

The day, to the relief of many clad in delicate fabrics with complex hairpieces and combs, is dry; the sun almost uncomfortably bright, but the air with a touch of autumn's crisp.

Even as they wait, the guests have formed their own blocs: the landowners in one corner, bureaucrats in another, and the sects eyeing each other in a third. The Illustrious Qilin Villa has arrived with one carriage proudly painted black and red with a green parrot on each side. The sect leader and God are hiding within, the latter in His golden cage. The others arrived on horseback, but will be entering the second courtyard on foot, in procession.

The blocs are not absolute; even now, Master Wu can be seen chatting companionably with a man in an official's hat here, while across the ornamental spring, a landowner is warmly greeting his son, now a Dragon Clan disciple.

It isn't the first time Lin Moniao has been inside the Palace precincts; Master Wu brought him along to a meeting with officials a few days ago. But he's hardly visited often enough to be inured to its splendors, and it's much more crowded with fine people than he's seen it before. He hooks his thumbs into his belt to stop himself from trying to fix his hair, which is done up in a heavier hairpiece than he's used to so that he can't quite ignore its weight. But his mother is here too, in a splendid gown of green and gold to match the sect leader, and though she's not looking at him now, he's sure her unerring senses would inform her if he tried to disturb her work by touching his hair.

The last few days have been spent in frantic preparation, while trying--with varying success--to make it look like the only thing they were preparing for was the festival. Shi Jia is on the way to his family home with his uncle's body, and a few Qilin Villa disciples as a courtesy escort. Lin Moniao only hopes Shi Jia won't be too upset with him when he works out why, but Master Wu said to get the noncombatants out of the city, and that includes Shi Jia as well as the younger disciples. Another group has been dispatched to the talented painter outside the city to pick up some commissioned flower paintings.

(Wu Zhenghao had also thought that the group of noncombatants included Zhu Chen. She had respectfully but firmly disagreed.)

Escape routes for those who couldn't leave before the festival have been secured--hopefully. All the servants of the God have been put on alert, ready to break up into smaller groups and disperse if the order is given. Everything is as ready as they can make it. It all depends on what happens here, today.

Lin Moniao's eye travels over the rest of the sects milling around in the courtyard. Off in one corner, the physicians of the Ancient Willow Sect seem unimpressed by the pomp surrounding them. Yi Zifan is dressed more formally than he has ever seen her, her robes still plain black, but of a finer make and fabric, long enough to sweep the ground. Some attempt has even been made to put up her hair, but it's still too short and has fallen in front of her face once more. She has a faraway look in her eyes and doesn't notice his approach until he's nearly on top of her.

"It is terribly dull, isn't it?" he says sympathetically.

She rewards him with a slight smile. "Have you heard anything from Heng Wanxue?"

"No, but even if she successfully broke through, she wouldn't have come out of seclusion until later this morning, and there's no way a message from her would have reached me before I had to leave. I'm sure she'll be alright," he says, as much to reassure himself as Yi Zifan.

The Ancient Willow masters are as bored as their disciples, and Master Luo has actually started to read a book, while Master Kun is playing some kind of a finger-game with his favorite disciple. Master Xuan leans in with more interest than she is likely to show on any day when she has to be mindful not to fidget or get the hems of her robes muddy. "Of course, breakthroughs are always risky. If your friend develops any interesting side effects, you should bring her around to me this time. I had a man come in once with nine-tenths of his skin turned to scales."

"Scales," Lin Moniao says, his eyes widening. That's one he didn't even think to worry about! Well, Heng Wanxue has gotten used to the scar, she can get used to scales, probably. Lin Moniao puts his hands together. "Master Xuan is very generous; I will be sure to consult her if the situation calls for it."The sun is moving towards its zenith; no-one knows quite how much longer it will be. Some late-comers are still entering through the gate, including a carriage with a family crest that looks like its wheels were polished in a hurry.

A hubbub travels through the yard, and a guard up above on the wall signals down. More guards stream in from the gate to push the guests aside and make way. The warriors in the blue and gold of the Immortal Sword Manor arrange themselves beautifully behind their mistress, who dusts herself off and lifts her chin. One poor landowner cannot seem to get his servants, his sons, or the ornate silver elephant they have brought as a gift out of the way fast enough, and the guards pick up his servants bodily to shove them back away from the gate. The time for any disorder is over. The imperial couple's retinue has arrived.

Carriage after carriage, each flanked by guards in glistening armor, pass through the guests, and though they may crane their necks, they will not see more than a hint of imperial yellow as the couple disembarks and enters the second courtyard.

More waiting, and then the first of the guests is called up with their gifts. Then another, and another. Of the sects, nobody is surprised to see the Immortal Sword Manor go first, their blue and gold outfits resplendent in the sunlight, their gifts in five different boxes.

"We didn't bring five boxes of gifts," says Master Wu quietly aside to Niu Liling, who has been forced by protocol to exit the safe confines of the carriage.

"Quality over quantity," she replies, lifting her chin to match the proud carriage of the Sword Goddess mounting the stairs to the inner gate. "We brought a God."

But the God isn't a present--they can't simply give Him to the emperor, nor would they if they could. But Master Wu and the sect leader know that as well as Lin Moniao does, and he can't contradict the masters in public, and besides--

Between the Shadow Manual, the Obsidian Bat, the Shadow Moon Crown, and one of the Blood Sparrows, Lin Moniao has lost more treasures for the sect than he has gained, which is another reason for him to keep his mouth shut.

The Illustrious Qilin Villa is presented after the Leng-Piaos; fair--they are numerically the smallest sect invited today, barring Five Phoenix Manor, who come after them. The carriage must be left behind here. There is a rather satisfying susurrus in the crowd as Mu Liqiang and Yu Long fetch the God's cage from the carriage, but it is, of course, hooded and covered.

Mu Liqiang is grim and quiet, focusing on his task. This is an honor that his father and mother will be proud to hear of. Yu Long, on his part, has a distant look in his eyes, which is not at all like him; not even when he has been bored by a morning of waiting around.

On the second courtyard, at the top of the stairs to the reception hall and before the open doors, the imperial couple sits on two thrones underneath a canopy erected at the foot of the stairs, made of resplendent cloth. In earlier years, they may have stood, but the emperor is getting on in years; this, of course, is not mentioned. Presents already crowd the area around them, and those already greeted have been shunted to the sides to wait. They are tended to by servants, and many steps behind them stand five of the royal princes.

Niu Liling approaches when called, Master Wu behind her, and Mu Liqiang and Yu Long following carrying the cage. Another two sect brothers carry the presents, and finally, bringing up the rear are Lin Moniao and Zhu Chen.

The empress leans forward at the sect's approach, her hand going to her husband's wrist for a moment before she resumes official stiffness, though she is still smiling.

The whole retinue bows, touching their foreheads to the ground three times, before they are given leave to rise and approach. The sect leader speaks for all of them, offering formal words of praise and supplication, and the presents are brought forward: a painted screen, very fine, depicting a festival scene, and a set of jewels from Ningbo, showcasing delicate artistry. The Dragon Clan could probably afford a dozen of them, but at least it shows taste. It speaks of the emperor's good breeding that he accepts them with such good nature.

"Bring Him forward," the empress says at last, unable to damp down her enthusiasm any longer.

Yu Yanlong, as the eldest sect member apart from the master and the sect leader, has the honor of lifting the cloth from the God's cage. Even the princes stand up straighter, and there is an audible shift among the guests as they stand back.

The God ruffles His feathers and takes a few steps along the peg, adjusting Himself to the light and wakefulness.

The empress sits back, disappointed. "It's only a regular parrot."

Beauty Niu smiles behind her veil, and speaks with her dusky voice, "If your Eminence will permit this lowly one." She bows and retreats to the cage, opening the door and letting the God hop on to her arm. With her formal dress, she has abandoned the shoulder harness she usually wears for Him, and Lin Moniao is standing close enough to see her smile tighten for a moment as the God's claws sink into the silken sleeve of her gown. She brings Him closer and holds Him out to the empress.

The empress looks doubtful, but with a glance at her husband, holds out her hand as well, swallowed up in heavy robes. The God hops over, leans close, and speaks quietly to her.

The empress laughs, then holds Him out to her husband. The princes step closer, too.

Lin Moniao feels a pinprick of irritation and breathes deeply, trying not to let it grow into anything stronger. Not here, not now... but the God isn't a toy, He's the God.

Knowing that Bureau Four, and Shi Minhua, belonged to the empress, Lin Moniao had been afraid that she meant to use this meeting somehow, like Ran Ah's dagger, to implicate the sect in her own crimes. But now he's afraid of something else.

He knows the God isn't a gift. So do the sect leader and Master Wu. But does the empress know that? And what will they do if she doesn't, or chooses to ignore it?

The emperor smiles and holds up his hand, declining the offer of parrot.

"What is he saying, Mother?" says the youngest prince, young enough to dare to step up to the imperial couple and speak informally.

"He says you did not show up for your archery lessons yesterday, and instead climbed around on the walls and roofs, and gave the cooks a fright, and that I should pinch your ear."

"Not true," the young prince protests, but by the flush on his face, perhaps it is.

"Hear it yourself, then." She holds the God up, and hisses as He passes across her little white hand, unused to being clawed.

Far from being bothered about being treated like a toy, the God seems delighted, going from one exalted shoulder to another, speaking secrets in noble ears and making the princes scoff, smile or recoil according to their nature.

Beauty Niu smiles, too, until He hops on to one particular prince, one of the older ones, and her gaze grows cold and rigid. She turns her eyes demurely down, and when the God has done His rounds, collects Him with proper humility. He goes back into his cage and out of sight, and Yu Long and Mu Liqiang pick up his cage again.

The empress is beaming, and the emperor himself has a hint of a smile on his lips, as the Qilin Villa Sect joins the others still waiting as the next group comes up, struggling under their heavy chests of treasures.

"That went well," Master Wu mutters.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Lin Moniao can only nod in agreement, taking his place with the rest of the sect. And yet, and yet--something is bound to break, if not now, then later. He would almost rather get it over with.

Mu Liqiang puts a hand on Lin Moniao's shoulder and squeezes it reassuringly, smiling down at him. Lin Moniao covers the hand on his shoulder with his own with a slightly guilty start; he isn't the one who needs it. "Look after Yu-shixiong," he whispers.

Niu Liling peeks under the cloth of the God's cage, conversing with him in quiet, reassuring tones; it would be disrespectful to say they are exchanging endearments, but it would not be far from the truth. "Yu Yanlong, he is thirsty," she says as she withdraws, and resumes her poise while Yu Long tends to the matter of watering and grooming a parrot in a playful mood.

All waiting must end eventually. The emperor's retinue picks up and files into the reception hall, and soon after officials signal for everyone else to enter.

The hall is arranged in a strict order, with rows of tables for two facing the dais on which the emperor's meal has been laid. Hierarchy dictates who is seated where, with each guest permitted one servant to stand behind them and another waiting in the sidelines to fetch and carry whatever they might need. In addition, the food will be brought in course by course, and wine poured wherever it has run out, by Palace servants. There is some initial chaos as everyone gets settled down and whoever isn't supposed to be there is sent back down to the courtyard, to be shown out into the first, public courtyard to go home or wait for the feast to conclude.

After Niu Liling and Wu Zhenghao have been seated, the God joins them, and Yu Long is sent away with his cage, to clean and maintain it until it is needed again, and wait for instructions. Lin Moniao will accompany Master Wu; and Zhu Chen will stay by the sect leader.

From her place at the sect leader's shoulder, Zhu Chen looks around the room before meeting Lin Moniao's eye in suppressed excitement. She's been told there will be danger--no more than that, being neither a master of the sect nor singled out by the God, nor even a full sect member--and she's clever enough to understand what their preparations mean. It isn't that she's heedless, but in ordinary times attending a holiday banquet at the palace would be enough to give her consequence in her social circles for months, and even now he can see her memorizing the decorations, the list of guests, the details of how everyone is dressed, and storing them up to tell later.

Many of the other guests are doing the same. Leng Ban and Piao Qingzhao are seated as far apart from one another as they can at a joint table, and even as Zhu Chen watches, she can see the wife turn dagger eyes on her husband over some comment he made to a server. On another table, Liu Xiuling sits alone at a table, which must be some form of provocation, while four of her senior disciples take two more tables.

The Qilin Villa Sect contingent is seated between the Five Phoenix Manor and a number of important Palace officials. Conversation floats in from around them as a door opens somewhere and the first course of dishes is brought in. "...Shi Minhua. You really didn't hear? Killed by burglars."

"...There's a restaurant in Ao Town that claims to rival Yang Yu's... It does not."

"...Those tracts of land would be tempting to any would-be minor king..."

Though he trusts he keeps it off his face, Lin Moniao can't help but feel a burst of pride when he hears the gossip about Shi Minhua. He does good work, and part of that work is no one knowing he has done it. It is, admittedly, somewhat annoying--but somehow the thought that whatever happens today is likely to be loud and public is not exactly reassuring either.

His mother shakes her head incredulously. "Can you believe what they're saying about Yang Yu's? It's a good thing she isn't here to hear it. I have been to Ao Town, and I can tell you--" As she speaks, she leans closer and her voice gets lower, until she is whispering, loud enough for him and the masters to hear, but no one else. "I feel that some of the servers are hovering rather suspiciously around the sects, and I don't believe I'm the only one who's noticed. Piao Qingzhao is quite put out. The Sword Goddess, on the other hand, is looking pleased... didn't you say that Long Ren's secretary told you he wasn't invited to the banquet? Nonetheless, there he is, attending his father, who seems to be looking at your Ancient Willow friend in a way I don't quite like. It was rather imprudent of her to let herself be seen."

"Good eye," Master Wu mutters over his shoulder. "The servers would be additional security--but is it the eunuch's or the young prince's? Moniao, can your friend handle herself or should we warn her?"

The sect leader addresses Master Wu at a volume for just the four of them. "If the Dragon Clan thinks Ancient Willow had something to do with the burglary at Shi Minhua's, will they assume it was a commission?"

Master Wu shakes his head briefly; can't tell.

Over at the Dragon Clan's crew, they can see Long Dawang lean towards his young attendant--son--and whisper something; Long Ren nods and goes over to the table of one of his brothers, and leans in to whisper.

"She can handle herself," Lin Moniao says, but uncertainly, because, in truth, it depends on the situation. When they had all reconvened that night, under cover of returning the rented carriages, they hadn't dared to linger together longer than it took to make sure that everyone was accounted for and healthy, and that their objectives had been accomplished. Shi Jia had told them that the two boys were Dragon Clan, and Yi Zifan, arriving last of all, had only said she had conducted them safely to their father. Now Lin Moniao wishes he had asked more, if not then, then in the days since.

"Her master is also quite a formidable person, and she... has pointedly refrained from curiosity about our activities, but Yi Zifan tells me she has gotten her out of serious scrapes before," Lin Moniao adds. "Still, I would like to warn her, if only it wouldn't do more harm than good. I doubt we could do it without drawing notice."

Master Wu glances to the back of the reception hall, where Mu Liqiang is making conversation with disciples from other sects. There are three of them leaning in on something he is showing them on the palm of his hand, then breaking apart, one of them laughing. "We could try--swap you with Yu Long, swap her with another Ancient Willow disciple, and deliver the message that way--but let's not. If they approach her, then we act. It will be interesting to see if they will."

The conversation must come to a stop there, as a server approaches with a tray, laying bowls of three different kinds of soups--seaweed, shark fin and grouper fish--before the guests.

Lin Moniao nods. After all, Dragon Clan ought to be grateful to Yi Zifan, if anything. But he keeps a careful eye on the Dragon Clan, even though he's really supposed to be serving the masters.

The God disdains the soups, but accepts a snack of dried dates in a paper bag from the sect leader's pocket.

After the first course, plates keep coming and being taken away. No one comes for Yi Zifan, though there is movement from one table to another as friends come greet one another and exchange gossip. Leng Ban raises his glass at Wu Zhenghao, who makes to rise and go to him, but their timing is not great--a cymbal crashes, and dancers file in at that point in flowing dresses over silk trousers, fairy-like beauties with delicate scarves trailing from their wrists as they twirl in formation to the music of erhu and flute, punctuated by percussion. Master Wu sits back down.

There isn't much to do other than watch and eat.

Zhu Chen notices an unusual motion from the corner of her eye, up towards the center of the dais. Prince Zhao Fei has jerked forward over his table, but even as she watches, he straightens himself up and raises a hand to calm down his attendant, who had rushed forward.

The cymbals crash, the dancers twirl. A server approaches Zhao Fei with a note. He stands up, pausing for a moment by his table with a hand on his stomach, then follows the server out of the room towards the foyer, and out of sight.

Zhu Chen leans over the masters, making some small adjustment to the table service. "Zhao Fei seems unwell," she whispers tersely.

Lin Moniao goes still for a moment, remembering what Master Wu said about the crown prince poisoning himself. Then he casts an anxious glance around the room. Of the Qilin Villa delegation, four of them are here--five, if you count the God--in plain sight of everyone the whole time, with no chance to have done anything untoward. Is Mu Liqiang still on the side of the room, surrounded by Dragon Clan disciples who can vouch for what he's been doing? And where is Yu Long?

Yu Long is there, as quiet and unhappy as he has been the whole day. Even if he or Mu Liqiang stepped aside when they weren't watching, none of them have been anywhere near Zhao Fei.

Another prince speaks to a server, rises and leaves, also towards the foyer.

Master Wu and Niu Liling look at one another. "Nobody move," Master Wu says. "Not yet."

"They will try to trap you," the God says casually in a voice none of them recognize, until a server approaches and speaks sweetly in the same voice.

"Masters, Prince Kai would like to speak with you," she says, holding out a folded note.

"I see." Master Wu blows out a breath, and falls into thought.

What can they do? A summons like this should not be ignored. Niu Liling shifts uncomfortably. Finally, Wu Zhenghao says, "I can hardly present myself in front of the prince with this soup stain on my sleeve. Please bring us a bowl of clear water and a saponin bar, so I can clean myself before I answer the summons."

The server looks nonplussed, and tries again, "The Prince would like to see you now, please."

"Do you presume to know proper conduct better than this master?" Wu Zhenghao snaps. "Fetch me what I asked for."

The server hesitates, but bows and retreats, hurrying away. "Lin Moniao, go tell Mu Liqiang and Yu Long to remain in sight. I suspect this is what Shi Minhua wanted Ran Ah's dagger for."

"Yes, shifu."

Don't go and take me with you both die on Lin Moniao's lips. He knows his duty. He bows a little lower than is strictly necessary even in this formal setting and goes to do as he's told.

Unavailable.

It might be the last time Lin Moniao sees his master, and he can't even touch him. Can't say anything that's in his heart.

He catches Lin Moniao's sleeve just as he's about to go. "Don't stay with them. Stand by the sect leader."

"Zhenghao," Niu Liling says, pleading. The God nuzzles her hand comfortingly.

"I'll be careful."

With another brief bow, Lin Moniao finds Yu Long and draws him over to where Mu Liqiang is standing. "Shifu has been summoned by Prince Kai. He says, stay in sight. He will..." With one hand on each of their arms, he gives them a squeeze. He wants to tell them shifu will be alright--it's the sort of optimistic lie that generally comes so easily to him--but he can't make himself say it now. Dropping his voice, he says, "He will take care of us. And I will take care of you. I promise."

Yu Long clutches his arm. "Don't go back. You have to stop--my prophecy."

Mu Liqiang, who fobbed off his new friends to join the huddle, tells him, "I'll be here, shixiong. I'll protect you. Lin-shixiong, it's alright."

At the table, the servant returns with water. Wu Zhenghao makes a show of dabbing at his sleeve, dropping the bar of saponin, using too much water and needing that wiped off. The pair of officials in the next chair snickers as the servant tries her best to help. The dancers finish on a beautiful formation and bow deep in the emperor's direction, to murmurs of appreciation and a gentle round of applause.

Lin Moniao stops, looking from Yu Long to the table with the masters and his mother, feeling sick. Is he really going to break his promise to Yu Long in the same breath as he made it? Will it really doom Yu Long if he goes, or save him if he stays?

Can a prophecy be stopped?

"I need to stay with the sect leader," Lin Moniao says, but he still doesn't move. "What can I do, shixiong? What do you need?"

In the meantime, back at the table, Zhu Chen leans in to whisper in the sect leader's ear, while Wu Zhenghao is making such a distracting fuss over his sleeve. "I confess I don't know what's going on. But if you are truly concerned--didn't the prince ask for both masters? Surely he would not be so indelicate as to deprive a fine lady of her attendant. And--I do have my small way with words."

Wu Zhenghao's eyes shift in her direction, but he shakes his head firmly no.

"There," he says loudly to the attendant, setting the bowl aside. "Ready. Now all this master needs to do is exchange a few words with my dear friend, Sect Leader Chen, and I will be with you momentarily." He rises, though Niu Liling's gaze follows him anxiously, and crosses over to the table of Five Phoenix Manor.

Chen Ye, the Phoenix Empress of Mingshui, a venerable lady dressed well but not ostentatiously, looks up with regal dignity as Master Wu makes his way to her table, the servant hurrying behind.

Elsewhere, Yu Long speaks quietly into Lin Moniao's ear, "The prophecy said I'm going to do something... I don't want it to happen. You are stronger than me now, you can stop me." The rule against sharing prophecies is absolute. Yu Long is already toeing close to the line.

The servants are lined up against the wall nearest to the great doors, now thrown open, that lead to the wide foyer, so Lin Moniao is close enough to notice the servants back up and bow as a prince walks back into the reception hall, trailed by a pale-faced bodyguard. It is Zhao Kai, and he stops to sweep his eye across the line of servants, fixing on the black and red uniforms of the Illustrious Qilin Villa. He taps the bodyguard's shoulder and points at them.

Mu Liqiang turns his head and listens as the bodyguard approaches them; before he gets there, Mu Liqiang says quietly, "There are guards coming up the stairs."

The reception hall is far from unguarded; apart from the loyal warriors of Immortal Sword Manor, there are a few guards at the door to the hall, and the personal bodyguards of the emperor and empress, in plain clothes, are seated behind them along with the food-tasters and attendants. But there were more below in the barracks, and now that Mu Liqiang has pointed it out, Lin Moniao can hear the sound of feet marching in time up the grand staircase.

"Then come with me," he tells Yu Long. They can send his mother to the side, if necessary, to avoid breaching protocol--but how much will a small breach of protocol matter, when there are guards marching up the stairs?

Prince Kai was the one who invited all the sects here. Surely he didn't do it just to finish them all off? Surely, if it came to that--the Empire couldn't.

"Both of you, come with me," Lin Moniao says. If that bodyguard approaching them stops them, then they will stop. They cannot be the first ones to use violence. But if he doesn't--whatever is coming, they will be standing by the sect leader, and by the God.

"Hold it right there," says the man. He looks twice the prince's age and almost twice his size, and his face bears a bad battle scar along the forehead. "You three, don't leave the reception hall. That's an order."

The other servants shift uncomfortably and whisper among themselves.

"As you say," Mu Liqiang says with winning humility. "But we would like to stand by our sect leader."

The bodyguard grunts but waves his hand, and follows them as they go. Now the other sects are noticing, too. Wu Zhenghao straightens himself up from where he had been exchanging nonsense with the Phoenix Empress of Mingshui. Zhao Kai walks up to him with his hands behind his back and a smile on his face, and Master Wu bows to him. "Was I tardy? Thousands of apologies."

"Tardy?"

"Did your eminence not summon this subject a moment ago?"

"Did I? Well, we are both here now. Let us go speak privately." He holds a hand out in invitation, displaying a graceful white sleeve with gold threaded through it, and the fact that he is wearing no weapon on his side. "I would be obliged if the famous Sect Leader Niu would also accompany us. In fact, why don't we all go? I would not presume you to go anywhere without your body-servants."

The Phoenix Empress looks between them from under hooded eyelids, noticing everything. Master Wu glances at her for help, but there isn't anything even a reliable third party witness can do to help him now. He bows to the prince. "As you say."

Lin Moniao bows, his heart racing. Has he failed? He is supposed to be saving the sect, not getting caught in a trap. He ought to be sorry, but he isn't; not yet, anyway. He wants to be with his master, with the sect leader and the God and his mother and his sect brothers. He isn't ready to lose any of them.

Zhu Chen solicitously arranges the sect leader's shawl, and tries to meet her eye with a look that she hopes any woman can interpret as is this fellow bothering you?

She can try to persuade the prince to back off, or to only take Wu Zhenghao and leave the rest of them, but she suspects it's something she'll only be allowed to do once, so perhaps she ought to save it for when the danger is more immediate. In truth, if it weren't for how tense everyone else is--if she hadn't really, truly heard the God give a warning in that serving-woman's voice--she wouldn't be sure there was any danger at all. Any scheme that depended on Shi Minhua or Ran Ah's dagger, anyway, must be unworkable now.

Niu Liling gives her a grateful glance and touches her hand. "Five Phoenix Manor," she whispers, her hand over her veil in an attempt to hide her breath at these close quarters. "We need an impartial witness, if possible."

Zhu Chen rises and bows and approaches the prince and Master Wu, offering her arm to the God, who climbs up her arm and settles with a balancing flap of wings on her shoulder. The prince smiles a welcoming smile and turns to lead all of them out towards the foyer.

"Your Eminence." Without straightening up from her bow, Zhu Chen recites, her eyes downcast over clasped hands:

The seeker sifts truth from confusion
As metal is refined.
Ore from mountains and lakeshore, steel born in fire,
The sharpest blade forged from many sources.

It's a risk, to drop a code-word from Five Phoenix Manor's own intercepted correspondence into her poem, especially one that refers to the late unlamented Shi Minhua. But if the prince isn't convinced by her own efforts, maybe Chen Ye will decide it's worth her while to insinuate herself into the meeting, if only to find out what the Qilin Villa knows.

"Ah!" Master Wu, who seems bent on playing a silly socialite possibly in his cups, gives a short clap of appreciation. "Madame Zhu, beautiful work as always."

"Not bad," the prince says with a slightly stiffer smile. "The Illustrious Qilin Villa is generous with their gifts today."

The Phoenix Empress rises from her seat, bows to the prince, and steps up to stand beside Master Wu. Her colleagues look at one another in confusion but lower their eyes. "This subject would also like to speak privately with Director Zhao," Chen Ye explains. "Perhaps we can all walk together?"

Zhao Kai looks around the room. They had been attracting attention before. Now the people nearest them have stopped eating, and up on the dais, the empress leans towards her husband to whisper. The God spreads and flaps his wings. Prince Kai inclines his head in assent, and all of them--two sect leaders, a master, and three servants of Yu, and Madame Zhu--file out in procession to the foyer.

These great doors were open before. Now as they exit the room, they are pushed closed from outside. Out on the foyer are arranged twenty imperial guards, half with spears, the other half with swords.

The prince twirls around towards them, joining his index fingers and pressing them to his lips. "Illustrious Qilin Villa! I had you watched from the moment you entered. How did you do it?"

"Your eminence," Niu Liling says, "as you say, we were watched. What are we supposed to have done?"

"I will show you." He gestures, and four guards with swords separate from the twenty and surround all of them. The Phoenix Empress steps aside, and is not included in the threat, but follows along silently as they are led to a door leading into the hidden parts of the reception hall, where servants come and go, and goods are stored. Here, in a hallway just beyond the door, bloody drag marks on the floor, is the dead body of Prince Zhao Fei, his throat neatly sliced from ear to ear.

"Oh," says Master Wu in surprise. The Phoenix Empress stiffens, but says nothing. Niu Liling's fists tighten and her eyes flash with satisfaction; the God's claws dig into her shoulder. Mu Liqiang takes a shocked step backwards; Yu Long refuses to look.

Prince Kai joins his hands behind his back. "It isn't that my elder brother had no other enemies, but your sect has been making itself particularly suspicious. I don't think you are stupid, but perhaps you thought it was worth the risk. I really didn't think you'd take it, but now--here we are." He kneels by the body and lifts the head by the hair. The Phoenix Empress turns away with a sound of disgust as the wound in the neck gapes. "Look at this..." Black ooze, unnatural and unlike the blood of a dead man, drips on to the floor. "A poisoned blade? Someone really wanted to make sure of a kill."

"Director Zhao is well known for his cleverness in the pursuit of truth," Zhu Chen observes. "He could hardly have built Bureau Eight into an institution with such a shining reputation for justice by blaming the most convenient suspects, without a shred of evidence, simply because other suspects are... less touchable. And, indeed, we haven't been blamed, have we? If His Eminence had declared us guilty and ordered us executed on the spot, who could have stopped him? Instead, he has removed us from the banquet quietly, made these accusations privately, tried to shock us with the body--for what purpose, other than to glean some information that he can use going forward? Very well, we are at his eminence's disposal and at his mercy. Ask whatever you like; we have nothing to hide."

"Madame is astute." Zhao Kai drops his brother's head back onto the floor and twists to give Zhu Chen an appraising look. Then he stands and wipes his hands on a handkerchief. "Indeed, this venerable one does care about evidence, which not everyone does. If it was my body on the floor and my brother in charge of the investigation, you would all be awaiting execution, or dead already--with the exception of the Lady of the Five Virtues, of course." Zhao Kai puts a hand on his chest and inclines his head to acknowledge Chen Ye. "How fortunate we are that she is here to remind us, by her example, to conduct ourselves appropriately. Still, there is something to be said for damning circumstances."

An imperial prince lying murdered on the floor of the Palace must necessarily be a shock, if not exactly a surprise. At least Lin Moniao has prevented Ran Ah's dagger from lying there on the floor beside him. If only that will help. "Considering the circumstances," he says, "if one asks who stands the most to gain from this... unfortunate turn of events, it isn't the Illustrious Qilin Villa. And considering the evidence--his eminence seemed surprised when my master said that he had summoned him. But my master received a note with the prince's own seal. If his eminence didn't send it, who did?"

"Aren't you well-informed?" Prince Kai looks at Lin Moniao, that cold smile still on his lips. "Of course, you are your master's favorite, aren't you? Lin Moniao. And this is your charming mother, so recently returned from the south."

Lin Moniao bows low. "This humble one is honored that his eminence has heard of me," he murmurs, and, in deference to the gravity of the situation, even manages to do it without a grin or a toss of his head, and without adding that, if it is about Shi Jia, Lin Moniao saw him first.Zhao Kai holds his hand out to Wu Zhenghao. "Let me see the note." Master Wu hands it over silently, and the prince reads it over. "Maybe you can help me. Let's not make any of this any louder than it needs to be. Guards? No one enters here until I say so, not even my elder brothers. Let's go get tea."

They are led down the grand staircase and to one side of the courtyard below, under a wide open porch and into a beautifully furnished interior. The four guards arrange themselves outside, but does it matter? The imperial guard are everywhere.

They go through the rooms and to a wide balcony on one side overlooking a small ornamental lake. The view is stunning, all the way to the other side of the lake, where the tops of Kaifeng's houses can be seen stretching out towards the city walls. Below, there are boats hooked up into the shoreline, and a graceful bridge crosses it further away, with festival makers in brightly colored clothing passing by and dropping leads into the water. The openness is illusion; to get to the lake, or from the lake here, one must pass under the eyes of guards with bows and arrows, and nobody sails close to the palace.

Tea is already being laid out by a beautiful maid-servant, who hurries away with many bows when dismissed, but it is only laid out for four. A guard touches the flat of a spear to Lin Moniao's chest, pushing him out in a gesture that also encompasses his mother and his sect brothers. "Captain Cho, it's fine. Let that one stay. The others are not important."

Yu Long grabs at Lin Moniao's sleeve, but it's only to say, "I'm sorry."

Lin Moniao shakes his head wordlessly--he's the one who is letting Yu Long down, not the other way around. But if what he needs is strength, Mu Liqiang is strong, and Lin Moniao told him to look after Yu Long. In any case, Yu Long backs up willingly.

Mu Liqiang, however, holds his ground, casting worried looks between the masters and Lin Moniao. "Shixiong?"

"Go with them," Master Wu says, resigned.

But Mu Liqiang is standing ready to defy both Master Wu and Prince Kai's guards at a word from Lin Moniao. His mother also has a steely look in her eye, and there is no knowing what she will say next. He looks at her, and she looks back, and after a long moment she lifts her chin and follows his sect brothers out. As they go, Master Wu looks at both Yu Long and Mu Liqiang with more intensity than he is usually wont, before shaking his head and turning back to business.

"Your disciples will not be harmed," the prince says as he settles onto his spot. "I promise."

The sect masters also sit, with Lin Moniao left standing. The tea has already been poured, steaming in the four bowls. The prince takes a sip, which means everyone else can now drink as well. As he puts the bowl down, he says, "I did not send that note. I noticed my brother leaving, looking unwell. One of the servers approached me soon after, saying I was wanted on an urgent matter in the guardhouse. This was a ruse; never mind how I knew. I went instead to the foyer, and looked around for my brother. After a little nosing around, I found him as you've seen him, called the guards, and returned to the reception hall to pick up the most likely suspects. So here we are." He turns the note around in his hands. "The calligraphy is perfect, and therefore difficult to place. I hear the Illustrious Qilin Villa can boast of several members accomplished in the gentlemanly arts, but that doesn't quite hold up either. My people will have noticed if it was brought to you or if you produced it from a sleeve. The captain should be discreetly collecting statements now."

"If you'll permit me, Master Wu did receive a note from a server earlier, and was disturbed by it," the Phoenix Empress says.

"There you are, then. Murder plots are not usually so complex as to include bribing Palace servers to deliver you fake notes from yourself on the off chance that someone might notice it. Sending a note to the victim to place him in the right spot, and then sending another note to invite a likely scapegoat to that same location, is several steps simpler."

"The rumors of his eminence's attention to detail have not been exaggerated," Master Wu says. "Then, are we free to go?"

"I am thinking it over." Prince Kai's eyes shift towards Lin Moniao. "Would I be making a mistake?"

Chapter Twelve: Black Owl Poison

Notes: This chapter contains: suicide, references to torture.

In the reception hall, the banquet is ongoing. A master player of erhu has taken a seat in the middle of the room, and the sweet sounds of the instrument are echoing around the tall columns, reducing conversation to murmurs. The dramatic way in which the Illustrious Qilin Villa retinue had been led out has had no other consequences, so wine, food, and other intrigues have taken up the guests' attention. The only difference, now, are the closed doors to the foyer. There are still other, smaller doors on the sides of the hall for servers to pass through, and a steady stream of them do, as more dishes are brought in and more wine is poured.

One server approaches the tables where the three masters of the Ancient Willow Sect are busy disagreeing with one another, in want of anyone else who has opinions on the proper applications of rhino horn, and leans in to quietly beg for one of them to accompany him, as there has been a medical emergency; the compensation will be princely.

Master Xuan clicks her tongue. It isn't that she is particularly sociable or avaricious, only that her fellows are more reclusive and, in the case of Master Kun, frankly odd, and so it often falls to her to act. She stands and gestures for Yi Zifan to follow.

Yi Zifan has been thinking about the spike she took from Silvio's neck, and the patterns his qi made around it, and how such a thing was accomplished and whether she'd be able to do it--not that she would, of course! Unless it had some therapeutic use--and was Shi Minhua really a practitioner of the medical arts, or had he hired someone to do it, and if so--

It's a moment before she registers Master Xuan's gesture and hurries to catch up with her, and another moment before she starts to wonder what it's about.

The server leads them with many bows not to the grand doors of the reception hall but to a side entrance. He seems worried and adds another bow; the emperor's guest should not have to enter such a humble place! In fact the hallway here is wide and fine, with high windows letting in light, sumptuous on its own right. Also, Master Xuan's own house is practically a cottage.

There are armed men waiting for them. A large, battle-scarred man in a guard captain's uniform approaches as the server bows again and retreats. "Thanks to Master Xuan and the Ancient Willow Sect. This is a confidential matter."

Master Xuan pulls herself up and lifts her chin in a way that tells Yi Zifan, through long exposure to her master, that she is insulted by the implication she might be indiscreet. Nonetheless, they follow through another set of doors to a short stretch of hallway, where there are more guards, and the body of a middle-aged man slumped in a pool of blood and black sludge. His skin has changed color and texture, but this is undoubtedly the body of the heir presumptive, and just as undoubtedly a vicious murder.

Master Xuan pulls a cloth from her pocket and holds it over her nose. The stench from the body, while not too overpowering where they stand, is that of a much older corpse. "Zifan, please give these gentlemen something against the smell." Indeed, the guards closest to the body are beginning to look a little green.

Yi Zifan drops to a crouch beside the body, setting down her medical kit and taking out a jar of mint paste, which she offers to the guards to smear under their noses. Master Xuan has already begun her examination, and Yi Zifan joins her, palpating his stomach.

"But this man's been dead for days!" she exclaims. "That accounts for the smell--but we saw him alive not long ago--unless there was an impostor--no, that makes no sense. It's an effect of the poison. His throat cut, but the poison already spreading through his body, rotting him from the inside. It's no poison I know. Unless--" she looks up and pushes her hair out of her face, only belatedly noticing that she's left a gruesome black streak across one cheek. "Shifu, do you think?"

Master Xuan gives her a grim look from beneath her eyebrows. "It could be. Don't pronounce too early." But this is just her usual strictness. She looks into the wound, inside the corpse's mouth, and pinches the skin between her fingers, and nods. She agrees.

It isn't a poison either of them knows how to make. The one they are thinking of, which matches the symptoms, is known only to the Bone Physician, Song Tuan, as is its antidote. Had he agreed to their invitation to join the sect... but as it is, this poison is only a gruesome rumor, capable of turning those who ingest it dependent on its antidote to live.

"You know it?" asks the captain.

Master Xuan climbs on her feet with a grunt. "I have an idea."

"And? What do you think it is?"

"I think we won't be getting back to the banquet."

"My apologies. If you would both follow me."

Captain Cho instructs the guards to finally cover the body and carry it, tightly wrapped up in cloth without a hair showing, down to the barracks.

It's an awful thing, of course. The crown prince--just when he was about to be invested--who could have done it, and what will happen now?

Still, Yi Zifan's heart lifts when Master Xuan says they won't be going back to the banquet, and she follows the captain and the guards with a light step.

On the western side of the courtyard, built into the wall, there is a fine house of several stories--the residence of Director Zhao, Captain Cho explains. Next to it, are the barracks, a long low building which includes the mess hall and, at the back, a few holding cells. Their impromptu procession trailing behind the wrapped up body enters by the cells, and the body is carried into one of them, laid out on a simple slab at the end of the bed. It is an undignified place for a prince's body, but as the door is slammed shut and locked, it is at least a private one.

"The director will want to see you."

--

As soon as Zhu Chen and the two servants of the Parrot God step out, it seems as if the guards around them double. "In here." One of them indicates that they should follow them to the low building nearby.

If the masters of the sect are being treated as honored guests, albeit ones that are under threat of decapitation, the three of them are being treated like criminals.

"We can wait out here," Mu Liqiang says sharply. He's not looking happy, and keeps glancing back at the director's house.

One of the other guards laughs. The first one says again, "Come along peacefully and don't cause a scene. We don't want to strip you of your weapons out here in the open."

"Very considerate and conscientious." Zhu Chen crosses her arms at her waist. "However, none of us are carrying weapons--other than those ceremonial and spiritual weapons which we were expressly allowed to carry into the palace."

The guard heaves a discreet sigh. Really, he is in a difficult position. These are dangerous members of the Jianghu who likely ought to be made less dangerous, but the decision to actually fight them would have consequences, beyond the obvious. "Then, if madame would consent to be locked up with her spiritual weapons, this one respectfully requests she follow us into the barracks."

Lips twitching, she puts her hands together and inclines her head. "Truly, you are the most courteous guards it has ever been my pleasure to be locked up by."

And with a glance over her shoulder to see if Mu Liqiang has been mollified as well, she follows.

"Madame is too kind."

As they are led into the barracks, across the hall, they can see Yi Zifan and Master Xuan accompanied by the big bodyguard--Captain Cho--who is gesturing for them to follow.

As far as Zhu Chen knows, neither Bureau Eight nor the palace guards know that Yi Zifan is a friend of her son's. Here, then, is a chance to get word out to allies who are still free, and perhaps even arrange a rescue if necessary. However, it must be handled delicately, if she wants to avoid throwing suspicion on Yi Zifan as well.

"Don't fret so much, Mu Liqiang," she says as they pass by, raising her voice slightly on the familiar name while determinedly not looking at the physicians. "They're sure to realize it's a mistake and let us out soon."

Mu Liqiang looked ready to just wave to Yi Zifan, but picks up her lead and follows it. "As Madame Zhu says. This one will try not to worry too much, even though it's about shixiong."

Zhu Chen smiles up at him. He may have caught on to her playacting, but his devotion to Lin Moniao is clearly genuine, and very endearing. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the physicians walk past, deep in discussion with each other. Either they are very good at pretending they've noticed nothing--or they really have noticed nothing. Well! Zhu Chen and the young men will just have to depend on themselves.

"Sorry about the smell," says the talkative guard as they are led to the back, even as the two from the Ancient Willow sect are led out. There is indeed the unmistakable smell of rot emanating from one of the other cells, though somebody has lit an incense stick to mask it. A guard unlocks a cell next to it.

Yu Long digs in his heels here. "You can't put us all in the same cell."

The guard lets out another sigh. "You people could just not point these things out. Don't you want to be together?" But it's true--they should not lock a lady in with two young men, unchaperoned. Neither does it seem quite right to lock her alone in a third cell.

"Surely Madame Zhu does not need to be treated this way?" Mu Liqiang exclaims. "She has conducted herself properly. What are you worried she might do?"

"Aren't they the dearest young men?" says Zhu Chen. "I'm sure I wouldn't dare misbehave as long as you have them in custody--and my son, of course."

"Don't put us in together," Yu Long insists again.

"Very well. If both young men will promise not to bring up any more technicalities, the lady may remain in the mess hall, provided she does not wander off. I will stay by you, as security."

A guard takes proprietary hold of the young men's arms and pushes them towards the cell. Yu Long tries again. "Don't..."

"Shixiong, please. It's better this way. Come on."

Yu Long deflates, and submits. The door closes behind them.

The polite, or perhaps sarcastic, guard waves an inviting hand towards the mess hall with a little bow. "Please."

--

The prince turns back to Master Wu. "Oh, I meant to ask--how is Shi Jia? I heard he left the city with his uncle's body."

"Your eminence may as well ask his questions directly," Master Wu says softly. Only those who know him could tell that he is losing his patience.

"Very well, then, why did you cultivate Shi Jia as a spy if you didn't mean to cause mayhem in the Palace? Was there some other plot you had prepared? What could be more of a priority than avenging your sect leader's father? Or are you seeking an alliance with someone you know is planning a coup? The Illustrious Qilin Villa has been very cozy with the Dragon Clan."

The Phoenix Empress pulls herself up and gives her bowl a sharp look. "Long Dawang is a fine man and has no plans for the Dragon Throne."

"That's what they say."

"Shi Jia is a friend of my disciple's," Master Wu says. "That is all. He refused to divulge our secrets. Isn't that the mark of a good friend?"

"It's the mark of a bad agent." The prince turns to Lin Moniao. "You, too, have permission to speak freely. I invite you to do so. If your sect means to keep its secrets, very well! I will not pursue unrelated intrigues just now. What I care about is finding out who did kill my brother, and time is running short before it will have to be announced to my colleagues and family. Right now, the killer thinks his ploy worked and we have picked up the wrong people." He taps his chin. "We should let them continue thinking that. There should be a way to make them reveal themselves..." This last part he says to himself, thinking.

A bad agent! Shi Jia! Well, never mind, Lin Moniao will give Prince Kai a piece of his mind when Master Wu and the sect leader are no longer actively under arrest.

"Your eminence has called this humble subject well-informed," he says instead. "I must return the compliment. The sect leader's grudge against the crown prince was not well known. Whoever conceived this scheme must be nearly as well-informed as your eminence, and there cannot be many people like that." If Lin Moniao names Bureau Four directly, that may raise unfortunate questions, regardless of the prince's stated intention not to pursue unrelated intrigues. Better if he thinks of Bureau Four himself. "Whoever it was, your eminence is quite correct--they must think that everything is proceeding as they have planned, and they need do nothing but wait. They will only act if they think something has gone wrong."

Prince Kai claps his hands together. "Then something will go wrong. Alas, I cannot prop my brother's corpse up and pretend he's still alive, and in any case they should know what they've done. Is there a reason they might have framed the Illustrious Qilin Villa in particular--is this something you can safely discuss? Would they consider it a mistake if we accused the wrong person? Or--the right one?"

There is a knock on the door, and at the prince's word, a guard comes. "The physician is here," he says.

"Good, let them in. Let's hear what they have to say."

The guard invites in Master Xuan and Yi Zifan.

Yi Zifan's eyes go wide with surprise as she enters the room. "Moniao! What--" Then she recollects herself and drops into a low bow, flushing deeply, and says, "Your eminence."

Master Xuan also bows, but holds her tongue until she's straightened up again. "Your eminence."

Prince Kai remains seated. "So, tell me. Did you identify the poison?"

"I believe so. It is a specialty of Song Tuan. It is usually in powder form, and must be ingested."

"But my brother was stabbed. Could it have been worked into a paste and applied on a blade?"

"It could have been," Master Xuan says slowly.

"That does narrow the suspects down to those who had access to Song Tuan, and those who knew the history of Niu Liling."

The God has grown bored, and hops into the air, making a short flight to the balcony, where he gazes down into the water far below, his head bopping up to follow the flight of water-fowl above.

"If you'll permit age to speak before rank," says Chen Ye, "His eminence is avoiding the likely conclusion that this was the work of Eunuch Zhang and the reigning Empress, who wanted Zhao Fei out of the way. Your other elder brothers are likely to follow, and then yourself. But, of course, you have no idea how to get rid of either of those persons, do you, Zhao Kai? It is courting war--the kind of war that ends dynasties."

"Madame," says Zhao Kai softly, somewhat scandalized.

"Well--if it is true--" Lin Moniao murmurs, glad that neither he nor his masters were the first to say it. (Or Yi Zifan, but Yi Zifan was never likely to.) "At least you know that the Qilin Villa is unlikely to support anyone who set us up to take this fall."

Zhao Kai shoots up out of his seat and takes a few brisk steps to the balcony, leaning both hands on it. "I wish I could be painting," he says quietly. "It always helps me think... there is no time."

Niu Liling coughs, and takes a sip of her tea. The God looks up at the prince and cocks His head, then laughs. The prince gives Him an annoyed sideways glance.

The Phoenix Empress looks at the teapot, so Master Wu reaches out to pour her a new bowl. She says, "What do the Five Virtues teach us? If you behave with righteousness, benevolence, propriety, wisdom and trustworthiness, how will you choose? We are your subjects, and will be beholden to your decisions now."

Zhao Kai hangs his head and makes a frustrated sound. "I fear I may not be wise enough to do the right thing without it also being the wrong thing."

"One problem at a time, your eminence," Master Wu prompts with uncharacteristic humility.

"Fine! The Illustrious Qilin Villa Sect is free to go, and you had all better go fast, before Director Zhang hears about it. I will deal with the threat to my remaining brothers on my own."

As they all stand to leave, Lin Moniao lingers by the table. “Concerning Shi Jia,” he says. “Your eminence may not believe me, but this is the truth: he kept my secrets, and I kept his also. Your eminence is a shrewd judge of people--did it not strike you that when you told my master that Shi Jia had been dismissed, it was the first he knew of Shi Jia being in Bureau Eight at all? Believe me, he was not very pleased to learn I had kept that fact from him. But he forgave me, as he always forgives me, because he knows what a good thing he has in me.”

Lin Moniao’s voice trails off and his throat tightens up. Yi Zifan’s vile concoction has done its work--there’s no more pain when he speaks, but he still finds he cannot do it for too long at a time. It’s very annoying, especially when he has more to say. So he picks up the prince’s half-drunk cup of tea from the table and downs it, the warm liquid unlocking his throat once more.

“What a pity that Director Zhao does not know what a good thing he lost in Shi Jia.” And he opens his hand and lets the cup fall. It shatters on the floor.

"Moniao," Master Wu says sharply.

The prince had turned back towards them and joined his hands behind his back as Lin Moniao begun to speak. He gives the cup's remains a cold glance. “What an emotional approach you have to loyalty, Lin Moniao,” he observes dryly. "But unlike your master, I am not in the habit of imposing myself on my subordinates.”

How dare he--insulting Master Wu, Lin Moniao, and Shi Jia in a single breath--

“I didn’t mean in bed!” Lin Moniao snarls, lunging forward heedlessly--

Only to be brought up short by Yi Zifan’s iron grip on his arm.

“Please be lenient with Lin Moniao, your eminence,” she stammers. “He recently suffered a qi deviation, and it left him with a volatile temper. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Moniao, get a hold of yourself.”

As she speaks, holding him back, she presses their wrists together. Their spirits touch, and he feels the tight rein she always keeps on her own temper. He takes a ragged breath and comes to his senses, ashamed.

What has he been doing? He’s put the sect leader and Master Wu and Yi Zifan all in danger with his lack of control. He drops to his knees, touches his forehead to the floor, and says, “A thousand apologies. This humble subject spoke out of turn.”

“So you did.” The hem of Zhao Kai’s robe sweeps the floor next to the shards of his teacup. “But perhaps it’s not entirely your fault. A qi deviation so recent--it’s not surprising that you haven’t learned to manage it--or been killed on account of it--yet. Very well. You are forgiven--provided you give me something of equal value to the cup you broke.”

Lin Moniao doesn’t carry around the price of a teacup from the service of an imperial prince in his pocket. Aside from Liu Manor itself--and a certain potentially incriminating treasure carried away by Shi Jia for safekeeping--he doesn’t personally own anything of equal worth, and the sect’s treasury has likewise recently been depleted by extravagant gift-giving. But he knows what Zhao Kai likes. He moistens his lips, raises his head and says, “As of a few weeks ago, Song Tuan, the Bone Physician, was traveling with the retinue of the Heartless Dagger.”

“Try again.” Zhao Kai joins his hands behind his back and looks down at Lin Moniao, unimpressed. “I have that one already.”

“Oh?” Lin Moniao raises his eyebrows. “And how did your eminence get it?”

Zhao Kai snaps, “That’s none of your affair.” But even as he says it, Lin Moniao can see his famous memory working, and the moment of realization, like he’s bitten into something sour. There is only one person who could have told him that.

Lin Moniao can’t help it. He laughs, short and sharp. “You’re welcome.”

“Never mind. Get up.” Zhao Kai waves a hand irritably. “As you say. We’re all on the same side. For now.”

As they all stand and bow to the prince, there is an urgent knock on the door. "Enter," the prince snaps, rubbing his temple.

A red-faced guard is at the door, his breath fast from exercise. "Your Eminence, fighting has broken out over at the cells. The healers, if you will permit, we need a healer--"

--

A little earlier:

The prison cell was dug deep into the ground, with a flight of steps leading up to the heavy door with its iron-barred window, and more barred windows up high on one wall, which cast a low slant of light onto the swept-clean stone floor. There was a privy and four raised areas for beds, all carved out of the same stone as the floor. Even the prison cells are better in the palace.

Yu Long was curled up, hugging his knees, on one of the pallets. He'd taken his dagger out of its sheath and laid it before himself, like a beggar's bowl. Mu Liqiang kept glancing at the door. At any moment now, someone could come in and start asking questions. That, he expected, was when he would be needed the most. Yu-shixiong was in no shape to be interrogated.

If the future was inevitable, why fret about it? But Yu Yanlong had always been too sensitive. So he had to do something that did not seem right--so did everyone. There was no point in torturing oneself with guilt. Many other people would happily wrong Yu Long without a twinge of remorse. Mu Liqiang did not understand it. He himself was not very concerned for anyone other than his own people.

But it did make Mu Liqiang fond of Yu Long, in a way. It felt good to say he would protect him, and to have someone to look after. And he was Lin-shixiong's friend, so there was that.

"I'd rather be up there, too," he told him, settling onto the floor next to Yu Long's pallet. "But the God led us here, and He's there now with shixiong and the masters. He won't let anything bad happen."

"He will," Yu Long said. "He wants bad things to happen."

"But bad things that turn out right in the end are worth it, aren't they?"

"Mu Liqiang, my prophecy says I am going to kill a servant of the God."

Mu Liqiang shifted to look back at him, a beat of fear in his stomach. "What, now?"

"Here. Inside the palace. When else am I going to be inside the palace? The master thinks the one I will kill must be a traitor. He says that that makes me an asset. But you're not a traitor. Lin-shidi isn't either. Even if you were, I wouldn't... I don't want to."

Mu Liqiang set his jaw and turned around on his knees to pick up the dagger that lay on the pallet, and reached over to slide it back into the sheath at Yu Long's side. "Yu-shixiong won't do anything wrong. I know it. Now stop talking. You know we can't talk about our prophecies."

"I know." Yu Long smiled faintly, and for a while he really looked at Mu Liqiang. Mu Liqiang smiled back; he could not help it. But then shixiong's eyes glazed over again, and he sank his head onto his knees.

They waited. There wasn't anything else to do, until they heard voices above, approaching the cell door. "...What do you mean, you haven't interrogated them? Do I have to do everything around here?"

There was a jingle of keys and the door was thrown open at the top of the stairs, a short but wide figure filling the doorway. Mu Liqiang squinted and assessed the man quickly, getting up on his feet. Career soldier, by the looks of him--if he weren't shouting and smashing things, he would be just another guard. "You Jianghu villains! Fine gentlemen, are you? Well, we know what you did, and when we break your finger bones one by one you'll be all too happy to fill us in on the details."

They were both on their feet now, but Mu Liqiang stepped in front of Yu Long. "On whose authority?" he shouted up.

The man laughed, then addresses a guard behind him. "Ignore the mouthy one. Just pick up that big idiot groveling behind him. We'll get it out of him--"

The guard behind him shouted, pointing behind Mu Liqiang. "Watch out! He's--"

Mu Liqiang whipped around. Yu Long had his drawn his dagger. Mu Liqiang reached for him as he raised it, but he was too slow to stop Yu Long from slicing it across his own throat.

--

Zhu Chen paces the length of the mess hall, arms crossed at her waist, her fan comfortingly within easy reach. The guard watches her, back and forth. She must be making him dizzy, and truly, she likes him--he has done the best he can under trying circumstances, and moreover he has a sense of humor--but she can't spare more than a thought for him right now.

She didn't like to offend the young men's sensibilities, and she should remember the sensibilities that she ought to have, never mind that she's spent the last months traveling with one of their sect brothers as a chaperone. More importantly, if she is free, she can help them in a way that she couldn't if she were locked in with them. A single guard should be easy enough to rid herself of, one way or another, if necessity arises. But she hated to leave them, and even now she wonders if she made a mistake. She saw the way Lin Moniao looked after them as they left--and the way Wu Zhenghao did, for that matter--she knows how badly he wanted to be with them, to protect them. She understood what he was asking her. If only she knew the best way to do it! If only she understood what was distressing Yu Long. There is too much she doesn't know, and everything has happened so quickly.

Loud boots in the hallway. Someone shouting at the door to the boys' cell. Now. She dashes for the entryway. If the guard tries to stop her, she will--but he doesn't, he's only following her--more guards are crowding at the door of the cell, rushing down the stairs, and--Mu Liqiang punches one of them in the face, and others swarm to grab him, and she opens her mouth to tell them to let him go. And then she sees.

Yu Long. Crumpled on the floor. A red slash across his throat, a bloodied dagger in his hand. Still. Still.

She screams.

Yu Yanlong!
I was my son's only family, until you.
First, most steadfast brother. Dearest young man.
Don't die.

There's nothing. No sign that he's heard her.

She catches herself on the doorway to stop herself from collapsing, and squeezes her eyes shut.

Someone is shouting for the director, for the healers. One of the guards has undone his wide fabric belt and is pressing it into the gaping wound, soaking it with blood. Yu Long is no longer moving, his eyes half-open, skin white, resting half on his side.

"Help him!" Mu Liqiang shouts, pushing against the arms holding him down, a snarl on his lips. "Bastards!"

Captain Cho is back, and he pushes Zhu Chen aside unceremoniously. "Captain Fan. What's going on here?"

"Don't look at me! The cultist did it himself! I should ask you that question! Why weren't they being interrogated? What's the hold-up?"

"Fan Junhie, be quiet and stand back, now."

More guards come and go, the captains argue. Mu Liqiang is released, and collapses on his knees next to his shixiong, touching his shoulder, calling for him in an increasingly shaky voice. After a while, the healers rush in, black robes rustling. Yi Zifan puts her hands on Yu Long, channeling Guanyin's mercy, then her master does the same, but Guanyin's mercy is running short. Yu Long does not stir. He's gone.

--

It has taken all of Lin Moniao's fraying self-control to stand back and let the healers do their work. He barely notices his mother pressed up against his side, her arm around his waist; all his attention has been for the scene in front of him. And when Yi Zifan slumps in defeat, and Master Xuan shakes her head, he can't at first understand. This can't be happening. There must be something they can do.

He stumbles down the stairs, kneeling beside Yu Long's still body, tears mixing with the blood staining the front of his robe. "Yu Long, why?" he whispers.

The sect leader clings to Zhu Chen's arm as soon as Lin Moniao lets her go, her breath rapid. The God is not with her; He perches above, clinging onto one of the high windows. Director Zhao stands in the doorway, quiet as a ghost. There is something similar in the way the two observe without involving themselves. Captain Fan is firmly escorted out, and most of the guards leave, too.

Master Wu stands rigidly on the second step, staring down, then looks around as if lost. "Why--how--"

The prince orders the rest of the guards out and descends a step towards Master Wu. "If Fan Junhie is here, it means the other side has grown tired of waiting. It's time for all of you to go. You had better hurry--we can take care of the body for you. Yu Yanlong, wasn't it?"

Master Wu does not seem to be listening; he is frowning. He turns his face up, seeking the God Yu. "What did this accomplish? How does this further your cause? Yu Long was never anything but true and loyal. Why?"

The God ruffles His feathers, and speaks: "The sect will survive."

"The sect! The sect!"

"Wu Zhenghao." Niu Liling reaches past the prince to pull him upstairs, gripping his arm as well as Zhu Chen's and leaning on both of them heavily. "Don't start doubting now, when we are almost done here. Let's go--let's go."

Lin Moniao has never heard his master sound so lost, or question the God like this. He would like the answer to those questions too, but they can't now. He gets to his feet, wipes his sleeve across his face, and offers a hand to Mu Liqiang. "The sect leader is right, shifu. We can't stay. There is--everyone else to think about."

"Everyone else," Master Wu repeats flatly, but nods. "Your eminence, if you would take care of the body, we would be obliged--he should go to--send word to Xu Manor in Jinan. The Lady of Five Virtues--"

"Yes, yes," Prince Kai says, and turns, striding out of the cell to go give orders.

"The Villa isn't safe," Master Wu says quietly.

"But--we have to go there. The God said--" Lin Moniao swallows hard and leaves aside what the God said for the moment. "Everyone is there. Everyone who isn't here. Hua Haoyu and Shen Shanwei and shijie and the juniors--oh God, how will we tell the juniors?"

"We'll make it safe," Mu Liqiang says with a grim look. All the coaxing sweetness has gone out of him, and all the power in his body is coiled for action.

As the members of the Qilin Villa go, Yi Zifan grasps Lin Moniao by the elbows. "Travel safe," she says. "If I see Heng Wanxue, I'll let her know..."

"Yes." He squeezes back, blinking fresh tears out of his eyes. "Take care of each other."

It's the same thing he said to Yu Long and Mu Liqiang when they left to watch over Mo Yun. Even so. No matter what else he doubts, he still believes in that.

"Yi Zifan, hurry," Master Xuan says, tapping her side. The Ancient Willow Sect means to remain impartial, and the pretense of impartiality must start now. Nonetheless, she tells Lin Moniao, "Good luck. You'll need it."

No-one stops the Qilin Villa sect as they leave. The Phoenix Empress watches from the courtyard as they're hurried through, with an envoy of guards, up to the gate and from there to their carriage. The two sect brothers who had no entry beyond the first gate scramble to their feet, hastily shoving their weiqi set into the carriage mid-game. "Where is Yu Long?"

"Never mind that," Master Wu snaps.

There isn't time to saddle horses. The God deigns to let Niu Liling shut him back in his cage, which is hung from the ceiling of the carriage, while Mu Liqiang drives and the rest of them hang on where they can. They are going to be seen to leave in a hurry, but word must not have reached Fan Junhie's superiors, because the gates open for them without a murmur.

Out in the city, even here at the foot of the palace, the festival is everywhere. It is still shen, it won't be dark for a while yet, but there are already children running around with lanterns in the shapes of rabbits and dragons.

As soon as they clear the cage, Niu Liling collapses over her stomach, hauling her breath in in large gulps.

It has been the most awful day, and must have been worse for someone with a retiring disposition like Niu Liling. Zhu Chen leans over to rub her back and make soothing noises, but as she does, she realizes--it isn't just nerves, the sect leader is in physical pain, with a sheen of cold sweat on the back of her neck.

"Sect leader, what is it?" Zhu Chen asks, alarmed. Has Niu Liling been poisoned? The timing seems strange--has the pain only now come on, precisely when they left the palace, or did she have a reason to keep it from the healers, who might have helped her? "Can I help?"

Niu Liling shakes her head. Wu Zhenghao frowns and leans in closer. "Sect leader?"

"I'm sorry," Niu Liling gasps. "But it's done now."

Master Wu pauses. The carriage careens around a corner, tossing them about. Niu Liling coughs, staining her veil with blood and black bile. "Black Owl? Are you poisoned with Black Owl?"

Niu Liling nods. "I don't mind. The God promised me. Zhao Fei will die. That's all I wanted."

"But how--why didn't--you had--" Wu Zhanghao grabs her elbows. "Why didn't you tell me? The healers are at the banquet--we don't have the antidote!"

"If they had... seen me... they would know. This way, the rest of you get out."

Zhu Chen squeezes her shoulder. "How long do you have? Once the banquet is over--her master didn't want to get involved, but Yi Zifan is keeping your secrets already--and you are keeping hers. If you can get to her--"

Wu Zhenghao answers instead of the sect leader, speaking quickly. "Noon tomorrow, and she'll be in a bad way then. She has to stay in the city, with someone who can take care of her and contact the healers after the banquet. It's the only way. I'll get one of the--" He stops, frowns. "I will stay. Everyone else, go as fast as you can to the Villa, or disperse if you can-- Some of our members have families that can take them back, or can disappear. Lin Moniao!" This last he shouts, calling to the front of the carriage, where Lin Moniao is keeping watch for pursuit.

Lin Moniao swings around to look through the window, holding himself by one hand on the roof of the carriage, while a crossbow hangs from the other one. His eyes are red, and his face set with determination. "Shifu. What is it?"

"Change of plans. The sect leader is ill and can't travel. We--you get everyone else out. I'll pick up a few things at the house and take her to an inn. The healers are our best chance. This must be what the God meant." There is a sour look on his face when he mentions the God, but then he turns back to the sect leader.

"Ill." Lin Moniao's eyes travel to the sect leader's huddled form. The stains on her veil--the ichor dripping from Zhao Fei's throat--the pool of blood at her feet when he saw into her soul. His face twists in fury and grief and he slams the crossbow into the side of the carriage, splintering the window frame. "Why is everyone chasing death!" He closes his eyes and breathes deeply. "I will," he adds in a softer voice.

"I know," Master Wu says just as quietly.

The first stop is a park where sect brothers are keeping a discreet watch in civilian clothes. The way the carriage rolls in at speed, causing festival-makers to jump aside, is less discreet, but speed is of the essence. As soon as the first sect brother recognizes them, a shout goes up, and another digs into his bag for a firework.

No time to wait. Mu Liqiang snaps the reins and they trundle on, even as behind them a green and yellow light shoots up into the still-light sky with a bang. That should get the word out for everyone to move.

The way from the palace to the park to Wu Zhenghao's house is practically a straight line. When they get there, another carriage is already being loaded up. One of the Bureau Eight agents is there, ignored by everyone as Dong Yuan discards a box of tea-things in order to fit in one more shidi.

It's the taller, quieter one--Song Dongmei. When Mu Liqiang pulls up, she comes straight up to the carriage. "What's the meaning of this?"

"Ask the director," Mu Liqiang grunts. "Out of the way!"

"He knows we're going," Lin Moniao adds, trying to smooth things over, but more importantly, trying to keep her attention away from the sect leader. "Things are rather tense at the palace. You may want to head over. Or you can come with us, if you think your duties extend that far. We could use the extra hands. Shijie."

She scowls at him. "You're not going anywhere. The sect leader and master stay here until I get clear instructions--"

Mu Liqiang shoots a foot out in a sideways kick at her face, but the agent is too fast, dodging back, her long ponytail swinging in a circle.

Lin Moniao holds onto Mu Liqiang's arm, his own hand shaking. God, he wants it too--someone he can fight--but if he starts, he doesn't know if he'll be able to stop. And that would be--bad, right? Bad.

"Be reasonable," he grates out. "Look around you. If you wish for clear instructions, by all means go get them. But we are leaving, and you cannot stop us."

Zhu Chen, taking note of what's going on, leans out the carriage window.

When the earth shakes
When the tiger prowls
Where do the horses of the herd look?
To the lead stallion.

Song Dongmei's eyes narrow, and she mutters, "...For your own sake, I hope you are not lying." But she steps aside.

There isn't much left to do. Dong Yuan and Gong Weiyu started supervising the evacuation as soon as the signal was sent, and between the energy of the one and the efficiency of the other, everything is nearly ready. They only have to change into less conspicuous clothes--Zhu Chen bravely suffers the indignity of having to dress quickly, while Mu Liqiang takes charge of the Asura Trident, and Lin Moniao follows the sect leader and Master Wu into Master Wu's rooms, carrying the God in his cage.

"It isn't too late to change our plans," he says, once they're all inside and alone. "Shifu could go, and I could stay with the sect leader. Yi Zifan is my friend, and I could--I could strengthen her internal energies, to make sure she can cure the sect leader."

Wu Zhenghao draws his hand across the empty air, no. "We're not doing that."

The God rattles his cage, so Niu Liling, though bent over and weak, drops on her knees to let him out. He flaps his way through her and flies around the top of the room in excitement. "It's done! It's done!" He calls out in a strange voice, as if He had a large man's chest, with an odd rural cadence. He settles on top of the bed-frame and spreads His wings, displaying His size. "The will of Heaven prevails. You've all done well."

"The will of Heaven!" Wu Zhenghao calls up to him bitterly.

"Are My promises not delivered?"

Wu Zhenghao pulls himself together and joins his hands before him. "They are. Thank you."

"And in return, you have delivered me war."

"Is that--" says Lin Moniao hollowly. "Is that what all this was for."

Niu Liling leans on the cage on the floor, still kneeling, trying to breathe. Master Wu turns half-way towards Lin Moniao. "He's a martial god. The Heavens have ordained the end of the dynasty, through blood and fire. And we served Him in exchange for..."

"Revenge," Niu Liling gasps.

"Power," Master Wu concludes. "It's your sect now, Lin Moniao. Do what you want with it. We're done."

"Shifu, no." Lin Moniao's control breaks, and he throws himself at Master Wu, wrapping his arms around him, sobbing like a child. "Come back to me. Say you'll come back."

Wu Zhenghao is startled out of his grim mood. He touches Lin Moniao's arm, smiling faintly. "You would want me to? Then, if I can, I will. Just don't wait for me. I'm not your master anymore."

The God cocks His head. Master Wu calls up to Him, "Isn't that right?"

"It's his decision," the God says.

Lin Moniao lets go of Master Wu. He feels like he's watching from somewhere outside his body as he kneels, palms on the floor, his head bowed. "If that is the venerable one's will."

"It is," the God says. "Lin Moniao is the most talented, ruthless and cunning of my servants. He is worthy."

"Then let's go." Master Wu is all business again as he helps Niu Liling back to her feet. "I wish I could explain everything, but--let's hope there will be another chance. Goodbye. And I'm... I'm sorry."

The God flies down from his perch and settles on Lin Moniao's shoulder, claws gripping gently.

As they go out the secret door, Lin Moniao puts a hand on Niu Liling's arm. "Thank you for everything. Come back too, if you can. How can I tell Yang Xiuxing that I have lost both you and Yu Long? It isn't as though the sect is over-endowed with masters. And I believe the God would miss you." He lifts his chin and adds, "And I will wait for sh--for Wu Zhenghao for the rest of my life."

"Darling," Wu Zhenghao says with a dazed smile, then squeezes Lin Moniao's arm, and then they're gone.

Notes: I have taken some liberties here with this particular poison. In Righteous Blood, Ruthless Blades, Black Owl Poison must be ingested, and works far more slowly, and the rotting begins from the outside. However, I wanted to use a distinctive poison, and having your guts rot from the inside is, to me, more delightfully gross. -Ilthit

Chapter Thirteen: Blood and Fire

Notes: This chapter contains: Discussions of suicide, graphic violence, minor character death, serious injuries.

Back on the street, one carriage has left already. Another is ready and waiting, with the reins in Dong Yuan's hands. He holds his hand out for Lin Moniao before he sees the God and freezes in surprise. Song Dongmei stands by, arms crossed and disapproving.

Lin Moniao jumps up next to Dong Yuan, a giant parrot riding on his shoulder. So much for remaining inconspicuous! "Let's go."

Dong Yuan rallies around. The God digs in his claws for balance and they're off. But, after one spirited swerve, he's drawing blood. "Venerable One, Exalted, ahh, my deity, perhaps you would be more comfortable inside?" Dong Yuan yells.

"Presumptuous," the God says with a perfectly human-sounding tut, but hops off Lin Moniao's shoulder and back into the carriage when Dong Yuan holds the curtain up, to a chorus of surprised and reverential exclamations.

"I guess things really went belly-up, huh?" Dong Yuan asks Lin Moniao. "Mu-shidi nearly kicked that jiejie in the face! Is everyone alright?"

Dong Yuan drives like a maniac; the wind in Lin Moniao's face feels good, cold against his burning eyes. He can hardly bring himself to answer, but he is going to have to tell it, and tell it again and again. He might as well start now, with Dong Yuan.

"No. The sect leader took ill, and can't travel. Shifu is staying with her until they can catch up. Yu Long--" Tears start to fall again, whipped away by the wind. He grips the seat of the carriage until his knuckles are white and forces himself to continue. "The crown prince was assassinated. We fell under suspicion. They imprisoned Yu Long and he--he took his own life rather than give away sect secrets, or confess to the murder under torture."

It's the official version--the one that elides the masters' guilt, and paints Yu Long as a hero.

"What? I didn't hear you. Where is Yu Long? Imprisoned? Why are you--?" The horses rear as another carriage nearly bumps against them. Dong Yuan is staring at Lin Moniao, horror dawning. "Say it again."

"He--" Lin Moniao drops his head, shoulders shaking. "It's true. But it isn't the truth. The truth is, he killed himself because he had been in despair for so long and he could see no other way out. Dong-shixiong--you've been gone. You've only been back a few days. I don't know if you saw. I knew he was unhappy, but I didn't see, I didn't know, I should have seen..."

"He didn't." Dong Yuan isn't steering anymore, and the horses slow to a trot. "Shidi, no, tell me he didn't, this is some kind of a plot, right? Say it's a plot and I'll never mention it again to anybody, on my honor, just don't say he really--he can't have!"

"He did. Drive. We can't stop, we have to keep going--"

It's true, at any moment Bureau Four might catch up to them--or Prince Kai might have realized already that he'd been fooled--but also, the need to keep going is the only thing that's been keeping Lin Moniao from-- He doesn't even know. He doesn't want to.

"I saw him," he chokes out, "just... lying there, the healers tried to help but it was too late..."

"Fuck." Dong Yuan takes up the reins again, his eyes welling with tears. He drives even more wildly than before, but his jaw tightens. He's doing the same thing as Lin Moniao. Just keep going.

"I promised I'd take care of him," Lin Moniao continues, almost in a whisper. Now that he's started telling it, he can't seem to stop. "I promised I would make everything right. I promised we would all be together at the Villa again, but I lied, I lied, I lied."

"You can't promise those things, Lin Moniao." Dong Yuan is fully crying now. "Stop it. Stop talking."

Lin Moniao bites his lip and nods and doesn't say, I can, I can do anything, because that's a stupid thing to say. He wipes his sleeve across his face and watches the street.

The city is not easy to navigate with so many people out on the streets, but the route had been selected beforehand to avoid the stalls and markets that have sprung up, and whoever might be behind them will be dealing with the same traffic. The sun is getting lower, but the gates are still open when their carriage squeezes in with others leaving or entering the city. For a heart-stopping while, they will be stationary, stuck, the threat of pursuit looming.

They are the last of the sect's people to go, and the last chance for their pursuers to catch any of the Illustrious Qilin Villa before they leave the city--but with them, they would catch the God.

Dong Yuan has wiped his face. "Come on, come on," he hisses to himself. They're just getting to the gate, the guards ahead checking passes with barely a glance, when a rider in the uniform of the imperial guard comes down the side, ties down his horse, and pushes his way through to the nearest gate-guard. They would be close enough to hear, if it wasn't for the hubbub of people, but he shows them a token and makes a strong gesture, no.

The word goes around to the others at the gate. "Fuck. Do you think that's about us?"

"I think it's very likely," Lin Moniao breathes. They were so close--but at the same time, his heart races faster, his blood singing as he knocks on the carriage to let the brothers inside know. Maybe, finally, there will be someone he can hit.

There's shuffling and knocks within--weapons being drawn. Tang Peng and Ran Ah aren't exactly experienced adventurers, but they can still be deadly, and Mu Liqiang is with them behind the curtain, Xie Lijuan's Asura Trident at hand's reach. The guards will be courting their own deaths.

Dong Yuan pushes the tell-tale dagger at his waist a little back and drives grimly forwards. "Papers, please," says the guard as they roll up, distracted--his eye keeps wandering towards the crowd, looking for a flash of black and red.

"Aw, they're at the bottom of my pack," Dong Yuan moans. "We're leaving, not entering, is it such a big deal?"

Lin Moniao doesn't trust himself to speak. He tries to look sweet and harmless and keep his hands in sight, while all the time thinking--do it now, get in first, he isn't protecting his back at all, one quick strike--

"Yeah, sure, fine," the guard says and waves them through.

The road up to the gate is not much wider than the gate itself, and so even though they've been given passage, they're still stuck in the crush between the thick walls when a shout goes up. "Hey! Stop them! That carriage!" From within comes a surprised curse. The God has poked his head out from the curtained window, and lets out a sound somewhere between cawing and a laugh. He is pulled back in in a sudden motion, leaving behind a stray green feathers floating in the air.

They've been made. Dong Yuan snaps his reins and tries to drive the horses forward, but there is simply no way to push past the carts surrounding them; they only seem to get more jammed in, somehow. In another moment a guard has jumped over one of the carts, his sword in hand, and is grabbing hold of the side of the carriage.

The main thing now is to get away before reinforcements appear. Dong Yuan ties up the reins hastily and jumps off to bodily push and steer aside the carts blocking their way; his muscles strain, but with a couple of well-placed kicks on the wheels, they start to roll away and make space.

The few guards manning the gate are swarming them now from all sides. One grabs the reins from where Dong Yuan tied them, pulling the horses back. Another, this one with a sheriff's helmet, jumps on the cart alongside his fellow and yanks open the carriage door. "Surrender and get out now!" He reaches in, only to get a boot in the knee that forces him to step back.

Closing in on the guard with the reins, Lin Moniao draws his dagger and sweeps it towards the man’s gut, but the carriage lurches and his strike goes wide.

The second kick from within sends the sheriff on his knees, cursing as he curls up among the crates and sacks on the cart while the terrified driver scrambles off to get away from the fight. From where Lin Moniao is sitting, he can see Tang Peng jump from the carriage and swipe his dagger at the man trying to take the reins; the guard is out in one swipe and a nauseating gurgle.

On both sides of the carriage, his sect brothers are coming out to fight. The carriage rocks and there's a sound of feet hitting the roof--a fifth man has jumped on top and run across the roof. The next thing Lin Moniao knows, the serrated tip of a bladed spear is flying towards him from above.

He whips around, grabbing for the shaft of the spear, pulling the man holding it down towards him, dagger drawn in his other hand. The two struggle for control of the weapon, and it gouges under Lin Moniao's arm. As he reels in pain, his dagger hand goes slack for a moment, cutting harmlessly through the guard's clothes.

Mu Liqiang shoots a hand up, grabs the attacker's leg and drags him down. The man falls heavily on a crate and tries to roll up, only to meet Mu Liqiang's dagger coming down. Someone screams as the guard's blood splatters across the sack-cloth.

There's no mercy in Mu Liqiang's eyes as he pulls his weapon back out of the twitching body's neck; only the determined look he's carried ever since he gave up trying to shake Yu Long awake.

Dong Yuan jumps up to the driver's seat next to Lin Moniao. "No! Show me, show me, are you alright? Fuck!"

With his dagger ready in his hand, and the guard he'd been engaged with gone, Lin Moniao looks wildly around for the next available target. The sheriff is starting to get up where he lies on the bottom of the cart, moving slowly with his injured knee; before he can, Lin Moniao launches his dagger at his exposed backside. With a cut-off cry, the man collapses back, spasming once, and then lies still.

Lin Moniao presses his arm against his injured side and sits back dizzily. His robes are soaked through, and the blood just keeps coming. "Drive, drive," he mutters distractedly. "No--someone get that back--"

"Everyone back in!" Dong Yuan shouts. Another guard falls to Ran Ah's recovered dagger, hitting the trampled mud of the road. Only one is left, and he takes a step back, paralyzed at the sight of his fellow bleeding dry on the produce crate, his sheriff collapsed and unmoving at his feet.

Mu Liqiang grabs Lin Moniao's dagger out of the sheriff's side and jumps on to the side of the carriage, hanging on; the shidis are already in. The crowd has rushed away in every direction, and the road is clear, so Dong Yuan gets the restless horses moving. The carriage lurches and begins to roll, one wheel spinning on the mud.

The God Yu has hopped onto the window-sill and observed the carnage; now he takes wing and flies high above the carriage, displaying his brilliant plumage as a ray of sun breaks from the clouds, making his feathers shine. A voice emanates from him as he opens his beak, louder and more booming than such a thin chest should ever be able to produce.

"Heaven has grown weary of your complacence! The Dragon Throne is falling! The serpent's young will eat the serpent where he sits! Darkness will come! Blood and fire! Blood and fire!"

The wheel comes unstuck, and the carriage is free.

--

A few hours' ride South of Kaifeng, the Lady of the Mountain Inn nestles in a crook of the road: The inn did not expect much custom during the festival. It is not attached to a village, but serves travelers, and those who were going home have gone home, and won't be returning for another day. On an average year, if customers came at all, it would be the odd straggler who didn't make it home on time, or the lonely sorts, vagabonds and rascals of the jianghu.

The innkeeper, Little Rabbit, doesn't mind this, as he comes from the jianghu himself, and knows how to handle them as well as the finer crowd. And this year, he has been lucky--his entire inn is booked, and his daughters will be kept busy selling mooncakes and pouring wine. Let others worship; Chang'e should know the value of good money.

The crew that rolls in looks harried and fresh off the road, which is not surprising; it surprises Little Rabbit more to find that most of them are young men. The closest thing to a leader they seem to have is an elegant lady in fine clothes. If they had swords by their sides, he would guess this could be the Sword Goddess herself, but it cannot be--even their colors are wrong. So, perhaps it is some lesser sect or gang, or simply a lady with a very large entourage. Either way, it's none of his business.

Little Rabbit smiles and directs them to the empty restaurant upon arrival, handing out keys like candy. "I hope you will find everything satisfactory," he tells the lady.

Zhu Chen puts her hands together and inclines her head. "Little Rabbit's hospitality is truly impeccable, and supper smells delicious. I hope you will not find me too abrupt," she adds, allowing a little of her weariness to show in her posture, "but some of us have not eaten all day."

But even once she's seated with a steaming bowl of dumpling soup in front of her, she hardly has leisure to eat. Anxious young men cluster around her, their questions tumbling over each other. Gong Weiyu has courteously, if officiously, shuffled all of the servers out of the room for the moment, so that there's some privacy to talk.

"I imagine you all want to know what all these preparations were for, and why we have left the capital so abruptly." And she begins to tell the story, as much of it as ordinary sect brothers should know. But all the time, her eyes keep shifting towards the front, and her ears are pricked for any sound of their lagging carriage.

--

The sun was setting as they left Kaifeng, and everyone who heard the God's prophecy was too awed by His display to pursue them, so at least up until now they have had a clean run. Now it's full dark. Lin Moniao shivers, even under the extra cloak he's thrown over to hide his injury. Dong Yuan keeps throwing him anxious glances, but he's waved off all suggestions that he should move inside the carriage--they have no time to stop and rearrange the seating, and besides, although the bleeding has stopped, he's not entirely sure what would happen if he tried to move. Finally the inn comes into view, and as they come closer, it becomes clear they have also been seen. A crowd of people pours from the door, with his mother at their head.

She reaches up to him as Dong Yuan helps him down, patting his face. "You're cold as ice. What's happened? What have I told you about nearly dying, Moniao, when are you going to listen?"

"When I actually die, I expect," he sighs, leaning heavily on her.

"Not funny!" she laughs, halfway to a sob. "Come inside and let me look at you."

"Yes, mother, I will, just a moment." He looks around at the gathered sect brothers. He can't be sure, but it looks like everyone made it. They're frightened and uncertain, and--he will have to say something. He's the sect leader, although he hasn't told anyone yet.

"You've all done very well." He tries to make his voice carry, but it can't anymore. Everyone falls silent and crowds closer instead. "There are no brothers fiercer or cleverer or truer to each other, anywhere under Heaven. There are difficult days ahead, but we will take care of each other, and the God will watch over us." He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, then lifts his chin and concludes, "The sect will survive. The God has said so."

As if to punctuate his statement, the God hops out of the shadows of the carriage and, in a flutter of wings, flies up to Lin Moniao's shoulder, settling in. Many sect brothers had looked puzzled and opened their mouths to ask questions; now they realize, and though some have to be shaken by their fellows before they can get over the shock, they all put their hands together and bow low to both the God and the sect leader.

Tang Peng and Ran Ah join the crowd, and as they straighten up, a little cheer goes up. "The sect will survive!" They turn to go back inside, some clapping one another on the back. Almost everybody made it out, and back home there is the rest of the sect and the sturdy walls of the Villa waiting for them. What can't they do?

Mu Liqiang comes to stand behind Lin Moniao quietly, and leans over his arm, not quite daring to touch. The murderous look has gone out of his eyes, which are now red and worried. "Shixiong--zhangmen."

Lin Moniao takes his arm, warm and solid and strong. It would not, unfortunately, be very dignified to ask Mu Liqiang to carry him. "I am going to miss you calling me shixiong," he whispers confidentially.

"I'll call you anything you like," Mu Liqiang says and swallows.

The God clicks His beak and takes off, flying towards the light of the inn. He isn't a nocturnal creature. There are some exclamations as He flies over His servants, none of whom are used to seeing so much of the venerated Yu.

Between the two of them, Zhu Chen and Mu Liqiang get Lin Moniao to a bedroom, and she asks Mu Liqiang to watch the door while one of the innkeeper's daughters brings up supper. She sets out a bowl of water and basic first aid supplies on a table, then eases off Lin Moniao's robes to assess the damage, the color draining from her face and her eyes going wide with fear. "What's that?"

Her fingers hover, not by the ugly wound under his arm, but by the scratch on his shoulder.

"That?" He turns his head, puzzled. "Nothing. It was just the God."

She doesn't seem reassured by his words. She takes a wet cloth and cleans the scratch, inspecting both the scratch and the cloth closely afterwards, her hands shaking. "How long ago?"

"It was when we left the house. The God was riding on my shoulder, and Dong-shixiong took off like a madman like he always does, and--"

She slumps in relief, settling beside him on the bed. "Hours. You're clean." Meeting his eyes, seeing the incomprehension in them, she drops her voice to the barest whisper. "Don't you see? That's how He poisoned the prince!"

"What--" Lin Moniao brings his hand to his shoulder, remembering--

The sect leader holding out the God to greet the Empress. Wincing at a scratch. The God, hopping from one member of the imperial family to another.

He had assumed--however the sect leader had administered the poison to the crown prince, she'd had to take it herself too in order to do it. But the God--the God hadn't needed to scratch her.

"It must have been..." His mother trails off, thinking. "She asked Yu Long to clean the God afterwards. I suppose, so no traces of poison would be found on His claws, if anyone looked. Well. Never mind. Let's have a look at the other one."

He winces as she cleans the blood from his side. The cut the spear left isn't long, but it's both jagged and deep.

"I think it may need to be sewn up... I'm not sure." Raising her voice, she calls, "Mu Liqiang, come help!"

Between Zhu Chen and Mu Liqiang and their supplies, the wound is neatly cleaned, sewn up and bandaged, and so even without Lin Moniao's strong internal elixir, buoyed by Master Wu's, there should be no permanent damage. The pain is a constant, throbbing distraction, and his fingers feel numb and weak, though they obey his commands.

Mu Liqiang is not the type to show affection in front of others, certainly not in front of the person's mother, but once the bandage is in place, he touches his forehead to Lin Moniao's shoulder, and bites his tongue. Then he swallows his emotion because, after all, Lin Moniao's mother is right there, and no amount of apologies he can make will bring Yu Long back. "Does sect leader need anything else?"

"No." But Lin Moniao reaches for Mu Liqiang's hand and squeezes and doesn't let him go, his heart aching with affection like a pressed bruise.

His mother looks from one of them to the other with an arch look. "I will go see what is taking that girl so long with supper," she says.

"I am... no fit company for anyone now," Lin Moniao says once she's gone. "I imagine you aren't either. I won't ask if you're alright. I know you're not. But I--" He takes their joined hands and presses the back of Mu Liqiang's hand against his cheek, and lets out his breath in a long sigh. There doesn't seem to be any more to say.

"Fit company!" Mu Liqiang exclaims with a twisted expression and presses his forehead to Lin Moniao's. "I'll only go if you send me away."

"Never." Lin Moniao wraps his right arm around Mu Liqiang. The left one still pulls at his side painfully if he tries to lift it. "At least, never for good, if I can help it. It may be that... Well, my mother shouldn't be alone now, and I can hardly ask her to share a room with anyone else. Still. These beds do have curtains, so there is some privacy, and I don't think she'd mind... I asked her, you know, how she would like you for a daughter-in-law. Just in case you still meant it."

Mu Liqiang had already opened his mouth to protest that he'd go, or he'd just as gladly stand guard outside or sleep on the floor, that of course family should stay together, but that thought is forgotten. He stares at Lin Moniao in shock, but rallies. "And--what did she say?"

"She likes you." Lin Moniao smiles for the first time since that servant brought the note to Master Wu. "She would like anyone who gave me a manor."

Mu Liqiang smiles too, if only to see Lin Moniao smile, and nods; mother-in-laws need to be sensible about these things. "I should have given it first to someone more suitable, so you could marry her instead, and make your mother happy." He leans over to kiss Lin Moniao's cheek. "It's alright, shixiong, I didn't mean it. You can tell her that. I'll go! I'll be next door if you need me. If there's someone next door already, I'll squeeze in."

"Alright." Lin Moniao holds Mu Liqiang for one moment more, breathing him in deeply. "Good night, shidi."

Almost immediately as Mu Liqiang leaves, Zhu Chen comes in with one of the innkeeper’s daughters, and supper; who knows how long she has been waiting in the corridor for her cue? Lin Moniao eats dutifully, for the necessity of putting something in his belly rather than with any enjoyment, and then the dishes are cleared away and it’s time for bed.

The rule is the same as it was when they spent the night in the same inn as the Heartless Dagger and her sect: three to a room, keeping watch in shifts. It does not, of course, apply to the sect leader or his mother. They are allowed to sleep the whole night, sect brothers watching over them in turn. It isn’t as though Lin Moniao would be much use now, if there was an attack.

As he lies in bed, kept awake by pain and grief, Lin Moniao thinks of Master Wu. Is he staying up now, keeping watch over the sect leader? Or is he trying to sleep as well? But how can he, without Lin Moniao beside him, to hold when the nightmares come?

It’s the last thing he ought to be worrying about now. But there it is.

Eventually, exhaustion drags him into a fitful sleep.

--

He wakes up with the first light of dawn, like a scholar should. The room is still almost entirely dark, its one window heavily shuttered and bolted against intruders, only a few cracks of light showing around the edges. His side still hurts. Yu Long is still dead. Master Wu and the sect leader are still gone, and Lin Moniao is still the sect leader. War is still here, the world he knew still shattered.

Silently, so as not to disturb the brother on watch, or his mother, Lin Moniao gets out of bed. He pads over to the other bed and draws aside its heavy curtain. He must have been quiet enough, because his mother doesn’t stir. Her hair is in one long braid, snaking over the covers. He watches until he’s sure that he’s seeing the rise and fall of her breathing, that it isn’t just his hopeful imagination, and then he lets the curtain fall again.

The God is perched on the frame of Lin Moniao’s bed, his round black eyes points of light in the darkness of the room. “If the venerable one is awake,” Lin Moniao whispers, “this servant would ask for His wisdom.”

Then he goes over to the window and opens the shutter. His whole left side is still stiff, his fingers numb, but he only needs one arm to pull himself up onto the roof. He sits on the tiles, his knees drawn up and his arms crossed over them, resting his chin on his arms. The lonely inn's cluster of buildings look gray in the early light. The full moon still rides above the horizon.

The God flies up silently to the window behind him, and from that perch up to the roof. He sidles up to Lin Moniao and nuzzles his side, tugs at his sleeve with his beak, then lets out a frustrated tut. "Seeds!" He demands.

Lin Moniao laughs and scratches the feathers at the back of the God's head. How can he laugh? "A thousand apologies. I don't have any with me. This humble servant will try to remember next time."

"Acceptable." The God dances a few steps away, balancing himself against a breeze, and turns his black eye back to Lin Moniao. "You may ask."

“Everything the venerable one predicted has come to pass,” Lin Moniao says. “If the venerable one can see what is to come, then He knows--Heaven would have had its war anyway. There was no need… So, why? Yu Long was my friend, but the sect leader--Beauty Niu is Yours. I have seen the two of you together.”

Lin Moniao has venerated the God, served Him in awe and fear and hope. But it was watching Him and Beauty Niu together, playing, exchanging endearments, that made Lin Moniao like Him.

Was it all a lie? Or is this simply how the God treats His friends?

“She loves You,” Lin Moniao says. He won’t use the past tense for Beauty Niu, not until he knows for sure. “Even now, she loves You. So, why?”

"She should love this venerable one," the God states harshly, then ducks his head and tilts it to the side. "Niu Liling is very good. She did very well. Maybe better than you will. This one regrets the loss, to Himself. But what use is an arrow if it cannot be spent?"

"I see," says Lin Moniao softly.

The night they murdered Gao Chengyi, Lin Moniao told Shen Shanwei: We're not going to send you to do our dirty work and then leave you out to dry. Whatever promises Lin Moniao has broken, he's kept that one. He doesn't know how it is at the Villa--Shen-shidi may already be lost. But if he is, it isn't because Lin Moniao threw him away once he was done with him.

He remembers Master Wu's bright eyes and warm voice when he first told Lin Moniao about the God. Lin Moniao came to the Villa a two-faced bastard, his entire life built on lies, and he found... brothers. A truth known only to a select few. Somewhere to belong. The sight of green feathers across the main courtyard in those days had been a source of wonder.

And then his initiation had come, and he'd seen the God close up, heard Him speak, telling him all the things he wanted to hear: that he, Lin Moniao, was special. That he had a great destiny. Master Wu had been so proud.

Lin Moniao unfolds his arms and leans back on them as the daylight grows brighter. "Well. It is true what the venerable one said--He fulfilled His promises to Beauty Niu and Wu Zhenghao. And I myself told Him that I wished to be a legendary warrior. How could I be, without a war?"

End of Mid-Autumn Festival; arc to be concluded in the next (main) story in the series, "Will of Heaven". already available on AO3.

Comments

[silvercat17]

Cartography tag added

[bookblather]

Oh damn, what a hell of a ride. I didn't think you could throw more twists into this story after the last section, and I was wondering what was going to be in this one, and it turns out ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING holy crap. RIP the royal family I guess because they are not getting out of this one.