Electric Sky #23: The Grim Collector (Lin Moniao Series)

[ilthit]

Name: The Grim Collector
Story: Lin Moniao Series (AO3 link)
Colors: Electric Sky #23 (The Light of Things)
Supplies and Styles: gesso; cartography, chiaroscuro, interactive art, life drawing, mural
Word Count: 21K
Rating: mature
Warnings: Graphic depictions of medical procedures, poison, talk of murder, unequal background relationship, danger.
Summary: Yi Zifan has been drawn against her will into court intrigue, and her choices here may have long-ranging ramifications.
Note: Co-written with minutia_r . Also available with illustrations on AO3 here.

*

Chapter One: Wu Tooth Beauty Niu

An hour ago, Yi Zifan had been attending her master, who had been invited to the Mid-Autumn Festival banquet at the palace as a representative of one the great jianghu sects. It was the greatest honor Yi Zifan had ever received, or was ever likely to receive, and to keep from going out of her mind with boredom she'd been pondering an iron spike she'd removed from the neck of a patient of hers: how it had been made, who might have applied it, the disruptions it had caused in the flow of the patient's qi. She'd been so absorbed in the problem that she'd missed when the crown prince left the banquet, and when the representatives of the Illustrious Qilin Villa sect had been escorted out shortly afterwards. The first she'd noticed of anything wrong was when Master Xuan had been summoned--and Yi Zifan along with her--to determine the cause of the crown prince's death.

Now she's standing in the hallway above the prisoners' cells in the palace, looking after where the representatives of the Qilin Villa have just fled in desperate haste, forced to leave behind one of their number, dead by his own hand on the cell floor. She's just bid a rushed goodbye to Lin Moniao--once her patient, then her lover, the friend who got her involved in all sorts of adventures she never would have sought out on her own, and now a fugitive with the rest of his sect.

The first time Yi Zifan parted from Lin Moniao, she'd never expected to see him again. There'd been a bittersweet rightness to it: the bird with its healed wing taking to the skies once more. Now it's nothing but bitter.

Master Xuan draws Yi Zifan back to her side. "Come with us," says a grim-faced guard. "Please. The director requests that you stay and give your evidence to the court physician when he gets here."

Master Xuan nods assent. "Is my disciple free to go?"

"If you can spare her," the guard says after a moment's thought. "She will need a pass to be let in again after dark, so you'll be wanting to wait for that to be drawn up."

It doesn't seem that Master Xuan is free to go herself, despite the wording of the request. She inclines her head again, and follows the guard back to the director's house, where they are given privacy in one of the downstairs rooms.

"I should like to confer with my colleagues," Master Xuan says, and the guard bows, promising to deliver the request--to whom, the other master of the Ancient Willow sect or his own master, he doesn't say. When he's gone, she sighs deeply, fixes her hair and posture, and settles down on her knees in the position easiest on her bones.

"Zifan, I know you like that boy, and I do understand it was an emotional moment, but our sect does not take sides. Please do not risk our standing simply to canoodle with a fellow in plain sight again."

"Yes, shifu," Yi Zifan says, hanging her head and flushing with shame. "I'm sorry. I can't be sorry that I didn't let him--attack the director--but apart from that--I'll try to be more mindful of the circumstances. I don't want to bring disrepute or danger on the sect. Are you sure you don't need me here?"

"I always need you, Zifan." Master Xuan allows herself a tight smile as she turns towards her disciple. "But they wouldn't put me in an ankle-crusher. Disciples have the luxury of being out of mind when out of sight. This may be a time to use that to your advantage."

"Ankle-crusher." Yi Zifan's eyes go wide. It seems that Master Xuan is protecting her, as she has so often in the past, from a danger Yi Zifan hadn't even suspected. "I'll go back to the inn, then. I have some projects to work on."

Her hand steals towards her medical kit, where she's tucked in a small stoppered bottle of the ichor that had bled out of the Crown Prince, but she curls it into a fist instead. She's not sure why the Palace should disapprove, but people are sometimes so upset about how she deals with body parts, and this is a prince's, no less. But more importantly to Zifan, it's a blood sample from someone whose veins were infused with Black Owl Poison, a thing she's never been able to study before. Maybe no Ancient Willow physician has. If she can formulate an antidote, especially one that purges the poison from the system rather than just staving off the effects--

It's too late to help the Crown Prince, who in any case had his throat cut, quite apart from the poison. But it might help others. And it would be one in the eye for the Bone Physician, for sure.

Master Xuan is too occupied to notice her hesitant motion. She waves her hand dismissively. "Yes, yes. And do take care--and maybe look in on the ferrets. We'll be back as soon as we can."

The paper arrives surprisingly quickly, considering. It is stamped by two officials, and officially identifies Yi Zifan as Master Xuan's apprentice, with right of entry to the palace under supervision until joined with her master. Even so, Master Xuan's dismissal of Yi Zifan was perhaps a little premature. Before it arrives, someone else comes to fetch Master Xuan, and they must say their goodbyes again, before Yi Zifan gets a personal escort out through the magnificent gates and to the streets of Kaifeng, where the evening is just around the corner, and the first fireworks are lighting up the sky.

Everywhere in the city, there are lights, and people dressed in colorful clothing, singing, and the smell of cooking; stalls have been pushed up everywhere along the streets to hawk mooncakes, lanterns, paper fans and wines. The doors of the inn where the masters of the Ancient Willow Sect have been staying are thrown open, a stream of people going in and out--not, now, to see the masters, but to visit the restaurant, and crowd the porch to the backyard to see the chef quick-fry boiled pork over a firepit, and exclaim over the amount of spice he is adding at every turn. The upstairs corridor, now in shadow, provides a still and quiet contrast to the hubbub downstairs, like a place outside of time.

Yi Zifan wants to get to work right away, but the smells from the restaurant remind her that she hasn't eaten. She orders a tray sent up before she heads to the room she's been sharing with Master Xuan.

It's so strange to see people celebrating in the restaurant and in the streets, not knowing what's happened in the palace. They'll surely find out soon. But for now it almost seems that the festival is real, and the deaths and chaos were nothing but a bad dream.

Not long after she's closed the door to the room, there's a knock on the window outside, behind the closed shutters, and the shadow of something--someone--moving beyond. "Hey, physicians!" comes a loud whisper. "Don't shoot! It's me."

"Heng Wanxue!" Yi Zifan throws the shutters open, a rare smile spreading across her face.

Heng Wanxue grabs tighter onto the edge of the roof to keep from toppling as she swings back, grinning. "It's good to see you! I've been waiting. Can I come in? Is Master Xuan with you?"

"No, she's--yes, come in--I should tell you--" But there's so much to tell, Yi Zifan doesn't know where to start. At least Heng Wanxue looks like she always has. Yi Zifan takes her wrist, and she can feel it--Heng Wanxue has broken through, her spirit bright and strong, with no sign of a qi deviation. "Congratulations. I'm glad."

"Thank you. I had the advantage of a good master." She slips fully in and closes the window behind her, growing serious. "I went to Wu Zhenghao's house first. Everyone's gone! It looks like I just missed them. What happened?"

"They made it out." Yi Zifan sighs with relief. "They were accused of assassinating the crown prince. He was poisoned, and his throat was cut. And that poor man too, Yu Long--" Yi Zifan hangs her head, and her hair falls forward, hiding her face. "You called me a miracle, but I'm not. I'm just a person. I can't raise the dead."

"Yu Long was killed too?" Shocked, she reaches out, but clenches her hands into fists rather than touch without invitation. "If you couldn't heal them, they weren't meant to be healed. Oh, honey. So, they're all gone--on the run! They--" She shakes her head. "They didn't really do it. Did they?"

"No," Yi Zifan answers automatically. And then, after a moment's thought, "No. They were at the banquet the whole time when his throat was cut. There's no way they could have. Prince Kai--Director Zhao--he realized it too. That's why he let them go. But the empress's people needed someone to blame, and so they had to run. My master is also--not under arrest, but detained. To help with the investigation. She says that she's safe, but that I might be in danger if I stayed, so here I am."

"Good! Then they have someone high up on their side." Wanxue starts rushing around the small space available in the room, then throws her arms open. "I just found him--I just found him! This isn't fair! What are we supposed to do, just go back to what we were doing? Crown prince killed! So what! Let them sort out their own business! What's it got to do with us, and my Magpie? But my master won't be happy if I leave the city. But I have to, now. I won't have him die somewhere far away without ever seeing him again."

Right then there's a knock on the door. "Master Xuan?" a voice calls out. "Are you in?"

Perhaps it's nerves, perhaps instinct, but Heng Wanxue drops down and crawls under a table, out of sight, and goes quiet as a mouse.

Heng Wanxue's reaction makes Yi Zifan cautious too. She takes up her staff and stands by the door, but doesn't open it, or answer the question directly. "Who is it?"

"Honored guest, there's a message for Master Xuan. Delivered a little while ago, but this lowly one heard voices."

Yi Zifan cracks the door open, her staff still ready in her hand. "A message? If it's for Master Xuan, you can give it to me. I'll see she gets it."

It's a face she's seen often before among the inn servants. He straightens up a little noticing it's only her, but hands the note over all the same.

The letter is so new and hastily written that the ink has splotched, but it's legible, and the hand that wrote it is fine. However, it doesn't make a lot of sense, and looks mostly like a bizarre shopping list of items such as western sunshine and two delegations of chicklets. The number three repeats twice and the number five once, and it ends in a polite apology and entreaty.

"I don't understand." Yi Zifan mutters, shaking her head. "It's my own fault for reading my master's correspondence. It'd better wait until she gets back."

She sets the note on the table that Heng Wanxue is hiding under, and then, with a backwards glance at the closed door, peers underneath on her hands and knees. "It's alright, he's gone."

Heng Wanxue crawls out. "Sorry. I just don't think you or your master need to be seen with someone like me right now. It's alright if I'm a client; this is different. Oh, look at this." She picks up the note and frowns at it. "Western sunlight... Eastern moon shadow? Hello! This is some kind of opposites code."

"Can you read it?" Yi Zifan sits up on her knees and leans forward eagerly, her scruples about reading her master's correspondence forgotten.

It takes some head-scratching and changing her mind this way and that, but in the end, Heng Wanxue exclaims, "It's the Illustrious Qilin Villa! Moonlit Garden Inn at the eastern wall, and they tried to give a room number, but that I can't figure it out. Maybe some of them are still in the city and injured? Maybe it's Magpie! Though this isn't his handwriting, even in a hurry..."

"My master told me, the Ancient Willow Sect must remain neutral. And they still have her in custody. I can't--" Yi Zifan breathes deeply, gripping the edge of the table. "I can't be caught."

And she throws open one of the traveling chests in the room, looking for spare clothes to fashion a disguise.

--

The Moonlit Garden Inn has no garden, nor does the freshly risen moon's light reach it where it's squashed between two larger buildings and the city wall. This isn't the pretty part of town, but then they don't look like they're dressed for a fine night out, either. Heng Wanxue's new tunic is a pale orange with a cheap but pretty sash, but her boots are still old and her hair in its careless queue. Yi Zifan, through their combined efforts, now looks like any youth you might see driving a cart or pushing bread into an oven, and not at all like a disciple of the Ancient Willow Sect--they hope. The hat will hopefully hide the tell-tale short hair, too.

"Now what?" Heng Wanxue blows an errant strand of hair from her face and gazes thoughtfully up at the second story balcony; it looks in need of repair, like the fence might come down if a guest leaned on it too heavily; or, say, a thief tried to haul herself up. The doors are open here as well, and people have spilled in from the golden lantern-light within to the steps, drinking and smoking. Unlike at Yi Zifan's inn, there are no little children here clutching on to their parents' robes; this is no place for children.

"Go in, I suppose, and see if we can spot them," says Yi Zifan links her arm through Heng Wanxue's, as if she's an ordinary boy showing an ordinary girl a night on the town, very aware of the warm, compact body next to hers.

"Oh," says Wanxue, "a direct approach? Probably best, I don't like the look of that fence up there."

Inside they're plunged into hubbub and more smoke, some of it clinging to the ceiling, and a mixture of spices and perfumes. No waiter approaches, though one bustles by fast with a heavy tray balanced against his hip. There is a dice game going in one corner, and a soothsayer in another with a crowd leaning in. No flash of familiar black and red.

"I know some people here," Wanxue murmurs, snuggling closer and leaning her head on Yi ZIfan's arm for cover. "But this crowd doesn't talk to the guards. If they see me, they see me, Wanxue is just out on a date, it's none of their business. And I think the beds upstairs aren't really for sleeping." She nods in the direction of a girl with her dress half-undone hanging on the knee of a man twice her age. As they watch, the two of them stand and half-carry one another towards a narrow staircase.

Yi Zifan's head swims with the noise and the smoke. It's not like she's never been to a dive like this before--the people who work at them, and their customers, need medical attention as often as anyone else, if not more. But it's never been on a date. With a snuggly girl who likes her and doesn't mind showing it to everyone.

It isn't that now either, of course. It's only a cover. Yi Zifan scans the room, trying to pay attention to everything but Heng Wanxue pressed up against her. The couple Heng Wanxue pointed out disappears up the staircase, and a different disheveled man stumbles down shortly afterwards. In the back, a burly fellow with a pair of sabers at his sides is keeping a keen eye on the room, while at the door they came in, another lounges, unarmed but with an air of menace. Waiters dodge between customers, carrying trays of greasy food and baijiu. One of them keeps going towards the staircase, and on her tray is...

A tea set. Unusual for this crowd at this time of night, but not particularly suspicious. A bottle Yi Zifan recognizes as an opium tincture from a cheap local maker. But then, there are plenty of people using opium here, even if most of them are smoking it. But... who would need such a quantity of fresh napkins? Only they're not napkins; they're bandages.

She nudges Heng Wanxue and tilts her head in that direction, then starts steering them through the crowd towards the stairs, trying to keep the waitress in sight.

A waiter, a willowy fellow already balding at a young age, stops them with a hand on Yi Zifan's arm. "Hey, private rooms are extra."

Yi Zifan bristles at the unexpected touch, but goes to pay the waiter--it can't be much, compared to what she's been raking in helping Master Xuan for the past week--until Heng Wanxue speaks up first, tossing him a saucy wink. "I'll give you a cut later."

"Don't make me laugh, miss. With that face, it's got to be true love."

Wanxue sighs. "Got me there. Alright, how much?"

The waiter names a price, a bit steep for the quality, and Wanxue pays it with a sweet smile. How can the fellow make the implication that a woman isn't charging money for sex more insulting than the implication that she is? And how can Heng Wanxue keep smiling at him? In any case, Yi Zifan will have to pay her back afterwards--or really, the Qilin Villa should.

(However--unseen by Yi Zifan--the only thing the man has taken is his own coin, lifted from his pocket a mere moment ago.)

The staircase is boxed in on both sides, barely wide enough for anyone to squeeze past, should they be coming from two different directions. Above and below, there is the sound of revelry. But the waiter delayed them, and now there is no sign of the tea-set-bearer on the first landing.

Then again, if someone here is sick and hiding, they will be on the third floor. So, briskly going up, they're in time to see the server make a bow at an open door, then grin as her hand is filled, and make another bow. They've found their room.

Yi Zifan pulls Heng Wanxue into the shadows until the server is out of sight again, and then approaches the door, saying quietly, "I'm here from--" How did they refer to Master Xuan in the note again? "From White."

Master Wu opens the door after a moment. Something in his pose tells Yi Zifan that he's holding a weapon in his hidden hand, but when he sees them, he relaxes and pulls the door open the rest of the way to let them in.

It's a little room with just a bed and a narrow washing-stand; the tea-tray has been set at the foot of the bed, where, in rumpled bed-sheets picturing painted mandarin ducks and golden peaches, lies the Jade-Lipped Viper, Wu Tooth Beauty Niu. She's crumbled upon herself, pale and weak, a wide bamboo bowl set up to catch the bile she's coughing up. Her eyes and ears have been bandaged; there is a trickle of blood from her nose.

Heng Wanxue puts a hand over her mouth and swallows. The smell in the room is no longer just the sourness of Niu Liling's breath, but the stench of a deeper rot. She shrinks back a little; while she does not go so far as hide, she makes herself small and quiet and insignificant.

Master Wu seems happy to let her be forgotten. He looks tired as he resheathes his dagger. "Thank you for coming," he says to Yi Zifan. "Is Master Xuan detained, or refusing to come? Either way, I couldn't blame her. It's Black Owl Poison."

"Black Owl--but how--" Without further conversation, Yi Zifan kneels next to the bed, setting down the anonymous bag where she's re-packed her medical supplies, and makes an examination of the suffering woman.

The smell is stronger than it was even from the prince's corpse. He--aside from the matter of his slashed throat--had had the appearance of a healthy person; the internal rotting characteristic of Black Owl not far enough advanced to leave an outward mark. The poison has clearly had more time to eat away at Niu Liling. In fact--

If this is how she is now, she must certainly have been feeling the effects before she left the Palace. Why hadn't she asked Master Xuan for help then, instead of letting it get this bad, and resorting to this rigamarole of hiding in houses of vice, writing coded notes?

Master Xuan had known. Or if she hadn't known exactly, she had suspected that something wasn't right. She's always been quicker to understand the evil that people do than Yi Zifan is. That was why she'd told Prince Kai that the blade the crown prince had been killed with might have been poisoned. It wasn't a lie, exactly, but the crown prince had clearly been poisoned well before he was knifed--only when Master Xuan had said that so coolly, Yi Zifan had found herself doubting the conclusions she'd drawn from her own examination.

But Yi Zifan had been right, and Master Xuan had known it too. It was only that, while the delegation from the Illustrious Qilin Villa had been under close observation for the entire banquet, and none of them could possibly have slit the crown prince's throat, it might have been possible for them to poison him earlier.

Not only possible. One of them had.

Niu Liling coughs, and Yi Zifan reaches for the bowl automatically, brushing the woman's hair away from her face as her throat works and bile spills from her mouth. It's Yi Zifan's calling to care for the sick and the suffering. How they came to be that way has always been irrelevant. But now--

She has a vision of herself, bright and clear as rage, standing up from the bedside and walking out of the room. It's all she would need to do.

But she remembers Lin Moniao, weeping over the body of his friend, whom Yi Zifan had failed to save. She can't do that to him again. Not without at least trying to save his sect leader. She takes a deep breath, her lips silently forming the words of a sutra until she trusts herself to speak aloud.

"My master has been detained at the palace," she says. "I don't know how long they'll keep her, and she's told me, the Ancient Willow won't take sides. The sect leader is in a bad way, but it's not as dire as it looks. She'll live until tomorrow, even without treatment. I'll try to help. Maybe I can and maybe I can't, but I'll try again tomorrow if I can't tonight. And in payment--whether I succeed or fail--I want a tooth."

Master Wu frowns at her but nods. "Anything, anything." One does not promise a living person's body parts to another easily, even just a tooth, but the choice here is not difficult.

Yi Zifan places her hands on Niu Liling's back, channeling healing energy. She can feel it flow into Niu Liling, bolstering her own considerable internal strength--but the grip of the poison is too strong. All Yi Zifan can do for now is to loosen it a little, not purge it from Niu Liling's system entirely.

Niu Liling moves, sighs, relaxes; she sinks into sleep, at least, which must be a relief. Master Wu is hovering. "How is it? Did it work? Is she clear of the poison?"

"I'm sorry," says Yi Zifan, which is partly true. "I've eased her pain, that's all. I can try to compound an antidote--it's what I'd meant to spend the evening doing anyway--and keep the sect leader under observation in the meantime. I assume you've paid the proprietors of this place enough that they won't be bothered by controlled fires or strange smells or anything like that.”

"One gets away with a lot when there's a festival going on." He nods, turning a fretful eye on the patient.

“Only all our alchemical equipment is back at our inn, and the more often I go back and forth, the more likely I'll be picked up..."

"I can get your things," Heng Wanxue offers. "I had a look at those shutters earlier, it won't be a problem, I just didn't want to come in without permission. They're more likely to be watching the door."

Yi Zifan looks gratefully up at Heng Wanxue; she, too, had almost forgotten she was there. "Thank you," she says, rising and walking towards the door with her. "Let me just tell you what I need. And if you see my master, if they've let her go, tell her--tell her I'm alright."

"Yes, of course." They close the door behind them, and Wanxue touches Yi Zifan's arm lightly and lowers her voice, though the sound from downstairs and outside the window at the end of the corridor should be enough to drown them out. "Something's upset you."

"She made fools out of me and my master. She made us liars to Director Zhao," Yi Zifan says in a harsh whisper. "Fine. We’re not her followers. She doesn’t owe us anything. But that young man cut his own throat for her, and she treated his life like it was nothing. If her honor demanded that she live for revenge, she shouldn't have become the leader of a sect. Lin Moniao--all of them--if anyone had seen how ill she was before they left the palace, they all would have followed her to the chopping block."

She presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. "Am I being too harsh? Aren't I doing the same as her--letting my passions make me forget my duty? My master is still a prisoner, and I shouldn't do anything that could compromise her, or my sect. But--Moniao--he was so devastated. I've never seen him like that. I can't cause him more grief. He would want me to do this."

Heng Wanxue shakes her head, eyes wide, trying to take in so much information at once, but she keeps her hand on Zifan's arm. "That's a lot--that's a lot! I can't judge you, I really can't, whichever way you go. But think of it this way--if you heal her now, you can kill her later. Can't do it the other way around, can you?"

That startles a laugh out of Yi Zifan. "I wasn't thinking of killing her. Only of walking away. But I've made up my mind. You, though--" she covers Heng Wanxue's hand with her own. "You came because you were afraid it was Moniao in there. Now you know it's not. You could still--go after him--or, back to whatever your own duties are. You haven't spoken of them, which makes you the most discreet one of all of us, but you said your master wants you in Kaifeng. Do they want you involved in this?"

"They don't. And Master just did me a favor, helping me to break through." She chews her inner lip. "I'll go after him anyway. But they must be going to Poyang Lake. I know where to find them. I can stay a little longer, make sure I'm not needed here, and then go quietly. And it's like you said--he cares about them, so I have to, too."

"He told me--the last thing he said before he left--I said I would let you know, and he said, take care of each other." Yi Zifan gives the hand on her arm one last pat before turning back to the room. "For you, I would want to anyway. I'll be here. Whichever way you go."

"Zifan, you're so good!" Wanxue exclaims softly. "Can I hug you? It's okay if not."

"You can. If you want," Yi Zifan stammers, a flush rising on her skin. "I mean--I'd like to. Anyway, my master only said I shouldn't be seen canoodling with fellows."

Wanxue laughs, and launches herself full-body on Yi Zifan. A squeeze and a little nuzzle, and then she is released. Wanxue looks up at her with a smile. "You're just really great! I'll be back soon. Thanks for the company." She goes on tippy-toe to brush her lips on Zifan's cheek, and bounds off to the stairs with a last wave.

Yi Zifan watches her go, dazed, rubbing her cheek. She's just demanded a woman's tooth in exchange for her life, on top of disobeying her master and maybe bringing disaster on her sect, so she can't see what Heng Wanxue means by good, or by any of it. But at least--if they get through this and Heng Wanxue gets back to Moniao, he'll be glad to see her. Anyone would be.



Chapter Two: Midnight Oil

Note: Contains medical description bordering on body horror.


Back in the room, Master Wu has placed the covers over Niu Liling's sleeping form, and is pouring tea. He still looks exhausted, and rather strange in plain browns and grays with an untidy collar and belt, and boots that have seen better days. Wu Zhenghao always used to be impeccably and expensively attired; but then, looking unlike oneself is the point of being in disguise.

"Long goodbyes," he remarks. "Tea?"

Yi Zifan kneels by the table, but doesn't pick up the cup. "What's in it?"

He huffs a laugh. "Just tea. I asked them to make it strong." He takes a long sip of his own. "You're right to be cautious. It's clear you've figured it out, and here you are, alone with a man with a vested interest in keeping the truth under wraps."

"Not quite alone." Yi Zifan's eyes flick to the bed, and then she picks up her cup and drinks. The tea is very strong, the way someone who was trying to hide the taste of poison would make it. "I don't think you mean to hurt me. I think you know what a bad idea that would be."

"You are my... my friend's best chance of seeing another day. And I think you know that if the empire finds us, they will not be content to hang only her. So, perhaps you will keep quiet." He sighs, sets the cup down carefully and rubs the bridge of his nose. "She had the antidote. If she'd taken it before... why didn't she take it? I've looked for it on her, it's not there. Maybe at the house, but the house--is off limits now. It has not gone as planned, Physician; I hope you believe that, at least."

"If she had the antidote--" Yi Zifan drops her eyes, looking into her teacup as she turns it in slow circles on the table. "It's harder to cure a patient who doesn't want to live."

He shakes his head. "She wouldn't do that to me. Not without a reason--without some justification. But the God spoke to her more than anyone else. Maybe He told her not to take it." His voice grows cold and hard at the mention of the God.

Yi Zifan nods, accepting this. At least, it's what Wu Zhenghao believes, and there's no point in arguing with him. As for the God Yu, He's one of countless minor and local gods, as worthy of veneration as any of them, but not one that Yi Zifan paid any particular attention to before she became involved in the doings of the Illustrious Qilin Villa, or very much afterwards.

She finishes her tea and says, "I'd better get to work."

There are some things she can do before Heng Wanxue gets back with her equipment, anyway. If nothing else, it's an excuse not to have to keep up the conversation.

She lays out her astrological charts on the table. If there were more time, she could choose a lucky day to do the work on, but there's no such luxury now. The best she can do is set all her reagents out, along with a small bottle filled from the bowl of bile, and then lean out the window, judging the positions of the stars as best as she can through smoke and fireworks, waiting for the most auspicious moment to mix them.

Master Wu drinks his tea quietly, letting her work.

The first reagent has no effect, but the second one raises a foam on the sample, and Yi Zifan quickly pours the separating substance into different bowls, blood and bile and rotting flesh leaving behind the faintest residue of... something. Traces of the poison's substance, familiar from poisons and cures Yi Zifan herself knows how to make. Is this the dreaded Black Owl poison? Is the secret only in the proportions, or--

Black Owl poison is rumored to be undetectable when administered dissolved in water, but with the royal family's food tasters, and all the precautions surrounding the banquet, a different preparation must have been needed. She sets aside her tools, barely remembers to clean her hands before rubbing her eyes, and asks, "Did you get the poison from the Bone Physician himself? What did it look like when you got it?"

"I did." Master Wu nods. "I happened to meet him some time ago, in Anhui province, and we negotiated for a sample. He only had a little of it with him while traveling--one bottle of antidote, one thumbnail's width of paste, and one packet of powder. We took the paste and the antidote and paid both him and his benefactor well. I asked him if he was worried our physicians would study it and try to recreate it, and he laughed."

"Laughed, did he," Yi Zifan grumbles. "The paste--Director Zhao asked if the poison could have been a paste to coat the edge of a blade. Does the sect leader have a wound?"

Master Wu purses his lips, abstracted in thought for a moment. Then he gently uncovers the sleeping woman and pulls back her sleeve. Four puncture marks, arranged roughly in a square on her pale forearm. Small as pinpricks, faintly red, easy to miss if one didn't know what one was looking for. And the remains of the poison, fainter still. Yi Zifan scrapes up what she can, as carefully as she can, onto her whitest, clearest sampling dish.

"Well?" Master Wu asks, peering over her shoulder.

"There's something in it, some fruit or berry--it's nothing we grow in our gardens. If Song Tuan is the only one who knows where it grows, it's no wonder he's not worried that anyone will replicate it. Knowing the rest of the composition might still help in making an antidote," Yi Zifan adds, although Song Tuan's confidence that it couldn't be done is discouraging. "But you said--one bottle of antidote? From what I've heard, the antidote only staves off the effects. Even if you had it, how long would one bottle give her?"

"If you take it before you ingest the poison, the poison won't take. That was the idea. A safeguard, in case of an accident." He pours the last dregs of the tea into a cup thoughtfully, then shakes his head. "I hope your Master Xuan is not too upset; the sect will make reparations, otherwise, I'm sure. At least we--they--had no quarrel with her before. You didn't tell Heng Wanxue, did you?"

Yi Zifan's mouth goes suddenly dry. "I--not--no," she stammers.

But if she hadn't told, she'd certainly implied it very strongly. Didn't Heng Wanxue already know? Anyone seeing Niu Liling would know--that was the trouble --

Anyone who'd been in Director Zhao's office, and heard the things that had been said there. Which Heng Wanxue hadn't. No wonder she'd told Yi Zifan it was a lot. Yi Zifan hadn't thought of that, she'd only been boiling over with anger, and Heng Wanxue had been sympathetic, and she hadn't thought--

Why doesn't she ever think?

Yi Zifan is Niu Liling's best chance of seeing another day. Heng Wanxue... isn't. Yi Zifan has Master Xuan to protect her, and the other masters are here too, and the whole sect would hold a grudge if anything happened to her. Who does Heng Wanxue have?

"Good. Don't, please. She seems like a sweet girl, and I trust her for Moniao's sake, but her master has no love for the Illustrious Qilin Villa. She might let it slip, and it may be used against us--them--him. I am asking you. I can't tell you to do anything. I'm not your master. I'm not anybody's master anymore. If Beauty Niu gets better, we'll--we'll see what she wants to do."

He stands and paces, stops to look at the sleeping woman, paces again, as if to force himself to stay awake.

"You're not--" Just when she thought she'd gotten a rein on her temper, it surges back again. Her throat closes up and her hand goes to her wrist for the beads that aren't there and it's several moments before she can speak. "You did all this--and then you left him with it?"

Wu Zhenghao stops pacing and turns to her, cocking his head to regard her as if she was an interesting specimen. "Yes. I've done worse than that, too. Would you like to hear more? The litany of my sins is long."

"No," Yi Zifan snaps. "I'm not interested in you."

He lets out a short, bitter laugh. "Good, good... ah, this humble one is no longer used to being insignificant, and thanks Physician for the reminder."

--

Enough time has passed that Heng Wanxue really should be back by now. A little more passes, enough for even Wu Zhenghao to go to the hallway and look down the stairs and out the window to see if there are enemies closing in on them, but eventually light footsteps come tapping fast up the stairs and Heng Wanxue practically bursts through the door without knocking. Over her shoulder hangs a heavy bag, which she unslings and hands to Yu Zifan. "Here are your things, but you guys really shouldn't stay here for long. I ran into some friends... I threw them off the scent, but they're going to put two and two together eventually."

Yi Zifan accepts the supplies with a tired sigh. "Thank you. I don't like to move the patient, but--is there anywhere else we can go? Not to our inn."

"Um." Heng Wanxue tugs on her braid. "Ahh, hmm..."

Wu Zhenghao sighs. "If we leave, we may draw attention to ourselves faster. The only place to go is another inn just like this--or with people who would shield us but don't deserve to get mixed up in this. We might as well stick it out here. I don't expect you two to stay, if anyone does come for us."

"My friends don't talk to the guard. It would only be my people," Heng Wanxue assures him. "Which is bad enough, but it means I can slow them down."

"Dear girl. No, if they come, you leave. You've done plenty."

For once, Yi Zifan finds herself agreeing with Wu Zhenghao. "Yes. You don't need to stay--there's nothing else you can do here, anyway."

"Silly! You need a lookout, don't you? I've got nothing better to do, and if nothing else, Mr. Moneybags here can foot my bill. Did you see how much they charge for a chicken thigh down there?" Wanxue laughs, but there is a stubborn tilt to her shoulders. There's no getting rid of her.

"I didn't," Yi Zifan says, torn between wanting Heng Wanxue to go, and being glad that she's here, and admiration for her bravery and stubbornness. But since there's nothing else to say, she starts setting up the equipment that Heng Wanxue brought and gets back to work.

"That's the spirit. I'll be downstairs watching the door." She looks like she wants to say something more. Wu Zhenghao silently pays her a clinking string of coins, and her merry mask falls back on. "Aw, that'll buy me a pig's trotter!"

She goes, and Wu Zhenghao kneels by the bed, and Zifan has peace to work.

She begins by setting up the brazier and starting a fire in it, laying out her other tools while the fire steadies to a controlled temperature. There are antidotes she knows how to make, that treat similar syndromes, that would be a place to start. Now that she knows the ingredient that makes the poison unique is a fruit, she can see the action of wood on the liver, stoking a consuming fire that spreads throughout the patient's insides. She grinds a few flakes of cinnabaris into her usual preparation, hoping the dryness and coldness of metal will be able to cool the patient's systems.

One sample after another, in slightly varying proportions, tested against the fluid samples to judge their reactivity. The results are promising. It ought to work. She finds herself slumping over the table, the vague beginnings of dreams starting to stir her mind, and she shakes herself awake. Consults her astrological charts and the heavens once more. There's no better time for it than right now. She takes the preparation and her long-handled spoon and crosses to the bed, shaking Niu Liling's shoulder.

Niu Liling makes a sleepy noise, then stiffens as the motion of her throat brings up her cough. She raises herself on her arms and starts coughing violently, dark clumps of bile mixed with blood splattering the pink covers.

This wakes up Wu Zhenghao, who had fallen asleep still kneeling on the floor, his head resting on his arms on the bed, and after a moment of shock he clutches her arm. "Sect leader, sect leader!"

Niu Liling waves him away and sits up on the side of the bed, curling down towards her knees until the fit passes into wheezing and tremors.

"Here." Yi Zifan offers her a spoonful of the antidote. "Swallow this."

Niu Liling raises watery and bloodshot eyes to Yi Zifan, nods and accepts it, though it takes a few tries to get her throat to work. She puts her hands together in a wordless thanks and sinks back into the bed, though the way she keeps swallowing, another coughing fit is just around the corner. At least it hasn't made her any worse.

Yi Zifan nods. It's not as dramatic a result as she could have hoped for, but that doesn't mean it was ineffective. "We'll see how it is in the morning. Rest now."

She gives Niu Liling another dose, this one an ordinary painkiller and soporific, and as she drifts off, Yi Zifan nudges her mouth open and picks up her pliers. She's almost gotten used to the smell, but as Niu Liling exhales softly in sleep, another noxious cloud comes roiling out. Unlike other teeth Yi Zifan has extracted, these are so black and rotted that it requires less strength than delicacy, to pull one free of the gums whole without crumbling it into shards. When it's done, Yi Zifan holds the tooth up to the lamplight, turning it one way and the other. Beauty Niu's teeth are a marvel of directed cultivation, unique in all the world, and now Yi Zifan has one. With a deep sigh of satisfaction, she folds it carefully in a napkin.

Wu Zhenghao watches her through the whole procedure. "Thank you for being gentle with her," he says in the end.

Yi Zifan, unsure how to answer, puts the tooth away with her other things, then curls up in a corner to finally sleep. Wu Zhenghao resumes his place by her bed. Neither of them, it seems, will presume to get on the bed with the patient, though, given its purpose, there is enough space for two or three.

The night is not quiet; though the fireworks have faded, the restaurant downstairs is still open, and they are all partly woken close to morning by a ruckus downstairs, angry voices raised. But nothing comes of it, no footsteps come up the stairs, and they can sleep again, until just after full sunrise, when Niu Liling wakes up coughing again.

But this is different from last night--there is no blood, and no tremors, though she collapses right back on the bed, weak and covered in drying sweat. The antidote has helped.

"Water. Tea." Wu Zhenghao, woken so suddenly again but seeing the change in the sky outside, turns around in the room, runs a hand through his hair, and addresses Yi Zifan. "I'll go get us tea. And soup." It seems unlikely the sect leader could swallow anything chunkier right now.

Yi Zifan yawns and stretches. No water to wash with, but she's surely not the worst-smelling thing in the room. Among her things still spread out on the table, her eye falls on the astrological charts, and then the sunlight streaming through the window. Time for another try, then.

She takes Niu Liling's wrists and feels her pulse, then examines her tongue. The progress of the poison has been halted for now, but it still maintains its grip on her vital systems, like a blasted tree's roots still grip the earth. She sits on the bed next to Niu Liling and places her hands on her back once more, trying to match the rhythm of her breathing, uneven as it is. She offers a prayer to Guanyin and tries to let her anger flow out of her with her breath, to find compassion for Niu Liling's patient suffering, for Wu Zhenghao's care for his friend, and his courtesy to herself and Heng Wanxue. She reaches for the wellsprings of healing within herself, within Niu Liling's still-powerful core, within the harmony of all things that move and breathe and grow in their own way.

As she does, the energy flows from her freely into Niu Liling, and back again in a shining loop, and the poison in Niu Liling's body withers and fades. She's still damaged and desperately weak, but--

Yi Zifan has tried, and failed, so often in the past few days that she'd started to worry that she was cut off from the Goddess's mercy forever. But she isn't. She can still heal. She slumps down with her head on her knees, exhausted but triumphant.

Her patient sighs in her sleep, and doesn't wake up, even though the flow of her qi is already strengthening now that the poison is not blocking it.

Yi Zifan has a moment to rest. It's a quiet morning, given the festival, though below there are some sounds of activity. Even so, when footsteps come up the stairs, they are immediately noticeable--more than one pair of feet, some heavy, some light, coming up to Niu Liling's room.

"We've run out of time," says Wu Zhenghao grimly as he opens the door. "How is she?"

Niu Liling is startled awake, pushing up on her elbows and gasping. Her breath is ragged, but she doesn't cough. It is difficult to see her as a beauty now, with her hair messy and sticking to her skin, her teeth black under dry pale lips, eyes wild and sunken, her fine dress under a simple robe splattered with blood and bile, her breath polluting the room. She looks over to the door and tries to speak, but cannot; her throat is destroyed.

"She'll live," says Yi Zifan distractedly, throwing her things into her bag as quickly as she can, hoping nothing will be spilled or damaged. "Is Heng Wanxue--"

Another hand grasps the door and pulls it open further, and a man in a ragged blue robe, his hair loose and dusty, pokes his head around it. "Heng Wanxue is going to be in trouble with the master," he says in a jovial tone, "but I suspect she'll survive. Hello, you must be--" He stops when he takes in Niu Liling, who is gathering her robes around herself with shaking fingers, trying to get her feet steady enough to stand. Wu Zhenghao crosses the floor to take her hand and help her up, and she manages it, though she leans on him heavily.

The man is now ignoring Yi Zifan to cross his arms and look darkly on the pair. "Wu Zhenghao, it's not going to work. Look at her. The smell alone will be enough to track her by."

"If you are not going to help, Huang Tianlin, then please refrain from making comments," Wu Zhenghao snaps. "Heng Wanxue is downstairs," he tells Yi Zifan. "Her people are here. This is one of them. She's still trying to talk them down. You can go, you've done all you can. We'll--we'll see about leaving some other way."

Yi Zifan finishes packing her things and heads towards the door. Maybe Wu Zhenghao is being chivalrous, but he's also probably right. There's nothing more she can do here, and in any case she's more concerned with Heng Wanxue. But when she hears the man's name, she stops and turns around.

"Huang Tianlin! You're the one--"

Lin Moniao had spoken of him as a friend--or at least, he'd spoken of a friend whose name he refrained from mentioning when he'd been lucid, and it wasn't difficult to connect that friend with the Huang Tianlin whose name he'd called when his mind had been wandering. And yet, when she'd first found Lin Moniao near Beijing, closer to death than Niu Liling had been the night before, he'd been alone. Not for the first time, she wonders how faithful a friend Huang Tianlin really is, and whether she maybe should have kept her mouth shut.

"I may be," Huang Tianlin says, and turns a flash of smile in her direction. "I may not be. Believe only the good parts, I beg. And do go, there's really not a lot of time." He drops her a bow, then straightens up and turns shrewd eyes on Wu Zhenghao, who glares back, his arm around the drooping Niu Liling. "To make a deal..."

Yi Zifan bows silently back and dashes out the door, hoping that she's not too late to--

Really, she's not sure what she can do for Heng Wanxue either. She'll have to figure it out once she gets there.

The restaurant is supposed to be closed. No-one is serving, or even sweeping the considerable mess on the floor or wiping down the tables. However, a group of varied people is gathered at the bottom of the stairs and on the tables and chairs closest to it, holding court while Heng Wanxue sits cross-legged on the narrow staircase, her whip in her lap. Some of them are in near-rags, others in well-worn worker's clothes.

"They're going to escape," complains a young person of indeterminate gender, who is wearing odd bits and pieces of armor on their body and a hood pulled so low over their head you can barely see their mouth. "What if they take Huang Tianlin out and run? Then what are we going to tell the master?"

Heng Wanxue yawns. "What do you mean, what are we going to tell her? I'm not inclined to let you bully a sick woman out of bed. If you feel so strongly about it, go right ahead and see what you can do." She pats the whip in her lap.

Yi Zifan stops on the stair above Heng Wanxue. "Please don't disturb my patient," she adds.

"If it's not us, it's someone else." A woman with intricately braided hair spits on the floor at the foot of the stairs. "Everybody's after the Cult of the Parrot God after what happened at the gates. And with word coming down that sect leaders are being detained. Those Hangzhou hooligans are getting restless, the guard are going up and down the city harassing people. Just bring 'em to the Queen, why not?"

Heng Wanxue looks up apologetically at Yi Zifan and climbs on her feet. "Alright! Let's go up then, but not all at once. And I hope to Heaven none of those hooligans or guards see you idiots trying to hide away fugitives and decide to take it out on all of us."

"No need," a voice comes from up the stairs. "They're coming."

Huang Tianlin descends first, followed by Wu Zhenghao with his hood pulled low over his face, supporting Niu Liling, who is even more wrapped up, her veil back in place. Heng Wanxue takes Yi Zifan's wrist to pull her aside, and uses the moment to whisper, "Huang-qianbei has a plan." The crowd also parts at the foot of the stairs to make way for the trio.

Yi Zifan follows Heng Wanxue's direction, making a path for them but keeping a wary eye. Whatever Huang Tianlin's plan is, it had better not involve running away and leaving everyone else with the consequences.

"Now get lost, you're more conspicuous than a wedding procession," Huang Tianlin grumps, feinting a kick in the direction of the braided woman, who puts up her hands. "I'll get them there."

Tree Frog Gao's people are good at disappearing fast, so by the time they get to the street, they're nearly the only ones there.

"You too," Huang Tianlin tells Heng Wanxue, who bows to him, takes Yi Zifan's hand, and pulls her away along the street.

"That's it. That's really it," she tells her. "You did so, so well. They'll look after one another now. I trust him."

With one more glance after the others, Yi Zifan turns back to Heng Wanxue, unsure of what to do with her hand. "If you say so. From what Wu Zhenghao told me, my master will still be in the Palace, and she needs me--she needs what I've learned. Will you go--like you said? Can you, now?"

"Maybe not right away." She is not letting go of Yi Zifan's hand, but slows down as they round a corner, and rubs her eye. "I need sleep. You need sleep. I wouldn't catch up with them in a hurry anyway. And he said I should look after you." She looks up at Yi Zifan and a smile steals across her face, and she comes up a little closer, pressing her shoulder on her arm. "Oh, no, I was wrong. He said we should take care of each other, didn't he?"

"Yes." Yi Zifan's voice comes out a little strangled, and she's dizzy in a way that has nothing to do with lack of sleep. There's no one around now, no reason for Heng Wanxue to be acting like Yi Zifan is her young man--no reason except that she wants to. Yi Zifan catches her in a clumsy hug, resting her own head on top of Wanxue's. "Your hair is so soft. You're nice to hold."

Wanxue wraps her arms around Zifan's waist with a happy smile. "You're so tall and cool. And I'm soft all over, you know. I could show you." The wider street they came from was empty, and this narrow one they ducked into is even more out of sight, which may be why she dares to let one of her hands wander downwards. "I didn't realize you would be interested, but since I figured you might be, now I really want to..."

Zifan makes an inarticulate sound and an involuntary movement of her hips, sure she's giving off enough heat to denature several of the compounds she's carrying. "Wanxue, I have to go to my master," she practically wails. "And I can't take you with me... unless... are you sure things are alright with you? I could get you out of reach of anyone chasing you. For a little bit. If you need it."

"And cute, did I say you're cute?" Wanxue laughs. She brings her hands up to a less scandalous area and props her chin on Zifan's chest. "I'll be alright. You never have to worry about me! I know you have to go back to Master Xuan, just... catch you later? I'll keep an eye on the inn."

"All right. I have to go there first anyway, to wash and change and pick up some things. Just--just be safe." Zifan pecks a kiss on Wanxue's upturned forehead and then extricates herself and dashes away, still feeling like her face is on fire.


Chapter Three: Vipers

Note: Contains death and mourning.


It's still morning when Yi Zifan makes it to the palace. The day is bright and breezy, and a crowd of people is gathered before the gates, despite all the partying from the day before. Sweepers are still busy clearing up the tattered paper decorations.

Guards with crossed spears indicate the palace is closed for business, but Yi Zifan's note lets her through once they fetch her an escort into the yard. The tracks of carriages still are still visible on the ground, with more sweepers working at clearing them away, but compared to yesterday the place is eerily quiet.

Up the stairs they go and under the shadow of the high gates, to the second yard. Here, there are more guards than she's ever seen before in one place, though they are doing nothing but standing in formation, waiting for orders.

Further into the outer palace, she is finally led into a fine hallway with tall closed doors on each side. These, she is told, are the guest quarters. The door that is opened to her leads to a grand, spacious set of rooms, with the windows thrown open and curtains billowing in the air. Everywhere she looks are furnishings of gold and silver, or delicate paintings on wall-hangings and screens. Not a single pillow here looks fit to be sat upon. There is cursing and clanking from behind a division, and Master Xuan comes out, leaning a fist on her hip and scowling. It doesn't look like she's slept much.

"Master Xuan. Your disciple is here," the guard declares with a bow.

"I can see that. Get lost."

The guard bows again and leaves.

"Shifu, I've made some progress. On the antidote." Yi Zifan's guts swirl with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. There still might be trouble because of the company she spent the night in, but she didn't get caught--not by anyone but Heng Wanxue's people, and they don't talk to the guard--and what she's achieved should be enough to make up for it. "It may not work quite as well as Song Tuan's formula, but it halts the progress of the poison, at least."

"Good, good--what? Zifan, it works?" Master Xuan takes a few swift steps to her and looks in her hands, as if she might be waving the antidote around. "How do you know it works? How did you manage that?"

Wordlessly, Yi Zifan takes the napkin with Niu Liling's tooth out of her medicine kit, unwraps it, and then hurriedly wraps it up and puts it back.

Wu Tooth Beauty Niu, Master Xuan mouths, and pats Zifan's arm. "Come along, show me. They've let me set up a little station here, too."

Behind the division, there is indeed a low table where Master Xuan has clearly been working, with more samples of bile in various bottles arranged at her table, with name tags on each. "My sect brothers have also been working on an antidote, but none of us have got very far--and we haven't had much time, either. There were four more people poisoned, and even with the three of us--as you know, sometimes the healing will just not come. Of course, the Son of Heaven was our first duty, and I am glad to say we did not fail him. But there is another young man dead, and there will be many more. Show me, show me."

With everything set up, Yi Zifan only needs to set out the materials she brought with her to start work, explaining as she goes. "I discovered an unknown fruit in the poison--maybe you know of it--and I added cinnabaris to counterbalance it, as you can see, to strengthen the patient's metal..."

Master Xuan follows along, nods, asks a few questions. Though she is not given to praise, in the end, she sits back on the balls of her feet and says, "Solid work, Zifan. This would have come in useful yesterday--but then, it didn't exist yet yesterday. You should rest now, my disciple. It doesn't look like you've slept. This master will consult her sect brothers."

She makes a gesture pointing at the window, and the wall, and presses a finger to her lips: We may be under observation.

"I slept a little," Yi Zifan protests, but she doesn't protest very hard. The Palace may be a cage right now, but it's a cage with beds that are much more comfortable than the seedy inn floor where she caught as much sleep as she could in the small hours of the morning, so as Master Xuan goes to speak with her sect brothers, Yi Zifan stretches out on one of them and pulls the curtains against the sunlight.

It's quiet and lonely in the room, and she is allowed to sleep; even when she stirs, there is a sense of eerie loneliness in these large empty rooms awash in sunlight, unnaturally tidy save for what little mess Master Xuan made that morning. Is she allowed to go out? Why is no-one here? There is water and fruit sitting in a bowl, and things for washing, and fresh, nondescript clothes to wear in the closet. She could try to find a servant; none are in attendance.

Yi Zifan washes, dresses, and eats, expecting Master Xuan to come back any moment; when she doesn't, Yi Zifan looks out into the corridor for any sign of anybody.

These are other doors like the one to her room here along the corridor, and at one end, a wider hall with tall windows letting in afternoon light. The doors are heavy, but even so there is the sound of arguing. Far off in the hall, she can see a servant hurrying across.

Hesitantly, she creeps a little closer to the doors, hoping to catch some of the argument. The voices are muffled, one high, one low, the first now raised in distress.

Over in the wider hallway, another servant passing by stops and sees Zifan, hauls the basket of cloth she had been carrying on her shoulder and comes over, bowing. "Is miss lost?"

Yi Zifan gives a guilty start. "I'm only--do you know what's happened to Master Xuan? Or any of the Ancient Willow physicians?"

"Master Xuan will be with the Divine Son of Heaven, of course." Zifan's simple dress must be loosening this servant's tongue, because she continues conversationally. "Not that anyone can find anyone today! There has been arguing all morning in the reception hall, important people leaving and being recalled and leaving again, we hardly know which way to turn! But it won't come to anything, I say; these things always sort themselves out. They'll get that jianghu sect that did it, and the Emperor will get better again and stop his sons arguing, and we'll get on like usual. I just don't know how they managed to poison the Son of Heaven twice!"

--

The healers are not allowed into the inner palace, but who would be? No Yang energy is allowed there. Two of the Ancient Willow Sect's group may be women, but they are not the emperor's women; and, moreover, it is thought better to have all three masters' opinion in this case.

It's therefore in a small bedroom in the guest quarters, heavily under guard, that the Son of Heaven lies dying. He is frail and thin, swaddled in blood-red sheets, and embroidered blanket drawn up high under the splendid yellow sleeves of his resting robe. It is shady here: there is no window, and the daylight comes in through a carved grill on the inner wall. An elderly eunuch stays by his side, washing the emperor's hands endlessly, and speaking soothing words into his ear when he thinks no one will hear, notice, or care.

Master Luo stands by, looking grim; Master Kun has already left the room to pace the balcony in the reception room. The room itself, when Yi Zifan was led through it, was full of tense and anxious men in fine clothing. Master Xuan looks up from checking the old man's pulse, and gives Yi Zifan a tired nod of welcome. "I would have sent for you, but you deserved your rest."

"I'm--you should have--" Yi Zifan stammers. Master Xuan needs rest as much as Yi Zifan. More, now. It's no excuse for Yi Zifan to shirk her duty, but she also can't argue with her master. "I'm here now," she says finally, taking a tentative step towards the Son of Heaven--the patient. "Should I--what do you need?"

Master Xuan gestures helplessly to the emperor. "There isn't much more to do but check our work. I don't think we are mistaken, but it is important to be as sure as we can be."

Yi Zifan takes--the patient's--wrist, feels his energies, examines his tongue. There are no lingering traces of poison, and all of the damage has been healed, like darns on a worn-out garment that's fraying at the seams. His body is simply too old, his energies too weak, to withstand the stress it's been subjected to.

"He's dying," she says, and it's only once the words have left her mouth that it occurs to her that maybe she shouldn't have been the one to say it, and so baldly. Well--it's said, and it's the truth.

Master Xuan nods, and sighs, frustrated. The old man kneeling by the bedside starts crying quietly, still holding the emperor's hand. The emperor himself opens his eyes for a moment, but drifts back to half-sleep, likely the best thing for him as he is now.

"Let's go tell them, then," says Master Luo. He is tall and wiry, with a somewhat straggly iron-gray beard and a constant expression of irritation.

"Stay quiet and stay behind me," Master Xuan instructs Yi Zifan, touching her arm as the two masters prepare to leave the room and face the anxious men.

Yi Zifan bows and falls into step behind Master Xuan.

In the reception room, all eyes turn to them. There are men here of all ages, and not a single woman apart from Master Xuan and Yi Zifan. Now that she can have a good look, Yi Zifan can recognize some of them. Prince Kai stands brooding in the back, looking up from a conversation with an elderly man, his expression stern; another of the Emperor's grown sons is there, a broad, strong, military kind; and perhaps a third, for why else would there be a soft-faced, teary teenager in attendance?

There are unfamiliar men in officials' robes, four of them, with rank insignia that she does not recognize. Another eunuch, a bony fellow, lurks in the back of the room, his face hidden inside a hood and his hands inside his sleeves. The court doctor, also, stands by here; those markings Yi Zifan can recognize. It is him that Master Xuan addresses, as she explains first clinically and then with more and more devastating clarity what is at hand.

The room shifts as she explains, some of the officials whispering in agitation. The youth looks in confused fear at the elder princes, then back at the bony figure in the back.

"Who poisoned him? How could you not clear it? You cleared Zhao Yu before, and the empress. So why?"

"We don't know who, minister," Master Xuan replies. "We did clear it, as I said--we cleared it twice. But few men achieve immortality, and in the end every life is in the hands of the Gods."

This may not have been the right thing to say, as another minister says, "Jianghu sects are quick to assign the will of Heaven when the palace is being stalked by killers!"

"Ministers are quick to accuse outsiders when their own nest is crawling with poison," says Master Luo in a nasty tone. There is a reason he was not chosen as the one to explain. Several gentlemen draw themselves up proudly.

Master Kun hurries in from the balcony to stand by his side, to put a hand on his arm; he is one of the few friends Master Luo has, after several decades of companionship at the gardens of the sect, and so Master Luo simmers down.

"Let's not get caught up in insinuations," says the big military man, "when two of my brothers are dead, my father lies dying, and my stepmother still suffers in her sickbed." At a closer look, this prince is not well either. His composure is impressive, but he looks pale, with cold sweat on his brow.

"The esteemed Prince Yu is correct," says a dry voice, and the hooded man steps forward, still hiding his hands as he bows slightly. "The Son of Heaven lives still. The Son of Heaven must name a new heir."

Zhao Kai and Zhao Yu exchange a look, then Zhao Yu glances at the soft youth while his brother pointedly turns to the hooded speaker. "Zhao Yu is the eldest."

"Nonetheless," answers the dry faceless voice. "I am sure the masters of the Ancient Willow Sect can revive the emperor long enough for him to voice an opinion."

There being no argument against this, the mourners-to-be select witnesses among them, and the three remaining eldest sons of the emperor file into the room, along with the court doctor and Master Xuan, who grabs Yi Zifan's arm to pull her along.

The elderly eunuch retreats to the corner of the room, as it is now becoming crowded. Master Xuan elbows her way through. "The gentlemen must speak with intent only and not upset the patient."

Between the two of them, the court doctor and Master Xuan administer water and a gentle qi massage to bring the emperor back to wakefulness. Some of the officials look uncomfortable at seeing the emperor so sick, and being touched like a mere mortal, but after a moment the old man on the bed lifts himself weakly up, propped by hands and pillows, and gathers some semblance of dignity, though it shot through with pain and labored breathing.

One of the selected officials steps forward as everyone bows deep. "Your Divine Imperial Majesty," he begins, "It is Shan Yeting." Then, in case the emperor in this state does not remember, he adds, "Your loyal Censor-in-Chief. Prince Zhao Fei has passed away. We beg Your Illustrious Eminence to name a new heir."

The emperor nods, exhausted. "Zhao Meng, then."

There is a moment of awkward silence. Then the Censor-in-Chief says, in a wavering voice. "Zhao Meng... has also passed."

The emperor's gaze wanders around the room, then he crumbles in pain and heartbreak. "Zhao Meng too! Am I left with no sons but serpents all around me!"

"No, Your Majesty--Your Eminence--you have three sons right here!" the Censor-in-Chief cries.

The hooded man is standing in the doorway. He throws back his hood, revealing a sallow face, like that of a corpse a week dead. "Your Eminence, your time is near. Choose wisely."

The emperor begins to weep.

The terrible vision of a man approaches the bed, gliding across the floor. Something about his aura seems to have everyone in thrall. Zhao Kai looks at his elder brother, frowns at his impassive expression. "It is a pressing duty," says the corpse-like man to the weeping emperor. "This Zhang Chuanli has always had the honor of your trust. Will you trust me now?"

Zhao Kai breaks forward and thrusts himself between Zhang Chuanli and the emperor. "Zhao Yu! He is right here!" He points. "He is the eldest of your sons now. You must choose him."

"How loud the young dog barks when he wants something," Zhang Chuanli mutters, loud enough for everyone at the bedside to hear.

Master Xuan puts her hand out to push them both back. "Stop this, right now. You will kill him in minutes rather than hours."

"Zhao Yu!" Prince Kai shouts, making another lunge forward. "Please, Father, say his name!"

The emperor throws up his hands to protect himself. "Zifan, help!" Master Xuan barks, holding back the strong young man by herself.

"Don't touch my master," Yi Zifan snaps, stepping up to Prince Kai and shoving. In a way, it's a relief, not to have to hold herself back. In another--nothing is the way it's supposed to be. Tears of frustration spring to her eyes as she stammers, "Aren't you--aren't you ashamed--"

She is strong. The prince stumbles backwards, and in the confined space, his back hits the wall. He shoots her a quick, snake-like glare, but the bedside is cleared, and it is as if a spell has broken. Two of the ministers rush up to hold the prince back, while Zhang Chuanli remains standing with stately posture an acceptable distance away.

The emperor falls back on the bed. "Where is Empress Zheng?" he moans in a wavering voice. "I wish to see the Empress. Bring her to me."

"Yes, your eminence, right away." The Censor-in-Chief makes hurried motions, and one of the ministers leaves the room to call for servants.

"Mother is ill, too," pipes up the youngest prince, who is now crying openly. The emperor beckons for him, and he rushes up to the bedside. His father pets his hair for a moment, then falls back into torpor, his breath quick and fast.

"He has chosen," Zhang Chuanli mutters, as if musing, but still in a tone loud enough for those near to hear.

"He has not," Prince Kai retorts. A minister still has an arm on him.

Yi Zifan puts a protective hand on Master Xuan's shoulder, breathing hard, shaking with fury. Hot tears are falling down her cheeks, and she hates them, hates the tightness in her throat that throttles her words before she speaks them.

"The Son of Heaven is right," she chokes out. "He’s dying, and you are all vipers--" Her eye falls on Zhang Chuanli, and suddenly she hates him most of all, how he stands so calm and speaks so softly as if he isn't the one who made them all come here, who couldn't let his master rest. "You--you dead thing, corpse-eater--"

"Zifan!" Master Xuan rebukes, though she must agree, surely. Young people just should not speak out of turn.

Zhang Chuanli turns yellowed eyes to Yi Zifan. Though his face remains frozen, his eyes widen slightly as he takes in Zifan, memorizing her features.

"Is she wrong?" Prince Kai taunts.

"Everybody out!" Master Xuan commands, and Zhao Yu repeats her. "Everybody out but the doctors, now!"

Prince Kai pulls himself up, straightens his robes, and walks out first before anyone can make him. Zhang Chuanli glides out behind him, followed by everyone but the other two princes.

Zhao Yu holds his hand out to the young prince and says, gently, "You too, A-Sun."

Zhao Sun steels his expression--and now, one can see the resemblance to his brothers and father--straightens up and follows Zhao Yu back into the reception room.

Master Xuan touches the old man's brow, testing his temperature. "For Heaven's sake," she murmurs.

"I'm sorry, shifu," Yi Zifan says miserably, wiping her eyes.

"You have so much heart," Master Xuan says quietly, now that no one will hear them. "People don't see it, but you do, my good disciple." She stands to reach a hand up to pat Yi Zifan's head, much like the emperor had patted his young son's.

Yi Zifan just shakes her head, not knowing how to respond, except to ask, "You aren't hurt, are you?"

"Fine, fine." She rolls a shoulder, which suggest this means--nothing I want you to worry about. "Let's make him comfortable."

They do as they can, while tense conversation continues in the next room. In a little while, more people show up, and a maidservant enters supporting a woman--the empress, presumably, though she hardly looks the same with no paint on her face and wearing a relatively simple, if splendid, sleeping gown. She shows the same signs of cold sweat and suffering as Prince Yu did, but is clearly in better condition than her husband.

She looks at him grimly across the room, then, still supported, walks over to the bed. "His eminence requested this lady's presence," she insists in a cracked voice, and makes to climb into bed.

There is space, but it is tight. "Gracious lady," Master Xuan tries, "he will not last long--please."

"He requested me," she insists.

It's true. He did. Though he only said he wanted to see her, not--anything else. Yi Zifan looks sideways at Master Xuan. She's already assaulted one member of the imperial family today, and she'll do it again, if her master says the word.

Master Xuan must be tired of telling off important people, and quietly pulls back the covers to allow the empress to get in and lie beside her husband's frail form. The empress climbs in and settles down, holding him lightly, her own exhausted head on the pillow next to his. "There are worse ways to go," Master Xuan tells Yi Zifan.

Soon, more physicians linked to the court arrive, these ones of a lower status. The Ancient Willow Sect leaves the royal couple in their care, and in the care of the elderly eunuch, who sneaks back in to sit by the bed.

The crowd in the reception room has thinned. The court doctor, himself looking tired now, explains to Master Xuan that Zhao Yu, despite his brother Kai's protest, has ordered guards placed at the door and restricted visitors, so that his father will not be disturbed further by politics, and has then gone to bed himself on the doctor's recommendation. As Zhao Sun (or Zhang Chuanli) did not disagree, this was done regardless of who one assumed to now be in charge.

"Many of the gentlemen wished to see you, when you are free," the doctor concludes.

"Of course," scoffs Master Luo. "Unless someone else falls ill, no."

"They may send for us when it best suits them," says Master Xuan, buying them at least half an hour of rest while the messages go back and forth; more, if several gentleman of similar rank wish to see them on the same hour; and even more, if they make themselves difficult to find. "We are going back to our quarters now."

Apparently Zhao Yu has ordered the hallway cleared as well, as no-one ambushes them along the way, though all three masters pick up their pace.

They find their quarters peaceful and empty, save for a large bowl of fruit that someone has left them. Master Kun goes for one, while Master Luo stops his hand. "Too damn much poison going around in this place," he murmurs. "At least load yourself up on antidotes first. Girl, is it true you made one against this gut-rotting one by that bastard, Song Tuan?"

"I did," says Yi Zifan with a slight smile. "Though it only halts the progress of the poison. It doesn't clear it from the system, or repair the damage, and I don't know if it can be used as a preventative. We'll have to do more research before Song Tuan's infamous preparation is no better than the most common poison you can buy from any wandering druggist."

Master Luo raises his chin, and his eyebrows, and draws in a breath. "Well!" he says, and doesn't even look mad about it.

Master Kun wanders over, and Yi Zifan is momentarily the target of close questioning. What portions of which herbs? How was the positioning of the stars? What did she use for binding, what seemed the effective dosage? This mystery berry, was it dried when added to the preparation? Was it bitter or sweet?

"You fool, Luo Qi," Master Xuan scoffed, "she wouldn't have tasted it."

"I didn't taste it," Yi Zifan confirms.

The masters fall into debate, and by and by, Master Kun simply reaches out for a persimmon and bites into it, and does not keel over, and so the fruit is judged safe, and even Master Luo brings out a knife to cut his in neat slices.

"You have done exceptionally well to get us started here," Master Xuan says, looking proud as anything. "Don't let it get to your head."

There's a knock on the door. Everyone falls silent. Master Xuan puts a finger to her mouth.

"Esteemed physicians?" a voice calls. "May this servant enter?"

The voice is one Yi Zifan has heard before--including in Director Zhao's rooms, which might mean that he's the one who sent this particular servant, though it's hard to know for sure--if she's an ordinary Palace servant, anyone might have sent her on an errand.

Still, she sketches Prince Kai's name silently in the air, and raises her eyebrows questioningly at the masters.

Master Kun does not follow; Master Luo pretends to; Master Xuan shakes her head.

The voice on the other side says, "Oh!" but it is not aimed at the door. A second voice says, "Are they in?"

"We're under siege," Master Xuan whispers, looking around to the others. Master Luo gets up pointedly and removes himself behind the division.

On the other side of the door, the second voice says, "If they're not, I'm to leave a note. Let me pass, A-Chan."

"I'm not your A-Chan," says the female voice, affronted.

"Should we all hide?" Master Kun asks quietly, leaning forward towards Master Xuan.

"No." She sighs. "Go on, let them in." She waves at Yi Zifan.

Yi Zifan opens the door. "Come in," she says, not very graciously. But they're servants, after all, and they have to go where their masters send them. There's no use in scolding them to have more consideration for her masters.

Now that Yi Zifan can see her, she can tell this A-Chan is also the very pretty servant who had been pouring tea at Director Zhao's personal quarters. "Esteemed physicians," says A-Chan with many bows. "You have an invitation to attend Director Zhao and Vice-Director Ge; or, should you be unable to attend, one or the other will call upon you."

The second servant enters at her heel with an even deeper bow. "Masters, the commissioner for the region of Jiangsu requests your presence. Also, there are some gentlemen of the imperial army who insist you attend their offices. And the Censor-in-Chief's aide." He pushes forward a stack of stamped letters.

"So many, and only three of us," says Master Xuan. "However will we best serve the will of everyone, when no-one seems to know how to form an orderly queue?"

"If this lowly one may speak," says A-Chan humbly, "if the masters wish to recognize rank, then it is surely my master that they should attend first."

"These masters do recognize rank as well as conduct, and now I think of it, there are, perhaps, four of us. Anyone volunteering to see the royal Prince Kai?" She calls out in the direction of the division.

"No," comes Master Luo's voice from that direction.

Master Xuan looks curiously at Yi Zifan. "Surely you are more than sufficiently high rank for a man of such manners. Do I ask too much?"

"Of course not!" Yi Zifan protests. "Shifu, you've never asked--half of what you could--as long as you don't mind sending him an apprentice. And one who, um. Struck him, earlier."

"That is precisely why. The Ancient Willow Sect will not be disrespected or treated like tradable goods. Because that is certainly what all these gentlemen are intending. We have conducted ourselves honorably and been of service to the Empire, and now, you are to tell him that we are leaving."

Master Kun purses his lips and taps his fingertips together, glancing at Master Xuan, but does not protest. She is angry, but just perhaps this is the time to find out if they will be given the choice.

Yi Zifan bows. "Yes, shifu. I will."

And if the Director doesn't like it--well, it will be Yi Zifan there for him to take out his anger on and not Master Xuan. It's the least she can do after all the times Master Xuan has protected her.

"Good luck."

A-Chan has been listening with her eyes lowered, and dips further into a bow, extending a graceful arm to indicate that Yi Zifan should follow. The other servant holds out his letters, and Master Xuan waves him closer as they leave.

A-Chan guides Yi Zifan through the halls of the palace. As sumptuous as the halls are, with so many unique and priceless decorations, it wouldn't be right to say that they all look the same. Still, it's bewildering, and Yi Zifan has to keep a sharp eye on the doorways and turns in case she ever comes back this way without a servant to guide her. It's hard to do that and observe A-Chan at the same time.

Someone chosen to serve tea to a collection of some of the Director's most dangerous guests, at a time when Master Luo was wary of even eating a persimmon at the palace, must be a very trusted servant, and might be more than that. "Do you know what the director wants?" Yi Zifan asks abruptly.

A-Chan ducks her head, smiling awkwardly. "This humble one would not presume to know the director's mind." Her voice is breathy, nervous.

"Of course not." Yi Zifan suppresses a sigh. Whether or not A-Chan knows, she can't tell. And she's probably used to dealing with eminent personages--or suspects--or people who are both--who don't hesitate to take their frustration with her master out on his servants. "Sorry I asked."

A-Chan drops another bow, barely stopping.

She leads her down a narrow staircase and they emerge in a far more prosaic part of the palace, a narrow well-traversed corridor between doors that look like they are in heavy use, and turn out into the open second courtyard of the Outer Palace. This courtyard is not much changed since Yi Zifan last saw it, though someone has come sweeping through, and there are not quite so many guards standing ready for duty.

And so, from here, they can cross to Director Zhao's fine official residence. "The Ancient Willow Sect," A-Chan explains to the burly man standing guard, who lets them through. She bows as she shows Yi Zifan in.

The way up the stairs to Director Zhao's reception room is also familiar. Here, A-Chan bows again and goes to leave the room, but before she can get to the door, it opens, and Prince Kai barges in. Apparently, he has been informed. A-Chan scuttles back and stays, with her head bowed.

Director Zhao stares at Yi Zifan silently a moment, then says. "The masters were busy, I take it."

"They've been working without rest for the imperial family for more than a day," Yi Zifan says, returning his stare. "I'm a fully qualified physician of the Ancient Willow Sect. Your eminence."

He grows cool, relaxed; a practiced pose. "Of course," he says in a polite tone. "How thoughtless of me. Please, sit down. A-Chan, would you be so kind as to rustle up some tea for our guest? And send someone for the vice director." He shoots her a quick smile, but it is clear he has other things in mind. A-Chan bows and backs out of the room.

Yi Zifan sits, folding her hands in her lap to stop them fidgeting, and says nothing, prepared to wait him out.

Unlike the servant, she has all of Director Zhao's attention as he gives her a calculating look. "Well, here we are. My family is decimated. Their murderer is within reach of controlling the whole of the Empire through my stepmother and younger brother. This will not stand. Do you understand the implications of the position this puts you and your masters? How suddenly significant the four of you are?"

"Significant. Like... tradable goods." Yi Zifan drops her gaze and fingers the beads at her wrist. She's here to deliver a message, but she should still reach for compassion and not anger. "I'm sorry. For your losses, and that you can't--just grieve them, the way an ordinary person would. But you have your duty and your path in life, and we have ours, and they part here. You don't have any call to hold my masters."

The prince's eyes flicker at the direction of her words. Momentarily uncertain of how to present himself at the face of human compassion, he says shortly, "Thank you," and reaches for a tea bowl, only to notice there isn't one. He returns his hands to his lap. "Mourning will have to be delayed." Whether he means personal mourning or the kind required at the death of a parent or the emperor is unclear; perhaps it is both. "Tradable goods-- You are not incorrect. On one hand, you are witnesses to the moment my father failed to name an heir. On another, all of you have a rare healing skill that, if skirmishing is upon us, will be in high demand. Understand, Physician Yi, that it is not only I that you ought to worry about. Already lines are being drawn between the supporters of Zhao Sun--of Jiangsu merchants and ambitious Shaanxi province that wishes to have the seat of the capital back--and those of Zhao Yu, who wish things to remain as they are, and focus on strengthening our northern border.

"Civil war will mean battle brought right into the heart of the empire itself. It means ordinary farmers pressed into fighting with their shovels and pitchforks, and an endless need to heal that cattle of war. A few more soldiers going a few more li before they drop can change the tide of a battle. Any general worth their salt would love to chain up any one of you and make you heal all day long until your qi runs dry and even the Goddess has no more mercy to give. That is what you should be worried about."

Yi Zifan presses her lips together. If he's trying to scare her--well, maybe it's working, but that doesn't mean she doesn't resent the attempt. "And? What are your eminence's intentions?"

"I could protect you," he says slowly. His eyes grow distant and one of his hands rises unconsciously to his mouth, the thumbnail slipping between his teeth. "At least, not let anyone else get to you. You are witnesses, but mere truth has never modified loyalties or soothed grudges... I'm thinking."

A-Chan knocks and enters without waiting for reply. The prince's hand returns swiftly to his lap. She bows over the tea-tray in her hands and says, "My lord. Vice-Director Ge and Master Liu are here."

The prince nods, and A-Chan steps aside to make way for Liu Xiuling, the Sword Goddess of Immortal Sword Manor, and the old man the prince had been whispering with while his father lay dying.

"Welcome," says the prince. "Please sit."

Liu Xiuling does not. "I'll find him and kill him myself," she says fiercely, her hand on her sword-hilt. "It is overdue."

"Who?" Yi Zifan cranes her neck to look up at the Sword Goddess. She's never been able to follow politics, or cared to, but from what she saw in the sickroom, she thinks Prince Kai must mean Zhang Chuanli when he says the murderer. Niu Liling, anyway, isn't within reach of controlling anything. But Zhang Chuanli can't be hard to find, can he?

"The Dead Eunuch, of course," Liu Xiuling scoffs, but her eye doesn't linger on Yi Zifan long. "I have hated him and hated him, and never challenged him because he was useful to the Dragon Throne. Now he is a traitor, and his head is mine. I deserve my revenge."

"That is an option," Prince Kai muses as A-Chan sets down her tray and begins to set the table. "Kill Zhang Chuanli, and Zhao Yu and I will drop our resistance to appointing Zhao Sun. It won't solve all our problems, but at least the army should fall in line. You would have to be executed for it, however."

The Sword Goddess shifts uncomfortably.

"And what if you fail? The attempt itself will prove that Zhao Yu and his supporters are bloodthirsty assassins, and likely usurpers as well."

"You have a lot to talk about. I--shouldn't intrude," Yi Zifan says awkwardly, looking between the Sword Goddess and the prince. "Thank you for your offer, Director Zhao. I think maybe it was well meant. The answer is no."

And if the Ancient Willow sect will retreat to their gardens and defend them against whoever might try to invade, or scatter and live invisibly among the ordinary people, or continue as they always have in defiance of the future Prince Kai painted for them--that's for the masters to decide. Yi Zifan has been given a task, and she's done it. She gets to her feet.

Prince Kai blows out a puff of air. "I do hate being rushed into decisions." But he gets up himself, smiles, and offers Yi Zifan an ironic little bow. "I suggest you go quickly, then, and wish you good luck."

"Thank you," she says. She bows before leaving the room, and doesn't quite dare start running through the palace, but otherwise, taking his words seriously, she returns to the sect's assigned quarters as quickly as she can.

Her careful attention earlier has paid off--she's heading the right way when she hears footsteps following at a fast pace. It's A-Chan, who pants from unfamiliar exercise when she reaches her. "Honored Physician--you will get lost! My master may not care, but--but it isn't to anybody's good if you do. Come with me." She beckons her towards what looks like a plain wall.

Yi Zifan's first reaction is embarrassment, that she's made a mistake and is about to go charging into some off-limits area of the Palace. But--surely she would have remembered coming through a wall? Unless it looked different from the other side. In any case, the young woman seems genuine, and concerned, and not like she's about to waylay Yi Zifan so that her confederates can kidnap her.

"Thank you," says Yi Zifan. "My... mistake?"

A-Chan opens a panel in the wall, painted with an image of Xuanwu with his snake-like neck reaching towards the sky. The seam was not exactly hidden, if one was looking for it, but also not offensively obvious, if one wasn't. Inside the wall, there's a narrower hallway--not one they have come through before.

"Forgive this one, but I could not help seeing and hearing some things. Esteemed doctor may wish not to be seen. These passages are ordinarily for servants only. Please do not be offended."

"No, of course not. It's--it's very good of you."

"It is sometimes dusty," A-Chan says apologetically.

The corridor is dark, lit through the occasional grille cleverly hidden in the wall on the hallway side; the hallway itself, here, is lit through papered windows. The day is growing late, and the sun is lower, blinding if one looks directly at it. They meet no-one coming their way, which is just as well--two people would have to squeeze tight against one another to pass each other. Finally they emerge in the hallway just outside the guest quarters. A-Chen bows and retreats back.

"Thank you. I--I won't forget," says Yi Zifan, though it doesn't seem likely that she'll see A-Chan after today. Without looking back, she makes for the quarters where, hopefully, her masters are still waiting.

The door is locked or barred, where it wasn't before. When she tries it, Master Xuan calls from inside, "Who is it?"

"Yi Zifan. Shifu, Director Zhao says if we're going to go, we should go now."

"Zifan." There is a scratching and clanking from the other side, and the door swings inwards. Master Xuan has removed a bar that held the door closed. "We're already a little late. I tried delaying, insisting we need sleep, but Master Kun went with the Censor-in-Chief, may his ancestors watch over him. We were just waiting for you."

"She insisted," says Master Luo, already hauling his bag of necessary items over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," says Yi Zifan with a helpless shrug. "I came back as fast as I could. Can we go, without Master Kun? We can't just leave him, can we?"

The master's shoulders sag slightly. "We can pray for him. He's slipperier than he looks." She picks up her own bag, apparently having made up her mind.

"But--who will look after the ferrets--" It's the stupidest objection, it's just the first one that comes to mind. Prince Kai's words echo through her head--chained up and forced to heal--as well as the sight of Yu Long--a gentle young man, as good-natured as Master Kun himself--crumpled on the floor, beyond any help.

"Shifu," she says finally. "You're right, you should go. And I--I'll come back to you if I can. And--Heng Wanxue said she'd be watching our inn, so if you see her, tell her--" Here Yi Zifan stumbles to a stop. She doesn't think don't wait for me will work on Heng Wanxue. "Tell her whatever you want."

Master Xuan's expression grows pained. "No, no... my brilliant disciple, no." She hoists her bag higher on her shoulder and takes Yi Zifan's face between her hands. "Your life isn't meaningless. You are not responsible for another's choices. I know the young must serve the old, but not in this way."

Yi Zifan covers Master Xuan's with her own, the skin cool and dry as paper. She closes her eyes. She's not going to start crying again. "Shifu, you've always protected me from my foolish choices, but not this time. I can't. I can't. I'll think, I promise, I'll be as careful as I can, but I can't leave him."

"Do, do, be careful. We will go--we will go to--Shandong." North, to the territory of the Dragon Clan and the Five Phoenix Manor--not west to the Gardens. "Get yourself out alive." This last part is a command.

"I will. If I can." Yi Zifan bows to Master Xuan. And then, they really must go. As the masters head quickly to the palace gates, Yi Zifan retreats to the servants' passage. She leans against the dim, dusty wall, and tries to think.

If she was Lin Moniao, she'd come up with a clever plan. If she was Heng Wanxue, she'd move through the palace like smoke, and no locked door and no guard would stand in her way. But she's only herself. A--Master Xuan and Prince Kai had both agreed--tradable good. Well. Time to see how much she can trade herself for.

She sticks to the servants' passage until she has to come out to go down the stairs to the courtyard. Then she squares her shoulders, looking straight ahead, trying not to show how vulnerable she feels in the open space, or to break into a run. She crosses the courtyard at a brisk, controlled pace, and presents herself to the guard at Prince Kai's residence.

The guard has not changed, and he recognizes her, and calls in the house for A-Chan. She emerges, astonished to see Yi Zifan back, but waves her in quickly. "The director is in a meeting elsewhere. Please. Is something wrong? I will send word." She turns anxiously in place, deciding whether to care for Yi Zifan or run to the prince, then decides first things first. "Come, there is a room downstairs where you can wait."

"Thank you," says Yi Zifan, but she waves A-Chan off. It doesn't matter where she waits right now, as long as no one is bold enough to try to snatch her from Prince Kai's own residence. "Please send word. Tell him I have news he'll want to hear, and it might be urgent."

It's the truth, even if Master Kun's life or death isn't urgent to anyone but Yi Zifan.

A-Chan brings her into a room anyway, downstairs, where she couldn't go up without passing the guard; but it is a comfortable room. Then she hurries out to the barracks to send a guard with a message.

But the prince does not come, even as the sun kisses the horizon. A-Chan brings Yi Zifan a tray of treats with a bottle of wine, setting it on the guest room's table. "The prince usually dines late. I can get you anything you like from the kitchen. Please."

"No, it's not-- You're kind, but it's not important. I wish you'd get him." She makes another circuit of the room, running her fingers through her hair as if she might pull it out by the roots. She shouldn't have come, she should have just gone to look for Master Kun herself, no matter the danger, no matter that she didn't know where to look. But now that she's here, she can't leave. "It's my Master Kun, the Censor-in-Chief took him, and I don't know--what if they try to make him give false testimony? Or reveal sect secrets? Or--or brew poisons for more assassinations--"

Reaching the opposite wall, she rests her forehead against it, strikes it with her fist. "I'm sure you heard--there was a suicide in the cells yesterday. What if he--"

There is a light touch on her shoulder. A-Chan puts another on her wrist, gently pulling her from the wall. "I understand. It is urgent. I will go tell the Director myself. Master Kun was taken by the Censor-in-Chief, and may be in danger, and you are here to ask for his help. This servant will say it just so. But, please, you must eat something. I will go right away."

"Tell him," says Yi Zifan. "If he wants a healer. Or a poisoner. Or anything. I'll do it, I'll serve him, just let him get Master Kun out."


Chapter Four: Fight and Flight

That morning:

The Master is not going to be happy. Heng Wanxue knows this.

Helping the Illustrious Qilin Villa a little here and there might be forgivable, Tree Frog Gao having some compassion for young hearts in love, and presumably for whatever genuine friendship had formed between the sect and Beggar Huang, but this...! The Master clearly asked her dear disciples to deliver the goods to her, and they did not. Neither of them!

She'll cool off when she finds out everything, Heng Wanxue is sure, but she also knows that it would be stupid to show your face just when the Master's decided to be angry and the emotion is running high. There's no explaining anything then.

What a crapshoot! But Heng Wanxue has things to do, and possibly having her death ordered by a jianghu warrior whose influence stretches as far as to the sea in the east and the wartorn border in the north is something she will have to worry about later.

First things first: breakfast. Not at the Moon-Lit Garden, that place is far too conspicuous, but she wants something warm, so she gets a stick of meats from a foreign merchant in the morning market, tingling spicy and drenched in grease--heavenly. She also picks up a fresh bag of nuts and another of sweets for later. With food in her belly, it almost feels like she could take on anything. Or that may be the lack of sleep talking, or the bright promising morning after all the heaviness of the night, or the fact that Yi Zifan's kiss still tingles warm on her forehead when she happens to think of it.

She thinks of it rather a lot as she wanders the streets, keeping half an eye out for familiar faces, and trying to think of all the things she should be doing instead.

Well, Yi Zifan won't be back from the palace for a couple of more hours at least, more than that if she's getting some sleep. Huang Tianlin and the masters of the Villa will be underground by now and maybe even out of the city. Heng Wanxue should get some sleep herself, except she really can't, with the sun so bright and all her nerves twinging and giving her goosebumps. So instead, she goes to talk to some people, steals herself a new tunic, checks in on a project, and finally when she can't hold back anymore, she lets her feet carry her back to the inn where the Ancient Willow Sect was staying. Is staying.

It's broad daylight. She walks in through the front door. In some cases, that's the least conspicuous thing one can do.

She doesn't ask directions, just ducks behind people and corners if she spots anyone who looks like they work here. She's loitering in the hallway outside Master Xuan's door, waiting for a safe chance to employ her lock pick, when a young man comes out of one of the other rooms and stops, looking at her.

"The masters are not in," he tells her.

"That's a pity," Heng Wanxue says cheerfully. "I guess you'll have to do, handsome."

The fellow in Willow Sect robes must be another disciple. He doesn't sneer or look green at the gills for being flirted with by a girl with a face like Wanxue's, but seems to perk up at the idea of getting to practice his arts, which makes her like him. And while he isn't handsome handsome, she likes his looks well enough--broad and short, like a reliable pony. He's even wearing his hair up like a horse-tail.

"Very well, come in," he says.

She follows him into the room; his companion is not nearly so happy to see her, but he is younger, so can't say anything. Or shouldn't, because in fact what he says is, "What about lunch?"

"Lunch would be lovely!" Heng Wanxue exclaims. She drops down by the little table they had been idling by and crosses her legs. "I'm starving."

"Yanyan, we can't let in just anybody!"

"Uhh, miss..."

"Relax, boys. I'm friends with Yi Zifan. She would want jiejie to check in on you boys, I'm sure, so here we are."

It takes a little longer to convince the two, but with enough detail, they begin to relax. The shidi goes down to fetch lunch, and eating together makes it easy to make friends. And then, after lunch, Heng Wanxue feels so sleepy that she crawls into one of the beds and dozes off, and at this point the disciples aren't even trying to stop her anymore.

They are worried and anxious, and their things are already packed, along with what of their master's things they had, apart from the ferrets, who would not agree to go into their cage, and who could argue with a ferret? Wanxue half wakes up at one point when one of them (the ferrets, not the disciples) insinuates itself inside her coat, and she finds it's easier to just let that happen. But Zifan will be back soon. They have to wait for her.

Heng Wanxue wakes up suddenly when the sun is already lower than she expected, her head muzzy and her hair out of its binds. Yanyan and shidi are playing some kind of a hand-slapping game, but that wasn't what woke her up. Something else. Outside.

She moves carefully, as if she's only tossing in her sleep, turning her head around towards the window, and she hears it again.

Her hand goes to her whip. "Boys," she says in a low voice.

Why isn't Zifan back yet? Is it true that they're holding the sects in the palace and not letting them leave? But they let Zifan leave before. What's changed?

Yanyan looks in her direction and sees, but shidi just laughs and slaps his hand. And then it's too late.

The window shutters explode inwards at the force of impact, and what follows is a thick, short crossbow arrow. It hits shidi in the arm and he shrieks in surprise and pain, and then--everything becomes a scramble.

Wanxue has her whip in hand and, crouched low, sends it out wide as the attackers swing themselves in. Gray hoods, veils, no insignia-- Her whip slashes across one face, marking it almost like her own, slaps another body out of the way. "Yanyan, lock the door!" she shouts. No point escaping that way, most of them are probably on the stairs.

Instead, she pushes forward, slashing and kicking, forcing the two attackers back until she boots one out the window and slashes the other so deep he'd have to be superhuman to get up and fight again in a hurry. There's a thump somewhere below. She jumps on to the windowsill and offers a hand up to the disciples. Yanyan takes her hand and pulls up nimbly to the roof, and they both extend hands to help shidi out.

"This way!"

"H-how do we know you're not with them?" shidi pants, grasping his wounded arm.

"It doesn't seem very fucking likely, does it?" she snaps. There's a pained moan from the pavement below. "Hurry."

They hurry. Up across rooftops, then down, disappearing into streets Wanxue knows like the back of her hand.

It takes a while for her to notice that she's been stabbed. Her leg is weakening, throbbing, blood seeping down into her boot. A decent pair of boots, too, and she probably won't have time to clean them properly. Never mind that now--she has healers with her. By the time she starts limping, they're already almost home.

She looks up at the ramshackle old townhouse, taller and narrower than most, which used to be a clerk's office before this neighborhood went to the dogs, and smiles in relief at the sight of a laundry line blowing in the breeze on the third floor. She's sure they weren't followed. Her head is starting to feel light. "This is it. Come on. I'll introduce you."

Zifan didn't come back. The masters might not be getting back tonight either, and if they do, what will they think? She'll have to leave a message to tell them their disciples are fine, get someone to stake out the inn for her... hoo, boy... She sinks a little, leaning on her good leg. Yanyan takes her arm, and they make it inside to the staircase.

She will. She will do all that. In a little while.

--

Long white cloths have been hung outside the walls of the palace, and inside the reception hall there are so many it resembles a jungle of ghostly trees flickering in early daylight. Whether the emperor died yesterday afternoon or in the night, it is clear that the word is out.

Inside Director Zhao's house, it is eerily quiet now that the morning exercises in the yard are over. The tolling of the great gong somewhere carries, and Yi Zifan can hear people moving several walls away, and conversations too quiet to catch individual words. The director hasn't been in since last night; naturally, he must be by his father. The wake has begun.

She turns from the window and back to the room she's been given. It's finer than anything she's ever been able to call her own. A prison she walked into all by herself, but it will be harder to walk out again, hemmed in both by the director's guards, and her own word.

Prince Kai had seen Master Kun, alive and unharmed, but hadn't been able to make the Censor-in-Chief give him up. He'd said he wouldn't ask anything of Yi Zifan until Master Kun was free. That's fair and honorable, and Yi Zifan can't stand sitting and doing nothing--an attitude which would have surprised her superiors back in the nunnery where she grew up, who'd often found her drifting in her own thoughts, halfway through weeding a row of beans.

She spreads her astrological charts on the desk and tries to work. She knows her own birth chart, and Master Kun's, and those of the emperor's sons are matters of public record. She doesn't know about the Censor-in-Chief, and Zhang Chuanli's is a mystery--the corpse-eater no doubt likes it that way. Still, maybe she'll be able to divine something, some lucky course of action or auspicious time to act.

The indicators are confusing, which itself is an indication of a chaotic time. Every time Yi Zifan tries to clear her mind and understand what they're telling her, her own thoughts intrude--of Master Kun, and Master Xuan and Master Luo, and Heng Wanxue, and Lin Moniao, and what might be happening to them while she's stuck here, helpless--

She touches the beads on her wrist, stopping herself from sweeping the charts off the desk in frustration, and buries her head in her hands instead.

A-Chan comes by a little later, calling softly behind the door. "Is Physician Yi--does Physician Yi need--" But she seems to think better of it and withdraws. "Apologies for disturbing."

By now the sun is high, nearing si, and the air is turning moist and heavy in expectation of thunder, but the sky is still clear above. There are footsteps in the hall, and voices, and A-Chan exclaims and knocks on the door after all. "Physician! Physician, he is here."

Yi Zifan rushes to the door. "He--?"

A few steps down from Yi Zifan's door, the corridor turns left to a wider sitting room, with a clear view to the entrance hall. A-Chan is ahead of her and beckons her come, smiling. In the hall, pushing a black hood off his head, is Master Kun, accompanied by two guards Yi Zifan has seen before around Zhao Kai. He is nodding around in thanks at the guards and looks startled to see A-Chan rushing to him with such enthusiasm, before dropping into a bow. Then he looks up, expression melting into relief at the sight of Yi Zifan. "Ah, it's you, girl, I wondered..."

"Master Kun," Yi Zifan says, her voice thick with relief. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"

"No, no, not at all." He comes up to squeeze her elbows and smile. "The Censor was just rather insistent that I stay by the imperial family, and then another gentleman of the ministry insisted I come to Jiangsu with him, and finally they locked me up in a room while they decided what to do with me. It looks like Director Zhao convinced the others that I am quite useless and they ought to do nothing at all with me. So, you stayed and waited, did you?"

"I--yes." Yi Zifan returns his elbow-squeeze but drops her gaze, unable to meet his eyes. "But I also--I told Director Zhao that I'd stay if--if he got you out. So, when you see Master Xuan, you can tell her that I obeyed half of her command, at least. I'm alive, I'm fine."

Master Kun stares at her with his mild eyes, then says in a disappointed tone, "Oh, girl. Now, what did you do that for. She'll worry herself sick." He squeezes her elbows again, for a moment at a loss for words. "Well. Have you had breakfast, or have you been fasting all this while? If Director Zhao means to borrow you, he'd better take good care of you, too. Master Xuan won't be happy at all if you return to her thinner than you left her."

"Yes, Master Kun." Yi Zifan swallows around a painful lump in her throat. "I'll try to remember."

A-Chan offers tea and Master Kun accepts. While they are waiting, another bureaucrat arrives, and the guard lets him in without hesitation. He introduces himself as the vice-director's secretary.

"I am here to escort Master Kun out of the palace. He is to have a guard in civilian clothes with him until he leaves the city or dismisses him. Physician Yi is also allowed to accompany him if she wishes, so long as she returns before sunset."

"I am sure I will be fine once I reach the inn," Master Kun says. "The others will be waiting for me."

The vice-director's secretary is not a deaf or blind man, and his expression becomes still, but he does not contradict the master openly.

"They couldn't wait here for you. How could they wait at the inn?" Yi Zifan's hands tighten around her teacup, and she glances at the vice-director's secretary, then quickly away. "Thank you--or the vice-director, or the director, whoever's generosity it is. If I'm not back by sunset, it won't be by my choice."

The secretary inclines his head to her as well. "The vice-director and director understand this. But I believe the guards--the guard they have assigned to you is capable."

"Yes. But just in case--I'll be right back."

Yi Zifan stands abruptly and goes back to her assigned room, gathers the notes she made on her antidote. They're scribbles, intended only for herself, but maybe whatever alchemists Bureau Eight employs will be able to make something of them. And they're not secrets of the Ancient Willow Sect--they're hers, to do what she chooses with.

"Here," she says, thrusting them at the secretary once she's back. "So that Bureau Eight won't have gone to the trouble for nothing."

The secretary looks at them, uncomprehending the content, even if he understands they must be important. He puts his hands together for a bow and gathers them respectfully, and bows again. "I will keep them safe."

Their guard, an imposing and humorless beauty, arrives soon after the secretary leaves, bringing with her less conspicuous attire for the two of them; she herself is dressed in riding clothes and leather, like a messenger or a hired soldier. They leave the palace via one of the side gates that it isn't supposed to have, and exit discreetly by the public park.

The air still feels heavy, but sunlight pierces through the milky clouds to reach the water and the curve of the bridge over it. People have been busy taking down the last of the decorations from the festival and, here and there, replacing them with prayers.

The main gate is east; they head north, past the endless walls of the palace. The way is pleasant, the leaves up above and around now showing a variety of colors from green through yellow to deep red. "My ferrets," Master Kun frets, glancing with some regret towards the city, where a road cutting through the neatly arranged buildings would bring them back to the inn. "Will they even know how to care for my ferrets?"

"I think--I hope–Shu Yan has been looking after them, and that Master Xuan and Master Luo will have taken them all along, the ferrets and the shidis," Yi Zifan says, trying to hurry him along. "You'll know when you catch up with them."

The guard follows them a few steps back, to give an appearance of affording them privacy, but no doubt she has sharp ears. The trees give away to a wide street, which splits and narrows when they get further from the palace, weaving the way to the north gate. Master Kun remarks on the pretty colors, touches Yi Zifan's elbow fondly on occasion, and avoids mentioning anything weightier than that.

As they are passing through a street, pressing against a body of people heading the other way, Zifan becomes aware of a sound that she had heard a few times before on their way through the city--footsteps on rooftiles, light as a martial artist's, but consistent in their pace some feet away from them. She also remembers, now, how their guard has glanced back and up on occasion.

Someone is following, has been following for some time, perhaps ever since they left the shadow of the trees. Furthermore, their guard knows they are there, and does not react.

Yi Zifan's heart lifts with guilty hope. Not an immediate danger--could it be Heng Wanxue? Heng Wanxue had said she'd keep watch, but they haven't been near the inn, and Yi Zifan never wanted to bring the guard down on her. And as for the proposition she'd made the other night--there's no way that can happen now. But since the guard's already noticed--and made no secret of it--Yi Zifan risks an upward glance of her own.

There it is, a shape against the milky white clouds in the east, disappearing as soon as she looks up. Not tall, with feminine curves, but her face in the shadow of a hood. It could be Heng Wanxue.

A helpless smile touches Yi Zifan's lips, but she turns her attention back to the street, continuing forward as if she hasn't seen anything.

They reach the north gate. Much smaller than the main gate in the west, it is nonetheless large; not busy, now, though open and guarded. The area after it is wide open, presumably to ease stress when there's a lot of traffic passing through, so whoever is behind them can no longer follow on the rooftops.

"I will buy a donkey down the road," Master Kun promises Yi Zifan, clutching his little bag of things. He's a terrible rider, and hardly ever thinks to carry money. "And it's a fine day for walking. I'll catch up with them in no time."

"I think you might," says Yi Zifan, shaking her head. Then, turning to the guard, "Agent Song, will you give us a minute of privacy? I'll rejoin you soon."

The guard nods and backs up, gait casual, her eye sweeping across the nearby people and buildings. Where they are standing now, it is unlikely anyone can eavesdrop.

"Master Xuan said they'd head to Shandong," says Yi Zifan. "That's all I know. Good luck."

"Shandong?" He looks surprised, frowns, and then his expression clears. "Oh, then I know where they've gone. It'll be Yang Village, just south of Shandong. Madame Yang is a friend of the sect, and ah, it's a lovely spot..." He glances at their prowling guard, and then smiles at Yi Zifan and squeezes her elbows again. "I'll tell you the story later, shall I?"

He walks off by himself, in his inconspicuous clothes and his bag slung over his shoulder, and turns to wave at the gate, and then he is gone.

Yi Zifan stands watching him, and then the spot where he disappeared, for a little while longer. Then she turns back to rejoin the guard.

"So you've saved him," the guard says. "Happy?" She has a low, full voice, and this is the first time she's shown any personal interest in Yi Zifan. She continues without waiting for a reply, "It's not too bad a job, working for the Bureau. Assuming it's still standing tomorrow." She claps a hand on Yi Zifan's shoulder. "So, where to, newbie? I'm all yours for the day."

Yi Zifan flinches, but the guard--Agent Song--is only being friendly. "I don't--that was all I had to do. We should get back."

"Really, nowhere?" Agent Song gives her a searching look. It seems she was only keeping so mum and stern with Master Kun around. "I suppose it isn't appropriate to have fun at a time like this. Fun is about to be cancelled anyway now, in preparation for the state funeral. But this may be your last chance for any fun."

"I think my last chance is already gone." Yi Zifan shrugs. "It doesn't matter. I don't know what work is waiting for me, but I should do it. And if anyone is looking for me, I should be where they can't get to me easily."

Agent Song nods. "Back to the palace, then." As they turn back, she asks, conversationally, "Who would be looking for you? I heard all your sect has left the city now, and most wouldn't take what belongs to the Director, even if they realize your value."

Yi Zifan bristles a bit, but it's true, after all--she does belong to the director now.

"I don't know, and I don't want to find out. Most wouldn't poison the Son of Heaven, either, but somebody did. Maybe more than one person."

Agent Song slides an eye around to see if anyone is listening. She looks up at the roof nearby, but there is no shadow visible up there now. The city will have seen the Illustrious Qilin Villa Sect's flight, but who knows what other rumors it has or hasn't heard yet? She says nothing for the rest of their journey back, apparently lost in thought.

It's still early, but more and more white cloth appears around the city as they pass, and here and there they spot the guard coming through, going into inns and pubs. Joss paper is burning on several windowsills, and as they pass a temple, its rack for hanging prayers is full, fluttering in the breeze. They are asking for protection in this time of change, protection for those passing to the other side, protection for little children and for the conscripted.

Among them, for the first time that Yi Zifan has seen in the city, there are also petitions to the God Yu.