The Art of Destiny E-Book

Wesley Chu

• Herausgeber: Titan Books
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: War Arts Saga
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Seitenzahl: 1115

Beschreibung

The former chosen one and their band of unlikely allies must find a new path in the sequel to The Art of Prophecy, an epic fantasy ode to martial arts and magic. A hero once believed to be the chosen one must find a new path with the help of a band of unlikely allies in the sequel to The Art of Prophecy, an epic fantasy ode to martial arts and magic from the #1 New York Times bestselling author Wesley Chu. Once there was a prophecy that a chosen one would rise to defeat the Eternal Khan, an immortal god-king. But the prophecy was wrong. Now Jian, the former chosen hero, is just an ordinary young man trying to find his own way. But he may yet have an extraordinary destiny, because he joins forces with Taishi, his grumpy grandmaster, who instructs him in the ways of her family's powerful war art. Jian still has a long way to go before he can become her heir, so she recruits a band of elderly grandmasters who come out of retirement to whip him into shape and help with this one last job. And there are others who are also seeking their own destiny, like Qisami, an assassin on a secret mission to protect a powerful noblewoman from her enemies. But as Qisami goes undercover to complete her mission, she takes on a new identity that gives her something she never had before: friendship, found family, and new purpose. Sali also thought her fate was laid before her. She was supposed to be looking for the next Eternal Khan and now finds her clan exiled from everything she's ever known. As she leads the survivors in search of a new home, Sali discovers that she's something she never thought she could be: a leader and a revolutionary. Because sometimes destiny is grander than any prophecy can foresee. And the greatest destiny of all is the one you choose for yourself.

Leseprobe

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Leave us a Review

Copyright

Dedication

Dramatis Personae

Act I

Chapter One: The Mail

Chapter Two: A Long Day

Chapter Three: The Master

Chapter Four: Bad Reviews

Chapter Five: Houtou

Chapter Six: Desert Lioness

Chapter Seven: The Troop

Chapter Eight: The Prognosis

Chapter Nine: New Job

Chapter Ten: Bahngtown

Chapter Eleven: Game Night

Chapter Twelve: The Motley Crew

Chapter Thirteen: Old Friends, New Enemies

Chapter Fourteen: The Return

Chapter Fifteen: The Challenge

Chapter Sixteen: Unwanted Assistance

Chapter Seventeen: The Choice

Chapter Eighteen: Allanto

Act II

Chapter Nineteen: New Old Find

Chapter Twenty: Monotony The Killer

Chapter Twenty-One: The Summons

Chapter Twenty-Two: Palace Life

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Sun Under Lagoon

Chapter Twenty-Four: Ducal Consequences

Chapter Twenty-Five: Responsibilities

Chapter Twenty-Six: The Lake City

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Foster Teacher

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Meeting In Daleh

Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Rich Man

Chapter Thirty: The Day Job

Chapter Thirty-One: Back to the Bahng

Chapter Thirty-Two: The Primordial Mist

Chapter Thirty-Three: Naming The Livestock

Chapter Thirty-Four: Bad Trouble

Chapter Thirty-Five: Oracle of the Tiandi

Chapter Thirty-Six: Stormchaser

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Nothing Pleasant Happens after Midnight

Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Rescue

Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Retreat

Chapter Forty: Prisoner

Chapter Forty-One: The Harbor

Chapter Forty-Two: Jailbreak

Chapter Forty-Three: The Truth

Chapter Forty-Four: Boat Fight

Chapter Forty-Five: The Alliance

Chapter Forty-Six: Escape

Chapter Forty-Seven: Palace Intrigue

Chapter Forty-Eight: Surrender

Chapter Forty-Nine: The Solution

Act III

Chapter Fifty: Negotiations

Chapter Fifty-One: Staff

Chapter Fifty-Two: Eye of the Storm

Chapter Fifty-Three: Bait

Chapter Fifty-Four: The Cure

Chapter Fifty-Five: Old Friends

Chapter Fifty-Six: Fires of Freedom

Chapter Fifty-Seven: Decoy

Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Duel

Chapter Fifty-Nine: Escape

Chapter Sixty: The Stand

Chapter Sixty-One: Homecoming

Chapter Sixty-Two: The Test

Chapter Sixty-Three: The Results

Acknowledgments

About the Author

AVAILABLE FROM WESLEY CHUAND DAPHNE PRESS

The Art of ProphecyThe Art of Destiny

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First published in the UK in 2023 by Daphne Press

www.daphnepress.com

Copyright © 2023 by Wesley Chu

Cover illustration by Tran Nguyen

Cover design by Jane Tibbetts

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent publisher.

All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Hardback ISBN: 978-1-83784-015-1

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-83784-016-8

eBook ISBN: 978-1-83784-017-5

Waterstones Exclusive ISBN: 978-1-83784-042-7

Broken Binding Exclusive ISBN: 978-1-83784-050-2

Australian Paperback ISBN: 978-1-83784-036-6

1

To those searching for their way,and to those guiding them

To Tricia

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

THE TIANDI

BHASANI, NARWANI Master of the Drowned Fist.

CHOWN, WU Master mapmaker in Sanba. Father to Zofi. Deceased.

DONGSHI Duke of Lawkan. Former whisperlord of the empire. Leader of the Ten Hounds.

FAARU Palacelord of the Celestial Palace. Father figure to Jian. Deceased.

FAUSAN, NOON also God of Gamblers. Master of the Whipfinger Style Song Family Ho Lineage.

GUANSHI also Guanshi Kanyu. Master of the Longxian Northern Fist School of War in Jiayi. Killed by Sali.

HACHI Heir to the Whipfinger Style Song Family Ho Lineage. Close friend to Jian.

HORASHI Bodyguard to Jian at the Celestial Palace. Spared by Taishi.

JIAN, WEN also Lu Hiro. Champion of the Five Under Heaven. The Prophesied Hero of the Tiandi. Heir to the Windwhispering School of the Zhang Lineage. #1 Most Wanted Fugitive in the Enlightened States.

KAIYU, HWANG Heir of the Houtou style Third Lin Lineage. Close friend to Jian.

KASA, HWANG also the Sky Monkey. Master of the Houtou style Third Lin Lineage. Father to Kaiyu.

KEIRO, ZHU Senior of the Southern Cross in Jiayi. Former rival to Xinde.

KUA NAIFUN also the Black Night of Xing. Tea Master of the Hazy Dreams Tea House in Bahngtown. Adviser to Taishi.

KUI Master acupuncturist. Doctor in Jiayi. Teacher to Meehae.

LI also Auntie Li. Former cook at the Longxian Northern Fist School of War.

LIUMAN Hansoo monk. Twelve rings. Pahm’s former master. Killed by Qisami.

MEEHAE Apprentice acupuncturist. Close friend to Jian in Sanba.

MORI, LEE Templeabbot of the Temple of the Tiandi in Vauzan. Former lover to Taishi.

PAHM Hansoo war monk. Four rings. Close friend to Xinde and Jian.

RIGA Bodyguard to Jian at the Celestial Palace. Betrayed Jian. Not spared by Taishi.

SAAN also the Painted Tiger. Duke of Shulan. Former Emperor Xuanshing’s second son. Former student to Taishi.

SANU Templeabbot of the Original Temple of the Tiandi. Killed by Qisami.

SOHN, SOA Master of the Eternal Bright Light Fist Pan Family Pan Lineage. Lost heir to the family’s schools. Formerly nicknamed Pan’s Pillaging Playboy. Wanted Fugitive.

SONAYA, RAS Daughter of the Drowned Fist. Bhasani’s heir.

SUNRI also the Desert Lioness. Duchess of Caobiu. Former concubine to Emperor Xuanshing.

TAISHI, LING also Nai Roha. Grandmaster of the Windwhispering School of the Zhang Lineage; Windwhispering School of the Zhang Lineage of the Ling Family Branch. Distant #2 Most Wanted Fugitive in the Enlightened States.

URWAN, PSY Horselord of Gyian. Horse breeder residing in the Cloud Pillars. Friend to Taishi.

WAYLIN Duke of Xing. Cousin to the Emperor Xuanshing.

XINDE Captain of the Caobiu Stone Watchers long eyes unit. Former First Senior of the Longxian War Art Academy. Close friend to Jian from back in Jiayi.

YANSO Duke of Gyian. Former purselord to Emperor Xuanshing.

ZOFI, WU Taishi’s close confidant and assistant. Best friend and tutor to Jian.

THE SHADOW

AKIANA, AKI Lady of Aki household. Twin to Akiya. Youngest daughter of Lord Aki Niam. Under the care of Qisami as Child Companion Kiki.

AKIYA, AKI Lady of Aki household. Twin to Akiana. Youngest daughter of Lord Aki Niam. Under the care of Qisami as Child Companion Kiki.

BURANDIN Shadowkill in Qisami’s cell. Husband to Koteuni.

CHIAFANA also Firstwife. The Minister of Critical Purpose. Adviser to Duchess Sunri of Caobiu.

CYYK, QUAN also Cyknan. Lord in the Quan family of Caobiu. Son of Highlord General Quan Sah. Former student of the Longxian School. Grunt in Qisami’s cell.

EIFAN also the Black Widow. Silkspinner. Weblord of Jiayi. Cousin to Qisami.

HAAREN Shadowkill in Qisami’s cell. Opera. Killed by Taishi.

HARI Estatekeeper on Duke Yanso’s estate. Boss to Qisami.

HILAO Palacemaiden to Duke Yanso’s estate in Gyian. Best friend to Qisami on the estate.

KOTEUNI Shadowkill in Qisami’s cell. Second in command. Wife to Burandin. Close adviser to Qisami.

NIAM, AKI High Lord of the Aki House of Gyian. Lord of the Fine Blades. Close friend and adviser to Duke Yanso. Father to Akiya and Akiana.

PORLA Scullerymaiden on Duke Yanso’s estate. Roommate to Qisami.

QISAMI, MAZA also Kiki. Copper tier Shadowkill from the Bo Po Mo Fo training pool. Former diamond tier operative under demotion and garnishment from the Consortium.

RULI Palacemaiden to Duke Yanso’s estate in Gyian. Roommate to Qisami.

YOSHI, SABANA Senior Account Executive with the Central Orb. Silkspinner.

ZWEI also Zweilang. Shadowkill in Qisami’s cell. Opera. A Yiyang.

THE KATUIA

ARIUN Defensechief of Nezra. Former Council member of Nezra. Adviser to Sali. Deceased.

BATU Clan chief of Sheetan.

DAEWON Master tinker (unofficial). Council member of the Nezra clan. Husband to Mali.

HAMPA Viperstrike. Neophyte to Salminde.

JHAMSA Elder Spirit Shaman of Katuia. Council member of Chaqra, the Black City. Former heart-father to Sali.

JIAMIN also The Eternal Khan of Katuia. The Lord of the Grass Sea. Childhood friend of Sali. Deceased.

LEHUANGXI THIRAPUT CUNGLE Captain of the Hana Iceberg. Friend to Sali.

MALI also Malinde the Master Tinker (unofficial). Sectchief to Nezra tinker sect. Council member of the Nezra clan. Sister to Sali.

MARHI also Hoisannisi Jayngnaga Marhi. Rumblerlead of Hightop cluster. Friend to Hampa.

QUASA Custodian of the Viperstrike. Former viperstrike.

RAYDAN also Raydan the Stormchaser. The Stormchaser. Former raidbrother to Sali.

SALI also Salminde the Viperstrike. The Viperstrike. Will of the Khan. Council member of the Nezra clan.

SHOBANSA Nezra Supplychief. Trader and wealthiest person in Nezra.

SURIPTIKA also Conchitsha Abu Suriptika. Happan ritualist. Cobbler in Hrusha. Healer to Sali.

YURAKI also Rich Man Yuraki. Elder of Hightop cluster. Important politician in Hrusha.

CHAPTER ONE

THE MAIL

The caravan of covered wagons snaked along the craggy face of a mountain range known as the Five Ugly Brothers. They were three quarters of the way up the fourth Ugly Brother, and running late. Jai Janus had hoped they would reach the mail post before nightfall, but he wasn’t sure if the oxen had enough pull in them to clear the final stretch. To be honest, he wasn’t having an easy time keeping his own eyelids open either. Fortunately, his side-seat driver was excellent at keeping him awake.

Besides being able to navigate routes and flash signal codes, Aimei was incredibly adept at talking for hours on end, pausing only occasionally to breathe. She had been prating on about her latest drama since dawn, when they had set off from the peak of the second Ugly Brother. “He’s out every night with his gross, mangy friends, skulking on the streets, and then creeps home in the morning, stinking of sweat and piss. All my bed sheets are ruined!”

Janus bit his lip and swallowed another sigh. “Why don’t you just—”

Aimei finished taking a breath. “The worst part is he always brings home a midnight snack and insists on eating it right on the bed. There’s gross leftovers scattered all over the sheets every morning. And my mattress is woven from loose straw, so you know I can’t just wipe it off. To clean up all the bits of food—can’t have crumbs, mind you. It’ll attract sludge beetles—I have to comb through the straw and individually pick every piece out.” She gesticulated with conviction. “Don’t get me started on his breath. It’s like death. Like if I just mouth-kissed a ten-day-old corpse.”

“You did what?”

Aimei’s eyes brimmed. “He used to be so affectionate, so much fun. Now he ignores me and pretends I don’t exist unless he needs something, like I’m just a servant or cook or some occasional plaything when he’s bored. It’s really unfair. I’m always so nice to him.”

“Just lock the door at night. Teach him a lesson. Don’t let him push—Hold.” Janus scanned the horizon. Night had swept in quicker than expected with both the Queen and Prince hidden behind a thick blanket of dark rolling rain clouds. It might get wet soon. He yanked on the reins to urge the oxen forward. “We’re losing visibility, even with the forward lantern’s spotlights. The road will soon tilt to the right up ahead. Signal a warning to the rest of the team.”

Aimei lived to chatter, but that didn’t take away from her being an otherwise skilled and well-trained side-seat. She grabbed hold of a lantern swaying off the side of the wagon, sliding the cover in and out to flash a long blink, a pause, and then two more. A row of single flashes, one for each wagon behind them, confirmed receipt of Janus’s order.

“Prep the spotlights,” he added.

Aimei slipped off her perch to light the two lanterns hanging off each side of the wagon. Two strong beams of yellow light shone straight into the night haze and the darkened tree lines. Two more on the other side lit up shortly after. She returned to her perch a moment later to yank at a long lever near her feet, releasing two poles out along the sides of the wagon, each with a lantern at its end. The other wagons soon followed suit, extending their own antennae two at a time until the caravan looked like a giant centipede skittering up the side of the dark mountain on glowing feet.

Once all of the antennae had fanned opened, Aimei picked up where she had left off. “How could you say such a thing? I can’t just lock Mop out of the house. He won’t last one night by himself.”

“Maybe you should just get a new cat then,” Janus muttered. Before she could sputter her outrage, he pointed forward. “Check the road up ahead.”

Aimei obeyed, grabbing the handle of a large forward-facing spotlight and directing it just ahead of the team of oxen. She swept it back and forth along the ground, each time aiming just a little bit farther out. It wasn’t long before she found something: a pair of knee-high brown boots. The spotlight continued to climb upward, revealing a colorful, garish, and slightly oversize merchant’s travel cloak and settling on the pale face of a young man below a fountain of black hair.

The man waggled his fingers in a wave. “Ho, honorable friend. It is such a great fortune to see your arrival.” There was an insecure smugness to his smirk, unearned bravado.

Janus gnashed his teeth. “I actually thought we were going to finish this leg without incident.”

Aimei leaned close. “Maybe we should just run him over.”

He shook his head. “Nah, that’s rude. It would violate the commerce codes anyway. I’m not paying a fine on his account.”

“My horse, my poor horse has fallen lame. I am left stranded.” The stranger in the spotlight launched into a well-rehearsed monologue, raising one arm toward the sky and cupping his heart with the other. “Could I beseech you, noble sir, for some assistance?” The young man couldn’t have been more than twenty. His skin was too milky for a peasant, and his words too flowery, reflecting an education. He also couldn’t act his way out of a burlap sack.

Janus snapped his fingers twice and waved him off. “First of all, that’s a terrible delivery. You weren’t even looking at me. Why are you talking to the sky? Who are you serenading, the Queen? My face is down here. Look at the person you’re talking to, me, the person you’re trying to rob. Second of all, your tone is all over the place. I can’t tell if you’re trying to swindle me or bed me. Pick a motive and stick to the lane, son, because it’s late, and my back is quivering from having to hunch forward all day. We have a full wagon of ducal post to sort tomorrow, and my eyes are burning from a long day on the haul.” He gestured for the stranger to hurry up. “So skip to the epilogue, yeah?”

The stranger did not seem to mind the interruption. “Very well.” He raised his arms dramatically and clapped three times. Several figures emerged from the shadows. He continued orating. “You have the privilege of being robbed by the Righteous Raiders, the crew of a hundred scores.”

“Really?” Aimei’s eyes widened. She had been taken in by the bandit’s presentation. She was usually easily impressed.

“Righteous Raiders, eh? Stupid name.” Janus got a better look at the stranger. “You look a little too much of a small dumpling to have earned a hundred scores.”

“It’s more of a goal,” the young man admitted.

Aimei’s eyes narrowed, and she folded her arms. “How many robberies have you actually pulled off?”

Janus elbowed her in the shoulder lightly.

His side-seat elbowed him back. “What? I want to know.”

“Five, but three were in the past few weeks.”

Janus didn’t bother stifling his laugh. “Five? No wonder your scabbard’s tied on wrong. You bunch of muddied pig feet flee your lord and suddenly think you’re all real bandits now, yeah? That’s a nice blade. Where did you steal it?”

The stranger stayed in character. “Earned in a duel with a master war artist off the Tyk Coast.”

“It’s pronounced Tyk Coast, third accent,” Janus retorted. “Get it right.”

“Are you in charge?” asked the orator.

“I’m the headguard. Are you the leader of this band of dirt-wallowing peasants?” he shot back.

“I am the legendary Tuhan the Woo.”

“Never heard of you.” Janus actually had, but he wasn’t going to give the boy any cred. He rose to his feet and crossed his arms. His back really was aching. He couldn’t wait until he could hand the reins over to Aimei. She just needed a little more seasoning. “Wait, you’re that runaway monk. Brother Big Brother.”

“He doesn’t look that big to me,” scoffed Aimei. “Why do they call you that?”

Tuhan shrugged. “I go by many titles, but that’s a new one.” He turned to those standing nearby. “Boys, anyone ever hear me referred to as that?”

A smattering chorus of “No, Big Brother, never, Big Brother” followed. More bodies emerged from the tree line. The lead wagon was now completely surrounded.

“Let’s get this over with.” Janus nudged Aimei, but the girl was already prepared, one hand resting on the shaft of a holstered short spear. Janus grabbed a mallet the size of his palm and banged the small gong hanging off the side of his perch. The ringing passed from wagon to wagon all the way down the line. Then he jumped off the wagon and drew the mallet’s much larger sibling, which rivaled Janus’s height. The rest of the caravan guards emerged from their wagons and began making their way to the front. The last few coming up from the far back were still strapping on their armor.

The two sides sized each other up. Janus didn’t get an accurate count of how many, but he knew at a glance the numbers were skewed enough that it didn’t matter.

Tuhan looked smug. “Twelve guards against forty Righteous.”

“Closer to thirty,” replied Janus.

“I have more in the woods as backup.”

“Sure you do.”

The monk flashed a bright smile as if he were giving a sermon on Tenth Day Prayer. “A word of advice, my good senior sir, you should just take the loss. It’s better for everyone.”

Janus considered the odds for a moment. Then he considered all the other financial implications involved. He shook his head. “Nah, we’ll fight it out.”

The leader of the Righteous Raiders momentarily broke character. “Are you sure, headguard?”

“Let’s see what you have, double brother runaway monk.”

The guards and bandits lined up politely. One never knew when the person across from them may end up on the same side one day. After a few last-minute armor adjustments and drawing of weapons, Janus raised an arm and stomped his feet three times. Tuhan mirrored the movements.

The two sides came together in a messy, dull crash. It had been a long day, and everyone was tired. A lazy ax met a half-hearted swung sword. A mace dinged against a shield when it really should have been a louder dong. Even the grunts and yells sounded forced. It was also quickly obvious that these mud-slipping, doe-faced peasants were just that, not experienced soldiers or bandits. You could put these peasants in the finest armor wielding the sharpest swords and riding the fiercest steeds. It didn’t matter. Regardless of how you dress them, a peasant will always be a peasant. Arrow fodder was all they were good for.

No one was fighting particularly hard, except for perhaps Aimei, who was obviously working for a fight bonus. She always did. Apparently, feeding that cat was expensive. Janus’s side-seat fought in the thick of the battle, clashing with several bandits at once and finding the mark in several, which was good enough to earn the first blood payout.

Janus wished the girl didn’t always give her full effort. It was exhausting just to be close to her sometimes, but as the only woman in his crew, she worked twice as hard as everyone on everything, and as his apprentice, she was twice as hard on everyone else as well. He had been meaning to have a talk with her about that. There were many times when a crew should give it their all. Right now wasn’t one of them.

In any case, Janus had no intention of letting this play out any more than necessary. After a brief series of hits and blows, his people holding their own but slowly getting overwhelmed by sheer numbers, he decided to call it.

Janus raised his mallet over his head, slightly disappointed he hadn’t even gotten to use it. “All right, that’s enough. The caravan is yours, Brother Big Brother.”

Tuhan, who also hadn’t drawn his saber yet, was standing on the opposite side of the small field, and frowned. “Are you sure? The stoppage feels early.”

Janus shrugged. “Long enough for my crew to earn fight pay. Not worth it to go for the win bonus.” He had to pull Aimei back from still trying to paw at her opponent, and then hauled Enja and Pio off the ground. Pio may actually have broken a leg, which looked like the worst of the injuries. “Surrender formation, boys. Back to the wagon and let the good raiders finish their work.” Once his people had retreated, Janus turned over a sand clock to start the count and turned back to Tuhan. “As agreed by the commerce code, you’re allocated fifteen minutes. Try to keep it neat, will you?”

Tuhan the Woo was too preoccupied to listen, however. He had picked up Aimei’s dropped short sword and was busy asking her to tea, which she was clearly enjoying. Janus reluctantly admitted the banditlord came across like a rogue straight out of a Burning Hearts romance. The man was a jackass, but at least a dashing one.

Janus hauled her back to the surrender formation before the two could set a date. “Act professional, will you?”

The Righteous Raiders began to pick through the caravan like ants on a rotting melon. What they lacked in skill and organization, they made up for in numbers. Janus was surprised to count that there really were forty or so of them. With so many mouths to feed, it was no wonder they had to hit so many caravans.

The bandits were midway through ransacking the third wagon when the door to the riding carriage in the rear banged open. A stout, fleshy man with neatly combed hair stumbled out still wearing a sleep sack. He looked aghast at the bandits crawling all over the wagons and stormed up to the front of the caravan.

He shook a fist at Janus. “What’s going on? What is the meaning of this? Why aren’t you stopping these brigands from absconding with the merchandise? They’re robbing me!”

“We tried, Boss Izun. Battle’s over. You lost.” Janus shook his head. “I did tell you twelve was too few for a caravan this size, but you didn’t want to bring on my second unit. You wanted to save the liang.”

“Battle’s already over?” Izun looked the guards over. “There’s barely a mark on any of you!”

Everyone looked offended. “Of course not,” huffed Enja, who was one of the ones wearing only half of his armor. “We’re professionals. We don’t chop people up every fight. Who can do business like that?”

Janus hurried to calm Izun’s nerves. “Worry not, Boss. Everyone’s operating under the lunar court commerce rules. These fine gentlemen won’t take more than a quarter, and it’ll be merchandise only. No personal belongings or extracurricular killings. On their good word.”

“A quarter? On a bandit’s good word?” The caravan boss paled. “What am I paying you miserable dogs for?” He turned abruptly and took two steps toward the leader of the Righteous Raiders. “And you, I don’t know who you think you—”

“I’m surrounded by amateurs these days,” Janus complained. Before his employer made it a third of the way, Janus hooked the shaft of his mallet around his weedy neck in a choke hold and dragged him back to the rest of the guards. “Don’t mind him, banditlord. He’s new, just like you, and needs to learn the rules.”

“Traitor, traitor!” Izun screeched, pawing ineffectually at Janus’s face. “You’re all in on this vile scam, you backstabbing goats.”

Janus jerked the mallet sharply sideways and thunked the boss across the head, just hard enough to shut him up. “Stop squirming or I’ll throw you into a trunk until this is over. I just saved your life.” He handed the quivering Izun over to Aimei once the man settled down. “Stay on him. No one gets paid if he dies.”

The merchant struggled weakly in her grasp. “You . . . traitors . . .”

Janus held up his hands apologetically. “Sorry about that disturbance, banditlord. Fresh fish from Lawkan. Hasn’t learned the local commerce rules yet.” His voice trailed off. He looked up. “Do you hear that?”

The Righteous Raiders boss frowned. “Hear what?”

Then they all did, a faint wailing over the high-pitched whistle of the stiff breeze.

Tuhan glanced back at his crew and at the rest of the raiders. No, the sound was bouncing across the mountain range, but it was coming from farther away. Janus looked up the road and squinted, noticing for the first time a lone figure running toward them from up the road, wildly flapping arms.

Tuhan by now had noticed as well. He cupped his palms around his eyes. “Who interrupts a robbery?”

“One of yours?” asked Janus.

“Don’t think so. We’ve been lying in wait all day. Maybe someone from the delivery post?”

The yelling became more coherent as the intruder neared. “Wait, don’t leave yet.”

The two men exchanged glances.

“Who is leaving?” asked Tuhan.

“Certainly not us.” Janus checked the sand clock. “Not for another seven minutes.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” Tuhan raised his voice. “Wrap it up, my righteous brothers!”

The stranger reached the edge of the crowd near the first wagon. He slowed to a labored jog and then hung his head low, his chest heaving as he rested his hands on his knees. “Thanks . . . thanks for waiting. I got to the drop post late, thought I’d missed the wagon. Then I saw your lanterns in the distance and tried to catch up. I have a package to pick up . . .”

The newcomer was young, with long hair pulled back at the nape of his neck. His face was youthful, with a sparse patch of hair on his chin. The rest of his face needed tweezers more than a blade. His skin was tanned, wind-whipped and beaten by the King. His plain, coarse tunic and dirty trousers were of livestock quality, soaked with sweat and caked to his body, revealing a surprisingly lean and muscular figure. He was also completely oblivious to the situation. Janus recognized him after a few moments. It was one of the local boys who had moved into the region the past few cycles. It took him a bit longer to put a name to that face.

Janus raised a hand. “Hello, Hiro. You should probably go back to the delivery post. We’ll be along shortly.”

Hiro waved back and then appeared to realize that he was surrounded by armed men with their weapons drawn. “Is this a bad time?”

“Who is this guppy?” asked Tuhan.

“Just a local kid,” he told Tuhan. “Don’t mind him.”

“Are your wagons stuck here? I can help push.” Hiro offered a weak smile. “Hey!”

One of the bandits had grabbed him by the collar and was shoving him off to the side.

“Just hang still, Hiro,” shouted Janus. “We’ll get to you after this business is done.”

A commotion at the back of the caravan drew Janus’s attention. One of his guards was quarreling with four bandits. “Headguard,” called his man, “they’re trying to break into the mail wagon.”

The merchant Izun’s eyes bulged, and he temporarily escaped Aimei’s grasp. “That’s an official postal wagon, you ball-licking dog. It’s ducal insured and off-limits, you mud-faced, stone-brained ass-bottom!”

This time, the flat of Janus’s mallet knocked him out cold. That didn’t mean the trader was wrong, though. Janus snapped at the banditlord. “What are you little minnows doing? Can’t you see the imperial purple seal with the bright gold Zhingzhi? You can’t be that fresh of a fish to hit up a ducal-backed wagon.”

Tuhan did not appear to worry. “The dukes are too embroiled in their civil war, burning their own lands, to worry about a little disruption in the post. They won’t care.”

Janus knew for a fact they would, on pure principle if nothing else. The dukes of the Enlightened States never let anything slide. Attacking anything ducal-marked was an attack on their power. Still, if these dumb carcasses wanted to wrap their mouths around this hook, he would let them. He signaled to his man to step aside and let the righteous fools gleefully tear into the ducal wagon. He shook his head in disbelief and disgust as people’s mail packages, crates, and personal belongings were haphazardly tossed onto the muddy road.

“Hey,” Hiro protested, squirming in a bandit’s grasp as one of the raiders pulled out a package neatly wrapped in bright-orange rice paper and sniffed it curiously. “That’s my aunt’s delivery. She really needs it.”

The bandit holding him pressed a blade to his throat. “Your auntie needs that package like you need a hole in your neck, swine.”

“I’m not the one who smells like I bathe in a trough,” Hiro shot back, earning him a punch in the gut. Interestingly, it didn’t fold him over. Either the boy was made of tougher stuff, or the bandit didn’t know how to punch. The boy’s protest, however, caught Tuhan’s attention.

The runaway monk walked over to the discarded crate with the expensive orange wrapping paper. He nudged it lightly with his boot. “What do you have in here that’s so important, son?”

Hiro must have realized his mistake too late. “Nothing.”

“Right.” Tuhan flourished his expensive-looking saber, used it like the ignorant peasant that he was to crack open the crate. The saber was obviously a nobleman’s toy, probably not suited for battle, and definitely not suitable for packages.

A pained cry drew Janus’s attention back to Hiro, who had somehow acquired a knife from one of the bandits. The young man, with an arm around the bandit’s neck, dragged him toward the crate while leveling the knife at any nearby bandits. “I don’t want any trouble. I just want to get my package and go. My aunt’s been expecting it. If I don’t get it to her, there will be trouble. And I’m honestly not in the mood for that tonight, or any night, really, so let me just get my stuff, and you all can keep”—he motioned at everyone—“doing whatever it is you guys are doing.”

Tuhan pointed his blade at him. “Get this dog!”

Janus tried to defuse the situation. A commoner getting gutted during a robbery was bad business for both sides. “Come on, this is embarrassing. Let’s not kill each other over the mail.”

It was too late, however.

The rest of the raiders converged on him. The nearest bandit, a large, brawny man wearing a wok as a breastplate, tried to knock the boy over with a metal-gloved fist. Hiro turned aside sharply and sent the raider flying onto his belly. The boy twisted and turned through the onslaught, impressively avoiding fists, thrusts, and tackles coming at him from every direction while mucking around in ankle-deep mud. He ducked the swing of a mace that would have exploded his head like a melon. He dodged the slash of a rusty ax that would have taken his arm off. Within a matter of seconds, four of the bandits were groaning on the ground. Two others were unconscious.

Janus’s jaw dropped. All this time, he had thought the boy weak and hollow-headed, always averting his gaze from meeting theirs. No one would have suspected he had this war artistry in him.

Then Tuhan the Woo found himself alone with the young man. The bandit’s face was sheet-white and his eyes wide like moons, but still he continued the bravado. “You’re begging for a messy death, guppy!”

Hiro pointed unhelpfully at Tuhan’s tight two-handed grip on his saber. “You’re holding it wrong.”

“Shut your dirty mouth!” Tuhan lunged forward.

The weapon seemed to pass through Hiro’s body with no effect. The boy had trapped the blade in his armpit. He spun around, whipping the saber out of Tuhan’s grip. This was skill, but nothing special. Janus himself had had to use that technique back when he had been employed at a gambling hall. That meant the boy had high-level training, though. Janus wondered from whom; he couldn’t quite make out the fighting style. It certainly wasn’t from any of the mainstream schools.

Hiro released the blade from his arm and caught it with his other hand, all in one fluid flourish, bringing the edge of the saber to rest on Tuhan’s shoulder, with just enough pressure to drive him down to his knees. The runaway monk froze, terrified. A few moments later, Hiro tossed the blade aside. “I don’t want any more trouble. I just want my package.”

“Fine,” cried Tuhan the Woo. “Take it. Get out of here.”

The rest of the raiders had learned their lesson and backed away. Hiro carefully put the lid of the crate back on, then hefted it onto his back. He rummaged through the container of letters, pulling out several, then looked over at Janus. “Are you going to be all right, Headguard Janus?”

It took him a moment to process that. He nodded. “Sure, Hiro. Don’t worry about us. We’re all covered under the commerce codes here. Assuming these fools don’t break those too.” Breaking ducal laws was stupid enough, but no one messed around with lunar court decrees.

Hiro nodded and then retreated into the now-black woods, heading the direction of the fifth Ugly Brother. A quiet settled over the area. Janus looked over at Aimei, nodding. “I did not expect that.”

“Does that mean we get a victory bonus, boss?”

“It doesn’t work that way, girl. You can’t surrender and then try to win.”

She frowned. “Why not?”

“Because then no one will ever let anyone surrender ever again, and that creates problems for everyone.”

“I see.” Aimei didn’t look as if she did see the point.

Tuhan scrambled to his feet and grabbed onto Janus, yelling, “What was that about? You said he was harmless!”

“I mean, he looked harmless.” Janus barely noticed Tuhan’s limp grip shaking his tunic.

Eventually, Tuhan realized he wasn’t paying any attention. His outrage sputtered, and the runaway monk named Tuhan the Woo, or Brother Big Brother, quieted as his gaze followed Janus’s into the mountainous forest where the boy had disappeared. The banditlord furrowed his brow. “What was that boy’s name again?”

CHAPTER TWO

A LONG DAY

Wen Jian, Prophesied Hero of the Tiandi, the Champion of the Five Under Heaven, the Savior of the Zhuun, and also probably the most wanted man in all the Enlightened States, felt like the hopping dead by the time he dragged his feet up the long, winding stairs that coiled around the pillar up to the plateau he called home. Even before he arrived, he was already exhausted, hungry, wet, and completely miserable. Home was a small cluster of stone-and-clay hovels framed by a crumbling wall that rested upon the giant stone pillar that made up part of the Piranha Peaks nestled deep within the Cloud Pillars on the other side of the valley opposite the Ugly Brothers.

Zofi was waiting when he finally made it to the top of the stairs. She enjoyed reading by moonlight on the balcony jutting over the cliff’s edge and had probably seen his lantern on the way up. The young woman, a former mapmaker’s daughter Taishi had picked up during her travels through the city of Sanba on her way to the original Temple of the Tiandi, had accompanied Taishi to the Cloud Pillars, and ended up staying to offer the “softer” and quite possibly more important portion of Jian’s education. She tutored him in language, geography, politics, and mathematics. Jian was by all accounts a mediocre student on his best days, and an embarrassing fool on most others.

Her eyes widened when he walked into the glow of her lantern. “What happened to you? Did you get into a tussle with a hippopotamus?” She had recently discovered these creatures’ existence, and they were now her favorite thing in the world.

Jian slumped his shoulders. “It’s been a long day.”

Half of his body was caked with mud, and a great welt, shaped like a purple flower and the size of a dragon fruit, had blossomed on his cheek. The rest of his body was marked with scratches and cuts, several visible through his shredded robe. He also may or may not have broken a toe.

Zofi held out a hand. “Hand over the fish you bartered for with Kasa. Get cleaned up first before you set foot in the main house.”

“About that.” Jian’s shoulders clenched. “I lost it.”

“Lost what, the fish?” Her eyes grew intense. More intense than usual. “I had to trade two jars of truffles that I dug up with my two bare hands for that fish!”

“Technically, we dug those up together.” Jian regretted the words the moment they left his lips.

Zofi shook both hands at him. “How did this happen?”

He shrank under her gaze. “I slipped off a current while riding toward Bahngtown and dropped the sack of fish into the river.”

“Couldn’t you just have swooped down and picked it back up again?”

“I sort of fell in with it.” His face turned red. “A passing flock of geese startled me. They came out of nowhere!”

Zofi buried her face in her hands. “A goose scared you? That’s why you dropped a week’s worth of meat?”

“It gets worse,” he muttered.

“Oh, glorious. I guess we’re eating rice and spiced vegetables for the next month.” She fixed him with a stern look. “You did get the spices, right?”

“Like I said, worse.” He offered her a weak, guilty smile. “The Yukian’s currents were rough today. I almost drowned. I really should learn how to swim one of these days.” He paused. “Anyway, by the time I made it back to shore, I was too far downstream from Bahngtown to make it back. I had to head to the delivery post instead.”

“Rice and unseasoned vegetables. That’s great.” Zofi scoffed. “Did you get the mail at least? Taishi is going to have one of these depictions of you on the wall come true if you didn’t get her shipment.”

He held up a small bundle of letters and turned around so she could see the crate strapped to his back. “More or less.”

“At least you didn’t screw that up.” She squinted. “What happened to the container?”

Jian wasn’t in the mood. “Can we go inside first? I’m cold and tired, and I haven’t eaten since that terrible breakfast you made.”

“This morning was not my finest work,” she conceded. “Come on, I left you a plate of scallion pancakes.”

They passed through the courtyard gates and made their way to the kitchen, which was a small building adjacent to the main house. This property had once belonged to the Temple of the Diyu Red Lanterns, a fringe Tiandi sect convinced that their high priest was destined to consume the Prophesied Hero of the Tiandi’s flesh and assume his place within the prophecy. The members of the Diyu Red Lanterns had interpreted their doctrine very literally and enthusiastically, which had become a serious problem for the neighboring settlements.

Taishi had been hired to investigate these disappearances several decades ago and ended up dismantling the cult entirely. She had liked the view from the plateau so much, however, that she had moved in soon afterward and turned it into a second home. Many of the cult beliefs were painted and carved in excruciating detail on the temple walls and remained to this day. It was a daily reminder to Jian that an entire sect of the Tiandi religion wanted to eat him, usually in soup or over a barbecue spit. So that was fun and not creepy at all. Fortunately, he had gotten used to it by now.

They passed under an awning with a depiction of the high priest drinking a bowl of noodles with Jian’s hand sticking out, and proceeded into the kitchen. Hanging from hooks off several low rafters right above the table was a colorful assortment of dented pots and woks. On the near side was a row of water barrels. All were empty. Next to the other door leading back to the courtyard was a square dining table, currently occupied by only one empty plate. A trail of flaky crumbs ran from the table down the hallway toward Taishi’s private quarters.

“I was expecting you back this afternoon,” said a hoarse, raspy voice as soon as the pair walked in.

Taishi was sitting at the table next to the hearth in the middle of the room. She sniffed the air. “You fell into the swamp again?”

“The river, actually.” He slung the crate off his back. No sooner had he placed it on the counter than Taishi flicked her wrist toward herself, and the crate flew effortlessly across the room and landed on the table in front of her. His master looked indignant. “What happened to the package? The paper is ripped, and it’s caked with filth.”

“I had some problems during the pickup,” he said.

“What sort of problems?”

Jian tried to look nonchalant. “I took care of it.”

Taishi looked ready to pry further, but Zofi jumped in to save him. “You have letters too, Taishi.” She held up one of the letters and sliced it open. “Master Fausan sent a reminder that it’s your turn to host in ten days’ time. He also reminds you that you’ve backed out the last three times you were supposed to host.”

Taishi considered. “Fine, I’ll host. Better check our wine stores. What else?”

Zofi held up a dark red envelope with a wax seal. “It’s Master Hoon. He’s politely but insistently asking for a reply to any of his last three letters.”

“No. No, I don’t want a seat on his master war artists community council. No, I don’t want to have tea with him, and no, I definitely don’t want to join his stupid cricket fighting league.”

“This is a new request. He requests the pleasure of your company to fly kites—”

“I’m just going to have to kill the man next time I see him. It’s the only way to stop him from pestering me.”

Jian stared at the empty plate on the table. “What happened to the scallion pancakes?”

“Oh, were they for you? I got hungry,” said Taishi.

Jian’s stomach grumbled. He had been looking forward to those pancakes.

Zofi glanced at the box curiously. “What’s in the package?”

“Oh, yes.” Taishi returned to the table. She tore the lid off with a hard yank, then slowly, gleefully, pulled out a plain but finely crafted chest. She placed it on the table, unlatched the lock, and then swung open the lid. Inside was a stack of round, pink objects.

Taishi plucked one from the pile and sank her teeth into it with a satisfying crunch. She closed her eyes. “Straight from the peachlord’s estates. Amazing.” She took another bite and turned to leave the room. “I’m using all the hot water.”

Jian called after her, his voice noticeably softer. “Taishi, how is Uncle Faaru doing?”

She hesitated at the doorway. “His family is well.” And then she disappeared into her chambers.

Jian wasn’t sure what that meant. He didn’t remember much about the day he last saw the palacelord, the man who had treated Jian like a son at the Celestial Palace. Jian hoped he was all right. Then his stomach grumbled, reminding him once again that food had not passed through his mouth since dawn. His body instinctively reached for the nearest edible item, which was one of the peaches in the chest.

Zofi slapped his hand away. “Not if you know what’s good for you. I’ll boil some eggs.”

That would have to do. “I’ll start the fire.”

“Oh no you don’t.” She hooked his elbow and changed his direction. “You smell like you just came out from between an ox’s cheeks. You’re not allowed in the main house until you’ve bathed.”

“Is there any water left?” While a bath sounded tempting, he didn’t want one badly enough to make the trek to the water hole at the far end of the pillar.

Zofi pointed to a bucket she had left for him near the door. He hefted it in both hands and staggered to the far corner of the property to a small structure that consisted of four corner posts and a circular roof. The Pagoda of Death was so named because this was where the Diyu Red Lanterns had performed their ritual killings. The altar under the pagoda was a water-tight stone depression dug several feet into the dirt. Jian didn’t even want to guess what it had been for. It was now primarily used as a holding pen to bathe their animals. The roof was a small dome with depictions running all along the inner band of Jian getting chopped into pieces and served on several platters.

It did not take long for Jian to bathe. Freezing water made for a quick bath. He emerged from his bath, more or less clean, and found Zofi at the fire pit behind the kitchen, stirring a pot of boiled eggs over a small fire. She picked one out with a pair of cooking chopsticks and offered it to him. Jian, famished, cracked and stripped the shell expertly with the tips of his fingers and wolfed it down whole even as he panted from the heat.

“More?” she asked.

He nodded, juggling another between his fingers like hot charcoal. A dozen eggs vanished just as quickly as they came out of the pot. He sprawled into a couch of hay and loosed a long breath, the work from the long day finally draining out of him. Zofi tossed a few more tied batches of dried grass into the fire, sending a fresh snow of embers floating up into the sky. She used the long chopsticks to fish out a few more of the boiling eggs and placed them in a waiting bowl. Zofi let him have four; he gave her the two largest eggs.

She offered him half of her blanket, which he accepted. They huddled closer together, shivering at the midnight breeze running its fingers through their hair as they stared up at the star-freckled sky. It was as if the curtain had been pulled aside to reveal the celestial world in its pure splendor. The thunderclouds, after rinsing the Cloud Pillars for weeks, had finally passed. The land would be green and lively for the next few days where dozens of pillars would release waterfalls to dry themselves out. The blooms would take advantage, and with it the prey, the predators, and then the hunters.

Zofi pointed toward the night sky. “You see that sharp orange glimmer there? It’s the Monsoon Star. Never trust it.”

“What is so untrustworthy about a star?”

“It dances ever so slightly every cycle, moving just enough that someone relying on it for guidance ends up somewhere else. It also changes its color as if seeing if each shade is to its liking, and then sometimes it just disappears.”

“Sounds very unreliable.” He yawned.

“Hey.” She nudged him, their shoulders touching. “Are you going to tell me how you got beat up like that? Did you try to hug a wild cat again?” She smirked when he hesitated. “Why so mysterious, Savior of the Zhuun? It must be really embarrassing.”

“Now you’re just blowing things out of proportion,” he muttered.

“Come on. I’m stuck on this rock all day.” She elbowed him in the ribs. “Let me live vicariously through your blunders. I could use a good story.”

“Fine.” He peered toward the house looking for signs of movement. When he was sure Taishi wasn’t going to just appear behind him out of nowhere, he confessed. “I walked in on the caravan getting robbed.”

“Is that how you got your injuries? You fought them?”

He nodded.

“Why would you do a fool thing like that?” She looked bewildered. “Let them play it out under commerce rules.”

“I couldn’t.” He lowered his voice. “They were breaking into the mail wagon.”

“They attacked a ducal-insured wagon? That’s idiocy.” Zofi slapped the top of her head with both hands and closed her eyes. “Oh, no no no, Jian, you’re literally one of the most wanted fugitives in the Enlightened States. The bounty on your head is so large I almost want to turn you in. And you decide to intervene in an event that will most definitely warrant a magistrate’s investigation? Was that smart, or not smart?”

“They were going to steal Taishi’s peaches!”

“Who cares about stupid fruit!” She jabbed his forehead with her finger. “You could have blown your cover. Someone could have recognized you.” She took in a deep breath. “Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. Maybe it’s not so bad. How badly did you win?”

“I knocked down a couple of people.”

His master’s eyes narrowed. “How many is a couple? One, two?”

“Maybe more, eight or ten?” He felt the need to explain further. “These guys were so incompetent they were practically impaling themselves at my feet. Anyone remotely competent could have beaten them. You know, the Cloud Pillars could really use a better class of banditry.”

“Jian, ten?” Zofi’s disbelief made her hoarse. “Are you trying to get caught?”

“They were armed and trying to kill me. What did you expect me to do?” he explained defensively. “Let them crack me over the head?”

“Yes, Jian. Yes, you should have let them club you over the head. For being so stupid!” She was nearly shouting. “Or better yet, don’t get into a brawl with bandits while they’re in the middle of robbing someone else.”

“I’m sure neither the bandits nor the guards will remember.” He paused. “Oh, the headguard knows me.”

Zofi slapped her head. “Of course they’ll remember the person who beat them to a pulp. Not only that, but they’ll also remember a man who bears a striking resemblance to the missing Prophesied Hero of the Tiandi, who looks about the same age as that missing hero, and who tonight took out ten men in an ambush. That’s what they’re going to remember, and they’re going to gossip. What possessed you to take this risk? What were you thinking?”

Jian stared into the fire. His voice was small. “I didn’t want to come home empty-handed. Everything was such a mess today. I just wanted one thing to go right.” A long silence passed between them, interrupted only by the crackling flames and the occasional chitter and hoots of nature around them.

“I understand that.” Zofi loosed a resigned sigh and patted him on the shoulder. “It was still egg-headed, though. Taishi is not going to be happy. She’s going to flay you into next week.”

He looked momentarily panicked. “Don’t tell her, please! She doesn’t need to know.”

“Jian, this is serious. You could have magistrates here within days. We need to be ready.”

He pleaded. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a stupid postal caravan! What’s a missing shipment or two? Mail gets lost all the time.”

“Don’t talk like that in front of the old lady. She’ll grouse and blame me for neglecting your civics. By the way, make her dress more warmly. Her cough came back.”

“What’s a civics?” He tried switching tactics. “I don’t care. Look, if she finds out, she’ll forbid me from leaving the pillar for at least until the next cycle. If I’m grounded, that means you’ll have to do all the supply runs and carry everything yourself.”

Zofi made a gesture as if strangling air. “Why do you think I’m so pissed!”

CHAPTER THREE

THE MASTER

Ling Taishi awoke to two roosters competing for one job. She reluctantly opened her eyes and stared at the soot-marked ceiling of her bedroom. The small hearth in the corner had gone cold during the night, but a light haze still hung in the air. That meant the chimney was clogged again. That boy was falling behind on his chores, which wasn’t surprising. Taishi had stepped up his lessons from two to three—sometimes four—times a day, which was grueling by any measure.

More crowing pierced the morning quiet. The older rooster, his voice scratchy and low, stuttered as if he had run out of breath or had choked on a kernel of corn. The younger one, on the other hand, was loud, shrill to the point of cutting. The eager cockerel had a set of lungs that could go on all day.

The wily old rooster had done an admirable job keeping his coop safe from weasels, badgers, and chi dragons over the years. While Taishi always valued experience, she was also distinctly aware of the dangers of someone operating well past their prime. Maybe it was time to retire the battle-worn bird and pass the reins. Then again, young meat was much more tender, especially when drizzled with sesame oil.

Taishi rose from her marble slab bed, feeling the chill in her joints. She waved off the lingering smoke trails and wrapped her favorite llama-fur robe over her shoulders. She padded out of her chambers in her matching fuzzy llama mittens and slippers, and continued through the covered archway connecting the main house to the kitchen, where she was warmly greeted by the pleasant aroma of deep-fried dough and hot soy milk.

Her favorite teapot with matching cup sat on the small, round table just outside the door. On an oval plate were one sweet white bun and one peach. Several wax-stamped scrolls were neatly fanned out in front of her breakfast. Half were likely fan or hate mail; who could tell the difference anymore? The others were probably bills. One had to honor one’s debts, even when in hiding, sometimes especially so.

Taishi was about to cut open the first letter when she noticed a body slumped by the fire pit outside the kitchen. More curious than alarmed, she stepped out to check. The cool mountain winds raised the hairs on the brown-and-white llama fur, swaying it north. She peeled off a mitten and hovered her hand over the hanging pot, feeling no heat. Inside were two boiled eggs sitting in a puddle of milky white soup. The ash in the hearth still emanated heat.

She walked up to the slumbering Jian, who was wrapped up in a horse blanket like a spring roll and snoring long, labored breaths. His legs sprawled out from under the blanket, one elevated over a hay bale, the other sticking straight out, a potential tripping hazard right next to the fire. His neck was bent forward in an unnatural way to make a pillow of the wall of the hay bale. He was going to feel that when he woke up.

Taishi didn’t blame the two children for staying up late. She didn’t mind that they made mistakes. Better to do it here under her guardianship than out there in the world, where a poorly considered mistake could mean death. Young people were social creatures; Jian and Zofi were orphaned puppies who had somehow found themselves under her guardianship. More important, they had found each other and formed a close bond that could only come from shared trauma and circumstance, especially here in this lonely corner of the world. They now leaned on each other for support, especially since there was no one else around . . .

Zofi appeared from around the sunflower garden carrying a basket of daikon radishes. She hefted it onto the wooden table next to the hearth. “I let him sleep in,” the mapmaker’s daughter said. “He needs it.”

“Prophecies don’t take days off.” Taishi was about to flick his nose with a pop of air when she reconsidered. She noted his many blemishes and bruises. He did look more haggard than usual.

“You’ve been running him ragged lately,” said the mapmaker’s daughter. “How has his training been coming along?”

Taishi’s gaze lingered on her sleeping disciple. “Physically, he can pass the test tomorrow if I allow it. The Test of the Lineage is about raw power and talent, both of which he has in abundance.” She tapped her head. “It’s here that he needs seasoning, but it’s impossible to expose that experience to him without increasing the risk of someone identifying him.”

Taishi decided to allow her ward to sleep a little longer. As the scripture of the wise Goramh taught: one rested day was worth three weary ones. Jian had come a long way in the three years he had lived here under her tutelage. He might one day be worthy to succeed her as the master of the windwhispering Zhang lineage, but that wouldn’t be enough. The succession of her family line had never been her goal. Jian was meant for greater things. His destiny was to slay the Eternal Khan of the Katuia, and there was no telling when the prophecy would call. It could be tomorrow, a decade from today, or possibly never if the Khan was actually dead. All Taishi knew was that she had to prepare the boy to the best of her ability, and time was running short. The candle was burning on both ends.

Taishi joined Zofi at the long wooden table, where the daikons were now arrayed in neat, straight rows. Zofi was peeling the radishes with a paring knife, stripping each bare with seven or eight inefficient slow strokes, then soaking them in a water basin.

It looked easy enough. Taishi took position opposite the girl and hiked up her llama-fur sleeve on her good arm. Zofi snorted but slid a spare knife across the table to her. Taishi picked it up and twirled the blade between her fingers. The weight was off, the handle loose, and the blade was as dull as a duke’s dinner party, but it was rare for a war artist to wield the perfect weapon for a fight.

“I’m sick of radish soup.” She raised her blade in salute, and then she attacked, lobbing the daikon into the air and making four perfect slashes, two vertical and two horizontal. Then she caught it in her good hand and spun it ninety degrees before bouncing it back up and repeating the exercise again with two vertical slices. Taishi then slapped the radish cube in midair with the blade, bouncing it into the water basin.

Zofi did not look impressed, but she did begin to peel them a little faster. By the time the girl had peeled three more radishes, Taishi had finished five. It wasn’t a fair competition, even with Taishi one-handed, but it was amusing how much the girl hated losing.

“One expert hand was far superior to two untrained ones.” There was a Goramh quote for everything, even if much of his wisdom was just variations of the same thing.