Five Odd Honors (65 page)

“Bent Bamboo, what are you doing out and about? I thought Joyful Promise only agreed to permit her patients to attend the meeting on the grounds that you’d all rest afterwards.”

Bent Bamboo gave a mischievous grin. “I will rest. If you would do the honor of stepping into a vacant parlor, I will begin immediately.”

There were plenty of vacant parlors—or at least unoccupied rooms neatly furnished with comfortable chairs. The palace complex was operating well short of the usual contingents of servants and minor officials. Until they definitely knew who their allies were, the Orphans and their associates weren’t taking any chances. Even those they had reason to treat as allies—such as Twentyseven-Ten, Thorn, and Shackles—had been carefully watched, but so far had given no reason to suspect them of anything worse than opportunism.

Brenda and Bent Bamboo chose a neatly appointed parlor a few doors down from the gate room. Bent Bamboo closed the door before settling into a chair.

“I know I have a bad reputation with the ladies,” he said, “but I assure you that I reformed before my departure from the world. You are safe with me.”

Okay,
Brenda thought, but she was still glad she had a couple of amulet bracelets on each wrist. Bent Bamboo was being perfectly polite, but he had a lecher’s grin.

“I think,” Bent Bamboo said, “Joyful Promise—if she knew what I was doing—would approve. You see, I’m here on her brother’s business.”

“Flying Claw?” Brenda was astonished. “He sent you?”

“He, well, he did and he . . . No, I suppose if I were to be perfectly honest, he didn’t, but I’m here on his business nonetheless.”

“What do you mean?”

In answer, Bent Bamboo reached into his sleeve and pulled out a battered and stained twist of lavender fabric. He held it out to her, and Brenda stared at it uncomprehending. Then she recognized it as one of the wide, fabric-covered bands she put around her hair when she pulled it into a ponytail.

Bent Bamboo dropped it into her outstretched hand.

“I have a confession to make.”

“What?” Brenda was still astonished by Bent Bamboo having one of her hair ties, and trying to figure out what this had to do with Flying Claw. “I’m completely confused.”

“Let me unconfuse you.”

Bent Bamboo leaned ostentatiously back in his chair. In a moment, Brenda realized the significance of this.

“You . . .”

“That’s right. I wasn’t treated nearly as harshly as were my associates. I don’t know if you believe me, but in a small way, that was its own form of torture. You see, the reason I wasn’t beaten bloody was because Li Szu believed I could be turned by more intellectual means. He thought,” Bent Bamboo’s voice was bitter, “I was the most likely traitor, and that if he could prove I had come over to his side, then the others would give up as well.”

“Oh . . .”

But Bent Bamboo wanted no sympathy. He spoke quickly now.

“You see, Thundering Heaven had swayed me once. In my own defense, I will say that Thundering Heaven didn’t give me anything like the full story. However, I guess that Li Szu thought that my having been swayed once meant either I was a gullible idiot or that I was a good friend of Thundering Heaven. I think the latter, because I was often put in Thundering Heaven’s company as he went about his business, and his business usually had to do with Flying Claw.”

Brenda nodded, her fingers involuntarily tightening around the hair tie.

Bent Bamboo went on. “Now I like Flying Claw, and more than just liking him, I owed him a considerable debt. Flying Claw helped to save me when I was a complete idiot and would have burned to death in the sea of fire. More importantly, he never once reminded me afterwards of how stupidly brash I had been, not even by a glance. I kept waiting for him to say something, and because of that I kept an eye on him. That’s how I noticed he had a lucky piece, a talisman, perhaps a lady’s favor.”

Brenda held up the bit of lavender fabric. “This. I didn’t give it to him, if that’s what you mean. He must have borrowed it.”

“Not to hold back his own hair,” Bent Bamboo said with a slight chuckle. “Flying Claw never wore that hair tie, but kept it tucked away—on his wrist if he was wearing long sleeves, inside his tunic otherwise. He was very careful we not see it, but he also couldn’t help but touch it occasionally. I bet I’m not the only one who noticed.”

Brenda felt herself blushing, although whether for herself or for Flying Claw, she wasn’t sure. Maybe for both of them. She’d thought she loved Flying Claw. She’d hoped he might care for her, but this quiet devotion made her heart hurt, and all her confused love and longing well up afresh.

But who was that love for? For the Foster she’d first met? For the Flying Claw she’d come to know? For the mutilated stranger who would hardly speak to her—or to anyone? Did she love him? Had she ever loved him? If Flying Claw had loved her, did he still, or had Thundering Heaven cut any capacity for love from his heart?

Bent Bamboo kept talking. “One day I saw what had to be Flying Claw’s belongings sitting in a heap. They’d been thoroughly picked over, but apparently no significance had been attached to that little fabric talisman. Remembering how Flying Claw had valued it, I picked it up and hid it away. I don’ tknow what I meant to do with it—I just wanted to keep it for Flying Claw, in case by some miracle we all lived through this. I wanted to give him back something he valued. Even more, I think I wanted there to be one thing Thundering Heaven couldn’t take from him.”

“I think I can understand that,” Brenda said. “I do. That was kind.”

Bent Bamboo brushed her compliment away with a gesture of one long fingered hand as if it were a physical thing. “I’d planned to wait until Flying Claw was stronger, until he had more of his confidence back. Then I was going to return it to him and give him a stern talking to. However, I probably won’t be here to do that, so I’m going to have to leave it to you.”

“To me.”

Bent Bamboo smiled at Brenda, and there was only grandfatherly tenderness on his monkey face. “I’m not asking you to fall in love with the boy, Brenda Morris, just to be kind to him. Can you promise me that much?”

Brenda bit into her lower lip in a futile attempt to stop the tears that were welling up in her eyes—tears for her and her confused heart, tears for Flying Claw and his maimed body, tears for Bent Bamboo, who knew he was going to die and had kindness to spare for someone else’s pain.

“I promise,” she said. “I absolutely promise.”

The day when the five ghosts were to keep their vow came all too quickly.

The spells that had all but severed the Twelve Branches from the Lands had been undone the day before, each of the Orphans speaking with greater or lesser enthusiasm the words that renounced, on behalf of their descendants, this intangible inheritance.

Parnell of the sidhe and his small entourage had left before the magical rituals commenced, Parnell saying with mischievous politeness that while he had quite liked helping them solve their problems, he was enough of a diplomat to know when he would not be wanted.

The hour for the ceremony of return and reuniting had been set for noon. Returning to his room to prepare, Loyal Wind found a new set of robes, elaborately embroidered with the Horse, awaiting him.

As he inspected the robes, Loyal Wind noted that in addition to elegant renditions of the Horse in his varied attitudes, the robes were also embroidered with signs for luck and happiness. The emblems associated with wealth, prosperity, and longevity were conspicuous in their absence.

Well,
Loyal Wind thought, letting Thorn, who had been assigned to wait upon him, assist him into the robe,
I suppose that wealth, prosperity, and longevity are rather much to expect the gods to grant at this late date.

Shortly before noon, they assembled in the throne room where the Jade Petal Throne stood on its dais, conspicuously empty. Li Szu’s coup had changed the very structure of the Lands Born from Smoke and Sacrifice. Finding one who could be elevated to the role of emperor was not proving easy.

But the succession will not be my problem,
Loyal Wind thought, and realized that his regret was tempered with some other emotion he could not name.

All of the remaining thirteen Orphans—even Deborah, her face still lightly marked with the remnants of the chicken pox—were present, clad in their finest regalia.

Brenda Morris stood slightly to one side, of and yet not of, the Orphans’ number. Her attire consisted of a long, fitted skirt and brocade tunic styled in such a manner that they evoked both the fashions of her homeland and those of the Lands. Brenda’s tunic sleeves were short caps, rather out of keeping for the chilly hall, but then Loyal Wind noted the tattered bit of lavender fabric Brenda wore intermingled with the amulet bracelets on her right wrist.

Loyal Wind blinked when he recognized this strange adornment. Then he caught the slight, satisfied smile that lit Bent Bamboo’s features, and thought he knew how Flying Claw’s charm had reached Brenda Morris.

Loyal Wind wondered if Flying Claw, standing defiantly straight and tall, clad in embroidered robes of the Tiger’s green, had noticed Brenda’s quiet declaration. The young Tiger’s face was less raw but still a ruin, and its altered character gave nothing away.

As the Tiger, Flying Claw stood at the head of the small group that represented the remnant of the Lands’ Twelve. Righteous Drum stood next to Flying Claw, Honey Dream beside him. A few of the sages and soldiers who had proven themselves reliable—including Twentyseven-Ten, Thorn, and Shackles—stood with them, a pace back.

To Loyal Wind, who had seen this throne room teeming with the court of several emperors, the room seemed very empty. Their footsteps as they crossed the polished floor echoed despite the tapestries hung from the walls.

The basics of the ceremony had been designed by Gentle Smoke and Honey Dream. The participants had been briefed on their roles.

First the thirteen Orphans made a circle, Albert at their center. They joined hands. On his right, Loyal Wind grasped Gentle Smoke’s slim fingers; on his left, Copper Gong’s more robust digits. They moved a full rotation to the right, then repeated the action to the left, stepping with slow, measured movements. In the center, Albert Yu also turned, but in the opposite direction—the contrary Cat, part of them, but ever separate.

Albert Yu extended his hands in a gesture of welcome, then spoke the first words.

“In the name of my grandfather whose life you saved, and in the name of my father, who you cared for and taught, I thank you for the sacrifices you made to assure that the line of the emperor who you had sworn to serve would not be wiped from the memory of the Lands.

“You have striven beyond life to keep your promise. Now I release you from that promise. In the name of the emperor you served, I ask that you graciously return what you took, so that the Lands may be strong once more.”

This was the cue for the five former ghosts to drop the hands they held and step forward. Each did so without hesitation. The remaining Orphans drew back, making a line in front of the Jade Petal Throne, standing solemn and formal, their hands vanished within the wide bells of their sleeves.

Tears stood bright in the eyes of many who wished them silent farewell.

The five inclined their heads to the remaining Orphans, then to the other who stood witness. Finally, in many cases still moving very stiffly, they lowered themselves into the crouched position of the formal kowtow.

Beating their heads upon the polished stone of the floor, they chanted as one.

“We sought to do only right and have learned we did wrong. We sought to preserve our emperor, and so damaged the Lands. We beg forgiveness, and pray to give back that which we took, when thinking ourselves clever, now knowing ourselves fools.”

Albert was saying something, and Loyal Wind knew it must be the formal response they had all agreed was appropriate. However, he could not hear the words.

Hoofbeats were sounding in his ears and the trumpeting cry of a stallion in battle drowned out all other sounds.

Raising his head, Loyal Wind saw the Horse running somehow through him, but not from him, going ahead as guide and comfort, leading the way into the crowded official court of Yen-lo Wang.

The great judge sat upon his throne, beckoning with one long-nailed finger for them to rise and come before him.