The Firebird's Vengeance (8 page)

Xuan turned to Qwan, in danger of losing his countenance altogether. “With respect, Brother.” Tension made the word tremble. “Do you believe Medeoan would relinquish power while alive?”

The Nine Elders sat for a long moment, considering and giving Xuan time to recover himself. He hated his lack of control and the division between himself and the others, as a crippled man hates his withered limb. He tried to endure, but time passed so very slowly.

If the guardian had returned to Heaven, would the part of Xuan it harbored return to his body, rejoining the rest of his spirit? Would it end his separation from his brothers and sisters? There was no precedent, and no body of knowledge to study. Xuan suppressed a shudder. It had been a long time since they had encountered something so unknown.

“What of Kalami?” asked Chi Tahn, diverting talk and attention from Xuan, giving him time and deflecting shame. Xuan was grateful and irritated at the same time, for his heart could not completely believe there was anything else they should be talking about at this time.

Was An Thao relieved at the change of subject, or was that his agitated imagination? “Valin Kalami has vanished,” she said. “Word from the Isavaltan court is most confused, but it appears that a new sorceress has risen to prominence and driven him out.” Her shoulders straightened minutely, a sign that she had yet more difficult and important news. “This new sorceress may be the child of Avanasy.”

Avanasy. Medeoan’s chief advisor, her second in blasphemy. His life had been given to make the cage that held the Phoenix. His spirit stood guard over its captivity and could not be exorcised or dissuaded. They had tried.

The Isavaltans passed the story back and forth that Avanasy had fathered a child, one who would take up the protection of their realm as he had done. It was a story the northerners told with eager hope, and that the Nine Elders heard with a mix of horror and contempt.

“Avanasy’s daughter is a rumor,” said En Lai, her knuckles whitening as she clenched her hands together to try to keep her anger from reaching voice and face. Despite her efforts, a flush had crept into her skin beneath her red and green sigils.

An Thao bowed her head in acknowledgment of En Lai’s statement. “That conclusion may have been mistaken.”

“Was not Avanasy’s child to be the dowager’s ally?” asked Nha My. She leaned forward slightly as she spoke, perhaps to put herself between her sisters who might be getting ready to quarrel.

“That conclusion also seems to have been mistaken,” said An Thao. “If this is Avanasy’s child, what is clear is that this sorceress has taken the emperor’s part, and the empress’s.”

“A point not to be forgotten,” said Chi Tahn. He ran one hand down his blue and silver sleeve, smoothing out wrinkles that did not exist. He stared into the distance as if seeking to see the winds that were his charge and provenance. “The daughter of Hastinapura also assumes the throne.”

Xuan, even with his disordered mind, had not forgotten that. He was sure none of the others had either. He could see in the set of An Thao’s jaw that she was glad she was not the one who had to say the words. She had delivered enough bad news. They had lost a gamble in the game of empires. The enemy to the south had a favored daughter on the throne of the enemy to the north. And the guardian was gone, or was lost, or, worst of all, was still caged and in unknown hands.

That thought cut through Xuan’s weakened composure. The muscles of his face ticked and twitched. Qwan leaned minutely closer to Xuan, giving him what little comfort he could.

“Do we believe that Kalami will be able to continue with his plans to overthrow the dynasty?” asked Qwan.

“If Kalami lives, his power is sure to be much diminished, even if the dowager herself is yet alive. It is difficult to see that he will be welcomed in the new court as he was in the old.”

“Is anything known of the new emperor’s mind toward the Heart of the World?” Chi Tahn turned his head to look directly at An Thao. Xuan knew what he was doing. By keeping the talk on Isavalta and on politics, he kept Xuan from having to speak until he was ready to do so, thinking to save him from the shame of a quavering voice and disordered thoughts.

An Thao pulled her own composure around her like an outer robe. Xuan felt for her. This was a combination of event she had not foreseen. In that, she too failed in her duties. “Nothing certain. All is too new.”

“The emperor must be told,” said En Lai. It was a poor time to be stating the obvious, and the way she dipped her eyes said En Lai knew that. Apparently, he and An Thao were not the only ones who were now deeply disconcerted by what they knew, and what they did not know.

“There is another question,” said An Thao. Her words were clipped. Xuan had the feeling that if she’d had any choice, she would have left this until later. Possibly, much later, but who knew what the next days would bring?

“What is that?” Chi Tahn’s voice held a frown. He was ready for this to be done.

“The child,” said An Thao. “The daughter of Kalami.”

Chi Tahn waved his hand with its blue and silver dragons in a gesture of dismissal. “Kalami pledged his daughter’s safety against his ability to move in cause of the Heart.”

“Is she to be killed then?” An Thao’s voice was just a little too casual, Xuan thought. She knew the child, he remembered. She oversaw the girl’s education and reported on her progress and actions.

“Surely, it is too soon to make such a determination,” said Qwan smoothly.

“Yet it must be thought on.” Chi Tahn folded his hands again. Xuan narrowed his eyes slightly. Why would Chi Tahn insist? He was the one whom Kalami had contacted with his bargains. He was the one who had first brought his plans before the ministers.

Therefore he felt he was the one who had failed and been most betrayed.

But to take that out on a child?

Oh, yes
, Xuan reminded himself.
Especially this child. If he fears her, it is not without cause
.

“Surely to undo such potential as she carries would be regrettable waste,” said An Thao. “Her tutors say she is loyal and obedient. This is the only home she has known. Is it difficult to believe she will serve the Heart willingly?”

“Is it difficult to believe that such a father as she has would try to reclaim her, pledge or no?” replied Chi Tahn calmly. “We speak of one who would help the enemy of his liege lord topple an empire. Can we allow such power as the child represents to return to Isavalta, or even to Tuukos if Kalami is still alive and working to wrest that island from the empire? Can we allow any save Hung-Tse to possess the potential of this child?”

Those words rang around the chamber, and settled heavily in Xuan’s mind. Even An Thao seemed startled into stillness.

What Chi Tahn said was not without merit. Xuan remembered the last report An Thao made of the girl’s annual examinations. If the child had not been a barbarian, if she’d had even a trace of the first blood in her, An Thao would have taken her to train in preparation for the examination to become one of the Elders, possibly even the Minister of Water to be their voice to the emperor.

Could they risk such power finding its way in the wilderness of the north, where all was chaos and a child queen could cage the gift of Heaven?

That thought caused Xuan’s heart to beat heavy and slow. An Thao, however, tried to take refuge in old loyalty. “Can a barbarian sorcerer fallen from his place breach the defenses of the Heart?”

Chi Tahn blinked, as if he could not understand why she would say such a thing. “Can we say that the child of that barbarian will remain loyal when she learns of her father’s downfall? Or what she will do if he lives and she comes to believe that he has been abandoned by the Heart? For all the teaching she has received here, she is a great and unknown power. Do we risk that power turning against us?”

It was a necessary question. Distasteful, but necessary. And yet, to destroy a child … any child, especially one who had the potential to do such good for the Heart of the World, out of fear and revenge …

Would An Thao speak the word “revenge” aloud? Would she accuse Chi Tahn of acting out of that weakness? It would be bad if she had to do so, it would be a sign of disharmony.

Disharmony brought by the imbalance of one of their number being flawed.

“Do we risk eliminating the child too soon?” Xuan heard himself ask. “We do not know yet that Kalami is dead. Now is not the time to act in haste.”

An Thao shot him a look of gratitude that he had no way to acknowledge. Qwan inclined his head once, thoughtfully. “Kalami may yet serve as eyes and ears in his land. We may yet bargain with him.”

But Chi Tahn was not ready to be convinced. “And he may yet claim his daughter’s loyalty. Can we stifle her filial piety?”

Again, Chi Tahn’s words held a core of truth, but there was something missing. Xuan felt it in his blood and in his spine. Something none of them had thought of, with all their separate cares. They were not united as they should be, not thinking as one whole. They together captured the essence of the world and held it safe in the Heart. They acted in concert or they did not act. It was true. His isolation had finally begun to pull the others apart.

“An oracle is needed,” he said, almost before he realized he had spoken the words aloud. “These circumstances went unseen when the child was taken as hostage guest.”
And perhaps it will tell me what thoughts I cannot seem to bring to the fore of my mind. Of all our minds
.

“Let it be done then,” said Chi Tahn. Did he feel it, then? This fragmenting? This discord? “We will gather at the eleventh hour to hear what has been found. I will go with the Minister of the North and the Minister of the South to speak with the Son of Heaven and Earth.”

“With respect, Brother,” said An Thao. “Should I not be the one …”

“You are the one who has the most knowledge of events in Isavalta,” replied Chi Tahn. “The Son of Heaven and Earth will wish to question you closely. Our brother, Xuan, will cast the horoscope for the child.”

Thank you for your trust, Brother
, said Xuan silently. He met An Thao’s gaze. He tried with his silence to assure her that he would work with care, that he would find all that could be revealed about the child’s destiny, and the destiny of the land to which she belonged.

An Thao bowed. Xuan and the others bowed in return. No further ceremony was needed. The meeting was done. In single file, with Chi Tahn leading them, they walked from the Chamber of Eternal Voices and descended the great, winding iron stairs. No magic could stand in the face of so much cold iron. Each piece had been cast in molds crafted by the Minister of Earth and the Minister of Metal and held sigils of purity and protection embedded in the black metal. Xuan had presided over the smelting of the ore and remembered how the workmen had labored in fixing each join, hoisting each new section into place as the tower rose around them. He remembered the pride and the wonder of it, seeing this as the truest symbol of the Empire of the Center. It was from here that they would protect the chosen of Heaven. Even incomplete, it had been a great thing.

Even incomplete
. Xuan held tight to that thought as he descended the stairs with his fellows, raising a flurry of footsteps that rang like bells.

In the dragon-spiraled shadow the Nine Elders dispersed to commence their separate tasks. Around them spread the splendors of the Heart of the World. Pillars of marble and carnelian held up the carved beams of the roof. Ornaments of gold and jade, and hangings of painted silk graced the long, straight corridors. Xuan did not turn to look at any of the luxuries that surrounded him. He did not even stop to take note of his brothers and sisters, but walked to the Western doors as swiftly as dignity permitted.

Passing through red and gold portals, Xuan stepped into the noontime sunlight, and the Garden of Heaven. Here waited the tombs of the emperors, small grey temples of granite and unpolished marble. They stood rank on rank with their open doors facing east so that their imperial spirits could watch all those who came and went from the Heart of the World. Smoke rose through the openings in each roof from the fires of incense and precious woods. Monks in robes of sky blue tied with saffron sashes passed silently to and fro on their endless rounds of tending the fires and prayers.

Xuan held a memory of each of those emperors. On his left he passed the tomb of Emperor Sai, who had been round and fat and as skilled a judge of men as had ever sat on the throne. On his right lay Emperor Quyny, who had been born female, but who had convinced the Nine Elders to turn her into a male because not one of her brothers was fit to take the throne. He had seen born most of the ones who slept in these final houses. He had seen them all ascend the throne, and he had seen them all die. He had served each and every one of them with all his craft and heart. He had sacrificed himself a dozen times, become guardian or storm, become memory and soul, become flesh again to serve again. He would do so a thousand more times if necessary. The peace of Heaven was not for such as he. He was given his power to protect Hung-Tse, the red center of the world, and he would do so with a clear head and a full heart for as long as the world stood.

But, Goddess of Mercy, I do not want to have to tell An Thao to order the death of this child
.

Because she too had been deceived by Isavalta now, and he would spare her a further such wounding.

Amid the tombs of the emperors, the temples of the gods stood out like exotic flowers. Red and green like the Heart of the World, their walls were carved in deep relief with the symbols of the element, direction, day, and hour where the god held sway. Their gilded roofs shone in the sun, reflecting the light of Heaven out into the world. Each threshold was flanked by statues of the god’s servant spirits who carried their tools and symbols.

In the case of the temple of Chun Ja, her two serving maids each held one hand over the door and beckoned the supplicant with the other. Chun Ja stood at the Threshold of Life and laid her hand on the head of each child as they passed. The shape of her divine palm left the impression of the individual’s destiny on their skull. Since Chun Ja knew all destinies, she also presided over the creation of horoscopes and all types of personal divination.