~SHAN JIANG~

Jiang had only seen Zha Yao from a distance before, but the rebel leader looked aged to him. The past few months must have been trying. The fires animated Zha Yao's face, but the shadows nearly swallowed his eyes, and his hair hung limply to his shoulders. He coughed into a square of black silk, then crumpled it. The gesture looked so habitual that he wondered if Zha Yao suffered from more than a simple winter chill. Nevertheless, Zha Yao presided comfortably over the gathering from a large chair draped over with black sable furs.

Closest to Zha Yao sat his five sworn brothers in black-and-scarlet armour, a white-haired mage, and a lady of exquisite beauty. Beside them, the fire was crowded with well-dressed, powerful men. It looked like they walked into an impromptu war council, even though the gathered did not kneel in front of their general in neat rows by rank.

The youth who had led them here brazenly sounded a gong, interrupting the conversation around the fire.

"Senior Apprentice Finch. Lady Tien Lyn. Shan Jiang, the storyteller."

The moment the attention turned to them, Tien Lyn dropped to her knees and prostrated herself before Zha Yao. "I appeal to you for justice, My Lord. The cruel pirate Jung Hwa burned the village of Zhushulin and murdered its benevolent landlord Chong Ho. She took me against my will to the Islands."

She remained on the ground after her speech, a broken doll. Their travel-stained clothes were perfect for her little performance and she failed to mention either her son or her marriage, that clever girl. The beautiful lady beamed down at Tien Lyn from Zha Yao's side.

Zha Yao rose from his chair and hurried to lift the maiden to her feet. It was as serious a breach of protocol as the gong had been, but he was not an Emperor yet.

"I will avenge your hurts, Gracious Lady," Zha Yao promised. In the firelight, next to the slim girl he looked a mighty man.

Jiang wondered if Tien Lyn thought 'not again', but she played the part. The girl wanted vengeance for her husband, and, above all else, her son back.

Zha Yao led his rumoured lady-love to sit near him with a great ceremony. The smiles on the stern faces made it clear that the couple gained everyone's sympathy. Well, nearly everyone's.

The rebel leader's sworn knight in black-and-scarlet looked daggers at the bereaved maiden and changed the grip on her halberd a few times. In Tien Lyn's place, Jiang would be scared. The knight's face was tattooed with curses, and while some of them strongly implied men on the receiving end, the rest was good for anyone.

"What news from the weaponsmith?" Zha Yao asked, resuming the conversation that they have interrupted by their arrival.

"Ill tidings, My Lord," the youngest of his sworn brothers replied. "The smith that looked at your pistols..."

"...died raving," the sworn sister that finished the sentence was the mirror image of the previous speaker.

The twins bowed their heads together, then chorused: "Magic, My Lord."

"Zhu Zhao, what do you think?" Zha Yao asked.

The old mage shook his head. "The pistols did me no harm, but I cannot replicate them, My Lord. They were meant for you."

"We will continue the experiments with the black powder and the rockets, and accept that the pistols are unique." Zha Yao surveyed the gathered. "Anything else, my lords? Speak freely."

Another breach in protocol. If Zha Yao lived long enough to become an Emperor, the Empire might look very different under his rule. Then again, it might not. The Empire lasted for five thousand years and was much like an old mare that would return to its stables. Only time would tell if Zha Yao's resolve would be enough to stir that mount, or if it would settle for a ride along the familiar road once he was in its saddle.

"Now that my Coven is whole again," Zhu Zhao said, "I request that you send Mistress Du and my five apprentices down the Imperial Highway to Sutao. Let them burn the countryside, My Lord, and break the dams all the way to Sutao."

Zha Yao coughed furiously into his black silk. "And why should I order this atrocity, Mage?"

The mage nodded to the sworn brothers, and the eldest of them, a squat knight, leaned forward to speak.

"It's like that, My Lord. No way Wo Jia will hold Xichon. The city's as useful to him as his tits. It's got no strong castles, only pleasure palaces. If he has the balls to give us a battle, well and good, we'll fight him. But he will be looking to fall back to Sutao. Don't let him, My Lord." The knight leaned back, looking pleased with himself.

"I will not burn and flood my own people out, Zhenshi. Not for you, not for the mage," Zha Yao said flatly.

"Then you will tear the country in two!" the last of the sworn knights jumped up to his feet and slashed the air with his hand. "Why can't you see the simplest--"

"Our Lord said 'no', Smiley," the halberdier put in.

"Shut up, Du. You're a peasant and can't understand these things!"

Du changed the grip on the handle of her halberd again, "I understand discipline, Smiley. Our Lord said 'no'."

"She's got you there, Ma," the old knight guffawed. "Sit down before you pop a vein. The blessed mage wants to speak again."

Ma cringed, but sat down, glaring at Du.

Zhu Zhao bowed to Zha Yao. "My Lord, your will in this matter is clear. The campaign will be prolonged, but we will fight for you. There is also another way to ensure victory."

"Speak," Zha Yao commanded.

"There are eight war mages sworn to Wo Jia. I alone stand with you, My Lord. So I recommend my senior apprentice Finch to be named, but remain unsworn. If there is an Unsworn with us, there might be Oathbreakers."

Zha Yao glanced at the beautiful lady. She kowtowed to his right, as close to the protocol as anyone of them came during the whole meeting, "This is not without precedence, my Lord. But an unsworn mage has no compulsion to obey the moral imperative from the Emperor."

"Thank you for your counsel, Lady Chen," Zha Yao straightened in his chair. After a few moments of consideration, he nodded to Zhu Zhao. "Any mage who does not serve Wo Jia is our ally, even if they do not fight with us. You have my permission to name your apprentice. He could not swear his oath at a more opportune time."

To Jiang's trained eye the conversation was reminiscent of a well-rehearsed play. He suspected that the trio had debated the matter in private. What followed, was an even better piece of theatre, and a play that he'd never expected to see in his lifetime.

"Finch, step forward," Zhu Zhao raised his hands towards the sky. The bonfire leaped upwards and turned into a column of flames as tall as five men. Spooked birds took to the air and cried out in one anguished voice.

Finch knelt before his master. Zhu Zhao said over his bent head: "When you manifested, I took your name from you. Nameless, you studied with me. Did you reach Understanding?"

While Finch considered the question, the birds kept circling the blazing pillar in silence. The gathered men also hushed out of respect for the ritual. All Jiang could hear was the flapping of wings and distant voices from the other campfires. He strained his eyes, eager to remember every detail. The account of the ceremony started to come together in his head already, but he pushed it back, worried that his imagination would play tricks on his memory.

"Yes, Master," Finch responded at last.

"What is your name, Mage?" Zhu Zhao asked. Finch tensed, and Jiang understood that there were apprentices who failed the test, who could not name themselves.

"My name is Rustam Bei," Finch said.

Jiang expelled a sigh of relief. Apparently, despite his grudge against the mages, the drama of it captured his imagination.

Zhu Zhao bowed, and his former apprentice got back to his feet as a mage. The two men embraced. Zha Yao now had two mages in his service against Wo Jia's eight.

But still only one singer! It was his turn to work some magic. Jiang struck a song about Shu the Sorcerer, then drunk Rustam Bei's health. And Zha Yao's of course. And sang again, about the mages and their victories. Rice wine splashed into his bowl non-stop. He was smiling from ear to ear when they let him take a break for the sake of his voice and his bladder.

"Jiang?"

He'd have preferred to be seen by Aynu under the more romantic circumstances, with him dressed in finery, freshly washed, and mounted on a gallant horse. But, it had been so long, and he'd walked into the pirates' den to earn this reunion. So he laced up his pants and reached for her. She caught his hands, as if she intended to swirl him round and round. Her voice rang with excitement: "I am the senior apprentice now! Let's celebrate!"

They celebrated in her tent. He started on the tale of his adventures, but his attention remained on his hand travelling up her inner thigh. He no longer paid her for the instantaneous tremors and gasps, but she did not object, so he persisted with his teasing through the thin layer of silk. She was the most pleasant thing he'd ever touched. When her breath changed to rapid and shallow, he quickly said: "And then the dragon swooped down from Heavens and saved us all," and kissed her hard.

Aynu trembled and grabbed his tunic, managing to slip it off him, with but half an inch between their lips. He, on the other hand, fumbled, unused to her wearing so many and so practical clothes, but delaying gratification was not without its rewards. He'd never before had a luxury of many hours with her ahead of him to discover that, say, untying a belt hid exciting games.

She was tattooed now, the blemish that would have made her unacceptable in the curtained rooms of Xichon, but apparently increased her Understanding. It felt odd kissing the ancient symbol that opened up the flow of intellect or reduced the barrier of chaos, but he could get used to it. Still, he was grateful that he did not have to compete with the arcane where he could join his body to hers.

This is for my magic, not theirs.

Making love might have been sweeter if she had not corrected him when he called her Aynu. "Senior. Apprentice. Darting. Swallow," Shan Jiang managed in rhythm. He was rewarded for his efforts with her arching upwards to grasp his head for a firm kiss.

"Where are you going next?" Darting Swallow asked him rolling a strand of his grown out hair around her finger.

"Mmgh..." he figured the answer was worth a kiss and teased it out of her. "How do you like Kefei, my plum blossom? We'll be safe there."

She stopped the hair twirling, "Jiang?"

Her tone brought him wide awake, but he pretended to be sluggish. "Mmgh?"

"I am impressed that you found me. But do not forget what we are celebrating," she sounded so quiet, so gentle that his gut twisted into knots.

"I thought it was my triumphant return," Jiang confessed, then added hastily, "and your success, of course."

'We are approaching the end, lover." She had never been so blunt as a concubine.

"Why?" Jiang argued. "Because of the storied frigidity of mages? You haven't changed a bit, Darting Swallow. Finch... sorry, Rustam the Unsworn invented it."

"Master Rustam manifested at seven years of age, Jiang. He would know nothing of the subject."

"So?"

"I rely on my own judgment. We are approaching the end."

So much for swooping in, taking her away and laughing in Rustam's face. Shan Jiang brushed her cheek with his fingers. "Very well, but I am not going out in this cold to look for another place to sleep tonight."

"You shouldn't," the Senior Apprentice Darting Swallow said quietly. He fitted her body neatly against his own, kissed the warm shoulder, and closed his eyes.

"Jiang," she murmured into his chest, "you should get married."

"Nuh-huh," he pouted and drifted off to sleep.

***

Late the following morning, red-eyed with the smoke of the fires and the short night, Jiang bundled his things and went looking for his silver and a horse. Both were in the custody of the man he wanted to see the least.

"Good morning, Rustam the Unsworn," Jiang grunted sulkily. "I came to collect my silver."

The mage smiled brightly: "Shan Jiang! You were missed at the fires yesterday. In fact, your services at the Laughing Men Islands and your talent made such an impression at Zha Yao that I am authorized to extend an offer to you."

His head throbbed. His stomach was fighting with whatever he had eaten. He had not shaven in days. "I am not interested. The front lines are too hazardous for a singer."

"And who would want a singer on the battlefield?!" Rustam Bei rejoined and studied Jiang with his wide-set eyes for a moment before adding, "what about a Court Historian?"

Jiang grimaced. "Come see me when Zha Yao has a Court. I will be in Kefei waiting out this damnable war."

"We will be able to engage the services of qualified candidates after our victory, Shan Jiang," Rustam said flatly. "Those who did not leave their exam booth in a huff."

Ancestors, did not he drown that cursed day in enough rice wine to fill the Jade Sea? Will he never be rid of the regret?

"Darting Swallow suggested you for the position," Rustam went on blithely. "She thought you would find it amusing to have your way with the pundits from the Dynasty of Purifying Glory and onwards when revising the Chronicles."

"Of course I would." His humiliation was complete.

He had confessed this particular desire to Aynu in the Beaded Curtain only a thousand times or so. He had retold the dustiest, the most pompous accounts he studied and analyzed in the ways that left her in stitches of helpless laughter. Those were the happiest and most irreverent days of his youth, hopeful and mad... and his biggest failure.

Now she was rubbing his nose in it. How can a talented and handsome man like him be so unlucky in love? But at least Aynu did not die by his feet bleeding from a cut in her throat, so it was a step in the right direction. "Ancestors, mage, just give me my silver."

AN: Thank you so much for reading & commenting! I hope Jiang's love scene remained in good taste even though I felt I had to add the Mature rating because of it to stick to the rules. Tien Lyn narrates on Friday.