“I’m sure Tai can answer your question,” Lan said withforced brightness. “I have no idea what he did, but hehasjust returned from a mission for the grandmaster.” She touched a finger to her lip, pretending to come to a realization. “Unless you’d rather ask the grandmaster directly what business he has with Tai?”
Dilaya’s lips thinned. “You conniving little fox spirit,” she said, her grip tightening on her dao. “I’ll—”
“You’ll apologize,” came a cold voice, “for breaking Code of Conduct rules seven and twelve within the matter of a half minute: ‘Thou shalt not engage in violence’ and ‘Thou shalt treat thy practitioner brothers and sisters with respect.’ ”
From the darkness of the bookhouse hallway, Zen stepped out. He was empty-handed, Nightfire sheathed at his waist, yet as he and Dilaya beheld each other, it was as though he held the sword. They were almost the same height, but where Yeshin Noro Dilaya’s fury was feral and unfettered as a wildfire, Zen’s was a blade forged in the blue heart of flame.
“Well?” Zen pressed, and the tone of his voice might have cut. “Will you ask forgiveness of Lan, or will you wait for me to recite the other rules you have breached tonight, Yeshin Noro Dilaya? Perhaps I should take this to the grandmaster. He would be intrigued to understand why you question his decisions—”
“Don’t pretend you hold the Code of Conduct in the highest esteem, Wayward practitioner,” Dilaya spat.
The atmosphere instantly shifted. Shàn’jun, who had been watching in silence, flinched; by his side, Tai’s jaw dropped.
Zen blanched. The rage in his eyes shifted into something Lan couldn’t read. Something like guilt.
Dilaya’s mouth curled in triumph. “That’s right,Zen.Think carefully before you choose to lecture me on my transgressions against the Way.” She took a step back and sheathed her sword, her loose sleeve fluttering with the motion. “Oneday, the grandmaster will no longer be here to protect you. And then it’ll be too late for him to regret what he should have done at the very start: left you in that Elantian laboratory todie.”
Without another look back, she shoved past them and disappeared down the halls of the bookhouse.
Dove trees flower at the spring and summer solstices. Also known as ghost trees for the white color of their flowers, each of which is said to represent a lingering soul.
—“The Ghost Trees,”Hin Village Folktales: A Collection
“Lan.” She flinched at Zen’s tone. He had not moved. “Let’sgo.”
His face had been wiped clean as a slate: beautiful yet terrible to behold, like a night without stars. That expression—it reminded her of the time his eyes had turned completely black at the walls of Haak’gong. As Zen turned to leave, he paused and looked directly at the Medicine disciple.
Shàn’jun dropped his gaze. Behind him, Tai tensed. His eyes trailed Zen as the latter strode past him and back down the halls of the bookhouse.
Without another word, Lan followed.
The night had become smothered in clouds, the orchids outside darkened and moving in a fury as a wind picked up. Zen walked briskly, not waiting for Lan.
She hurried to catch up to him. Forcing cheer into her tone, she said, “Dilaya seems popular around here. Hey—I have an idea: maybe we should name those wooden dummies after her for our training tonight—”
“We are not training,” Zen said abruptly. “We are going to Guarded Mountain.”
Her steps faltered. She realized they had taken a different path than the one that led to their training site. Zen was making his way in the direction of the school halls and the entrance to Skies’ End.
She hurried to catch up. “Does this mean I’ve graduated? Am I good enough to fight with you now?”
“No. We are going tonight because Master Nóng returns on the morrow, and he will want to treat your arm. I promised to take you before that, and I intend to keep my promise.” A pause. “And now that Yeshin Noro Dilaya has ideas about whatever it is your mother left you, matters may become complicated. We must take our chances before she confides in her mother and possibly in shi’fù.”
Shi’fù.Master. Zen was the only one to call the grandmaster that. Lan thought of Dilaya’s words. “Zen,” she said. “If taking me to Guarded Mountain poses any risk to your status or reputation here, then—”
Zen stopped and turned to her so abruptly that she bumped into him. He caught her by the shoulder and held her as he spoke. “Nothing I do will affect my reputation at this school anymore, nor change any of the masters’ minds about me.” His eyes burned. “If you have any questions for me from whatever rumors you may have heard in the past few days, then by all means, ask away.”
Something caught in her throat as she searched his face. She thought of the scars covering his hands, the ones lacing his arms, hidden to the world.One day, the grandmaster will no longer be here to protect you. And then it’ll be too late for him to regret what he should have done at the very start: left you in that Elantian laboratory to die.
Lan did not break his gaze as she shook her head. “Noquestions,” she said softly. “Thank you for taking me to Guarded Mountain. Thank you for finding me and saving me back in Haak’gong. And thank you for training me. Thank you, Zen.”
The fire in his eyes cooled.
Zen stepped back. “Follow closely” was all he said to her.
She had been unconscious when he’d brought her up the mountain, yet now Lan could sense how truly alive it was, imbued, it seemed, with a sense of vitality that transcended this world. Several times, she thought she sensed a ripple in the energies, saw a shadow at the corners of her vision, felt a breath down the back of her neck. Zen had warned her of the nine-hundred-ninety-nine step climb down the mountain (“There are no shortcuts to the Way”), and she’d professed her dread. Now she kept silent, following the practitioner and counting the steps.
After what felt like hours, the stone stairs ended, giving way to a patch of mossy grass and pine forest.
