Sky Pride

Chapter 22- Shrine of the Northwest General

Liren found Tian with his feet in the river, sitting on a tan and purple striped rock in the shade of a willow tree. The scent of lotuses seemed at home, drifting over the water. She sat down next to him, kicking off her own shoes and putting her feet in the water. She was wearing her big hat and veil, but had taken off the gloves.

Tian had suspected for months that she liked the broad brimmed hat and veil not for its sun protection, but because it hid the vastness of the sky. Her agoraphobia wasn’t so bad, away from the Wasteland. Not so bad isn’t the same as not being there. She was happiest in the cities and canyons. It was one reason they decided to adventure along the Agate. He hoped she would be okay on the Green River.

“So… the reason you tried to kill me when I was eleven was-”

“Because you threatened to stone me, yes. And telling me to kill myself in the dump was another indicator of your intense desire to die. I did tell you. Brother Fu insisted I patch things up with you.” Tian smiled and kicked his foot, sending clear gems of water out in a luxurious spray.

“I’ve thought about that day, you know. When we are sitting in the boat. I wondered what the hell made a person speak like that. Because that was the only time I ever heard you speak to anyone that way. Even when we argue, you donʼt speak that way.” Tian’s voice was a little soft.

“I figured it out just a few days ago. You were scared. You had trained so hard, for so long, carrying your pain, and when you were put to the test, you fell back on what you knew. All the ways the pampered children of Mountain Gate City made their parents and seniors proud. Establish a hierarchy, and put yourself on top of it. Assert your dominance. Gather underlings. All the things they learned from their parents. ‘Go to the dump and kill yourself, or I’ll stone you ‘till you do.’ How domineering!”

He laughed. It wasn’t a bitter sound. He was laughing at the madness of it all. “You were being a jerk, sure, but you were being filial.”

She half-laughed. “And you tried to kill me, because that’s how people are. Everything you had seen of humans said that they were things that brought you pain, and you were finally strong enough to do something about it.”

Tian nodded. “More or less. I’ll never forget sneaking into West Town, crouching in an alley eating some cabbage someone had thrown out, and watching a man in fancy clothes beat a horse until it screamed. ‘That’s about right. That’s how they are.’ I remember feeling that it was horrible, and therefore correct for a human town. Theft and violence seemed the natural way to live in that place. Can’t say I had any problem with the thought either.” Tian wiggled his toes in the river, enjoying the way the cool water seemed to dance and slide between them. He slid a glance over to Liren.

“It’s not that I don’t have a conscience, Sister. It’s just that Dad and my brothers had to work very hard for years to give it to me. Well, and Grandpa.”

“Grandpa?”

“Someone I met when I was six. He taught me to read, how to jump, climb, and how to live in garbage heaps and the jungle. How to turn poison into medicine and what dirt is good to eat. That kind of thing.” Tian smiled, and with complete honesty added, “He’s dead now, but still always with me.”

Liren kicked her own spray of water out, the droplets dancing and shining in the sun. Her spray went a little further than Tian’s.

“I know how that is. And I’m similar, actually. Once they made sure I was okay, I got sat down with Big Sis Fei, who gave me a little talk about how big mouths get closed out in the real world. All my sisters called me out on it. You wouldn’t believe the comments I got over a wildling having better manners than me. Auntie Bai glared at me every dinner for two weeks running!”

“I can believe it. Brother Fu gave me so many books on ethics and lectures about proper morals, my head started spinning.” Tian wiggled his foot a bit, trying to get a solid chunk of water before kicking out. His spray beat Hong’s last spray. Probably.

“So how did you turn out this way? You have every reason to hate the world.” Hong asked.

Tian smiled looking at his reflection in the water and seeing only sincere happiness. “The world is too big for me to hate. There are too many good things in it for that, and honestly, I can’t even imagine ‘the world.’ Too much, too big, to fit it all in my head. I can imagine this river, this water, the feeling of sitting out in the open and being able to talk to my good sister. How could I hate this? But I definitely hate some very specific things. Or I’m angry about them. I’m angry about a lot of things. Absolutely furious, in fact. So in my too-yin way, I’m doing something about it.”

His smile slipped away. Hong had launched a spray of water almost two yards out. Was she cheating somehow? He would surely notice if she was. Maybe he could guide the water element around his leg, packing more water around his foot. Was that something he could do? Seemed unlikely, but if it came to it…

“Getting stronger, healing people as you go. Killing heretics and bandits as a money making sideline.” Hong wiggled her toes happily.

“Pretty much.”

“Speaking of, we are quite close to the shrine to the Northwest General. The one the countess told us about?” Hong reminded him.

“Where we might find clues to the dragon suppressing palms and those solar oranges? How close?”

“About an hour away, according to the locals. Inland, not on the river.”

Tian discreetly booted the water, sending the spray flying farther than Hong had managed. Time to declare victory and retreat. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

Hong casually kicked a spray of clear river water half a foot further than Tian had managed. “What indeed?”

It was some time before Censor Henshen and Little Treasure stuck their heads outside the inn, only to see two genuine immortality cultivating daoists kicking up sprays of water in the noonday sun and bickering over which of them was being childish.

The four travelers hired a cart to drive them to the shrine. The countryside was what passed for normal this close to the Agate- damns, levies, irrigation canals, drainage canals, dry ponds and every other water management system the not-entirely-corrupt civil service could press into use. All intertwined with rice paddies.

It was harvest time, so the paddies were dry. The soil was dark and rich from the regular floods of silty riverwater. The ducks that swam in the paddies and kept them free of insects were running around on the banks of the canal, waiting for their good days to come again. For the farmers, these were the good days. The sweet smelling rice was bunched up and hacked down with sickles. Hot, hard work, but each bushel was food, money, and security in uncertain times.

The cart dropped them at a dock on the edge of a small lake lined with cypress, their knobbly knees wet and stained from the lake water. The temple itself was on an island a two hundred yards into a lake. It seemed hardly worth the effort to build a temple so far from the shore. The sheer wasted time and effort of ferrying building materials over the water must have been maddening. Their ferryman explained that when it was the residence of General Hugen, it was on a peninsula. When it was converted into a shrine, the Ministry of Rites felt it needed to be a bit more special. So they removed the peninsula, and flooded the gap.

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Tian could hardly imagine it. For immortals, yes, entirely possible, but mortals? With barely any vital energy and iron tools? The amount of labor seemed impossible.

“Not a bad job, really, had it knocked out in six months, according to the story, and four of those months were waiting for the auspicious day to start digging.”

“How?!” Tian asked in what was definitely not a startled yelp.

“One shovel at a time, I suppose. Oh, they built dams to hold the water back while everyone dug, obviously, and the dirt and stones were used to expand the island they were building the temple on, so it didn’t have to get hauled far. Not a big job as these things go. A thousand or so people digging can move a lot of dirt.” The ferryman chuckled, working his oar.

Tian spotted Hong silently observing the old man’s technique. He was rail thin and looked ready to blow away on a summer wind, but he moved the boat like it was a living thing. Tian started slowly smiling. The old mortal probably didn’t have the words for it, but he knew it with his body- the dao of water.

The dao was in everyone and in everything. You just had to be open to it. You couldn’t demand it, couldn’t chase it and catch it. You could just be open. Waiting.

There was something there… Tian felt the edges of something monumental. Some vast truth, something so profound he would never be quite the same again. And then the moment passed. That, too, made him smile. It would come again when he was ready, and it was ready. And if it never came? That was fine too. He would be here, empty and waiting for whatever would come.

“Empty and waiting” turned out to be a fair description of the temple- empty of magic orange trees and legendary palm arts, but waiting for visitors. The monks were happy to offer a comprehensive tour… for a donation. Snacks were available. For another donation. Oral histories, local legends, and curious sightings of omens and portents could be recited by an ancient deacon, hair frosted with time and wisdom. For a donation.

Tian didn’t recognize what sort of monks they were. They weren’t from the Pure Lands Temple. He wouldn’t be adopting their uniform as a disguise in the future.

They still paid, of course. They hadn’t come all this way not to take the tour. But he was prepared to be completely petty about it in the future.

“And over here we have the orange groves. Planted at the direction of the Deified Hugian himself, the grove is made up of orange trees descended from the very ones he ate from. Benefactors might not know, but orange trees only live for up to a hundred years, normally. But one of the miracles of our shrine is that our oranges remain productive up to a hundred and fifty years old!” The monk boasted.

The oranges were rather small, fitting comfortably in the palm of Tian’s hand. Around the size of an overgrown chestnut. They had the most remarkable fragrance. It smelled like happiness and sunshine. He could see how a myth about solar oranges got started.

He wondered if it would make a good tea. So he asked.

“Venerable, have you tried steeping the rind as a tea?”

The bald monk quickly waved for Tian to be quiet as he sharply looked around for possible eavesdroppers. Seeing none, he leaned in.

“Listen, Benefactor, you can’t just go asking about that stuff. These oranges aren’t for just anyone to eat- most of them are marked for Imperial Tribute. It’s a capital offence to try and eat them, even for us monks.”

“I apologize. I had no idea.”

“Understandable. Not many people know that the very best oranges, with unblemished skin and the heaviest weight, are carefully recorded, packaged and shipped to the capital, while the rest are destroyed.”

There was a pregnant pause. Hong coughed. “Individually destroyed?”

“Indeed.”

“Especially since fruit, famously, does not keep.” She continued.

“Exactly. Benefactor understands clearly. It pains our hearts, but since the rule specifically states that the flesh of fresh oranges grown on this island is to be eaten by the Imperial household and no others, we little monks can only regretfully obey.” The monk pressed his palms together and bowed his head in the direction of the capital. He kept them pressed together as he straightened up and continued speaking.

“It is particularly regrettable given the well known health benefits of aged orange rind, and the considerably less well known fact that certain teas, pressed into a ball and stored inside properly dried and prepared orange rinds, produce the most incredible flavor and aroma. Usable for all day drinking, withstanding dozens of steeps without losing flavor or qi, with water a trifle hotter than you would normally use for a white tea on the first steep, and a bit cooler thereafter.”

The silence was now pregnant with triplets and due any day. Tian looked at Hong with pleading eyes. She hid a laugh. “Venerable Monk, I am truly moved by your piety and obedience to the law. I wish to make a donation to reflect that fact. And I wish to provide a service by removing any such prepared oranges from the Shrine, thereby delivering the virtuous from temptation.”

The monk’s shaved head gleamed with delight, visibly moved by the heartfelt faith of his visitors. “What a blessed, blessed day! This little monk would be happy to accept your donation of a hundred taels of gold-”

The censor’s hand dropped to his sword.

“Silver,” The Censor’s hand continued on to straighten his immaculate robe.

“And will gladly provide a dozen-”

There was a problem with the Censor’s sword again.

“Twenty five prepared oranges.” This time the monk looked ready to fight. The Censor slowly dusted his dustless robes. “It’s not any old tea, you know. We use Blue Ape Mountain’s Ten Year White Tip tea. The medicinal effect is very gentle but powerful, energizing while it soothes, harmonizing the vital energies and bringing tranquility. And the orange varietal we grow is a unique descendant of Heavenly Horse Oranges, widely regarded as the absolute best for tea oranges. Even if you didn’t consider their origin. Which you should. Carefully.”

“Done.” Hong made a whole production of patting around in her robe before pulling out seven pieces of gold shaped like little dumplings. Not coins, bullion used for high value trades, city taxes and Imperial Tribute. “Consider the extra our recognition of the faithful service of the temple. Pick your best and package them up for us. We’ll just tour the orchard. A shame the oranges aren’t in season, but the smell is wonderful.”

“Certainly, Benefactor.” The gold vanished inside his robe as a smile appeared on his face. “We stow the oranges individually wrapped in paper stamped with evil repelling charms by us brothers and sealed in handsome orangewood boxes marked with the image of Lord Hugian himself, a wonderful souvenir in its own right… until you properly incinerate it, of course.”

They wandered a little deeper into the orchard. The fragrance of oranges drifted softly on the air, lifted by the smell of greenery and the buzz of late summer insects.

“Reporting to the Immortals… while it is not impossible for tea and orange rinds to be worth so much, even for tourist prices…” Censor Henshen appeared to be picking his words carefully, but was waved away by Hong.

“My family are, or were, anyway, merchants. I know how much mortal tea is worth. I’d say that was about an eight hundred percent mark up over similar teas. But after a year studying and arguing about mortal affairs and thrice damned salt, I can tell you that ‘money,’ like ‘value,’ is a very relative concept. For example, my brother here considers coins to be worthless disks of useless metal and refuses to deal in them for fear of being robbed. No, I don’t understand the logic either, but he’s stubborn.”

Tian looked away, stubbornly. He knew justice and reason was on his side.

“Nothing truly valuable to an immortal can be bought with gold and silver. So from our perspective, so long as the other side is happy with the trade, we don’t care about the coins. The other thing is that I will happily pay the monk fifty pounds of gold if it got him to scram for a while.”

She tilted her head. Tian could feel the weight of her glance as the crane glided in and landed beside him. “You feel that, Brother?”

“Mmm. We had to be practically on top of it, but I feel it.” He nodded. “Brainpower. An illusory array. Daoist Steelshimmer was very clear. Any illusory array using brainpower was created by a heavenly person, and a very senior one at that. There is more to this shrine than it seems.”