Song told them everything… except about Cyrus and Crane, of course. They sat in rapt attention the entire time, the only sound the gentle sipping of soup and wine. When he was finished he took a moment to drink some of his now lukewarm soup.

  “Well I'm happy you got your jackal,” Jinu said, wide-eyed. “I heard about the grasswolf, but all the rest was mostly rumours.”

  “Speaking of the grasswolf. Was it Doyoon?” Song asked.

  Jinu nodded. “Yes. He was asleep, like usual. The patriarch put him on shearing duty for the next three months. Thanks for that, by the way.”

  “I was just doing my part,” Song smiled and took another sip from his bowl. The tea was thick and salty, with the edges smoothed out by the thick cream. He sucked up a dumpling and chewed, enjoying the heavy smoked flavour of the mutton.

  “So, what does your Sign look like? Can you show us?” Dami asked with a note of excitement. “I’ve never seen a body cultivator of the Dark Dreamer before.”

  Her eyes sparkled, and she held her hands up in a pleading gesture.

  Song shook his head. “No, sorry. It’s not like your tentacle, or Jinu’s scent. I’d need to take my deel off.”

  [“Woooo! Take it off Song!”] Cyrus crowed, then laughed. [“No, but seriously, the girl is asking you to take your shirt off. I think she likes you.”]

  Song hurled a large amount of qi against his dantian, he was going to need to have a talk with Cyrus later. “I shine starlight out of my dantian, and when I cycle, my cleared meridians glow.”

  “Still more interesting than smelling like grass,” Jinu moped.

  “Hey, it makes it impossible for beasts to catch your scent,” Song replied. “That’s always useful.”

  “Sure, but it doesn’t help our techniques that much until foundation level. And we don’t even have a foundation cultivator in the Clan. You don’t need to pretend to be fools for my account; everyone knows the Jo clan ritual is weak,” Jinu sighed, and finished off his mug of airag. He held it upside down sadly, then slumped back against the wall again.

  Dami and Song exchanged a look. They’d heard this all before, but for the first time, Song somewhat understood his friend’s feeling.

  “What have you two been up to, while I was busy?” Song asked, deciding to change the subject. He took another sip of the airag. The alcohol was making his head buzz, but it was growing on him.

  Dami grinned. “I asked Father to get me some new books on his last trip to Chengdu. He got me one on the four dark Unorthodox Clans.”

  Song whistled. “Those are rare.”

  “It has a cover made of dark-beast leather,” Dami giggled. “I don’t think dad realized how bloody some of the stories are.”

  “Could I read it when you’re done?”

  “Only if you let me read the Adventurers of the Northern Ice Queen again.” Dami sighed. “Now there was a cultivator.”

  “Shame she was killed by the Beast King, I always thought they were a nice couple,” Jinu remarked, then yelped as Dami kicked him under the table.

  “The jealousy of men ruins everything,” Dami hissed.

  “What about you, Jinu?” Song asked.

  “We just finished the worship ritual for the Golden Emperor,” Jinu continued, rubbing his ankle. “We sacrificed nearly double the number of sheep this year. Father thinks that the grasswolf was an omen.”

  Dami shook her head. “Seriously, nobody worships the Great Ones anymore. It’s not like they hear you, or care. And it’s dangerous.”

  Jinus shrugged. “Shepherds have always worshiped the Golden Emperor. Farmers too. And I know a lot of sailors still worship the Azure Scholar, and woodsmen who worship the Verdant Mother. I guess we just live so much closer to the elements than everyone else, that we feel a kinship with Them. Plus there’s you-know-who – that worships fire.”

  The trio glanced reflexively over their shoulders for any listening Imperial censors, then huddled in closer.

  Song went to drink from his mug, and found it full once more. When had Chef Cho done that? He took a deep drink then rubbed at his temple; he was feeling a bit light-headed.

  [“Uh, Song, you should probably lay off the airag.”] Cyrus’s voice was concerned. [“You’ve never drunk before.”]

  “I’ll be fine,” Song said aloud, waving Cyrus’s concern off. He leaned in close and dropped his voice to a whisper. “You know, I may’ve deviated, but I know two Names of the Great Ones. Doesn’t that make me a foundation level Cultivator?”

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  Dami and Jinu stared at him. “How did you manage that?” Dami asked.

  “I learned one for the Verdant Mother, and another for the Dark Dreamer,” Song grinned. “What about you two? Still stuck at one? Tut. tut. It seems age isn’t everything.”

  Jinu hiccuped. “I don’t even know one, technically.”

  Dami and Song stared at him. “How did you form your Dantian then?” Song asked.

  “The Golden Emperor has no Names,” Jinu explained, giving Song an arch look. “To give a Name to one who is the Emperor would be irreverent. He’s the One who gave form to the formless, be it emotions, jewels, the soil, and even letters. So his Names are represented by twisting ancient characters that we call the Golden Hanja.”

  Jinu leaned close and whispered, his tone becoming darker. “And you should always be wary of any letters you see written where shepherds lay, less they idly scratch one of the Golden Hanja into the dirt, and an Inner Demon comes to take your soul!”

  Dami and Song shivered as the shadows in the guanz seemed to lengthen.

  “Does the Azure Scholar work the same way?” Song quietly asked Dami.

  “No, she has Names. I learned one, and never want to learn another,” Dami shuddered. “She’s always watching, you know. Always.”

  There was a loud cough, then a bright voice asked beside their table, “What’re you talking about?”

  Dami shrieked and jumped to her feet, and Song nearly toppled over.

  “Mae!?” Song stared at his little cousin in shock.

  “Uh-huh!” Mae grinned up at him, the gap in her front teeth showing. “I asked Wook where you were.”

  “Did you come alone… or?”

  “No. I followed some of brother Seojoon’s men!”

  Song looked up to where a half-dozen warriors of the Lee family were standing at the counter. Several of them were already chugging mugs of airag. They were loud and boisterous, and Juwon’s people were already shooting them dirty looks. Song felt a headache coming on – and it wasn't just the airag.

  Mae plopped down at the table next and sniffed at his mug. “Yech! Airag. Gross. Would you buy me some tea, cousin Song?”

  She batted her eyelashes up at him.

  Song pushed his half-finished bowl of banshai tsai over to his little cousin. “You can finish this. I’m not hungry anymore.”

  “Yay! You’re the best!” Mae gave him a side-hug then began devouring his bowl of soup.

  “How’re you doing, Mae?” Dami asked, giving the little girl a bright smile.

  “I was really sad, but I’m feeling better now,” Mae answered around a mouthful of bansh.

  “Oh?”

  “Mmhmm. Cousin Song was ignoring me, and spending all his time training. And any time I tried to visit, Wook or Tae always sent me away.”

  “Oh, we know that feeling,” Dami said, shooting Song a glare. She reached out and ruffled Mae’s hair.

  Song’s chest tightened. “I’m sorry, Mae. I was just… really in a bad place. You’ll understand some day.”

  “Mmm, that’s what mom says,” Mae swallowed, then coughed. She continued coughing until Song was worried enough to pat her back.

  “But dad says it just meant you were weak,” Mae continued when she finished coughing. “I said that of course you were weak, you’re the smallest. But that just meant you needed to fight twice as hard. Like when the crows fight off an eagle.” She held herself up proudly.

  Dami laughed, high and bright, “That’s right, Mae! What a good girl!”

  “Yes, thank you, Mae,” Song ground out, blushing.

  [“Uh oh. Look at the counter, Song. Trouble brewing.”] Cyrus’s voice was wary.

  At that moment, a deep voice called out loudly, “I thought it smelled like charcoal and ink in here,” one of Seojoon’s lackeys, a young man wearing the lamellar steel armor of the Imperial army remarked. It was Lee Hamin, one of Seojoon’s head minions. “I’m surprised to see that you serve toads here, Chef Cho.”

  “Now, I don’t want any troub – “ Chef Cho began.

  But he was cut off by one of the scholars, an older man with a long beard and short novice horns. “What’s that? All I hear is the heap of horse dung squelching between those ears of yours.”

  “Ahhh? Are you courting death, old man?” Hamin growled, pushing through his mates and approaching the scholars' table. He fairly loomed over them. Hamin had a bald head and long top-knot similar to Jinu, but with a proper goatee and the build of a first-rate warrior.

  The scholar looked back at his friends, “Did you hear that? It actually understood me; this yapping pup is capable of human speech!”

  Hamin reached down and grabbed the man by his collar, “What did you say? Don’t think that just because you have those horns that you’re a match for me. Gold can buy ritual components, but it can’t buy real strength, or the competence to use it.”

  “Cousin Song…” Mae whispered, her hands pulling at Song’s deel. “Should we –”

  But Song had already risen, wobbling to his feet.

  [“Whoah there, Song. Don’t get involved, you’re half-drunk, and half their size, you –”]

  “Be quiet,” Song muttered, waving his hand in front of his face like he was swatting a fly. Then he repeated it more loudly, “BE QUIET!”

  There was sudden silence and every face snapped in their direction. Dami *eep’d* and Jinu sighed, slowly reaching for his shepherd’s crook.

  Song pointed a finger at the two arguing Lee’s and held himself up proudly, “Are you trying to shame the family in front of the village? Keep your bickering to the training grounds, or I’ll have you brought before the Patriarch.”

  Hamin’s first reaction was indignation, but when he realized who was speaking he began to laugh. “What’s this? Is our Lee family’s little foal finally learning how to walk?” He turned to his fellows and shouted, “Someone should get Juwon and tell him to come pick up his drunkard little brother! He certainly gets enough practice with Taeyang!”

  The group of warriors laughed.

  “How dare you!” Mae shouted, stepping forward. She lifted her bowl of soup and made to throw it, but Song snatched it away.

  “No, Mae. We don't waste food.” Song chastised. “Let me speak with them. As Li Zhui says in his books, ‘Sometimes diplomacy is the greater part of valour.’”

  “Where are your wings, little crane chick?” Hamin continued, laughing harder. “Did mother crane call you that because you were the runt of the litter? You –”

  Whatever he was going to say next came to an abrupt end as a bowl of soup smashed into his face, showering him in tea, milk, and dumplings.

  The scholars blinked.

  Mae blinked.

  Dami blinked.

  Song looked at his outstretched right hand and blinked.

  [“Ooooh! Great shot!”] Cyrus shouted in approval.

  “Here we go…” Jinu sighed, taking his crook into his hands.

  Hamin roared with outrage, and the silence of the guanz was utterly broken by the chaos of combat.