The sky's glad hue that had silhouetted the symbol of a white tree conveyed hope. Against the black, the white tree seemed defenseless and fragile. Overlapping inscriptions nearly too small to recognize as anything other than texture cramped every other surface of the stone, in a language not spoken for thousands of years. A silver chain clasped the stone, making an amulet of it.
The amulet was the single forget-me-not given to Raidon Kane by his absent mother. It was Raidon's most treasured possession. Fearing its theft, he hid it away. And thus he failed to see the transformation.
The amulet lay unobserved in a delicate cedar box. The box was carefully packed in a travel bag hidden behind a bamboo panel in the room Raidon shared with a man named Huang.
Huang was heedless of the concealed box, which would have made the man an ideal lodge mate, except for Huang's arresting odor. At first, Raidon endeavored to ignore the smell. Eventually, he decided the best way to disregard the aroma was to avoid it. Raidon began spending more and more of his free time away from their room.
Thus Raidon chalked up his discovery of a fine tea house to serendipity. The tea house became, in just a few short tendays, his favorite place in all of Shou Town.
The server poured another cup from a porcelain pot, and Raidon tapped three fingers on the table in thanks. Long Jing, also called West Lake Dragon Well, was the best green tea in the city of Telflamm, and maybe all of Thesk. He sipped.
Perfection. Some of his tension evaporated in the wafting steam and delicate taste.
Long Jing was shipped from the east at great expense-Raidon indulged himself, though he could scarcely afford it. It was grown only in the mythical Zhejiang province in but a few tea gardens. Local teas couldn't match it. Raidon hoped rumors of trade disruptions along the Golden Way were merely merchants' talk, a bluff used as a bargaining tool to drive up prices. Raidon didn't mind high prices, as long as the tea remained available. West Lake Dragon Well was worth it.
But his cares could never be drowned, only momentarily assuaged. Raidon grunted and took another sip. Around him, gentlemen of leisure enjoyed similar moments of peace, savoring their favorite teas. One man had brought his pet bird. The red-feathered creature held tightly to its silver perch and twittered a pleasant song. Singing wasn't permitted in the tea house, though apparently the ban didn't apply to pets. Or perhaps, the ban didn't apply to this particular man of leisure.
His name was Chun. Who could have guessed that from all the tea houses in Shou Town to choose from, Raidon and Chun would find the same one?
Raidon considered serendipity again-if not for his lodge mate's disagreeable scent, Raidon wouldn't be present to contemplate violence. Raidon would still be worried about his petition to the Nine Golden Swords. As the elders of Xiang Temple taught, 'The usefulness of a cup is its emptiness.' In other words, he hadn't known Chun would be here, but now that he did, Raidon could adapt the moment to his ambition.
Chun had wronged Raidon, though the man of leisure didn't know it. Chun had taken a family heirloom from his father in payment for a debt never incurred. Chun had stolen Raidon's family legacy. His grandfather's sword, his daito, handed down from his own grandfather, who gained the sword from a dragon. In the normal course of things, Raidon's father would have passed the daito down to Raidon's firstborn child-but Raidon's father was dead, and the daito was gone.
Raidon stood and shook out the sleeves of his decorous silk jacket. They snapped, as if he were initiating the first moves of the Leaping Tiger. He paid his coins on the table, then his hands were empty, open, capable of anything. Like the empty cup.
To restore the honor of his dead father and absent mother, Raidon had pledged the legacy would be restored to the family. He would claim grandfather's daito, even if comity in the tea house had to be sacrificed.
He bowed to the server, then walked toward Chun's table. Chun sat with two other men and a dark-haired woman-Chun's girl of the day? The men were of the Nine Golden Swords, as was Chun. Raidon knew it by the small tattoo each displayed. He had petitioned to join the secret society of vicious criminals. He had petitioned in order to get close to Chun, a mid-level thug in the hierarchy. All those preparations had been unnecessary-chance had dropped into his lap an opportunity to confront Chun.
Raidon reached the table. He stared straight at Chun, ignoring the unspoken rules of civilized behavior among strangers. Chun was no stranger to him. Raidon flexed his empty hands, hidden as they were in his long sleeves.
Had he known he would one day wield the family sword, perhaps Raidon would have spent less of his life training in the Xiang monastery, achieving mastery of his mind and body. Of course, sword play was one aspect of the training he received in Xiang; no monk of the temple could leave its bounds until he or she demonstrated facility with traditional weapons. But Raidon's best talents did not require such mundane implements as sharpened steel. His body was weapon enough.
'Your presence upsets my bird,' said Chun in a bored voice. A dangerous voice.
'And your presence sours tea across Thesk,' replied Raidon, his voice as calm as if he'd commented on the chance for rain.
The two men on either side of Chun jumped to their feet. The bird screamed. So did the painted woman.
Raidon observed the scene as if he stood apart from it. From their sitting positions in relation to each other and the table, Chun and his thugs had only a limited number of actions they might effectively take. Raidon knew what they were, and was prepared.
One thug knocked the table as he rose, spilling tea. The other's hand went to his dirk. Raidon backhanded the second man with his right fist as the thug's hand cleared his scabbard, sending the dirk whirling. Raidon followed with a hook from his left elbow, perfectly sticking the side of the thug's head. As the thug slumped, the monk slipped around the table, taking the fallen man's vacated position. This put Raidon out of reach of the final thug and next to Chun.
Chun drew his sword and expertly grasped its deadly length. His two-handed grip on the wrapped hilt, called the tsuka, bespoke training. The blade was an unwavering diagonal line.
'Raidon Kane,' said Chun.
Raidon paused, nonplussed. Chun recognized him? Perhaps the murderer's presence wasn't the coincidence Raidon imagined.
'You have named me.'
'Your petition to the Nine Golden Swords is approved,' said Chun. 'I've been dispatched to tell you.' The remaining thug to Chun's right edged around the table so only empty space separated him from Raidon.
Chun continued. 'Your first task is a simple one.' He caught Raidon's eyes with his own. 'You are to journey to the Temple of Yarom here in Telflamm, where blasphemers claim a soul's salvation lies beyond life, even beyond the gods we all revere. Raidon, you are to deliver them to that final day. Today. See to it these fools who deride the gods are pushed through death's door. Since they doubt the gods' divinity, let them pass into darkness. As they've lived in ignorance, so shall they die. By your hand.'
Raidon had never heard of the Temple of Yarom before. He shook his head and said, 'I will not kill strangers in cold blood in the very halls of their temple, no matter their dogma.'
'No?' Chun still sounded bored. 'I'm afraid you've come too far to back out now. You know us. We know you. You must be brought in all the way, or. .' Chun shrugged.
'I must restore the honor of my family.'
'Honor is what you seek? I give you this'-Chun swirled the tip of the daito-'and your family's honor is restored, is that it?'
Raidon's earlier guess was on the mark. Chun wasn't sipping tea in the monk's favored tea house by chance.
'Our honor is too besmirched for such easy mending.'
'I don't know about your family, but all I see before me is a baying mongrel dog,' Chun noted.
A strand of Raidon's carefully woven serenity slipped free, but he held his focus. Despite his control, heat flushed his cheeks.
Chun continued. 'I saw your name as a petitioner. I've watched you since then. I wondered if you were merely a revenge-minded idiot. Prove me wrong, and you get to live. Prove me right, and join your father. He made excellent pig fodder, and I guess you will, too.'
Fury bloomed and crowned Raidon, choking his reply to an inarticulate snarl. His viewpoint contracted; his
