Tian hadn’t really explored the other shrines in the city, beyond the one dedicated to the Martyr Venerable. This shrine was rather older and more established, a collection of smaller building built around small courtyards and paths, with housing for the… Tian wasn’t sure what to call them. Monks? Nuns? Priests? Presumably someone would tell him if he said the wrong thing. Daoist Sweetdove led them to one of the side buildings in the shrine. The female attendants glared at Tian. He slid Sweetdove a glance.
“One of the traditions of the City is that women who are being battered or abused by their husbands and who can’t return to their families can visit this shrine and beg the Queen Mother of the Southern Sky for protection. They throw slips of paper dyed in their own blood or tears in the brasier. Once they do, the shrine attendants take them in. Cells are provided, as are simple meals. Most importantly, I think, is the companionship and comfort from speaking to people who have lived what they have lived.”
“What about battered husbands?” Liren asked.
“What about them?” Sweetdove shrugged. “They have the whole rest of the world. I expect they figure something out eventually.”
Tian and Liren didn’t miss a step. Their breath didn’t hitch. Their faces were still. Sweetdove still picked up on their change of mood. “It seems I have offended you inadvertently, but I truthfully don’t know what to say. If it is a problem, it isn’t one I have encountered, nor is there a place in this shrine for them. This altar is dedicated to the Queen Mother.”
Sweetdove pointed towards the large bronze casket half filled with sand, long sticks of incense jutting upward from it. Behind the thin wall of blue-grey incense smoke was a mural depicting a heavenly garden. The garden was filled with beautiful female servants and attendants, some carrying urns, or fruit, or scrolls, or fans to cool the goddess at the center of the picture.
At first glance, it seemed ordinary to the point of invisibility. Tian and Hong had grown up in a temple and a convent respectively. Sacred art and architecture was simply how things looked, with the details often fading into irrelevance. Compounding the problem was that they were immortality cultivating daoists. They absolutely believed in gods, offering worship and sacrifices. But to Tian, there was always a sort of unspoken qualification.
“You are the supreme, greatest of the greats, I am nothing before you. For now.”
They were cultivating immortality. Mortals already treated them as saints and figures of legends. In the heavenly realm, they really might as well be local gods. So how much deference did some distant being on a mountaintop rate? Some, certainly. But blind worship? Not in the Broadsky Kingdom. Or, at least, not in the Ancient Crane Monastery. When you know the founder of your sect was an old (if unfathomably powerful) wading bird, it took much of the mysticism away.
Things were clearly very different for the mortals. You could feel the sincerity in the offerings, and the paintings hid much within them. He carefully examined the fruit the servants were gathering, and the peach the Goddess was holding. Doubtless they were so-called fruits of immortality. More subtle details emerged as he looked closer at the picture. The queen reclined on a throne, but there was a weapon rack off to one side. Bow, spear, and iron rod all rested there.
Her hands formed into mudras inviting mercy, and she was smiling, but there was something in that face. Something in the slight narrowing of her eyes. The queen reclined on her throne, but there was a concealed readiness in the studied artlessness of the pose. The queen was relaxed, but ready to jump up and fight. She was merciful, because she was strong. And if she wasn’t to be merciful, she was equipped for that too.
There was no higher authority in the picture. No king, no emperor. Just the Queen, her hands and face carefully painted with gold leaf. Untarnishable and immortal.
Tian smiled, honestly this time. “I see why you want to paint Liren. She really does look like the Queen.”
Liren sputtered her opposition, and was soundly ignored.
“You see it too! More than the complexion-”
“It’s the attitude, or the balance of things. Humble and haughty, domineering yet welcoming, symbols of life and immortality set against war and death.”
They stepped out of the small shrine, so as to not bother the worshipers. Sweetdove pressed her advantage. “I don’t know if the fellow daoist has inherited a bloodline or cultivates a special technique, but you clearly have some connection to the Ancient Gods. Ah, no need to be too defensive, it might not be common, but Ancient God atavisms are hardly unheard of. Sea King Murong in the Green Dragon Nation is widely known to be an atavism of an ancient sea deity, and he’s been living very well for six hundred years now.”
Tian grunted. He had a biography of the Sea Treading Murong family. Presumably there was a relation.
“So what do you say? Ready to let the glory of the ancient gods return to the Broadsky Kingdom? You truly are exquisite, and the painting will be worthy of you, I promise.” Sweetdove smiled at Liren, her eyes sparkling.
Tian coughed. “Speaking of exquisite, we were admiring your robes earlier. Might I ask where you got them?”
Sweetdove covered her mouth with her hand, the wide sleeve of her robe elegantly displayed. “Oh this old thing? I just couldn’t find anything in the shops I liked so I wove it and did the embroidery myself.”
Tian and Hong exchanged a glance. “Really? Well… what would you say to a trade? A bit of modeling work for a bit of weaving and sewing?” Liren offered.
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“I’d say ‘No thank you.’ You are severely underestimating the amount of work that goes into weaving, to say nothing of the work that goes into making a robe. Though I would love to dress you. You have the perfect figure to display a truly glamorous robe.”
Eventually a somewhat complex deal was cut. Tian and Liren would both have their portraits painted. They also gave over the pelt of the demonic tiger. Sweetdove had utterly failed to conceal her avarice for it, so Liren pushed hard on the trade. Sweetdove would weave the mermaid silk into “Simple, unpretentious” robes that would also double as soft armor. As for what happened to Daoist Lian? It was no business of hers, though she was quite willing to profit from it, should the opportunity arise.
They didn’t put it so plainly of course. Tian started by feeling out what Sweetdove thought about Daoist Lian.
“We have almost no interaction, as he’s a man well suited to being a guard. He sees things without imagination, and can wait without becoming bored. How he obtained a revelation and ascended to the Heavenly Realm, I’ll never know.” Sweetdove shrugged.
“I would have thought after living in the same city for a while would bring some degree of closeness. He’s that unsociable?”
“Yes, and you overestimate how long we have been here for. Heavenly People only started coming here because of the civil war in Blackiron Gorge. Before, they were either fighting in the Wasteland, or in some more qi rich place. There were no opportunities here for those in our realm. Now?”
“Now, all the heretics are fleeing the wasteland, bringing who knows what strange and terrible things with them.” Liren smiled.
“Exactly. It’s not ill-gotten gains if I take them from the body of a heretic. We might be a sect of artists, but we have our little ways. There is no beauty in what Daoist Lian does, save, perhaps the beauty of tragedy. I have long since tired of such beauty.”
Tian controlled the urge to share a glance with Liren. Sweetdove was even less subtle than Daoist Redspear, encouraging Tian and Liren to make a move without actually saying anything. Tian suddenly, vividly, pictured Daoist Ku, and the ambush at the caravan in the Redstone Wastes. The lives of the Earthly cultivators were used to draw out all the hidden dangers, making it safe for the Heavenly people to swoop in and save the day. Redspear and Stonesplitter had just run the same game just the week before.
It was like they were all playing some idiotic version of Go, and whoever went first, lost. Tian had to bite down on the urge to laugh. It was all so stupid, and everyone was deadly serious about it. He was no different! Just what kind of prick was Daoist Lian, that everyone would scheme against him? Or was it simpler than that? It made sense to rob the richest person, especially if you had sacrificial soldiers to draw out any hidden formations, or life saving talismans.
The laugh escaped. “Sorry, Fellow Daoist, just laughing at myself, and thinking of all the people I need to apologize to.” He cupped his fist and bowed. “I’m afraid you are one of them. I rather badly underestimated you. This little daoist is still lacking in training. I will know better in the future.”
Daoist Sweetdove gave him a bemused look and a one shoulder shrug. She truly seemed unbothered by everything, just interested in her painting and perhaps earning a little on the side. Though the looks she was giving Liren lingered a hair longer than he was entirely comfortable with. He was probably just being oversensitive.
Liren described the Myriad Waters sect as a “glorified artists colony.” She had clearly misunderstood them. Tian probably was misunderstanding Sweetdove now. It wasn’t just art. They were talisman makers. It made sense. That’s why she knew weaving, painting and other crafting skills, but was unbothered by slaughter. She was a talisman maker, who had doubtless seen her share of killing. She might not have the depth of learning the scholars at the Five Elements Courtyard possessed, but the Myriad Waters sect was some local power, not a kingdom dominating one. To have survived this long relying on her skills was worthy of respect indeed.
At least, Tian wouldn’t try to test her. Not without a damn good reason. They would take their time on solving the “Daoist Lian” problem. They were still woefully underequipped, so the robes were a real necessity. A little extra time to study Heavenly martial arts would also be very welcome. If the two from the Radiant Dawn sect came back early, so be it. Plans could change. He would learn from his seniors, and keep his moves concealed.
Another unstated benefit of a sect. No need to worry about any hidden traps left in the products crafted by strangers. Yes, Grandpa was quite correct. It wasn’t necessary to make an enemy out of Daoist Sweetdove, and it would be best to make her a friend. And for that to happen, they would have to start building the rarest, least reliable thing in the Heavenly Realm. Trust.
“Fellow Daoist, we are staying at a courtyard in the Governor's residence. Would you care to join us for a cup of tea? The backdrop is rather pretty, and I’m told I make a decent cup.”
Sweetdove accepted, and Tian got to enjoy watching her paint Liren. There was a simplicity to her movements- the brush went down on the white paper, and the lines flowed. Thick or thin, fluttering or straight, the ink combined with the paper just as she wished. Tian thought Liren looked rather dashing, posing with her spear.
Sweetdove made sketch after sketch. Tian was painted with a fan, to his amusement and Liren’s muttered indignation. Though she did watch Sweetdove’s sketching over her shoulder. Sweetdove spent most of her time on Liren. Tian could see the fire in her eyes as she lifted her brush to thin a line for a cheekbone, or pressing down with just the right pressure as a single strong stroke drew out the spear.
“She looks more properly herself in the picture than she does with her hat and veil. How strange. An ancient goddess. I’m not the reverential sort, but I get it. It puts a different light on the way people have reacted to her too. They don’t think she’s hideous because of her skin or her height. They think she looks like a god, and it scares the hell out of them. Speaking of, Grandpa… Too expensive to talk about?”
In specifics? Yes. Generally? No. About the two of you? Not really. Liren’s physique comes entirely from the body cultivation skill she’s using. She isn’t a descendant of a god. She might have a tiny strain of fire sparrow or something in her, but her connection to the ancient gods of this world is diluted to the point of near-nonexistance. That tiny thread of bloodline she has is, by now, irrelevant. No different from anyone else.
“It’s completely because of her cultivation art? It is called the Ten Suns Godslaying Body Refining Art, or something like that.”
Exactly. The reason I rated her body cultivation as first class is because it is slowly, safely, transforming her body into that of an ancient god. Sounds like the bottom end of first class to me. It’s not that the gods aren’t powerful or don’t matter. They are and do. It’s just that this world, and worlds like it, are a little interesting. The relationship between gods and humans, between mortals and immortals, are not quite as top down as those words might make you think. Your birth family name is quite interesting too. And that’s where I have to stop. Keep your ears open and your eyes sharp, Grandson. You are starting to find the trail of the Mad God.