Threads 213-Friend and Foe 2

Ling Qi pondered about Shu Yue as she rejoined the party. A follower of an older cultivation method? She wouldn’t have thought such a person would be so close to the Duchess.

She moved through the party for a time, engaging in small talk about the tournament, the plans Renxiang and she were making, and more personal matters. There was less of that this year though. It seemed that she had begun to scare away lesser marriage offerings.

All the while, she kept an eye out. And when the shishigui “envoy” stood alone, she excused herself from her chat with the daughter of a central viscount over the clothing of the southern people. She didn’t spy anyone else seeking to speak with the shishigui on the way. It seemed that interest in this strange “prize” was used up at the moment. Approaching, she made sure not to reflexively hide her aura, not wanting to startle the White Plume guards.

“I greet you, honored one.” The shishigui spoke first as she approached, its hunched back twisting awkwardly to allow it to bow. It spoke clearly in the imperial tongue, sounding like an old woman, creaky and tired. “How might this humble one address you?”

<Ling Qi,> Sixiang murmured.

She held back a grimace at the muse’s prodding. No matter if this shishigui’s presence made her gut churn, if it made her think of her mother’s face, pale and drawn, or if it reminded her of people never emerging from the tunnels, this one was not from the same… city.

It wasn’t fair to judge it—her—any more than it was fair to judge Ilsur for the actions of the barbarians which attacked the Sect. She studied the shishigui in silence for a moment, listening to the faint dry wheezing of her breath as the air bladders on her helmet shrank and grew.

“You may call me Baroness Ling. The Duchess said you were called Tcho-Ri. Is this a title or a name?”

“It is both,” said Tcho-Ri. “Tcho means Mouth of the God. This is my role in the conclave. Ri is my personal name.”

“And how have you come to speak so?”

“The god Cai provided.” Tcho-Ri was eerily still but for the breathing. “This suit makes the words spoken sound like that which your kind expect from this one’s age and status. For your tongue, I have learned since the day the people of Ha-yith-kai chose subordination.”

“Why did you do so?”

Tcho Ri’s eyeless mask regarded her without words.

Ling Qi grimaced, acknowledging that had been a poor question. “Even in the face of the Duchess, did none of your people want to fight, or was it simply impossible?

“The Yith—the People—made consensus. The Voices of the God spoke the will. Even in the small possibility of victory, there was only ruin in the future. The clash of gods is only to be sought in the face of extermination of the People,” Tcho-Ri said slowly. “The god Cai’s demands were not this.”

“You believe you could have fought then?” Ling Qi still did not understand the shishigui nor the extent of their power, and that made her nervous.

Tcho-Ri let out a hissing breath, and her reedy voice gained just a hint of defiance. “We could have fought. Victory was a gleam of hope, but not wholly impossible. Together, as God, the World Corpse would quake in the clash. But your god is mightier than Ha-of-Three-Hearts, and godwar brings only ruin. Baroness Ling, we submit to your league.”

“You call the Duchess that, even knowing that she is subordinate to the Empress and that the Emerald Seas is but part of the Empire?” Ling Qi cocked her head, attempting to gauge just how much this creature was aware of the surface.

“The words are different, but the meanings are the same. You say county; we say city. You say province, and we say league. There are no great leagues here, so far from the holy lands, but this, too, we understand.”

Ling Qi nodded, bowing her head in acceptance. “My apologies if my questions have seemed rude.”

That brought a small hitch to the creature’s breathing, and that eyeless head tilted to the side. “This one asks your excuse. Your land is a stressful place.”

“You are not wrong,” Ling Qi agreed. “Ha-of-three Hearts… This is your ‘god,’ and your people, you called ‘yith,’ is that correct? What does ‘kai’ mean then?”

“City. It simply means city.”

“What then do you know of the people of Lith and the god Ya?” Ling Qi asked politely. Ya-lith-kai, Those were and should be the focus of her and the Empire’s ire.

“Ya-the-Seven-Part-Sword dreams of war and a great league,” Tcho-Ri said flatly, their artificial voice conveying a deep dislike. “Their ambition echoes in the tunnels. Many have submitted. Their lands are wide, and their soldiers many. Their Minds are old and hard as stone, and their Eyes see what they wish to see.”

“I have seen some of their land. It seems that they are having great troubles. They have spoken of us poisoning and breaking their harvests.”

Tcho-Ri was silent for a few long moments, and Ling Qi felt their regard more heavily. In her mind’s eye, she recalled the memory of the shishigui priest, nails burning with green fire in empty eye sockets. The soldiers behind the shishigui shifted, hands tightening on pikes and crossbows.

It passed.

“This Baroness Ling is more knowledgeable than her kin. It is true. The sixth and the seventh cities of Ya-lith-kai suffer. The blood of the World Corpse flows sluggishly from her wounds there. Perhaps there is truth and your harvesting conflicts with theirs. More likely, this one thinks that this is an exercise in crafting consensus. A god divided could not stand against your Cai. The Minds of Ya seek glory and a great league. Each city brought to consensus brings might to Ya. They seek to use you as an instrument in this.”

Ling Qi considered Tcho-Ri’s words. A glance around showed that there was not yet anyone else waiting to speak, but she knew her time would be limited.

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“You’ve discerned that I have some experiences with the people of Ya-lith-kai. Tell me, what are the worms which you dredge from the rivers, that you implant in your cultivators?”

Tcho-Ri regarded her in silence, the lines of radiance in her suit humming softly under the sound of the party. “How much of the Ceremony of Echoes did you witness?”

“I saw one of your kind on an altar surrounded by dancers. I saw his chest opened, and the priest who carved him open took a worm from the geyser of… blood, I suppose you called it,” Ling Qi said, choosing her words carefully.

“It is the blood of the World Corpse, rushing from the wounds which laid her low. It is from that which we were born and to that which we return.”

“The World Corpse. This is what you call the Nameless Mother?” Ling Qi asked.

“That is your word, yes.” Tcho-Ri shifted from foot to foot. It was a nervous motion.