Threads 52-Downtime 3

Ling Qi took one last look around the small music hall, eyeing the handful of other disciples occupying the seats within. Despite her best efforts, word of the matter had gotten out. Not many had bothered to show up, and most were no doubt here out of idle curiosity, but she recognized a few disciples in the orbit of more important Emerald Seas nobles. She smiled thinly as she caught the eyes of one such young man, doing her best to channel Meizhen’s imperious attitude. He looked away first.

What was done was done. There was no use worrying about it now, and she would not spend Hanyi’s performance getting worked up about the rumor mill.

Ling Qi took one last look down at the stage where Hanyi faced a seated Yu Nuan with her hands on her hips and a defiant look on her face. She leaned back, letting her eyes drift shut as Hanyi’s voice rose in song.

A chill wind descended from the mountain. Swift and eager, newly born from the storm, the wind played upon the valleys and foothills. There was so much to see, so much to do. All the land sparkled with snow and ice, a vast and wondrous playground. The winter wind laughed as it rattled window panes and sent bare branches waving to scratch at the eaves and make spooky sounds.

But winter was not forever, and when the warm winds came, the chill would retreat back to the mountain peaks where winter held eternal court. Below, the land changed. Its sparkling blanket faded away, and it became strange – green, warm, vibrant, and alien. In her heart, the chill wind wondered what it would be like to wander green fields.

Thoughtless and eager, when the warm winds came the next year, the chill wind lingered and did not heed the call to come home. She blew through the green fields, and in her wake, there was frost, and the green grass withered. The people cursed her, and the warm winds drove her out. The chill wind fled and sought the comfort of the peaks, but she had wandered far, and her home was nowhere to be found.

Lost, the chill wind defied the warmer winds that chased her. She blew with all her strength and scattered her foes. For a time, the little wind grew aimless and lost, and her heels were always dogged by the warm winds of spring. However, the little wind was strong. If she could not return home, then she would not be driven away. She had given up home, and that sacrifice would not be in vain. She sought the flowing rivers and the green fields that she had longed for. She sought the birds and the beasts who had always hidden away when winter’s cloak had fallen upon the world.

Though she was oft spurned, the little wind blew on regardless into hidden lairs and warm halls. She was here, and she would not go, no matter how much the warm winds buffeted her for her defiance, no matter what curses were cast her way or how harshly the sun glared.

The cold wind had come, and it was here to stay.

Ling Qi hummed to herself as the vision began to fade. Although she had helped Hanyi practice, her inexperience still showed. Ling Qi had felt the full force of the message, being so familiar with Hanyi, but she could tell that others in the audience had found the expression muddled at points. The central theme had been conveyed, but the details were blurred. She was still proud of her junior sister.

Yu Nuan gave her a faint nod as their eyes met before she turned her eyes back to Hanyi. Ling QI was glad to see that thoughtfulness had replaced the suspicion that she had seen in the girl last time. “I can tell you put a lot of passion into that,” Yu Nuan said idly as the last notes faded.

“Obviously. Are you still gonna say I’m bad?” Hanyi asked with a harrumph.

“Nah, but you still have a long way to go,” Yu Nuan replied with a lopsided smirk.

“Quit stalling then if you think you’re so good,” Hanyi said, crossing her arms.

“I won’t insult you by playing around. Let me show you what defiance really sounds like.”

Ling Qi felt the change in the room’s atmosphere as Yu Nuan plucked a hard note on her lute. Sparks lept from her fingers, and the torches lighting the hall flared. The temperature soared, and as Ling Qi opened her mind’s eye to the song, Yu Nuan burned.

In the ashes of broken dreams, the lightning struck. From it was born an ember, nurtured on ruin and ash. The ember burned bright and hot, dreaming of the day when it would rejoin its father in the heavens. When the rains sought to drown it, the ember burned on, hissing and spitting defiance all the way. When the cold sought to sap its energy, it burned low and endured. When the ground sought to bury it, the ember burned deep within the earth, seeking the sky. But eventually, the day came when wicked creatures bound the ember, using it for warmth and craft.

Alone, the ember burned on, sometimes weak and sometimes strong, but never extinguished. Always, it strained toward the sky, toward the heavens. Through bondage, through crushing, through drowning and more, the ember burned on. Its captors shepherded it, and in their arrogance fed it fuel to birth new embers. In time, all the land was aglow with the light of the ember and its many, many children.

At last, the captors grew slothful and incautious. The embers roared their freedom, and the captors burned. All the land was consumed in conflagration, and no force could extinguish them. Finally, the flames reached the heavens and became the lightning, and the world was right once more.

Ling Qi blinked as the last notes faded. That had been rather different from Yu Nuan’s last composition. She listened with half an ear to the other disciples under the sounds of scattered applause. It seemed that the consensus was that Yu Nuan’s song was about the triumph of men over beasts and dragons and the rise of civilization and the Empire. Ling Qi wasn’t so sure.

<Not bad. Gotta give the stodgy types an acceptable message to keep ‘em happy, I guess,> Sixiang snickered.

Ling Qi leaped down to the stage and landed lightly beside Hanyi, who was pouting at Yu Nuan as the other girl stood up, her lute still producing streamers of smoke. “What do you think, Hanyi?” Ling Qi asked.

“… I lost,” Hanyi admitted. “I’m sorry, Big Sister.”

“You did really well. Do not apologize,” Ling Qi said, ruffling Hanyi’s hair.

“It was a good try for a runt,” Sixiang teased.

“Listen to her. She’s right,” Yu Nuan grumbled. “Damn natural talents,” she added under her breath. Ling Qi shot her a look. Yu Nuan met it without contrition. “You’re not half assing someone else’s work. That’s the biggest step.”

“Tch. I’ll be better than you in no time,” Hanyi boasted arrogantly. “Just you watch.”

Yu Nuan rolled her eyes in exasperation, and Ling Qi chose not to comment. “In any case, thank you for helping my spirit with this challenge, Miss Yu. I will help with your own issue when time allows,” Ling Qi said formally.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Yu Nuan glanced toward the seats where a few watchers lingered. “I’ll look forward to it,” she said neutrally. “I need to be going though. I’ll see you sometime soon then… Miss Ling.” The formality sounded a little awkward on her lips, and Yu Nuan seemed aware of it given the brief bow and somewhat hurried exit that followed.

Ling Qi rested a hand on Hanyi’s shoulder as they made for the opposite exit at a more sedate pace. “Are you satisfied, Hanyi?”

“No, I lost,” Hanyi said grumpily, looking up at Ling Qi as if she thought her dim for asking. “But I did promise Momma. I gotta grow up, and I can’t do that if I just run to Big Sister for help.”

“You’ll get better quickly if you try. You’re just lacking in experience,” Ling Qi said, relieved that this trouble had been smoothed over quickly.

“Yup! That’s why I’m gonna run all over the Sect!” Hanyi chirped. “There’s so many spirits here. I need to pester ‘em all!”