Chapter 250 – Benansuo

They waited in a restaurant for Gabriel to return from his task in the city. Jei continued to order new dishes for them to try, while Mirian and Ibrahim continued to stack bowls of finished food. Ibrahim’s stack of bowls was, Mirian was disappointed to see, higher than hers.

The air smelled like crispy pork, boiled fish, unfamiliar spices, and black tea.

Feng shook his head at the two. “So you really were restraining yourselves from eating during the trip.”

Ibrahim finished slurping down some sort of soup made from the eggs of a myrvite bird Mirian had never heard of and slammed his bowl into the stack. “Delicious! I hope we do find a Gate here. I’m going to try every restaurant in the city.”

Gabriel walked in, eying Ibrahim suspiciously. “Alright, I talked to a bunch of people, said a bunch of common code words, passed around some money, and now we wait. I figure it’ll take a day or two. Then one of the local bureau chiefs will chat with me, and he’ll say something about following protocol, and I’ll give an impassioned speech about not letting protocol get in the way of an emergency… anyways, it usually works. All these bureau chiefs are a type. Oh, gross, what is that?”

“Koiso fish liver. Comes from the islands off the coast,” Feng said.

“Eugh. No thanks.”

“Try the crispy pork and that rice with the sauce,” Mirian said, gesturing.

“Now we’re talking,” he said, sitting down heavily. “Anyways, I also stopped by the Akanan Embassy, and they said there was a bunch of weird stuff going on at the palace. The Zhighuans are, apparently, ‘up to something.’ So I’m sure we’ll have to deal with some sort of annoying… thing. I don’t know. How many conspiracies are running in parallel? Can we toss in another one, you know, for fun?”

Gaius pretended to sip his tea.

Ibrahim burped loudly—this was a sign of respect for the cook in north Persama—and leaned back in his chair. “This is why all the conspirators should be dragged out into daylight and executed in the public squares.”

“A revolution’s just a bigger, worse funded conspiracy,” Gabriel shot back. “The trick is to convince the elites—who are always conspiring, it’s called ‘talking’—to think in the long term so that you can guide them on a more reasonable path. Executions should be reserved for people that can’t take a hint as an instructive lesson.”

Feng was growing uncomfortable with the conversation. He asked in a low voice, “Is this what… people like you talk about?”

Mirian nodded. “The world isn’t coming out in the same shape as when it entered this crisis. It can’t.”

Jei looked like she was about to say something, but then the door burst open.

A woman looked around the restaurant, her eyes instantly settling on the group. She was wearing a black tangzhuang that was decorated in gold with sinuous myrvite constellations made up of stylistic stars. Her silver hair was cut short, and she had a red scepter with a golden crystal orb set in it held loosely in her hand.

Jei stood up so suddenly her chair tilted over and crashed to the ground. “Zhuan Li!” she exclaimed.

The woman’s eyes went wide, then narrowed again. “Song Jei?”

Mirian’s spellbook appeared in her hand beneath the table. In a second, she confirmed her guess. The woman’s soul was moving in a strange, fractal current; it was the most organized she’d seen a soul move, looking more like a dervish stance at work than a natural flow. More importantly, she saw the hole in it where the pattern flowed around.

“Another Prophet,” she said.

“What?” Gabriel exclaimed.

“Makes sense,” Ibrahim said. “One in each region.” He stood, and bowed respectfully. In clipped Gulwenen, he said, “Chosen Zhuan Li, I am Ibrahim Kalishah of Persama. My pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Mirian Castrella. Of Baracuel.”

“Balls,” Gabriel said.

Mirian kicked him under the table.

“Ow! Shit. Right, yeah, I’m Gabriel Arjen, welcome to—how in the five fucking hells did you find us so fast?”

Gaius was looking at Song Jei. “You know Zhuan Li?” he said.

“The name sounds familiar… vaguely. Jei… you’ve mentioned her.”

“The foremost Zhighuan scholar in research on Viaterria. Her work on political theory is also fascinating,” her father said.

Zhuan looked at the group arrayed before her. Briefly, the crystal orb glowed faintly. “Four—no, three Exalted. You haven’t visited before. What are you doing here?”

“Would have come sooner, but there’s a bunch of hungry animals in the jungle and I wanted to make sure they all got fed first,” Gabriel said.

“We’re looking for Elder Gates, primarily,” Mirian said, ignoring the other Prophet. “Large four-dimensional objects, made by the Elder Gods, often buried or trapped in volcanic rock.”

Zhuan’s brow furrowed. “Yes, I know where one is. But we can’t escape with them, so what’s the point? We need one of the Viaterrian Chiminan Behemoths.”

Gaius tapped his chin thoughtfully. Mirian said, “What? Escape?”

“Yes.” Zhuan Li looked at them. Then she said something rapidly, and this time, there were too many words in Gulwenen Mirian didn’t know. She looked to Jei.

Jei translated it to Adamic. “She said, ‘I imagine our strategic planning has diverged significantly as we analyzed regional dialectical shifts, and based on available research and our biases within the intelligentsia. Did you approach tasks by shaping discreet entities, or holistic-popular ones?’”

“Ah, Adamic. I can do that,” Zhuan said.

Ibrahim frowned. “I don’t understand that.”

Gabriel brightened. “I did. It’s… am I the only one who’s read her work?”

“I have,” Gaius volunteered.

“Right, I should explain it then—”

Mirian cleared her throat. “Would you like to join us?”

“No. I’m busy. You should join me,” Zhuan said. “Though the experiment this branch is probably ruined. New variables don’t always cause a qualitative shift. I suppose it will be something new. Song Jei, are they trustworthy?”

Jei swallowed. She glanced at Mirian. She looked at the others. “I…”

Zhuan waved a hand. “Bad question. Don’t answer it. Hmm. It’s good to see you, Song. Unexpected. The specifics, at least. The anomalies in different branches and in the dream implied other Exalted, but I’d hoped I was wrong. More variables is not what we need. But maybe you all can assist.” As they emerged outside, Zhuan turned to the mob of robed functionaries who were apparently following her around. She started speaking in rapid Gulwenen. “See that the restaurant is paid. You, give me an event-trace. You, the follow-up. Remember procedure. You, tell the Baracueli Archaeological Society we’ve approved the dig. You, tell the joint-council to approve it. You, tell Spell-Captain Turaki to begin assembling the expedition. The rest with me. Runner, alert the palace I’ll be returning, and none of the contingencies need to be implemented, but prepare rooms for six guests.”

“Oh, we have rooms—” Feng started, but he was cut off.

Zhuan whirled. “NOT when I’ve just ordered an event-trace! There is a procedure!” she snapped.

Feng recoiled.

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Ibrahim snorted. “I like her.”

However Mirian had thought events would go in Zhighua, this wasn’t it. Like Ibrahim, she’d thought there might be another Prophet based on the pattern, but she’d thought they would have to track them down. Whatever Gabriel had done, it apparently had acted as a signal flare to Zhuan.

“We need to compare notes,” Gabriel told Zhuan. “You’ll want to hear the woman’s plan. Then you’ll want to tell us yours. I have a feeling you’ve been too deep in the weeds and forgot to come up for air. Let’s start with the basics. What in the five hells are you doing?”

As the functionaries peeled off, they made their way through one of the city gates, Zhuan setting a quick pace. Benansuo’s neighborhoods near the palace were divided up by thin walls and arched gates. As they passed through this one, the guards stood at attention.

“Experimenting. What anyone should do if they haven’t come up with an optimal solution.”

“You’re being vague,” Jei told her.

“Am I? Hmm. I’m afraid that character flaw has only gotten worse with circular time, not better. What’s confusing?” Zhuan asked.