Abi d'Ilga struggled to drag her favorite rocking chair to her front porch. She had turned twelve a few weeks earlier, and should have been able to rearrange furniture, but her body was weak. She was also short and chubby. Some women were meant to be great warriors. Abi fought differently.
"Allow me," said Monsieur.
Monsieur was seven feet tall. His bones were bronze and his skin was porcelain. He was one of the Attendants left behind by the Dynasty of Ten Thousand Years.
"It's all right, Monsieur," Abi replied. "Madame says exercise is good for me."
Madame was Iba Algi's other Attendant.
"Madame is never wrong," conceded Monsieur.
"Be careful, Abi," said Nhao. "Too much exercise is as bad as not enough."
The kirin puppy belonged to Hermes Charleslouis but kept Abi company. Hermes was hiding somewhere. Abi could feel it. That imp was either ten, or twelve-hundred and forty-seven, depending on how a person counted. Abi counted the little ghost as ten. It made her angry to think someone poisoned him twelve-hundred and thirty-seven years ago.
Upon reaching the porch of her villa's front courtyard, she climbed into her rocking chair — and rocked. There was going to be a big fight soon, and she needed to rest up. Nhao shrank to kitten-size and jumped into her lap. It was a lovely night. Abi's parents were away at a shindig. Madame had taken her cousins to the Kurghan Arka. The ancient giants used such cool names! Most people called the massive lump of granite "Ancient Arsenal." That was a bit on the nose for Abi's tastes, but at least a person knew what it was all about right from the start.
Abi rubbed the top of Nhao's head. He was so warm and fuzzy, she fell asleep. His growling woke her up sometime later. Nhao had jumped down from her lap and increased his size. His fur flickered with curls of lightning. If that wasn't intimidating enough, Monsieur had taken position in front of Abi's chair.
Opposing the elven automaton was an official procession. Abi was expecting them. Their robes were pompous, but not too pompous. A dozen soldiers backed them up. Abi recognized the captain as one of the Charlatan Emperor's favorites. She also recognized the Eight Prince. Tall and athletic, he was almost twenty — and should have known better than to make Abi angry. Her short and chubby body was weak, but she was not weak.
The Charlatan's Left Attendant stood at the center of the official procession. She was made from the same stuff as Monsieur. Elven automatons made humans nervous. The officials, soldiers, and prince had not waited for Abi to wake up out of kindness. Rather, they had waited for the Attendants to indicate proceeding was acceptable.
Abi d'Ilga stretched and climbed out of her chair.
"You're all here then!" she said.
An imposing man of advancing years and regal bearing rocked on his heels.
"In all this time," he said, "nobody, not even my own daughter, told me the young lady, her own daughter, was accompanied by one of His Majesty's Attendants. Can any other grandfather claim to have such a remarkable grandchild?"
"Old Red Bird has several things wrong," said Abi.
Anger flickered through the procession. Abi's putative grandfather held the title Rex Meridionalis Avis Vermilionis. It meant he was the king of the south and backed by the mythical phoenix. He was also a military commander with countless victories to his name. All three temples responsible for ranking martial artists credited him with being a so-called "Incomparable Sword." His flashiest technique, Wings of the Red Bird, involved whirling around with a flaming broadsword in each hand.
"What has this old man gotten wrong?" he asked pleasantly.
"Attendants don't belong to your Charlatan Emperor" said Abi. "Do you, Left Attendant?"
Left Attendant inclined her head politely. The procession's anger mutated into discomfort.
"Furthermore," said Abi, "I am accompanied by two Attendants. Madame is running errands. To top things off, you are not my grandfather."
The Old Red Bird lost some of his facade.
"Is that so?" he asked.
"I've spent enough time on you," said Abi. She turned her attention to a different old man. Magnificent white hair enveloped him. He stood on the opposite side of the procession from Old Red Bird, and should definitely have known better than to make Abi angry. "Now that you're here, Grandiose Precept, have the stars explained to you what you're walking into?"
The Grand Preceptor sighed.
"Young Miss," he said, "we are not here to fight."
"Talking to this girl is absurd," said the guard captain.
He advanced. Monsieur and Left Attendant looked at him. The captain paused.
"Kneel and receive the edict," he commanded as forcefully as he could.
"Kneel?" asked Abi d'Ilga. "To a little jade tube?"
"Young Miss," repeated the Grand Preceptor. "Everything is already difficult enough."
"It will get much more difficult," said Abi. "Isn't that right, soldier boy?"
The captain reached for his sword. The soldiers with him reached for their own weapons. They were nervous, however. The chubby little girl was reputed to be the reincarnation of an ancient witch. The chubby little girl felt a cool puff of air. Consort Chen had arrived. The Consort's teleportation techniques were so strong, even without preparing in advance, she could appear anywhere under the sky defined by her horizons.
Abi would have said hello, but she didn't have time before Consort Chen acted.
In the blink of an eye, the captain and most of his soldiers were dead. Cut from shoulders to hips, their deaths should have made an incredible mess. The blood erupting from their bodies froze in the air, however, and shattered into beautiful crimson shards when it hit the tiles of Abi d'Ilga's courtyard. Everyone else in the procession would have shattered too if the Grand Preceptor had been a moment late.
Warakirikoban, part fox, part fairy (and not much taller than Abi), Consort Chen had sharp, icy features, black hair to her knees, and a temper. Like Old Red Bird, she was known for dual blades. Instead of heavy southern broadswords, however, she used a pair of delicate short swords.
Abi d'Ilga clapped.
"Grandiose Precept!" she said. "That's the first time you've done more than apologize for failing to do anything! But what will Heaven think? Fake gods get angry whenever someone prevents a tragedy."
"Girl," said Consort Chen.
"Yes?" asked Abi sweetly.
"Don't talk to strange old men," said the consort.
The soldiers who survived the attack moved their hands far away from their weapons and stepped back from animated swords quivering in their faces. Officials who survived maintained their composure better than Abi expected. The Eighth Prince stepped to one side. His name was Jihûn. The blade in front of his face tried to follow his motion, but was held in place by the Grand Preceptors spell.
"Noble Consort Chen," said Jihûn charmingly, "wasn't that too much?"
Half Gargogryeon, he had a masculine voice and a lovable bumpkin vibe.
"Would you go so far as to call it rebellion?" asked Consort Chen.
"No, no, no — I wouldn't dare!" replied Jihûn. "But why so murderous?"
"Why shouldn't she be murderous?" asked Abi.
"Abi," said Jihûn. "We're not strangers; and we're not here to kill anyone."
"Aren't you?" asked Abi.
Her tone caused the bumpkin some distress.
"Abi!" he protested. "We've always been on good terms."
"The two of us have," Abi agreed. "Of all the boys that Charlatan still considers it useful to call family, I like you best. I'm glad that old man saved you. It's the first time he's saved anyone."
Consort Chen chuckled — and dismissed her swords.
"But the fact remains you've been a nincompoop," Abi told Jihûn. "The Charlatan used you on account of our mutual affection." She turned to the Grand Preceptor. "Old man, that boy's not even twenty, and is prone to making bad life decisions. You've let him down."
"Young Miss," said the Grand Preceptor.
"Silence!" roared Abi d'Ilga.
The officials jumped. Nhao snarled.
"Do you want me to eat them, Abi?" he asked. "I'd be happy to eat them!"
"Not yet," replied Abi. "But thank you, Nhao. Left Attendant, you may as well give me the Charlatan's jade tube. No need to trouble yourself reading it. I know what it says."
Left Attendant glided forward.
"The edict is intended for…," observed an official as diplomatically as possible.
Left Attendant handed the tube to Monsieur. Monsieur carried it to Abi. Abi took it from him politely — and tossed it onto her rocking chair.
"It's intended for Richan and Edrus," she said. "They aren't here. If you make it so that you're not here either, I'll let you go. But you should stay, Left Attendant. We'll play cards."
"Granddaughter," said Old Red Bird.
"You better leave, Old Man," said Abi. "Without another word."
"I will leave," he replied. "But with your cousins — who are also my grandchildren."
"I've told you," sighed Abi. "Richan and Edrus aren't here. And now you've lost your chance."
"Eat him?" asked Nhao eagerly.
"I've never run from a fight," said Old Red Bird. "I've been in a lot."
"Monsieur," said Abi. "Please show that old man our edict."
"Abi d'Ilga!" said the Grand Preceptor. "Abusing your strength to destabilize the status quo will cause millions to suffer. We've come here to offer the best imperfect solution available for an intractable situation."
"You've come here with lies," said Abi, "and should have left when I gave you the chance."
"They aren't lies," said the Grand Preceptor. "They are compromises."
"Ridiculous!" snapped Abi, gesturing at the scroll case. "The Charlatan accuses his dead Empress of cheating. Don't get me wrong. Richan and Edrus will be glad to be rid of such a despicable family. But lies are lies."
"Abi," said Jihûn. "This is the best way out. They'll be free from politics."
"They'll be dead!" countered Abi.
"That's not true!" the prince protested.
"Nincompoop!" roared Abi.
She stomped a foot on the ground. A wave of force rippled away from her. Apart from Left Attendant, gravity began crushing everyone in the procession to the ground. Only the Grand Preceptor remained standing, and that required ferocious concentration.
"Still want to fight, Old Bird?" Abi demanded. "Can you even flap your wings?"
Veins of rage pushed out from the old man's neck and face. He declined to answer, however, and collapsed against the tiles.
"Abi!" gasped Jihûn. "What's come over you?"
"Nincompoop!" roared Abi again. "Do you think you're the only ones who came here tonight?"
"Of course we were!"
Abi knew the Eighth Prince was telling the truth as he understood it. However….
"Does Jihûn have it right, Grandiose Precept?" she asked.
"There's no harm in using the correct title," said the Grand Preceptor.
"Answer," said Abi, "or I'll send you back to Miss Minerva. You can tell her she's next in person."
Nhao jumped around the courtyard and crackled with lightning.
"Are the fake gods next, Abi?" he asked eagerly. "Are they really?"
"Yes," Abi assured him. "Now answer the question, old man; or fight back."
"There were others," he agreed.
"That's not true!" insisted Jihûn.
"It is true," conceded the Grand Preceptor. "But we didn't send them. Neither did the Emperor."
"Not explicitly," agreed Abi. "Whoever sent them, they're gone now — and they aren't coming back. Monsieur? Please show Old Bird the edict."
"Certainly, Mademoiselle."
Monsieur glided across the courtyard and spread his arms out in front of Old Red Bird. Embroidered cloth appeared between his hands. The King of the South was unable to raise his head to read what was written. Abi walked to him, reached down, grabbed his hair, and pulled up.
She could be strong enough when circumstances required.
"I've prepared your confession," she said. "You admit that neither the Empress nor her younger sister, my mother, were your children. You read the era, Old Bird, and acquired baby girls from Black Crane White Frog Society to use in strategic marriages. To think a baby born in captivity would become Empress. But I suppose palace life is a form of prison life, isn't it, Jihûn?"
"Lies!" insisted Old Red Bird.
"I use the truth better than your kind uses lies," Abi told him. "You neglected to inform the Charlatan Emperor of your arrangement with Crane And Frog. You got such a good deal! Most of their customers want boys. I wonder how high up the food chain that goes?"
She looked at the Jihûn enigmatically.
"Lies!" insisted Old Red Bird.
"You deceived the Emperor," said Abi.
"The Empress and your mother were and are my daughters," said Old Red Bird. "I was as angry about what happened to the Empress as anyone. But the living must go on living."
"What's inside that tube accuses Richan and Edrus of knowing about their mother's cheating," said Abi. "They were therefore also accused of deceiving the Emperor. Isn't that right?"
Old Red Bird declined to answer.
"Abi!" said Jihûn. "This is for the best! They won't become political tools."
"That edict says the punishment for deceiving an Emperor is death," said Abi. "Is that best?"
"It's not true!" said Jihûn.
"Is it true, Grand Preceptor?" asked Abi.
"Half true," replied the Grand Preceptor. "Now you are also playing word games, Young Miss. It happens to the best of us."
"You caught me!" said Abi. "Because I am such a sweetheart, I'll admit that the Charlatan commuted death to exile. Now that Old Red Bird has confessed…."
"I confess to nothing!"
"Isn't this your seal?" asked Abi.
"A forgery," said Old Red Bird. "A remarkable one."
"Left Attendant?" asked Abi. "Would you be able to verify the Great South Seal?"
Left Attendant glided forward and studied the embroidered seal. After a few moments, she testified to its accuracy.
"Old Red Bird has confessed," said Abi, "so I'll give him the same consideration the Charlatan gave Richan and Edrus. The punishment is exile. But where to?"
"Abi d'Ilga," said the Grand Preceptor. "Dark fates await those who abuse divine gifts."
"I'm not abusing," said Abi. "I'm dispensing justice. There's a difference!"
She let go of Old Red Bird's head. It slammed against the ground.
After stepping back a few feet, Abi tapped one foot against the ground. Old Red Bird's body sank into the courtyard tiles as if they were thick mud. After a few moments, he was completely gone.