Three Visits For the Brass Lady
Thunder hit like a hammer striking down a blasphemous idol. Golden clouds rolled across a sky that had been clear a moment before. The far side of the hills glowed as bright as the noonday sun.
Then all was still and clear again.
Six relays and five heralds of The Qinglong Alliance waited in a small shrine that blocked the valley path and looked at each other nervously. Not one of them said a word. They watched as the Sweet Voice of Brass and Glory stepped out of the valley and they did not breathe until they saw that her smile was genuine.
"How is he?" said Su Jiao, the first of their number, as Sweet Brass came up the steps.
"He's ready," the goddess said. She glanced briefly back towards the valley. "Or, he will be, when he returns to the world."
Of all the Alliance, only Chi Wen could bring herself to follow their patron's gaze. She said, "What do we do until then?"
The goddess stepped under the gate that marked the shrine's entrance. She lifted a banner she had left there earlier. "You all go back to the Eye of Hiparkes and wait for your orders. Four of the circle are away, and Cathak Nekuto besides. Serrakeen may keep things running on his own, but he would do better with the help of good heralds. And Choshu Ishi is not one we'll speak of just yet; my relays, listen to Leopard Chao's advice more than you do his."
"Rivers Between Us will be there, too," Mi Ji said brightly.
Sweet Brass nodded. "He will at that, and listen well to what your maker says, but don't expect him to have many words for you. He has no taste for leadership."
All we silent for a while, considering. At last Soi Fang spoke. "You give us instructions, lady, as if you yourself will not ride home with us. What will you be doing while we keep our nation together?"
The Sweet Voice of Brass and Glory as she glanced once more to the valley below. "My place is here. Guarding him."
The First Visit: The Answer to the Earth[edit]
Blood was the first sign to the Sweet Voice of Brass and Glory that something was wrong. It welled up from the earth, seeped through cracks in the stones, puddled in the grass. The goddess saw it, shining black beneath the moon, and opened her Essence to View the Field of Battle.
The second sign Sweet Brass had that she had a problem was the whine of bees. They swarmed near at the blood's sweet scent, ready to feast, but wept when they found nothing for their hives and their keening filled the air. The goddess planted her banner in the bloody earth and loosed her short-blade in its scabbard.
Sweet Brass' final sign was the demon herself. She was taller than the goddess, even accounting for the way her feet rested in the air, half a foot above the ground, disdainful of the earth. She wore white southern silks, pinned to the flesh of her arms and legs by giant wasps' stingers, but it was her cloak that stood out the most. A thing of rough, uncured horsehide it floated behind her, kicking its legs and struggling to keep its original shape; trying to run free. The demon moved up the pass towards Sweet Brass by rolling her hips, by alternating her steps; she danced a terrible dance. When she stood at the foot of her shrine, Sweet Brass said her name: "Stanewald."
The demon's eyes were all for the long path down into the valley. "There is something there that calls to me."
Sweet Brass stepped to the center of the shrine gate. "In the valley beyond stands the Solar Thunder, a Scion of the Unconquered Sun. Turn aside, Stanewald. He is not for your eyes."
Stanewald looked at the goddess for the first time, as if she just then noticed the woman she had been dancing towards. "His call freed me from my Malfean prison, he knows the means to strip away the earth. If not for my eyes, then whose is he for?"
"Seek elsewhere for your rescuer, Stanewald. The earth split open at another's touch, not my lord's."
"Oh, I know. I recognize the print of Othoclase's hand, from the days I sought to shatter the courts of earth. But your lord," Stanewald stretched that word, made it dance, "was the one who moved that hand."
"Dance away, demon. Whatever he has done, he is not for you." Sweet Brass touched her hand to her sword hilt.
"Is he for you, then, goddess?" Stanewald smiled, and her smile was cruel. "Small thing that you are, material, defiant of your station?"
"He is for his people, demon, and for mine." There was steel behind Sweet Brass' voice.
The demon almost laughed. "A convenient fiction. Who are you, to have won the heart of one of the Pillars of the Sun?"
"I am the Sweet Voice of Brass and Glory, Lieutenant Eastern Goddess of War for The Marukan Alliance. I am the warrior who holds back the tide. I am Storm of Amber's support and his guard and his wife. I am here to see him undisturbed while he trains. And if you take one step closer, Stanewald, I am your death." The goddess's voice rang with Words of Power and she drew her blade.
"Storm of Amber? The sworn brother of Rivers Between Us." Unafraid, Stanewald danced three twisting steps forward and stood half way up the climb to Sweet Brass' shrine. "Their circle has a habit for making foes of Munaxes souls. Two of my brothers already stalk the lands nearby, to set their might against them soon. Will I be the third, I wonder? Is that my purpose?"
"Try, and I will send you back to Malfeas myself."
"I tire of your threats, goddess. Time to topple your little home and see what glory lies beyond." Stanewald made a side-wave gesture with her hand, the start of the first of her Thirteen Efficacious Dances, and tapped her feet in a pattern old when the world was young.
But the Sweet Voice of Brass and Glory was ready. She sang out her Words of Power in beautiful musical dissonance to the rhythm of Stanewald's dance, trying to break her step with a wave of divine might.
They strove against each other for an hour, each furious to control the tempo. Stanewald spun, threw her head around, swayed her hips, kicked heel to toe, until her feet were raw and bleeding in the open air. Sweet Brass varied her pitch, measure for measure, singing scales, switching octaves wildly, harmonizing with herself until her voice almost cracked. Neither could gain the advantage.
The sixty first minute came and went.
Then came the sixty second, the final minute of Stanewald's dance, the moment that would topple the House of Courage or save it. Stanewald kicked her leg high above her head, her foot sailing free as a bird; Sweet Brass sang a rising note, her voice climbing the stair to heaven.
Stanewald fell.
She rose again as quickly, for the earth could not bear even her momentary touch, and she bowed to the goddess who had beaten her. "I thought the Solars might be the answer, but here you were, all along."
Sweet Brass sheathed her sword, confident in her victory. "What?"
"I have been looking for purpose since I climbed the Imperial Mountain. I thought that, like my brothers, I might strive against the Solars you serve. But I see now that I must devote myself to you."
"I need no servants of your kind, Stanewald."
"Servant?" Stanewald took three spinning steps back. "No. I will strive against you. Rise to a high post, and I will see you toppled from it; rise again and once more I will cast you down.
"Grow in power and rank, my beloved foe. I will wait until you are worthy for my touch." With that, Stanewald danced away.
The Sweet Voice of Brass and Glory watched her go. She thought to follow, to end this charade before it began, but a glance behind reminded her of Storm of Amber and more important oaths. Her battle with Stanewald would have to wait.
The Second Visit: The Red Queen[edit]
It is the privilege of royalty to travel in state, and Red the Sage's Roots took full advantage. Five great wolves, their coats heavy for winter, preceded her, announcing her approach every few hundred feet with throaty howls. Behind her, stick people marched in rank or rode atop eight-legged wood spiders the size of horses; spirit-foxes romped through the dry winter grass, their bushy red tails playing relay in the crisp air; and hawks, each with wings as broad as a man is tall, soared overhead. In the midst of this parade, the Queen of the Marukan Wood rode side-saddle on a great white stag.
When they arrived at the House of Courage, the Sweet Voice of Brass and Glory was ready. She had not drawn her blade, but she had hung her banner and Storm's from the torii that marked the shrine's entrance and tuned her Essence to the ebb and flow of war; she did not expect violence from the Red Root Sage, but after her visit from Stanewald, weeks earlier, she held nothing certain. She bowed respectfully, her hands clasped before her. "Greetings, Wood Queen. Strange to see you come across the miles and far from your domain."
The Red Root Sage did not bow so much as nod her head. "Greetings in turn, war goddess. I would not have come, but I ride on a mission of state; I have need of my father. My hawks tell me he stands in the valley behind you."
"Your father?"
"Storm of Amber planted the seed of me, watered me with strategy, sang me tactics as I grew and, most of all, shed on me the sunlight of logistics. Could I call him else but father?"
Sweet Brass could barely keep the twist from her lip. "You call him 'Storm' often enough, I think."
The Wood Queen bristled. "I'll forgive you that, Sweet Brass; no woman can easily hear that her man has a daughter not hers. Whatever you wish I should call him, I must speak with Storm of Amber. Will you step aside?"
"Sad to say, I cannot. Storm of Amber now seeks to unlock the fifth gate of his Essence and must remain undisturbed, or his training is for nothing."
"He will want to speak with me. I have a complaint to make over his recent treatment of my woods, and he would not want me to take my complaint to another."
Sweet Brass shook her head. "I'm sorry, Red Root Sage. Though he counts you as an ally, I cannot let you pass to see Storm of Amber."
"Though he counts me as an ally?" The elemental looked imperiously up from the back of her mount. Her next words came laced with Essence as she tried to Instill Obedience from the goddess. "Tell me, oh Sweet Voice of Brass and Glory, how do you count me?"
Sweet Brass looked down from the top of the stairs, defiant. An elemental thought to command her? She, who could have had a home in the celestial city? Sweet Brass shrugged off the power of the command with a song from within, but as she watched the great beasts and elementals arrayed in rank behind the Wood Queen, she decided to answer, anyway. "I count you as over-proud, Red Sage. It's not often enough that someone tells you 'no.' You're a powerful woman, too used to having your own way, and that makes you too dangerous to be an ally."
"Too dangerous? I came here in peace, with a grievance to redress in private before I sought out more official channels. Is that a woman who is over-proud?" The Wood Queen gestured and she held a wooden spear in her hand, her staff of office. "A part of my woods have been torn asunder at my father's call; three of my people have died. Will you let me past to ask my father to make amends?"
"Again, I cannot." Sweet Brass was silent for a time. At last, she bit her lip and said, "you're right, though; as an ally, Storm of Amber should answer you himself for what has happened. Put away your spear, wait another season, and I will deliver your message when his training is done. I'm sure he'll come to see you then."
Red the Sage's Roots shook her head. "Justice does not wait. If I cannot speak to Storm now, I must take my complaint to Heaven. If a censor comes to call, do not say I didn't warn you."
The Wood Queen's stag turned and walked away, but the Red Root Sage looked back. "Justice must be done, but I hold no grudge; I am still my father's ally, and will prove it when the time comes.
"I hold no special love for you, though, goddess. You have made an enemy of me this day; we will come to blows before the world is done."
Sweet Brass watched the Wood Queen ride away, surrounded by her entourage, and she sighed. "That makes two."
The Third Visit: Two Ladies and a Legion of Brass[edit]
The fifty fourth day of Storm of Amber's meditations was the most dangerous. On that day, as she must for one of every sixty, the Sweet Voice of Brass and Glory let go her material form and renewed herself in spiritual seclusion, watching the world but not of it. She had a sword, but no way to take up arms should any foe come to call; she could speak, but no Words of Power could ring in her enemies' ears. Storm of Amber stood wholly undefended. So as the day stretched on and only a single circuit-rider stopped, to eat his lunch and offer prayers at her shrine, the goddess respired a little easier.
Until the Brass Legionaries arrived.
They stood still in the terrible moment when the sun's blinding glare gave way to clarity, as if they had marched double-time on a ray of light. They were figures of men, but half again as tall and sturdier than mortal man could ever be, with arms and legs twice as thick. Each wore a fine lorica on his forged shoulders, with a red himation draped over that, and each had a unique face that, though crafted from fine metals, gave them the air of real men. Only their eyes, made of polished hematite, betrayed their soulless, thoughtless selves. An even dozen, two full scales, they stood on either side of the House of Courage, solid, material, deadly. And there was nothing Sweet Brass could do to stop them.
She tried, of course. She drew her short-blade from its scabbard and stabbed wildly, but she could no more touch the Legionaries than she could slay the wind and they marched up the steps to her shrine in perfect formation. This was it, then: a quick strike to shatter the House of Courage and send her spectrally back to her sanctum in the Pagoda of Infinite Strategy, without strength or speed enough to return to Storm's side.
The goddess had only one chance: to use her Essence to Open the Army's Way and hope that someone - The Qinglong Alliance, Rivers Between Us, Choshu Ishi, anyone - would be quick-witted, and quick-footed, enough to jump through to her aid.
But as she raised her signal-horn to her lips, Sweet Brass got a clear look at the Legionaries kit and saw equipment that would have been the envy of the First Age; the crackling tips of Shock Pikes, the polished lenses of Discrete Essence Armor, and on their shoulders, their insignia. These were no ordinary Brass Legionaries; these were the Sun Guards, the personal forces of Sunipa, Patron of Soldiers, War Goddess of the East.
The Sweet Voice of Brass and Glory lowered her horn.
And then she heard Sunipa's voice. "Sweet Brass, can I see you in my office for a minute?"
"Uhm..." Sweet Brass glanced over her should, to the valley where Storm of Amber trained.
"The Sun Guards can take over for you. They'll be no less dedicated, skilled or imposing than you yourself. Your golden lord will be safe in their care."
"Well," Sweet Brass said, and before she could say anything more she was gone, called to Heaven by the Daimyo's Reveille.
Sunipa's office within the Crimson Panoply of Victory ran over with chaos. Cabinets along the near wall had scrolls stacked with memory-records of every battle in the East for the past decade, and even larger cabinets along the far wall held destiny-projections for every battle in the East that might occur in the decade to come. The office had chairs, but there was no place to sit for all the maps, charts, files and figures tossed in their seats. The office's only decorations were Sunipa's equipage; Delicate Scarlet Blossom, a fire lance sized for a warstrider, hung from the ceiling and Neverfrost, a daiklave with a blade carved from the ice of the Elemental Pole of Air, rested in a rack perched precariously atop one set of cabinets.
The Bushi of Eastern War, Goddess of Soldiers and Officers, sat behind a great desk made of pine from Jorst's forests in the Far East; the desk was, if possible, piled even higher than the chairs and cabinets. Sunipa's skin was pale, her hair was silver-gray and her eyes were jet. Her dragon armor was impossibly fine steel, but the shadow of her royal warstrider, Dreadful Necessity, hung about her like a cloak. She was a fearsome sight, a military machine given single form, and in a voice no less terrible she said, "Greetings, my captain."
Sweet Brass bowed low to her superior. "Greetings, my lady. What are Heaven's orders?"
"I just thought it might be time we talked; a little informal chat, nothing serious." Sunipa waved to one of the chairs.
The junior goddess scooped the pile of files and maps into her arms and put them on the floor, careful not to topple the pile. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No. Not at all. But..." Sunipa leaned across her desk, rested her cheek in her hand. "Are you happy with your job?"
"Of course!"
Sunipa gave a slight smile. "Really happy? Be honest."
"Well..." Sweet Brass chewed on her lower lip. "I've really grown into the job I've got now, but sometimes I feel like I could do more..."
"I think you could, too. And I think you'll have the chance soon."
Sweet Brass narrowed her eyes. "I don't want to transfer."
"Transfer?" Sunpia blinked. "No. No, no."
"I have family in the East."
"And the East is just where we need you. War heads there on swift wings, and none can say when it will roost. Siakal spends every morning planning meeting gnashing her razor teeth around a donut that the Roseblack's left her waters for my sphere of influence; the Mask of Winters intentions are beyond even the Sidereals' abilities to forsee, try as they might; and Tien Yu's filing a new and different report on Lookshy's stance every day. We're busy, and we're only going to get busier."
"So, you're not firing me?"
Sunipa threw herself back into her chair. "Firing you? Not remotely! In fact, expect a bonus when next you draw your pay; your Solars are the ones bringing all of this business our way.
"And without even trying! I have," Sunpia waved her hand over the chaos on her desk, "somewhere, a memo from Ahlat complaining that their commander's ruined his careful plans for an uprising in Harborhead to the ground with but a moment's action."
The two goddesses shared a laugh, but a moment later, Sunipa lost her smile. "We should talk about your reports, though."
Sweet Brass winced. "I have been falling a little behind..."
Sunipa nodded. "And that's just what we need to fix. If you don't want to be up to Tien Yu's standards..."
"I do!"
"...that's your decision. Though it wouldn't look good if The Marukan Alliance warred with Lookshy, the two of you came to blows and you went down too quickly."
Sweet Brass half-stood, but she topped the pile of paperwork at her feet and sat back down. "I'm better than that."
"It's the outsiders that are worse, though. Losing to someone from one of the other directions, or a demon, that would just be embarrassing for the whole department. But you're making enemies just standing around these past two months..." Sunipa sighed and shook her head.
Sweet Brass took a breath, and then said, "Lady, what would you have me do?"
"I've arranged for you to attend a training seminar to start you on your way to learn the Art of Forceful Declaration."
"A training seminar?" Sweet Brass' lip twisted skeptically.
"It's all expenses paid."
"And the Sun Guards will keep guarding Storm of Amber? He has two months left..."
"Of course." Sunipa smiled. "What do you say?"
The junior goddess nodded. "Coral Archipelago, here I come!"
