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
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
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."
