Spring Market

The Spring Market is the highlight of the year for the Marukan, a celebration of their vibrant culture. The market is a time for trade, where craftsmen come to show off their finest wares, and a time for friendly competition, with demonstrations of skilled horse racing and prize livestock shows. This year, for the first time in memory, a market was held somewhere besides Celeren; many of the eastern Marukan flocked instead to God Crossing.

Leaf Shakes the Wind

Leaf Shakes the Wind had worn a dozen faces throughout the day. During the horse races, he had been a short, leathery Marukan whose fabulous mustache had garnered much praise from the other riders. For the afternoon’s taiko performance, he had been a fresh-faced youth, full of excitement and vigor, obviously uncomfortable in a kimono when he was used to going bare-chested. Now, though, he wore his own face and his own robes and walked among the Marukan without pretense.

He stopped and bought candy from a vendor, the six sticky globules impaled on a sharpened sliver of bamboo. The stall-owner’s young daughter handed the stick to him, a smile on her small face. Leaf Shakes the Wind smiled in return. As her father turned to greet another customer, Leaf pulled the first bit of candy from the stick and with expert precision flicked it into the girl’s mouth. He winked at her conspiratorially, and her surprised expression became another smile, this one threatening to split her face in half.

Continuing through the crowd, Leaf munched contentedly on the candy, stopping here to admire an expertly-dyed silk sash, there to watch a shadow-puppet theatre re-enacting the Battle of Breaking Iron for a delighted crowd. Having finished half of the sweets, Leaf casually tossed the skewer behind him, burying the bit of wood several inches into a building three feet away. His head a hair’s breadth away from the point of impact, a startled young man froze and then, scowling, re-sheathed his half-drawn knife.

Leaf briefly glanced back over his shoulder after the projectile and smiled. “You got the closest of anyone today, Subaru. Congratulations. The candy is your reward.” Without another look, Leaf Shakes the Wind strolled off again into the crowd, laughing softly to himself. “I love the Spring Market.”

Rivers Between Us

Someone touched River’s shoulder, from behind. He leapt onto the table before him, his bare feet spread wide as he adopted the Snake stance and spread his forefinger and index finger on his right hand wide. “Ha Taa!” He shouted and stamped one foot while waving his arms vigorously in the serpentine evasion.

Marta did her best to suppress a laugh. “Are you always this excitable while you’re studying?”

Rivers frowned and peered about himself. Of the three folding servants in the room, two of them stood and watched with apparent disinterest, while the third paused for a moment, then dropped into a ridiculous impression of a martial arts stance. The sorcerer coughed and stepped off the table.

“I was startled… I… this is a very tricky spell and if I get it wrong… wait… why are you dressed up? How did you get here?”

Marta was in fact dressed in a red silk kimono with embroidered blue blossoms, a high collar, and long sleeves. Her hair was carefully coifed in a festive red hat with a spray of plum blossoms over her left ear. She pouted and leaned over his chair. “You promised! You promised me three months ago that you would take me to the Spring Market!”

---

The first Spring Market in God Crossing was, to be certain, a bit larger than expected. With the establishment of the new School happening in just a week, a mild winter, and a surprisingly strong guild presence, the festival ended up taking up three times as much space as expected. It sprawled across the Eye of Hiparkes, filling the roadsides with colorful booths painted in vibrant reds and blues. The valley was filled with the sound of the thundering hooves from dawn till dusk, and at night the light of the campfires made a flickering sea of the valley floor.

Rivers walked between Marta and Storm of Amber, with Sweet Voice of Brass and Glory at his side, flanked by Root of the East, Obsidian Vigil, the folding servant Envious Prudence, the clockwork servitor Passionate Abstention, and Su Jiao of the The Qinglong Alliance as they moved through the stalls and the corrals. They made a curious party, turning heads everywhere they passed as the sorcerer’s sister tried on jewelry, asking the inhuman assistants for their opinion, and Storm of Amber commented on the quality of the horseflesh they passed.

Rivers tried his best appear interested in the trinkets and baubles on display, but the half-learned spell was always flickering just behind his eyelids. Everywhere he turned he had trouble seeing things for what they actually were, instead envisioning them for what they might be. How many of these men and women would be able to stand against a zombie horde is close formation? That spear the merchant was trying to fob off would be greatly improved by simply adding a small counterweight to the base of its shaft, and that boy leading horses from the paddock would make a fine amalgam in three years if his natural strength were coupled with an infusion of essence. Rivers passed a hand over his eyes and stopped where he was, standing in the middle of the street.

Envious Prudence was instantly at his side. “Your lordship, perhaps you’d prefer that I construct for you a palanquin before you continued? Have you grown weary?”

Marta jogged up as she heard this (incidentally knocking the automaton aside in the process). “Are you all right? You’re not sick again, are you?”

“No, no… it’s just… I’ve been inside a little too long, that’s all. It’s nothing.”

“Of course you have!” Storm turned to him from across the street and frowned down at the craftsman. “When Spring comes to Marukan, even the dead must ride. This is a true saying! What you need, my friend, is a horse.”

Rivers smiled weakly. “I can summon steeds of azure essence that run faster than any horse of flesh and bone. I have a steel bird than can fly higher than even your vaunted friend can leap with essence infusion. I hardly need a horse, I should think.”

Marta looked at him seriously. “You don’t get a horse because you need to go somewhere, little brother, any more than you have a sister so she can wash your clothes. Come on!”

Storm of Amber

"How about this one?" The Sweet Voice of Brass and Glory held up a rice-paper hanging scroll.

Storm of Amber frowned doubtfully. "You think so?"

"Well, tell me why not."

"The brush work is a little..." The Exalt made an empty gesture towards the scroll. "sloppy, isn't it?"

The goddess rolled her eyes. "It's supposed to look like that; it's artistic."

"The character for 'spring' is drawn wrong."

"Who are you to judge?" Sweet Brass nudged Storm with her elbow. "You can't read Old Realm."

Storm of Amber turned his back to the merchant behind the stall, who eyed the pair with apprehensive hope. "In this, I am clearly not alone."

"Well, I like it," the goddess said, folding her arms.

"What's wrong with another shanshui. There was one at the stall a row back that was nice."

Five minutes later, the pair was walking through the market again, and Storm of Amber had a rice-paper hanging scroll tucked under his arm. They waved to those they knew and paused to bow to those who showed them reverence. As they walked away from the latest such shepherd, Sweet Brass pinched Storm's side. She smiled when the Exalt twitched. "You're still not used to it."

"Heaven forbid I ever get used to your iron nails in my flesh."

The goddess laughed. "I meant the worship."

"It's a challenge to become a god, I think. Far easier to be born to it."

"Mmm." Sweet Brass linked her arm with Storm of Amber's and they walked in silence for a while. At length, she said "I have friends still, beneath the dome of Heaven. Everywhere, there is talk."

"About us?"

The goddess nodded.

"What do they say?"

"They think you are too different from them. Gods are conservative, by nature, and have trouble accepting new ideas. I don't think they approve of what we do here."

Storm of Amber stopped walking. "Will they come to break us apart?"

"I don't think so." Sweet Brass shook her head. "But they would keep a closer eye on you and your circle."

"My... circle?"

"Of course. You are the leaders. Our work here would collapse without you."

"Our... work. Yes." Storm nodded. "Our work."

"What did you think I was talking about?"

"Nothing." Storm smiled. "What are their plans?"

Sweet Brass looked to the ground. "I think they mean to hire me again; I will become their Assistant Eastern Goddess of War for The Marukan Alliance or some such, responsible for filing reports on what you do."

"Will you leave?"

The goddess smiled. "The closer I am to you, and the more involved in what you do, the more accurate my reports. I'm not going anywhere."

"Good." The Exalt touched his fingers to her throat and frowned. "Though a job means a leash around your neck."

"A leash to which you hold the chain. This job proves what I said when first we met; glory and honor in Heaven by service to your Mandate." Sweet Brass wrapped a hand through Storm's arm and the pair started walking again, losing themselves amidst the brightly colored stalls of the spring market. "And I'll never give up your secrets. Do you trust me in that?"

"I trust you in everything." Storm of Amber shook the rice-paper scroll under his arm and smiled. "Except your taste in art."

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Heaven's Mandate