From the Editor:

People disappear in Pearl City. Not every day, but often enough to make you think twice before volunteering to lead the next rally demanding a cut in agricultural taxes. But actually there are two very different kinds of disappearances:
The voluntary kind
The not-voluntary kind

I will tell you a little about Moonface and disappearances.

Unfortunately, Moonface came into this life without any discernable talents. And very little attention. When the tiny squalling thing was handed to his mother for the first time she reacted with a vague surprise, as if to say “so that’s what’s been ailing me…”

His father ran a shop in their front room printing up handbills. The story goes that Moonface was born in the middle of a rather vigorous political upheaval, and his parents were so busy with their wood blocks, carving knives and powdered ink that they forgot to name him. Until he was a toddler.

“His face is round as the moon,” his mother vaguely remarked once while simultaneously trying to remember where to put the final stroke on the character “despot”. And the name stuck. (”Moonface” that is – thank the stars.)

One busy day not long after (just as he was getting used to having a name), Moonface’s rather miserable life changed forever. The Court of Censors’ Enforcement Arm (or the “Takers” as they are more commonly known) marched into the print shop, bundled his parents into a cart together with the tools of their trade, and drove off.

This is one kind of disappearance.

To continue our story, the child was left alone. The Takers had taken one look at the little squalling thing and decided he wasn’t worth it. Many missed meals later the young Moonface fell into a hole while foraging for stale prawn crackers in an alleyway.

And that, Dear Reader, brings us to the other kind of disappearance. Moonface was discovered, sprawled out on the stone floors of the Underground City, by martial genius Broken Talon and his small but growing gang of outlaws.

Twenty years passed. A lot changed, but not much advanced. That would change. Eventually.

//Oriole Burdee

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The Story Begins:

Long Spring Gets a Short Break

There are natural leaders, and then there are the rest of us. But sometimes Leadership reaches into the reluctant masses with its greedy fingers and plucks out a poor soul. This poor soul must learn to cope

Long Spring coped by seizing little moments of privacy – remarkably hard to come by ever since the rebels moved camp from the Underground City up into the grottoes of God’s Teeth.

Men, women and children – all were tired from tunneling, ready to pick a fight over sleeping space, and hungry as a fasting ascetic. Indeed, the little dramas and complaints were like mayflies in the spring – flying thick and making a tremendous racket.

But on this particular day, Long Spring had found his moment and was clinging to it. Here is our story:

Early afternoon light shafted in through a perfectly round hole in the ceiling of Serpent’s Solarium. The rays glanced off the mica walls – multiplying and reflecting again until the whole of the vast hall was illuminated with a golden glow.

Long Spring sat cross-legged in a shallow recess, breathing in the scent of sunshine. A thick book lay open on his lap, a book he was too weary to read in any meaningful way. In fact, he hadn’t pushed past the opening paragraph:

“The fall of the North Kingdom’s Transcendent Dynasty was far from inevitable. In fact, it can be traced to a very small event – the replacement of notable court sorcerer Chimera with the younger and more ambitious novice Wet Terrapin. The upstart drove from office many courtiers of talent and wisdom, precipitating the painful decline of what had been a long and glorious reign.”

There followed a dizzying mishmash of names and dates…which went on for 958 pages.

Reading history tomes (even those of a rival kingdom) was…worthy. But so much concentration was required to wade through worthy books, hoping you were becoming a worthier person by the page. And then, after a hundred years and a thousand books (when you were finally worthy through and through), you passed into the World of Spirits. Where the machinations of a scheming sorcerer were as relevant as rain clouds at the bottom of the sea. Sometimes it seemed like a bad investment.

But poetry – that was joy, that was fulfillment. Even if you weren’t much good at it. Being good at it wasn’t the point. Long Spring closed his eyes and mentally picked up a fine calligraphy brush.

Sister Warrior lay down your sword
Dry your eyes with a zither’s chord
Wash your feet with a poem’s strain
Brush your –

“Ahem, pardon me,” a small but self-important voice piped up from the back of the recess. “We are dealing with a small…issue at the Front Gate. And I can’t find Broken Talon.”

Coriander stood at attention, earnest eyes focused and earnest pigtails straight. A muffled thumping noise drifted in from the passageway behind.

“That is because Cat is paying us a visit.” Long Spring closed A Fully Comprehensive History of the North Kingdom, With Many Factual Facts. “We have precious little to give him, let’s hope we still have our souls by the close of the day.”

He followed Coriander’s swinging pigtails through the grottoes’ worn catacombs. Their footsteps struck a sharp note on the ancient stone, clack-ety clack echoing down a hundred twisted tunnels in the limestone hills.

It is fate to be born under a noon-day sun, and yet spend most of your life underground. This last move from the Underground City up into the Grottoes – it seemed as though they had merely swapped one set of tunnels for another. No real advancement of purpose.

Someone should be worried about that, and it looks like it’s me, Long Spring thought. He squeezed the thick book. History, show us the way! (But try to be snappish about it).

Showdown in the Watch Room

Moonface was standing on duty in the watch room. It was more like a check point than anything – dominated by a set of rough-hewn doors that could flatten a man, or keep out a battalion.

There were rumors the Guard were being fed foul rations until they had delivered “Concrete Results on Tracing the Rats to Their New Nest”. So most times the Front Gate was shut. And just now it was shut firmly on a very vigorous knocker.

The boom boom boom was deafening, but Moonface was on duty and he didn’t flinch. His eyes looked vaguely bewildered, but his hands were balled up in a way that said “stubborn”.

He drew up to attention when he saw Long Spring. “There’s a foreigner out there, sir, and I’m not letting him in unless and until we can or can’t figure whether he does or doesn’t have henchmen in the hills, lying in wait.”

Long Spring ignored the mangled logic (and grammar), reached past him to open a small iron-grated window cut into one of the doors.

And there was Battle Axe – her face pressed up against the opening, anxious and…floury, it seemed.

“Long Spring!! Why is this half-wit keeping us out? Open the door at once, brother. Fire Fade took an arrow and needs it pulled out. At once.”

A small but keenly interested crowd was trickling into the watch room, drawn by the commotion (and ready to pass judgment on anybody and anything).

“Open it up, Moonface.” The printer’s son drew back the heavy iron secure, and the two men heaved a groaning door open. There was a collective gasp as the crowd caught sight of the delicate Fire Fade – in the arms of a strange, strange man.

Long Spring motioned sharply to Moonface. “Fetch Broken Talon, and quick! Tell him we need his help with an arrow.”

But he was rooted to the spot, eyes vague and fists balled. “Not sure where he is, sir, and I may or may not be able to find him – ”

“Now!”  Long Spring bellowed, shoving him towards the corridor. “And you, Battle Axe, step aside or come in. Find your sister a place to lie down.” He scanned the crowd, “I need someone to help carry –“

“No! I don’t want her jostled. Just let him pass, he’s harmless.”

“We don’t know him, sister, and we are in a rather vulnerable position right now –“

”My name is Emery.” The foreigner’s wide stance was aggressive, but he cradled Fire Fade gently as a newborn babe.

Battle Axe sucked in her cheeks. “Actually, it’s Inkstone.”

Long Spring looked at him then. “Well, I can’t place the name but your pronunciation says you’re a northerner.”

Silence fell on the watch room as the crowd waited for his reply. Inkstone’s stance took on a touch more aggression. “I am, yes.”

“Do you mean us harm?”

“I don’t, no.”

Fire Fade stirred in his arms, and let out a quiet moan. The onlookers clucked and shook their heads. Most of the cluckers and head-shakers were moved by pity. But a handful were happily passing judgment on Fire Fade and her loose ways, allowing herself to be…grasped in that manner by a strange stranger from the north!

Long Spring held out A Fully Comprehensive History of the North Kingdom, With Many Factual Facts. “Do you know this book?”

“Of course.” Inkstone said. “It is the capstone achievement of our inimitable historian String Beard.”

“Take it, and swear on it you mean us no harm.”

After another pause, and with the crowd watching wide-eyed, Inkstone shifted Fire Fade’s weight to free his right hand. He grasped the book and said, “I swear on the history of my forefathers that I mean you no harm.”

Someone applauded. A creaky voice from the back called out, “go home!” The crowd tittered.

But Long Spring nodded, gracious. “You are welcome here, Emery.”

“It’s Inkstone,” Battle Axe said loudly.

And that is how Emery Inkstone entered the grottoes (followed by a stream of curt directions from Battle Axe on how to hold her sister properly).

The tenacious onlookers trailed after them down the corridor. Long Spring rubbed his eyes and headed back to his quiet time. He could hear Coriander trotting trimly beside him.

“Tell Broken Talon to take Moonface off watch, permanently. He isn’t fit for it. Make sure he gets signed up with whoever is building the kitchens.”

“Ahem. My personal view, sir, in relation to both Moonface and the Northerner, is that we are getting a little unwieldy in our size. There are 72 of us now (not including the hermits). Don’t you think it is time we start employing some, uh, discernment in accepting new recruits?”

Long Spring looked at the tight plait of Coriander’s pigtails. It was the neat work of a very confident person, confident enough to border on smug. “We are not the Imperial Court, and this is not a civil service examination. Whoever comes to us in good faith, we take. We take them all.”

Coriander saluted and trotted off, pigtails swinging in perfect rhythm.

Long Spring found his shallow recess, sat down cross-legged to look out over Serpent’s Solarium. A little breeze picked up and whistled through the glittering cavern with a soothing hiss.

Sister Warrior lay down your sword
Dry your eyes with a zither’s chord
Wash your feet with a poem’s strain
Brush your hair with my heart’s refrain.

He closed his eyes, and drifted off.

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Special thanks to Cat, who is a mine of information about the peculiar habits of the ancient gods. It was Cat who told me about one particular god who needed privacy and sunlight. On occasion his skin would start to itch, and he found that he could no longer bear sitting in court with his fellow gods. So he carved a vast sunning room for himself in the karst hills just north of the city  – a cavernous place with one round hole at the top to let the light in, and set it reflecting off the mineral walls. Here he would shed his man-skin, and shift back to his original shape. Here he could be his true self, bathed in a glittering glow and lulled by the hiss of the winds through Serpent’s Solarium.

Tune in next week to see how Battle Axe deals with some hard news.

//Oriole Burdee