Page 20 of The Cinders
Wenming led them to the cedar bench and lowered himself with a grunt.He’d not let go of Xian’s hand, who joined him in sitting.The daoshi’s hand was warm and thick-knuckled.‘You work too hard, dear boy.’
Wenming must have been tired too, or perhaps under the influence of too much rice wine, for he only addressed Xian with such informality when not fully in charge of his faculties.
‘It is my honour to serve as my guardians’ dictate,’ Xian said, trying gently to extricate himself from the priest’s grasp.‘They have provided me with a home for many years.’
Wenming scoffed.‘Because they are paid well to do so.And they have hardly provided a home.A roof over your head yes, but a home?No.Don’t think my eyes are too blind to see.It suits me well for people to think me doddery, that is all.’
Xian bit his bottom lip, glancing at the door.Such talk was dangerous, especially as the Taoists were losing favour with the Imperial Palace.‘Now then, daozhang, we shall speak of such things no more.Rest here, and I’ll set to building the fire before the night’s coolness takes hold.’
The daoshi gave Xian a most curious look, one he struggled to determine.Pity was there, for certain, but a hint of something stronger, too.
‘They dishonour you, and you do nothing to deserve it,’ the old man said in a loud attempt at a whisper.‘I pray for you, every day, and I know the goddess hears me.She sees what I see.’He moved his hand as though to touch Xian but evidently thought better of it, leaving it raised in the space between them, trembling.‘A kind soul lies beneath those scars, and your goodness shall be rewarded.Just as the souls of the wicked shall be punished.’
Xian gave him a wan smile.‘I suppose a journey to Manhao could be a reward, for it will remove me from this place a while.’
‘Manhao?’He scowled.‘Impure place.Why are you being sent there?’
Xian hesitated.‘To dance for them, a gift from the marchioness, for the New Year.’
‘She is not one for gift-giving if there’s nothing for her in return.’
‘It is part of the latest agreement with Manhao’s Sub-Prefect, I am told.A gesture of goodwill, most likely.’
Wenming’s eyes held doubt beneath their drooping lids.‘Who will go with you?’
‘I don’t know, she did not say.’Likely no one, he did not have any attendants of his own.Xian swallowed at the thought of that long journey spent with the captain.
The daoshi spat.‘Take care of yourself, boy.You’ll be set amongst those who value gold over the gods.Know yourself, and don’t let them drift you from your truth.Let us pray to the goddess, you’ll need her protection I fear.’
Xian shared that fear.‘Let me set the fire first.’
Leaving the old man to rest, Xian worked quickly to set the kindling in the firebox.He paused, as he always did, before lighting the fire; bracing himself for the ghosts of a violent past to appear; the fire engulfing his mother’s rooms, eating at wood and bamboo like a starved monster.He liked to believe he recalled no details.But his dreams were not always so accommodating.They told stories he did not wish to hear; of black shadows moving behind the sliding doors, of whispers heard before everything turned bright orange and yellow; as though the sun had crashed into the room.His mother screamed for him, then screamed for help that only came after she’d been silenced forever.
He blew against the fledgling flame softly, patiently, until it brightened and caught.He sat back on his heels, watching until he was certain there was strength in the flicker amongst the wood and dry grass.
Xian rose to his feet, dusting off his qun, the skirt thankfully devoid of any more stains.He returned to where the daoshi now sat on his knees on the floor before the statue, eyes closed, a half-smile on his lips.‘Your dance was a vision.’
‘I didn’t see you at the ceremony, daozhang.’
‘Better to stay invisible at these things.Less things said, more to be heard.’His eyes opened, finding Xian at once.‘You are blessed indeed.And there is nothing unnatural about such talent, do not mind what they say.If the gods see fit to put magick in your feet, who are we to fear it?’
Xian offered no reply, wary of where such talk might take them.
‘Shall we pray?’he asked, finding his place on the mat beside the daoshi.
‘Let us pray.’
They bowed in supplication, touching noses to the reed matting, and rising again; seven times in total before they settled again on their knees; eyes closed, hands pressed palm to palm, thumbs touching at their chests.
It was only when Xian sat in the darkness behind his closed lids he realised how tired he truly was.He settled into a meditative state, listening to the low hum of the daoshi’s voice as he recited his prayers.He must have dozed off because a sudden hiss from the old man nearly had him leaping out of his skin.
‘You can’t be in here.’Wenming’s whisper might have well have been a shout.‘You’ll wake his highness, go on with you.’
He grunted as he hurried to his feet, moving with such speed Xian was still blinking his eyes open.
‘Your shouting has woken him up just fine, daozhang.’
Now Xian jerked to attention.He rocked forward on his knees, wincing at a dull ache, and rose to his feet.