Fever Blood

Chapter 121: Imprisoned

***

The Imperial official stepped through the doorway, entering sunlight again. It was a refreshing change from the chamber that held the tax records. That was a place dominated by order and exactness, organized perfectly. He had looked over the tax records, found everything summarily in order, and moved on.

He walked through the magistrate's garden. "Hwa." He didn't have to address him as a magistrate. One didn't need to afford subordinates that luxury.

A servant appeared. "This way sir," he said, and led the official through a thicket of bamboo, with a carefully concealed pathway lost amid the shoots, so that to a casual observer, there was no jarring gap to distract the eye. Whoever had cultivated this garden had excellent taste.

He strode through the bamboo and stopped at a small pond, still and reflective, as if a mirror had been set into the ground. Was it not for the koi swimming beneath the glassy surface, and for a few insects causing tiny ripples, it could have been a mirror.

Magistrate Hwa sat on a couch on the side of the pond, and despite his lavish (and in the official's own opinion, garish) robes, his corpulence threatened to spill over the couch. The official knew it was a sign of wealth, that gluttony was a lifestyle this man could afford, and that his fat was to symbolize prosperity, but there was still a primal sense of disgust.

"Yes, sir?" Magistrate Hwa asked. "Is something out of order?"

"No, you keep immaculate records," the official said. "It is time to inspect your tribute to the Emperor. His birth festival approaches, and I am to inspect his gifts."

"Ah. I have the feeling the Emperor will like this gift, sir." The magistrate clapped his hands, and a servant rushed over. He whispered something in the servant's ear, and the servant nodded and disappeared into the bamboo. The official liked this small isolation, and decided to recommend this to the gardener at the Imperial palace.

The servant returned with a box. "I understand that the Emperor gets many weapons, sir, but this one is of exceptional quality." The magistrate gestured to the servant, who opened the box.

Inside was a gleaming straight blade, with a dragon emblazoned on it. It was of exceptional quality, the official saw, and had a nice balance to it. He lifted the sword from the box and unsheathed it. "It is fine indeed," the official said. He made a few test slices through the air. "Excellent indeed. One little thing." He turned, and with that turn, he landed a diagonal slash across the bamboo.

It remained unchanged, it seemed, as the official got out of the way. And then, the stalks tipped over and crashed into the pond, shattering the mirror stillness and whipping the koi into a frenzy as their tranquil environment was abruptly disturbed.

"The words on this blade, did you recognize them?" the official asked, staring at the dragon curling its way up the blade, the etching seeming alive.

"No. I assumed the characters were a more southern script," the magistrate said.

"Where did you get this blade?" the official asked.

"A prisoner had it in his possession." The magistrate stared at the official. "Why?"

"The words are from Ten-Zuan. To the north. You would seek to insult the Emperor by giving him a sword from the one nation neither he, nor his father, nor his father's father, could conquer?" The official sighed. Magistrate Hwa was acting like he wanted to get himself killed. "What was the prisoner's crime?"

"Blaspheming the Authority of Heaven."

"Not what he was charged with after you threw him into a cell. What did he do?"

"Does it matter?" the magistrate asked, rising slightly off the couch. "It is in my authority to imprison him!"

"I'll ask again," the official said. "What. Did. He. Do?"

"He accused me of being diseased, sir." The official arched an eyebrow. "He poked my stomach and asked what disease provoked this."

The official groaned. "Hwa, your vanity will be the end of you." He grabbed the sheath of the sword, and marched off. "Servant, lead me to the dungeons!"

A servant appeared and led the official out the bamboo thicket, away from a fuming Hwa. The servant led him through some corridors, and eventually down a flight of stairs into the dungeon. "How many prisoners do we have here?" the official asked the servant.

"I believe only one, sir," the servant said.

"Thank you, you've been helpful." The servant bowed and retreated.

The official knocked at the only door that voices came from, although they were too indistinct to make out words. "By order of the Emperor, I demand entrance."

The door opened, and the official stared at a guard. Had the guard been weeping? "Please, stay outside the door. I would speak to the prisoner alone." The guard nodded, sniffed, and stood to the side of the door.

The official entered the cell and stared at the prisoner. "Never thought I'd see one of your kind," he said. A Dragonblessed, real and walking. "Anyway, I have come to free you."

"Oh?" the prisoner said.

"Yes. You see, you were charged with Blaspheming the Authority of Heaven. That, however, requires you to have denounced the magistrate's power, not merely call him fat."

"I tried to say I had never seen someone who... looked like that before," the prisoner said, "but no one listened."

"He looks like a cow, we know," the official said.

"No." The prisoner shook his head. "Where I'm from, cows are much more lean." The magistrate chuckled. "But why free me?"

"You're imprisoned under false charges. Someone could use you to undermine the magistrate and claim he was working outside the auspices of Heaven and Heaven's virtues. And since Magistrate Hwa is useful to the Emperor, we would rather not have that happen."

"Ah. So I am a casualty of fortune then?" the prisoner asked.

"Yes. He was going to give your sword to the Emperor as a gift." The prisoner's eyes went wide. "Don't worry. That isn't happening. It would be an insult, seeing as it came from the one country that never could have been conquered by the Qin." He smiled, but that expression soured. "I'll arrange for you to be released, but I don't want to see you."

The prisoner nodded. "You won't."

"Good." The official said. "Leave the town as soon as you can. There's nothing for you here."

With that, the official left the room. He had papers to sign and a magistrate to yell at, and a prisoner who wouldn't amount to much wasn't important enough to prevent him from doing that.