Finding a guard took longer than it should have. It was almost as if they were hiding. As if they didn't want to be found and didn't want to help. Still, determined searching led Shirong to the back part of the building, where the inn's employees stayed. His good fortune helped, too, leading him straight to a big pair guarding an ornate door.
"I could just start yelling the house down," he told them when they ignored his requests for help. "You don't really want the inn to get a reputation for ignoring thieves."
That got attention and not just from the guards. The person in the room they protected opened the door, her glare hard and impatient. Not unlike Shun Shixiong's when he was out of sorts with Shirong's ignorance. "Do you think you can extort concessions from this house by pretending you've been robbed?"
"Respect, ma'am, but I'm not pretending. My Shixiong captured a man sneaking into our rooms. All we need is for someone to take charge of him."
Her expression changed. A brief flash of something unreadable, followed by warm concern. "Apologies, youngster. This owner has had to deal with liars who claim theft and seek recompense for what has not happened. If you have captured a thief that is a different story altogether." She turned her attention on one of the guards, a tall woman dressed in simple robes. "Go with the boy. See who intruded on him and his Shixiong."
"This one obeys, Young Mistress Lu."
Shirong bowed, cupping his hands before him. "Thank you, ma'am." Again that flash of emotion, this time focused on his fingers. "Is... ah... is something wrong?"
"A handsome ring that. May I ask where you came by it?"
Lying wasn't a thing Shirong did well and he didn't try now. "We were attacked by bandits some days ago. They lost."
She gazed at him, expression shifting from disbelief to puzzlement to an odd, rueful, acceptance. His honesty received honesty in return. "That ring and everything in it belonged to my father."
Oh. Damn. It'd been one thing when the ring was spoils in a fight with bandits. But now he knew it had an owner. "I'll give it back, then. I'm not a thief."
She sniffed. "It isn't that easy. You're a cultivationist. Don't you recognize a soul-bound ring when you see one? And don't you dare tell me you haven't bound it. It's obvious you have."
At the time it'd seemed the thing to do. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."
"I feel as if you're honest. Nor can I blame you for whatever happened to my father. But I want his body. Since you're the only clue I have to his death, I expect you to help."
Shirong wasn't at all surprised. It was yet another distraction in a growing pile of distractions, of course, and he had only one defense against it. "I can't make promises for myself, ma'am. My Shixiong and I have other commitments, including the auction tomorrow. But I'll be happy to pass the request on to him and let him decide how we should handle this. After the auction."
From Young Mistress Lu's expression she didn't like his refusal to act immediately. Still, she sighed. "Very well, young disciple. But I will have my say, never doubt it."
Looking at her stubborn features and listening to her determined voice, he knew she was telling nothing but the truth.
#
"And you just blurted it out, did you?"
Shirong flushed at his Shixiong's reaction. "It didn't seem like a good idea to lie about it. She obviously recognized the ring."
By this time the guard had taken the servant off to be dealt with. Hopefully not too roughly, even though - from the sound of it - he'd meant to kill Shirong so he could get the ring back. He'd believed Shirong had murdered his master, after all.
Mo Qingshe stretched. Rubbed at her temples. "I've heard traveling with the Chosen One is an exercise in frustration. It seems it's true. And frankly, I wish you'd let me have a turn at that little bastard. I'll teach him to use realgar on me."
They both ignored her complaints, mostly because she'd been threatening variations of the same theme for some time now. "I told her it was up to you. You being in charge." At Shun Shixiong's startled expression, Shirong added, "You said it earlier. I'm not even an adult. Besides, I don't know nearly enough about the world to handle something like this."
Even old Shirong would have had trouble with finding a dead man's body. He'd grown up in the sect, with no experience at all in the outside world. Indeed, if Shirong hadn't watched so many old martial arts movies, he likely wouldn't have recognized the danger of lying to someone like Young Mistress Lu.
Besides, a stolen ring, no matter how fairly come by, was sure to cause trouble with the previous owner's family. There was no doubt in his mind trying to hide the truth would have led to a vendetta against the two of them. Better to have it out in the open. It wasn't as if he wanted or needed the ring after all. Hell, he couldn't use most of the things in it yet. Except for the money and having won that bet, he now had far more than he knew what to do with.
"The servant said they hadn't announced Master Lu's disappearance yet. No doubt it'd affect the auction if they did. Possibly put it in danger."
"But why would it?"
From Shun Shixiong's expression that was another of those stupid questions. Except there didn't seem to be a reason why an auction would require a specific person to run it. "What kind of thing could go wrong, if the auction's Master isn't there?"
"Large auctions are run inside a soul space; it's similar to a spatial ring, only a great deal larger. Such places require a powerful cultivator to maintain."
Soul space? Pocket dimension? The distinction wasn't at all clear. It also wasn't important. Visiting someone's soul space didn't seem like the best of ideas to him. "But what happens when the cultivator maintaining it dies? Or if some other cultivator damages them?"
Shun Shixiong sighed. "There's no doubt the auction space has been connected to more than one person. Nor does it disappear if the cultivator who created it dies. It just gets passed on to the next powerful cultivator connected to it."
Though it still didn't sound like a good or safe idea, Shirong didn't argue the point any further. "If that's the case, why would it be dangerous?"
"If there's only one owner the space might become unstable. In which case all connections to the real world will be lost."
Now Shirong really didn't want to go to the auction, given its last owner was apparently dead. He didn't say so, knowing what a coward Shun Shixiong would think him. Instead he inclined his head. Murmured, "Then we can only hope Young Mistress Lu has found someone to help her share the burden."
Because he didn't want to find out where one went if one remained within an unstable pocket dimension when everything went belly up.
#
The auction site was easily reached but only opened for short periods of time each day. That meant they had to be up early to give them time to eat and dress for the occasion. Unaccustomed to any sort of finery, Shirong couldn't fidgeting. The formal robe Shun Shixiong supplied him was plain and undecorated but it was made of heavy silk and stiff with padding. At least he didn't have to wear the heavy metal hairpiece his Shixiong did.
It was an elaborate decoration, too. Ordinarily Shun Shixiong contented himself with a simple wooden tube carved with stylized flowers. His formal hairpiece was larger and required more effort to get all his hair into smoothly. To Shirong's surprised pleasure, Shun Shixiong allowed him to assist the process, despite knowing how Shirong felt towards him.
As they headed for the chamber where the auction site's entrance would appear, Shirong tried not to think too hard or too longingly about the way Shun Shixiong's hair had felt in his fingers. He really was becoming ridiculously fond of the older boy. Not that he dared do anything about it. Shun Shixiong's claim that he was too young was ridiculous. The fact that they were trapped in that nonsensical prophecy, however, remained an insurmountable barrier.
Shaking off his thoughts, he followed behind his Shixiong, aware of Mo Qingshe close behind him. Somewhere in the crowd he could hear Young Master Liang Ren laughing and joking with Tong Si. He noticed a familiar face towards the back of the crowd, Priest Housu. She smiled serenely at him but didn't approach. Either she didn't want to have their association known or she didn't want to push her way through the crowd.
The young woman Shirong had met the night before stepped up on the landing at the far end of the room. "Ladies and gentlemen, this unworthy daughter has been asked to see to this month's auction. Please excuse any mistakes."
A polite murmur, followed by Young Mistress Lu drawing a crimson silk curtain from a bronze mirror. "The time has come for the way to open," she said politely. "Food and drink will be available in the outer hall of the auction house. Your seats are determined by your invitation cards. Please present them to the ushers when you enter the main hall."
The crowd moved slowly forward, each person stepping through the bronze-appearing surface of the mirror and disappearing. At last it was their turn and Shirong followed behind Shun Shixiong. He hesitated at the threshold, aware he was being foolish. If all those others could do this, he could.
"Better hurry. I doubt Young Master Shun will appreciate your cowardice."
Mo Qingshe was all too right. Shirong moved, feeling warmth wash over him as his vision darkened, then brightened again. He blinked. Blinked again. This was the auction house? It was far too ornate. Gold pillars with carved dragons. A floor of fitted and beautifully polished wood. Curtains and hangings, covered in brilliant brocade. Soldiers, dressed in armor that appeared to be carved from the finest jade, animal masks concealing their faces and revealing strangely colored eyes.
Dozens of young men and women in fine clothes stood in wait for him. Servants of some sort, he thought, trying to puzzle out where all the other guests were. And there, at the far end of the hall, a dais with a single huge gold chair. A man sat there, dressed in what appeared to be pure gold, his face half-hidden by strand after strand of delicate gold beads hanging from a familiar flat cap. Wasn't that the sort of thing kings and emperors wore in those period dramas?
Shirong swallowed. Looked around more carefully and realized he was quite alone. His Shixiong was gone. Mo Qingshe was gone. And every instinct told him he was not where he was supposed to be.
A voice spoke. Deep. Sonorous. Forbidding. "The Chosen One has come. All hail. All hail. All hail."
Fighting back a sinking feeling, knowing his fate was trying to drag him up once more, Shirong went to his knees. "This humble one offers greetings."
He didn't want what was offered. Didn't want anything to do with that nonsense prophecy. But he also knew what happened to poor fools who forgot their manners in the court of the Heavenly Emperor.
Just as he bowed, he felt something slam into him from above.
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The author has something to say:
Shirong: Honesty is the best policy.
Shun: Would you still say that when they throw you in jail?