Fall of the Blue Spirit - pt.8

VIII.  Of Yǎn-sui and Jiān: Searching

“Well… that’s quite a climb."  Jiān craned her neck up and squinted against the noon-day sun to scan the crest of the craggy, dun-colored cliff that towered over them.

“It was quite a fall, as well,” Yǎn-sui commented, although his answer did not come out as sharply as he intended.  ’By the Abyss, that goddess was a good catch!  Even without the crack in my horn, I wouldn't have survived the fall from that height.’

“Have fun with it!”

Yǎn-sui nearly suffered whiplash as he jerked his attention from the precipice to his master.  “What?”

Jiān was already standing on the raft.  “Try not to fall off the cliff going up or coming back down – you’ll be harder to fix up, and I’d rather not have to go through that again,” she explained cheerfully.  “But take all the time you need.”

“… You’re not coming with me?”  As soon as the words escaped his lips, Yǎn-sui felt like turning around and whacking his brow against the cliff-face several times.  ’She just gave you the freedom to escape her lunacy, and you go and make it sound like you actually want her along?!’

Tilting her head in a birdlike gesture of bemusement, Jiān answered primly, “I don’t want to intrude on your… respects.  Your friend was a warrior as well, and since I apparently don’t understand a warrior’s way, it would not be proper for me to accompany you.  Besides,” here she let loose a rueful chuckle, “I know I weigh significantly more than a wind spirit – you had enough trouble taking me down the other cliffs, I don’t want to burden you any more than I have to.”

“You don’t weigh that much – hardly more than a feather,” Yǎn-sui rejoined, bristling at the slight to his physical prowess.  “It’s your shrieking that I couldn’t bear.”  ‘Why am I still trying to convince her to come with me?’

Jiān laughed at his answer, and wafted the raft away from the bank.  “Thank you for the compliment, but no – I think this is something best left between you and your friend!  I have business to attend to in that village there,” she extended her hand downstream, toward the middle of the broad river, to a human village that huddled on a sprawling near-derelict jumble of docks and platforms stilted above the deceptively calm surface.  “I’ll keep an eye out.”

“I shall have to swim out there to meet up with you,” Yǎn-sui pointed out.  He was not fond of water on principle; the ride down the river, even with Jiān’s expert handling, had been slow torture for him, certain as he was that the raft would disintegrate under his claws. It was undignified that he, Agni’s great and feared demon general, had had to crouch at the feet of a human chit like a paranoid cat!

“I’ll know when to come for you,” Jiān called in reply, having met up once more with the current.  “Trust me!”

“… I have a bad feeling about this,” Yǎn-sui muttered to himself.

---

The cliff was not only virtually sheer, it curved out slightly over the river, making the last stretch of Yǎn-sui’s climb particularly grueling.  He was forced to claw his way up, paw-over-paw, at times hanging out over a vast, empty space with nothing but a single fist driven into a fissure of the rock-face to keep him from falling as he searched for the next pawhold.

‘It seems Jiān is sharper than she lets on – or perhaps this was a fluke of clarity.’  Yǎn-sui tried to focus on something other than his new master: the many ways in which Pī lì would meet his fitting end, how he could possibly make his horn heal faster, how that the rogue demons Jiān had contracted him to eliminate seemed to be herding the humans toward the river for whatever reason, or even where he was going to find suitable clothing (he had shrugged out of the too-small robe as soon as Jiān was too far away for him to hear her complaints), but wide, inquisitive cobalt eyes and easy laughter and her puzzling scent and seemingly capricious mannerisms kept intruding themselves and upsetting his train of thought.

He did not understand her obvious intensely personal connection to the humans who inhabited the valley.  Even if she was human herself, she was the servant of a goddess; why should saving a pack of smelly humans from predation matter more to a divinity than the resolution of the War between Agni and Tui?  How could Jiān say that protecting life was all that mattered, when everyone knew that Life was at best temporary, easily stolen by those strong enough to do so?

Yǎn-sui was accustomed to being used as a tool: that was the sole purpose of the demon race, after all.  He was under no illusion that Agni valued him or any of his kind as anything except as particularly useful weapons for eliminating his enemies.  Of course, Yǎn-sui’s service to Agni had its own ends…

Jiān was using him as a tool as well, but she seemed to be confused on how one should treat a tool.  She did not demand or command, she asked… or pestered or scolded or laughed.  It was all very strange.  He had lived so long in the Heavenly Court that the impulsive actions and naive attitudes of an eccentric backwater nymph were downright disturbing… if she was truly what she seemed.  ‘There’s the rub of it,’ Yǎn-sui thought, swinging himself up over the crest of the cliff with a grunt of relief.  ‘If she’s actually as flighty as she acts, how can she possibly achieve her goals?  But if she is putting up a façade… what is she truly trying to accomplish?  Is she acting on Tui’s behalf, ensnaring me for whatever reason?  That village was doubtless destroyed by demons, and her grief seemed genuine… but gods and their ways are deceitful.’

Yǎn-sui shook his head as if attempting to shake off an exceptionally annoying sting-fly; if Jiān was putting up an elaborate ruse, she would doubtless betray herself and he would be ready for it.  In the meantime…

The devastation before him was rather spectacular, even to his jaded warrior’s eyes.  Not a single patch of ground in sight was not overturned, torn up, or otherwise mangled in someway. Stones had been reduced to gravel; trees were little more than splinters or mauled knots of once-mighty root systems.  He was surprised the crest he had just climbed up had not collapsed under the ferocity of his and Kujira’s battle.

It must have rained during his time of recuperation in the shrine – the dark loam of the deeply-scored earth glistened in the sunlight, steaming up with the rich purple aroma of rot and the acrid metallic tang of his own blood.  ‘Kujira spilled enough of it over this place to ensure nothing will grow here for another decade or so,’ Yǎn-sui thought with grim humor, his horn suddenly throbbing as if recalling the blow that had split it.  A pity – Yǎn-sui was never proud of the fact that the blood of his race became one of the most potent poisons in existence when exposed to the elements.  ‘And if Hui’s head somehow got doused with it…’

Best not to think overmuch about that possibility.  Yǎn-sui made his way over to where he thought he might have left Hui’s head.   ‘Farther down from the edge of the cliff – between two boulders?’  The boulders were no longer there, of course.  Yǎn-sui paced the ground, mindful of the puddles of blood-poisoned mud – it might have been his at one point, but without his horns to protect him, it could easily eat away at his skin.  He could barely remember anything of the fight, excepting pain and the flash of Tiào-fěi and the near-mad gleam of bloodlust in Kujira’s stormy eyes.  ‘Hui, where are you?’ Yǎn-sui called out, clambering his way to the top of a plowed-up mound of dirt in order to survey the battlefield.  ‘Tell me where you are, so that I might give you proper peace!’  He closed his eyes, reaching out with his other senses, searching for the unique signature of Hui’s demonic presence.  Although his erstwhile comrade had expended much of his power in order to save Yǎn-sui from Kujira’s ambush, Hui’s horns had been intact.  If he could only just resonate his own chi with them…

The stench of rotting flesh assailed his nostrils and an alien presence, faint and elusive as smoke from an extinguished candle but undeniably demon, intruded.

Tiào-fěi flashed from its scabbard, the matched blades splitting apart in mid-air as Yǎn-sui whirled, slashing them down in lighting succession.  Tiào-fěi merely sliced air; mocking laughter echoed over the ruined battlefield as Yǎn-sui stared at his assailant in horror.

“Had we been intent upon killing you, General Yǎn-sui of glorious Agni’s host,” Hui’s head, suspended in mid-air, jeered sibilantly, “you would already be dead.”  Hornless and decaying, the head swayed to-and-fro, its jaw flapping in a macabre approximation of a puppet being worked by an inexperienced master.  Though the eye-sockets gaped black and empty, Yǎn-sui knew whoever was manipulating his friend’s corpse was watching him closely.

“Who are you!?” he demanded, rage quickly supplanting dismay.  He extended his awareness, seeking the other.

“Poor little demon general,” the shrill voice that was not Hui’s cackled as the head shook from side-to-side.  The resulting wave of the reeking carrion almost made Yǎn-sui retch.  “Kujira of the Tsunami cracked your horn – you cannot find us, no matter how hard you try!”

“What do you want of me?” Yǎn-sui snarled, forcibly reining in his anger.  It was no different from this morning – he was more than half-blind to the world without his horn being whole and this new enemy knew it!

“Stay out of the way – what goes on in this valley does not concern you.  The river wench is a fool who will be dealt with,” the head replied.  “Interfere, and a crack in your horn will be the least of your worries!”

Yǎn-sui sneered.  “You strip my loyal subordinate of his horns and use his desecrated corpse in an attempt to frighten me?  If you aren’t too cowardly to face me yourself,” he sheathed Tiào-fěi and bared his fangs and claws, “come to steal my horns as well, if you dare!”

“… So be it, General Yǎn-sui,” the head intoned.  “You will regret your decision for a thousand lifetimes!”  Its maw slacked open with a sound like an exhaled breath that quickly crescendoed to the all-out roar of a mighty storm; the other presence boiled out, black and noxious, whipping around him in a screaming maelstrom of livid malevolence before it suddenly vanished.  Hui’s head, devoid of any sustaining power lingered for a moment longer before it, too, was swept away, dispersing like so many motes of ash upon the wind.

Yǎn-sui was left alone, Agni’s eye beating down from the cloudless firmament, the wasteland of battle around him devoid of all life.

“Dammit,” he growled to himself, clenching his fists.  “DAMN YOU TO THE ABYSS!!” he roared to the heavens.

---

The deceptively serene surface of the river gleamed orange and pink and purple, reflecting the colors of the sunset as perfectly as any mirror.  Jiān paused, just as she was about to skip another stone across the water.  

“Yǎn-sui!” she exclaimed, dropping the pebble as she shot to her feet, greeting the demon warrior as he parted the undergrowth leading down to the riverbank with a relieved smile.  “I was starting to get worried about you!  I came earlier since I ran all my erra… what’s wrong?”

“Hunting,” Yǎn-sui replied brusquely, belatedly pulling his slightly blood-stained robe back over his shoulders.  “You don’t really expect a bloodthirsty demon like me to survive on few cabbits, do you?”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that,” Jiān admitted, chastened.  “I’m sorry.”

Yǎn-sui brushed past her, looking for the so-called “raft” that was their mode of transportation.  “There’s something I want to look at,” he said, talking almost to himself.  “You mentioned that that fishing village was the first human settlement actually on the river itself that was attacked.  I want to take a look at some of the other villages downstream.”

“It was,” Jiān confirmed, following him, her brow creased with perturbation.  “But before we go anywhere…”

Yǎn-sui whirled on her so quickly that Jiān squeaked with surprise and reeled back several steps.  “Do you or do you not want to protect these worthless humans from the slaughter?!” Yǎn-sui demanded, yellow eyes blazing.

“I-I do,” Jiān confirmed, startled.  “But… are you sure you’re all right?  If one of your wounds is bothering you, I can…”

“I’m fine,” Yǎn-sui interrupted curtly.  He turned back to the water, his frame practically shaking with barely-controlled fury.  ‘She’s acting – she has to be!’  

The raft was nowhere to be seen; in its place a fishing vessel that looked like a rowboat without oars, painted with fanciful renderings of crimson waves and a gold crescent on its bow, bobbed at the end of the line securing it to the reeds at his feet.  Jiān had apparently taken his complaints regarding the raft under advisement.  “Let’s go.”  

“Yǎn-sui.”  His name was part rebuke, part entreaty.  He breathed in, willing himself into stillness.

‘If disrespect cannot rouse her…’  “Yes, Lady Jiān?”

Jiān reached out for him; he sensed her hand, a mere hairsbreadth from his back, and tensed.  She withdrew.  “I have some new clothes here for you,” she finally said, barely-concealed hurt ringing in her tone.  “I hope you like them.”

Yǎn-sui turned, regarding her warily.  Jiān thrust out a dark red cloth-wrapped bundle, her anxious eyes searching his.  “These should fit you better,” she said softly as he accepted the proffered bundle without a word.

Yǎn-sui picked apart the knot that tied the bundle with expert delicacy.  Within was a plain black robe (thankfully, of a much more reasonable size than the one he was wearing), dark grey hakama, and a waist-length charcoal-dyed over-robe with slightly trailing sleeves, marked with a small circular crest of a white moon crossed by three thin curves of red on the back.  The cloth stank of human hands to its very fibers, but the craftsmanship was acceptable.  He could live with the stench until it faded.

“I accept your gift with humble pleasure, milady,” Yǎn-sui intoned with a bow, adhering to the strictest court protocol.

Jiān blinked, but instead of scolding him as he expected, she only nodded.

“Shall I put these on now?” he asked courteously.

She shrugged.  “Only if you want to,” she replied with a carefully neutral voice, although she was frowning.

“I shall, presently, but I should like to inquire as to whether you intend that we return to the shrine tonight, or continue downstream,” replied Yǎn-sui with persistent civility.

Jiān could not keep up the game any longer.  “All right, enough of that nonsense.  Yǎn-sui!” she snapped, “What happened?  You’re like a different person all of a sudden!”

Yǎn-sui bowed.  “With all due respect to milady,” he said solemnly.  “What do you know of me to say what is different?”

“Maybe I don’t know very much about you, other than the fact that you have a remarkably thick head and a twisted sense of humor,” Jiān replied bluntly, her hands fisting the trailing sleeves of her dress.  “But I do know that something must have happened to make you moodier than a saber-toothed moose-lion with a cavity!”  Worried suffused her expression yet again, and Yǎn-sui had to tell himself that it was a trick, that it was her attempt to manipulate him.  “What happened, Yǎn-sui?”

“Command me to tell you, if you’re so interested, milady,” Yǎn-sui bristled, glaring down at her, sick of her games.

“Why do you keep saying that?!” Jiān asked, anger and frustration trembling in her voice.  “I’m not your master, Agni!  And I certainly don’t think of you as my slave!”

Behind him, Yǎn-sui heard the loud splashes of waves slapping against the bank as if the river was reacting to Jiān’s anger.  She smelt more strongly now of the offensive human stench that had puzzled him in its amorphous amalgamation of divine and mortal.  ‘More and more, you give yourself away, Jiān… I am almost certain now…’  “You are overly kind, Jiān,” Yǎn-sui said, surprising the young woman.  “But you seem to forget one other fact: I am not your friend, I am not your comrade, I am not your confidant;  I am your slave, Jiān, bonded to you by a life debt.  You are my master.  You must act like one if you wish to use me effectively.”

Jiān stared up at him, her face blanched to chalk whiteness that even the last rosy tones of fading sunset could not tint.  “Yǎn-sui… don’t…”  She was pleading with him.  “Don’t make me become like them… I am under no illusion that you obey me because you want to, but…!”  She lowered her face, hiding it from his eyes beneath the wide brim of her woven hat and its veil.  “If you truly want me to choose,” she said bleakly, “I will become the master you demand that I be.  I will protect these humans, because it is what is most important to me.  And to do so, I will treat you like a slave… a tool.  

“All the same… I would rather be your friend.”

Without waiting for him to respond, she thrust her way past Yǎn-sui and leapt into the boat, which stilled the moment her feet touched it.  “I would like to know how visiting the villages downstream will help you carry out our contract,” she said, not turning around.  “Unless that is something you wish to conceal from me as well.”

Yǎn-sui stared at her, impossibly statue-still in the little boat upon the river, ghost-white and night-black against the deepening indigo of sky and water.  She had been worried… no!  She only pretended to be worried about him!  And yet, when he had defied her, been belligerent, then patronizing… instead of bringing him to heel as those of her kind would have, she had practically begged that he not force her to take that route!  She desired to be his friend… and impossible, illogical, insane wish, of course… why should any god behave so improperly?

‘Does her deceit go so deeply or does she truly…?’  A “fool” to be dealt with, Hui’s head had said.  “I believe that visiting the villages further downstream will give me a better understanding of the patterns of demon attacks,” he told her, pitching his tone low and apologetic.

Jiān turned, her expression warily hopeful.  “Thank you, Yǎn-sui,” she said softly, with a smile that might have been a mask for unshed tears.  “Anything you can do to help these people is appreciated, more than you’ll ever know.”

Yǎn-sui groaned inwardly.  ‘If this isn’t an act… we’re all doomed.’

---

“I wonder if rolling in cow-hippo dung would make these smell any better,” Yǎn-sui mused, picking at the collar of his over-robe with bored disgust.  He sniffed it, hoping the stink had faded in the last few hours.

“Pwah!”  

It had not.  With a growl of irritation, Yǎn-sui sagged his head against the trunk of the tree at his back, glaring balefully up at the nearly-full moon shining through its spare branches, the first buds of spring leaves like so many dark beads scattered on skeleton fingers.

“Ree-peat!” cheeped a cheeky parrot-frog.  It blinked its large, moon-lit yellow eyes at the demon as it hunched, preening, on a rotting log just out of arm’s reach.

Yǎn-sui titled his head at it.  “Maybe if I squashed you into a pulp and…”

The parrot-frog expressed its opinion of this plan by making an impressive, headlong leap into the river, disappearing with parting “peet!” and a splash.

“Harumph…” he grunted, momentarily stymied (and now deprived of a potential diversion).  ‘As soon as I can start killing those bastards, that’ll solve more than one problem,’ he reminded himself consolingly, trying to ignore the protruding knobs of roots as he shifted against the tree and closed his eyes.

Speaking of “those bastards”… after Hui’s head delivered its gruesome warning, Yǎn-sui made a close inspection of the battlefield, scouring it and the general vicinity for clues.  The signs were there, now that he had reason to look for them: at least three demons had traversed the ground, too many just to have come to retrieve Hui’s head and strip it of its horns.  This in and of itself might not have been puzzling if it were not also for the fact that Yǎn-sui detected remnants of earth, water, and fire in the lingering traces they had left behind; in addition, the tracks rendered no indication as to where they came from or where they went.  Demons who contracted themselves to gods or spirits ultimately absorbed the elemental power of their master.  They did not associate with demons of other types very often unless operational expedience demanded it, and never had he come across demons who exhibited more than one elemental feature.  Demons also could not simply materialize out of thin air, unless summoned by a god, and Yǎn-sui had found no such contradicting presence.

‘If I interpreted the tracks wrong…’  A distinct possibility, given the damage to his horn.  It might be that the demons were indeed rogues, formerly of different factions who had just happened to band together in this particular valley for a reason Yǎn-sui could not yet understand.  And the god just might be weak, explaining the lack of divine spoor traces… but then, how could she or he summon demons?

Yǎn-sui put about as much stock in coincidence as he did in tales.  Something mysterious and far more significant than a few humans being slaughtered was going on.  And unless Jiān was a part of it… ‘Which seems more and more unlikely, unfortunately…’ he was as yet at odds to concoct even to most general conception of the enemy he was facing.

‘Now suppose Jiān is not a part of this, and actually is fighting in the dark as much as I am…’  Yǎn-sui frowned.  Assuming Jiān was innocent, he would have to rely what she and the humans (at least those who had survived the attacks) had to tell.  Jiān had hinted that attacks had been more frequent on villages in the hill country that stood at the edges of the river valley; refugees had borne horror stories of murderous ravening monsters as they sought sanctuary on the river banks, which was why she had heard about demons on the rampage prior to the attack on the one fishing village.  Naturally, the panicked creatures would not have any clear idea of what powers these demons exhibited or even how many there were.

Without even talking to the witnesses, however, Yǎn-sui could almost confidently rule out anything more than a hundred demons amassing in the vicinity; anything like the size of an army would have been as obvious as a beacon in a starless night, even without his horn.  ‘So… something less than a hundred but more than three is reasonable… but not very helpful.’

Yǎn-sui ruefully acknowledged that he had grown accustomed to his well-trained intelligence resources; without them, he would have to rely solely on the human rabble to begin drawing a mental picture of the enemy Jiān had pit him against.

“There you are!”

Or, more specifically, he had to rely on Jiān asking the right questions of the human rabble to get such information.  Humans were such delicate, easily frightened things, but having his temporary master serving as his intelligence liaison was a rather disturbing reality he preferred not to dwell on.

“What did the rabble have to say?” he asked by way of greeting.

Jiān frowned and flopped gracelessly down on the hard ground beside him.  “I really wish you’d stop calling them names like that,” she grumbled irritably as she kneaded her bare toes into the soil.

Yǎn-sui cocked his head.  “You prefer I call them ‘lunch’ or ‘dinner’ perhaps?” he asked.

Jiān dead-panned.  “Stop being a smart-ass,” she grumbled, clearly in a bad mood, though Yǎn-sui doubted it was directly related to his teasing.  “You said yourself that you can’t stand the way humans smell, so there’s no way you can convince me you’re a man-eater.”

“Hm, you’re right – the older ones are far too smelly and tough and gristly, but the littlest whelps aren’t so bad, provided you can stop their squalling,” Yǎn-sui reflected aloud.

“…you’re joking… right?” Jiān said, looking positively green around the gills.

Yǎn-sui smiled pleasantly.  “So, I assume you found out something useful?  You were gone nearly three hours.”

“I think so,” Jiān ventured hesitantly.  “What about you?  You scouted the area, right?”

Yǎn-sui nodded.  “I didn’t find anything immediately interesting, except dinner… and no, it wasn’t a human child, you can stop looking at me like that,” he replied, freely interpreting her wide-eyed stare.  “No demons have been near this village recently.  I hope your foray was more fruitful.”  He looked at her expectantly.

“Um…” Jiān pulled on a lock of hair, “Actually, a few survivors from a village about two days northeast of here arrived just today – five people, out of a village that was once fifty.”  Her voice became tight with anger.  “The villagers here took them in, but a few are saying they’re worried the demons will come for them next because they’re giving shelter to demons’ prey.  They wanted to chase the refugees out, send them downriver.  I put a stop to it, but only just barely.”

“It might be that theirs is not an entirely incorrect assumption,” Yǎn-sui informed her.  “If those humans weren’t meant to survive, then this village will likely be attacked soon.”  ‘And it is ripe for the taking – the very air here stinks of fear.’

Jiān looked at him sharply.  “Are you saying there’s a reason five particular people escaped with their lives?” she asked, worry and confusion leaking a husky timbre into her lowered voice, “Why, then?”

“I’m not sure.  Yet,” Yǎn-sui admitted, narrowing his eyes in frustration.  He shook his head.  “Figuring out the enemy’s goals is by far the most important strategic piece of information to attain, but I doubt these humans can give it to us.  I will settle for learning how many demons attacked the village and what sort of abilities they exhibited.”

“Xing said he saw three,” Jiān said immediately.  Yǎn-sui looked at her in puzzlement.  “Xing is one of the survivors – only eight years old and he saw his whole family slaughtered in front of him by a demon with a fire sword.”

‘A “fire sword”?’  “Interesting…” Yǎn-sui mused, lapsing into thought.  “Did the whelp happen to notice anything else?”

Jiān’s left eyebrow twitched but she reined in her anger at his callousness.  “The one that used the fire sword was black-skinned, with a red mane and grey horns on his forehead.  He thinks the other two were yellow and dark green, but he said he couldn’t be sure, as he was rather busy hiding under his house out of fear for his life.”

“Is that all?” Yǎn-sui pressed, ignoring her pointed reproach.  “What about their armor?”  Old habits die hard – Yǎn-sui was vaguely aware that he was quizzing Jiān like she was a raw scout who was late reporting for duty.  ‘Never mind that – I can apologize later if she demands it.’

“Armor?” Jiān echoed, bewildered.  “Isn’t the fact that one of those demons can swing around a blade of fire rather important?  Why does…?”

“Demons allied with a god or spirit will wear the mark of their master – at the very least, a device or design on their armor or hide is a clue as to whom they have sworn fealty,” Yǎn-sui interrupted curtly.  “I agree that the fire sword is significant, particularly since no rogue should be able to summon such a thing.  Therefore I must assume that some god or spirit is behind this.”  A thought suddenly occurred to him.  ‘If I recall, there was an incident of a deserter from Agni’s army who could wield blade flame because his master was still alive.  Fire swords are a common ability, and a demon who was long in Agni’s service could possibly maintain it without his master’s awareness.  If that is the case, then I must energetically pursue him and deliver him to justice.’   Deserters strong and skillful enough to continue to use their masters’ power were more dangerous than rogues alone, especially if they had somehow managed to team up with an opportunistic god.

“What if the demon ate a fire spirit?” Jiān asked suddenly.  Noting Yǎn-sui’s stare, she hurriedly added, “I mean, isn’t it true that if a demon devours a god or spirit, he absorbs their power?”

“That is rather wishful thinking on the part of gods and spirits,” Yǎn-sui scoffed disgustedly.  “They like to consider themselves vastly more powerful than they are.  Corpses are corpses, once the soul has fled.  My soldiers eat the dead off the battlefield after we break a siege or if our supply lines are cut  and they never exhibited anything beyond indigestion and occasional food-poisoning afterwards.”

“Oh.”  Jiān wriggled her toes squeamishly.  “But what if they somehow managed to devour a god’s soul?”

Yǎn-sui shook his head, growing tired of this line of questioning.  “There is not a demon alive who can do that.  It’s been attempted in the past, in vain.”

“But what if…?” Jiān insisted.

“As of yet, I will not rule out any plausible explanations,” Yǎn-sui interrupted.  “God-eating is a possibility, but one that we should not dwell overlong on.  Now, to get back to my earlier question: did the human brat describe their armor?”

Jiān shook her head, looking vexed.  “If I had known such a thing was important to ask, I might have been more insistent on it,” she said.

“I will make my needs more clear next time,” Yǎn-sui said politely, knowing she was admonishing him yet again for concealing things from her.

“It might be better if you just asked them yourself,” Jiān grumbled, flicking a pebble away with her big toe.

“Yes, because we both know how well humans would take to being interrogated by a demon,” Yǎn-sui replied drily.

“Well, if they didn’t know you were demon, you could always adjust your approach,” she said thoughtfully, and Yǎn-sui suspected she was talking more to herself than to him.  In any case, he disliked the vaguely devious expression that was ghosting across her face.

“As far as strategic intelligence goes, we are in the dark,” he said, adopting the more official tone of voice he used when addressing Agni in his war council.  “Our efforts to understand the nature of our enemy are limited by the dispersed pattern of human settlements along the river valley, as well by the fact that my horn is damaged, which effectively halves my ability to sense spiritual powers, along with reducing my physical capabilities.  I am unfamiliar with the terrain, and your knowledge of what lies beyond the immediate area of the river itself is also limited; until we acquaint ourselves with the battlefield, we will be operationally ineffective.  Tactically, as I said before, my physical abilities are less than optimal; you are not a trained warrior, so your contribution to a pitched battle must be considered in the area of support.”  It was bitter, having to admit his weakness, but he taking a gamble: if he was wrong and Jiān was actually playing him for a fool, he really would not lose out – she already knew how weak he was and since she was most likely a goddess herself, having ensnared him with a life debt, she could end him at her convenience.

Jiān listened intently.  “Basically, you’re saying that until we know for certain who are enemy is and you are completely healed up, it’s not a good idea to fight them,” she summed up.

Yǎn-sui nodded, moderately impressed but not in the least surprised by her clear thinking.  ‘As I thought – she’s smarter than she lets on.’  “Unless we can make the enemy come to us, I do not advise engaging them at the present time,” he replied, unconsciously fingering the fissure in his horn.  “Unfortunately, I do not know how long it will take for my horn to heal – I have never taken such damage like this before.”  ‘Actually, I don’t think demons are meant to survive something like this… if she hadn’t been there…’

“I think I might be able to do something about that,” Jiān said, once again distant and thoughtful as she stared up at the moon.  Yǎn-sui looked at her quizzically, but she did not seem to notice.  “What do you need to figure out all of the… all the other stuff?” she asked.

“A map of the river valley, from headwater to where it meets the ocean would be helpful.  One that locates all human settlements within twenty miles of the river banks on either side, indicating which ones have been destroyed or are suspected of having been destroyed and when would be even more useful, particularly if it also takes note of the outstanding features of the terrain so I can select defensible fallback positions.”

“No problem,” Jiān muttered, her slack mouth tightening ruefully.  “Anything else?”

“A better mode of transportation than watercraft,” Yǎn-sui said, a touch sarcastic.  “Preferably airborne.”

Jiān pulled on a lock of hair, a smile spreading across her face that sent unpleasant scitters like insect feet up and down Yǎn-sui’s spine.  “That’s going to be a lot easier than the map, now that I think about it.  Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything – thank you for telling me all this.”  With a very purposeful motion, Jiān rose and brushed the dirt from her skirts.  “Come, Yǎn-sui: we’ve some work to do if we’re going to fight!”

“‘We’?” Yǎn-sui echoed as Jiān turned away in the direction of their boat.

“Of course – I have to do what I can,” Jiān said over her shoulder, “It is my valley, after all.”

‘This either a very good or a very bad development,’ Yǎn-sui reflected, climbing to his feet and taking up Tiào-fěi.

As they made their way upstream, gliding silently on inky, moon-streaked water propelled by Jiān’s dancelike manipulations, she suddenly mentioned, “I don’t know if this is important, but all the survivors of that demon attack were firebenders.”