The Princes in the Mist (Closed; Anukai)

[Emporer Pudu]

It was a cool, crisp morning on Caliga. The ever-present fog lay low over the City of Mist far below Tierna Long’s apartment. Her neighborhood was perched high on the basaltic slopes that dominated the interior of the mysterious island, rising beyond the city to culminate in the ancient dead volcano at the center of Caliga. Tierna was looking out to sea, however, as she often did in the mornings. Steam rose from her cup of black coffee, whisked away by a gentle ocean breeze. Down below it would be wet and chilling, but up here the wind was brisk and refreshing. The sun had not yet risen, not that it would be visible through the thick grey clouds that swirled around the island nearly every day.

She took a sip of coffee and turned her gaze northeast, toward the only civilian airport on the island, Guiron-Malkav International, named for the first two signatories of the Fraternal Accords. Built on reclaimed land off the coast of the city, the massive runways could handle the largest inter-regional airlifters that were necessary to make the vast journey over the tumultuous Rheic Ocean to find the Isle of Mists. Flights were infrequent, but today Tierna knew there would be a significant arrival. Somewhere out over the ocean she imagined the Imperial Crane, the nuclear-powered air giant of the Pudite Emperors, cruising toward Caliga.

Staff of the Fraternal Cooperative, of which Tierna was one, had been informed the day prior that there would be an important delegation arriving to the island. She knew that the new Pudite Emperor, Pudu Ming, did not fly. He had sworn off airplanes after the attack on a previous iteration of the Imperial Crane that killed his father off the coast of Automagfreek. So just who was this new delegation? It couldn’t be the cautious emperor himself, could it?

Behind her Tierna heard activity in the kitchen, and when the door to the balcony slid open, she heard her husband Dazhou’s voice, “Are you heading into work early today?” She turned and pulled the sliding door open a little more, stepping into the kitchen past Dazhou, “I’ve got that reception at the airport this morning so I’ll miss the kid’s pick-up.” Tierna walked over to the coffee pot and refilled her mug while Dazhou returned to the stove top, asking “Time for breakfast?” He was pouring a batter and had a couple of eggs on the countertop. “As tempting as your crepes are,” she said, smiling, “I’ll have to pick something up on the way. My car is almost here.”

As Dazhou continued to work at the stove Tierna switched on a small TV in the corner of the well-appointed kitchen. It was tuned to the local Pudite-language morning news broadcast. There was a weatherman in front of a screen at the moment, explaining formations of dense fog, clouds, and likely rain. “Why don’t they just run him on repeat every day!” her husband called from the stove, “It’s always the same thing!” he laughed. The next report came on, this one about a large cargo ship that had run aground a couple days before. Cleanup and salvage operations were underway, with a reporter standing on a barren rocky coast in a strong wind reporting on the efforts of the workers in the background. Tierna turned back to her husband, “I don’t know exactly what this delegation is supposed to be, so I can’t say exactly when I’ll be home tonight, are you okay to get the kids in the afternoon too?” Dazhou cracked an egg over his crepe, “No problem, I’m telecommuting today anyway,” he answered.

The TV changed again, this time showing stock footage of the Imperial Crane, “Ah, here’s the bit,” Dazhou left the stove and joined his wife watching the broadcast. It first explained the arrival of the delegation and then went on to speculate that, based on confidential sources, it seemed likely this would be a new pair of Princes of the Anukai, new representatives to the Fraternal Cooperative appointed by Emperor Ming’s government. Tierna and her husband shared an uncertain glance, “Is that what you heard?” he asked quizically. “No,” she said, visibly surprised, “Replacing Fang and Lu? But why, Ming only just appointed them six months ago? This can’t be right.” Dazhou returned to the stove, but over his shoulder said “I’ll ask around, see if I can find out where that tip is coming from, but hey, I suppose you’ll find out first anyway.”

“I’ll text you after the reception, once I know what’s going on.” Tierna said, opening her phone at the same time to refresh her emails. Nothing new. Nothing on the subject of a regime change in the Pudite corner of the Cooperative. She had been a functionary on Caliga for six years now, first under Fang and Hu’s predecessors, then under the two new Ming-appointed delegates. There was no guarantee however that if there were new Princes coming to the Hall that they would keep the old staff on, especially if there was some alarming reason for the rapid replacement of the previous ministers. “I’ve got to go, the car’s outside,” Tierna said finally, crossing the room to exchange a quick kiss with her husband before grabbing her coat and bag and heading for the door, “Love you!” she called, “And maybe check the back pages of your paper for some job listings for a legislative aide!” she added jokingly.

Instead of heading toward the high-speed rail station that would normally carry her two hundred miles into the heart of the island and the offices of the Fraternal Cooperative where she worked, the car was heading directly to the airport on the other side of the city. The ride was longer, and that gave Tierna time to think. She opened her phone and navigated to the website of the news agency that had reported on the prospective Prince’s arrival earlier in the day; copying the URL, she pasted it into an email and sent it to her colleague Qi with the comment ‘have you seen this?’

She got a response right away. ‘Yes. Prince Fang says he’s heard nothing, but would they tell him?’ the reply read. It didn’t ease Tierna’s mind. She instructed the driver to turn up the radio, jazzy pop beats and a sultry woman’s voice drifted out of the speakers: Fortune, a popular Pudite singer, lamenting a failed love affair. Tierna let the music carry her the rest of the way into the city, trying to keep her mind from racing.

The City of Mists was the only real settlement on the island of Caliga and was home to several millions of people crowded into dense neighborhoods exemplifying the diverse architectural and cultural traditions evident in the Brotherhood of the Anukai; soaring arcologies of clean, naturally curving lines denoted a Tau block; closely packed concrete and glass apartment blocks gave the appearance of being at the heart of one of the Pudite megacities; squat, brutalist buildings ringed with barbed wire and guards indicated a compound of one of the Laurasian clans which were constantly vying for power and influence over each-other here as elsewhere. Aldarminian estates and small-scale Gothic domes broke up the urban expanse. Finally, they turned onto the seafront boulevard and Tierna looked again out over the sea, and at the kilometer’s long island runways of Gurion-Malkav International Airport. What was she driving into?

At the causeway that led from the city to the airport there was a security checkpoint where Tierna and her driver had to wait for around fifteen minutes behind a line of other cars; without regular daily flights it was a little unusual to see this much traffic around the airport but the Pudite delegation must have been causing something of a stir. A good number of cars were being turned away, and one car a few lengths ahead of Tierna even produced an irate Ericcan functionary who was defiantly displaying diplomatic credentials and demanding access. Unusual, certainly. The increased security presence was also out of the ordinary, as Tierna’s car passed through the checkpoint and proceeded down the causeway they passed a large convoy of city busses flanked by armored cars of the Peace Temple, staged here for some reason.

As she arrived at the main terminal Tierna was greeted by an anxious press pool outside the building, cordoned off by yet more Peace Temple gendarmes, while a line of town cars disgorged fellow diplomatic and Cooperative staff. Tierna went through another security screening and was given a badge on a lanyard before being directed to the executive lounge upstairs where the dignitaries were gathering to find out exactly why they were there.

The large, open plan room had a bar which was distributing orange juice cocktails, tea and coffee while waiters patrolled the room with trays of finger food. Tierna grabbed a mimosa and a fried dough ball and made her way over to the large floor-to-ceiling window that covered one wall and looked out over the runway. Moments later her friend Hulang Qi appeared beside her, “Cheers,” he said, clinking her champagne flute with his own, “To our future employment,” Tierna replied. “Is Prince Fang here yet?” Hulang Fang was one of two Pudite officials appointed to the position of Prince of the Anukai, sitting in the Fraternal Cooperative, the governing body of the multi-national Anukai Brotherhood. He was also Qi’s uncle, which certainly contributed to the young man’s quick rise through the ranks of the diplomatic service, as he was at least ten years Tierna’s junior despite holding the same position.

“Yes, but as soon as we arrived Lu’s chief of staff grabbed him and they’ve been in a closed meeting since then.” Tierna looked concernedly over the room, “Just what is this whole business?” she asked quietly, almost to herself. Qi took a large drink from his cocktail. “If they sack my uncle I’m finished. It’ll be back to the Athasian Census Bureau, and everyone knows the south is a political wasteland right now. I’ll never get a national position again,” he lamented. The two of them sulked quietly for a minute or two after that.

A chime sounded over the public address system in the lounge before a female voice came on, “Imperial Crane arriving on runway One-A.” The crowd moved closer to the windows, straining to make out through the thick fog the navigational lights of the massive airliner that would soon come rolling out of the mist. Their wait ended seconds later as the great white, red and gold painted plane emerged, having used the full length of the two-thousand meter runway to bring its great bulk to a stop. An airport stair car and a cordon of Peace Temple guards quickly formed up outside the aircraft.

The crowd was so fixated, Tierna hardly noticed when Qi checked his phone and then turned and looked back over the room. He tapped Tierna on the shoulder before striding off toward the back of the room; Tierna soon saw why, Princes Lu and Fang were both standing near one of the lounge entrances, arranging themselves with a few other senior staff. Both Princes were dressed in their ceremonial floor-length white silk robes trimmed with gold, red rope belts tied around their waist. Each national delegation to the Hall of the Princes had its own distinctive costume, and this was the Pudite. Tierna began to follow Qi through the crowd, but turned back to the window at the sound of an audible gasp in the crowd. The door had opened and someone was standing at the door of the plane. Someone else dressed in the ceremonial robes of a Prince; so, it’s happening, Tierna thought to herself. Then the new Prince began to descend the stairs. A second Prince appeared behind him, confirming all of Tierna’s fears. Both Princes were to be replaced. Then, however, an even more widespread gasp shuddered through the crowd, and the low hum of conversation picked up. A third Prince had appeared and begun to descend the stair, followed by a fourth, and a fifth. They didn’t stop. Tierna didn’t know what she was seeing. The Fraternal Accords called for each Anukai member state to appoint two Princes to the Hall. What was Ming doing?

She crossed the room to join Qi, who was whispering with Jilang Mun, Prince Fang’s chief of staff and herself a member of an unimportant minor branch of the Imperial family. Mun beckoned Tierna to join them and she continued, “The two Princes were just told,” she whispered to the two aides, “There are one-hundred and thirty-six new Princes of the Anukai on that plane.” Tierna and Qi exchanged a quizzical look before Tierna whispered back “Is that legal?” Mun glanced around to make sure they weren’t being overheard before she answered, “We don’t know. That’s where you two come in. There’s a legal team assembling at the office, and you two are going to liaise with them. Your job is to make this legal. The wording is ambiguous; that’s about all the briefing there was. It’s true. Start at article four, section one, sub-section A. It’s not much, but it’s what we’ve got.” Mun grabbed the mimosas out of Qi and Tierna’s hands, “Reception is off for you two, get back to the office right away. Send hourly updates. We should be leaving here around eleven this morning, I’ll see you after that.”

Tierna and Qi left the terminal to grab one of the Cooperative’s town cars outside and started back to the rail station that would take them into the heart of the mountain. As they left the airport, they could see the convoy of busses maneuvering to line up outside the terminal, and it became obvious why they were here. There were a hundred Princes to move later today, and by then word would be out. With that thought, Tierna opened her phone and texted Dazhou, ‘Does the paper have a reporter at GMI?’ it read simply. His answer, one word, told her that they did ‘136!?’

There was no radio on the ride to the station. Both Qi and Tierna were pouring over the text of the Fraternal Accords on their phones and sharing occasional incredulous glances. Something was happening on Caliga. Soon, everyone in the city – in the Brotherhood – would be wondering what.

[Emporer Pudu]

“Get me up to speed.” Jilang Mun sat down at the head of the conference table. A half dozen lawyers and their scattered papers dominated the rest of the table, while Tierna took a chair next to the chief of staff and began the briefing, “So, the Accords never explicitly define the membership of the Fraternal Cooperative. It is a college of representatives, which includes two from every member state, and two from the Temples. But it does not say only two from these sources, which it seems like is the crux of Ming’s argument here.” Mun nodded along while Tierna continued, “The Emperor has now appointed a hundred and thirty-eight, counting Their Excellencies Fang and Lu, which doesn’t appear to be forbidden by the Accords.”

Qi opened the door to the conference room then and poked his head in, “The Princes’ train is arriving in five!” before ducking back out and closing the door. “Alright,” Mun said, “So we’ve got a bunch of Princes. What’s the point?” Tierna hesitated a moment before answering, “Well, that’s harder to say. The document gives four powers and responsibilities to the Cooperative: Two of those explicitly require unanimous votes, which means there’s no benefit to a hundred extra voters if one Ericcan hedgehog with a thorn in its paw or a Gothic vampire who woke up on the wrong side of the coffin can veto the whole proceeding.”

“But, the other two powers?” Mun interjected. Tierna replied “Electing the pater familias, and administering Caliga itself. We don’t know which of those things Ming wants them to do.” Mun sat with this for a moment, “What about the High Lords?” Tierna nodded and flipped a page to another section of the Accords, which she had a copy of on the table, “The High Lords do have the power to veto an appointment to the Cooperative, but for some reason it also requires a unanimous vote. I don’t think Gurion is in on this plan, but even if he wasn’t if Ming had a single friend in the High Lords this could slip through.” Mun absorbed this, “so, what would stop any other Anukai member nation from doing the same thing? Appointing a thousand new Princes?” Tierna shrugged, “Nothing, I expect. Another thing we can’t figure out.”

Mun let out a ‘huh’ and looked down at her hands for a moment. “So,” she said finally, “there’s been a meeting of the Cooperative called for this afternoon. I’m told the Princes are headed directly for the Hall. I expect we’ll all find out what this is for sooner than later…”

“They’re here!” Qi stage-whispered through the door which he cracked open again, leaving it ajar this time. The lawyers kept busy, but Mun and Tierna both stood to cross the room. Mun turned at the last step to the paper-pushers, “The other Princes will object. Hell, the other High Lords will too. We need a defense.” She closed the door behind her without waiting for a reply.

The offices afforded to the different national delegations of the Fraternal Cooperative were all bespoke designs, speaking to the aesthetics and character of the peoples they served. The main floor of the Pudite office, despite being deep underground as was most of the infrastructure at this part of the island, had been designed to replicate an imperial palace garden. A high arched ceiling played high-definition images of a blue sky overhead, trees and flower beds were planted between wide wooden walkways, circling small ponds and crossing ornate bridges. Decorative birds and butterflies flitted around the room. The walls had the look of the walls that surrounded a palace courtyard, painted red and adorned with gold, with heavy wooden doors opening into side rooms, into the office suites of the two Princes themselves, and into other auxiliary areas. Mun crossed a little red bridge and stepped up into a small pavilion with a view toward the large faux castle gates that opened into the rest of the Cooperative office park. Tierna and Qi joined her on either side, looking on in anticipation.

The two great carved doors, banded in rich gold, swung in to reveal the head of what was undoubtedly a long procession. First came a standard bearer with a gold-fringed purple sunburst banner, the standard of the Jilang family, followed by two robed censer bearers swinging silver-chained incense bearers and then a pair of towering gold-armored guards which Tierna immediately recognized as being Imperial Palace Scholars carrying their nearly three-meter-tall ceremonial halberds tasseled with red. The Scholars stood to either side of the door while the standard and censer bearers began to wind their way through the circuitous paths of the vast facsimile garden. Behind them progressed dozens, then a hundred, then more white silken robed Princes of the Anukai, each with head bowed solemnly and hands folded before them. Finally, Princes Fang and Lu entered, and with them came a third dignitary in an entierly new costume.

The man was slender and tall, wearing a black tuxedo coat and vest over a red shirt and pants with a black bow-tie and a high-collared red cloak that nearly overtopped his head. He wore delicate spectacles and was sporting a golden headband, or crown, embossed with what looked like rubies over his straight black hair. “Who is-“ Qi started to whisper, before a gong sounded somewhere and the whole procession came to a halt. Prince Fang and Prince Lu now flanked the red-cloaked tuxedo man while the rest of the princes all lifted their gaze to the massive golden imperial seal that adorned the wall opposite the main gate. The tuxedo man raised his arms, he was holding a black cane tipped in gold, and all attention was on him.

“Thank you everyone,” he began, his sweet voice carrying over the hall surprisingly well, “For all the hard work you have done for our Empire! I am sure some of you are wondering what is happening?” he sounded proud, confident, and quite a bit like he relished the sound of his own words, "I am Count Wulin Huaxin Shu, the newest High Lord of Caliga!" He pronounced each word slowly and deliberately. The blood nearly drained from Tierna’s face. Nicodemus Gurion was the High Lord. He was no friend of Ming’s, but would the emperor stoop to remove one of the founding lords of the Anukai? Evidently, he would. Nicodemus was at home in Athuk, Tierna knew, but now she wondered if he still was. Would he be safe? What did this mean?

“I have come,” Count Wulin carried on, the gravity in his tone increasing with each word, "To usher in a New Age of the Anukai!" Tierna could tell the Count really liked the sound of that one, “With me are one-hundred and thirty-six of the most trusted, most devoted, most capable servants of our Emperor, Pudu Jilang Ming, May His Name Strike Terror in Heaven!” This time the Count was really raising his voice, gesturing forcefully with his golden stick, his gloved hands clenched into tight fists.

“Our esteemed predecessors, The Honorable Sirs Fang and Lu, will be retiring to the homeland to enjoy a well-earned respite.” Tierna could hear Qi’s audible sigh of defeat beside her. Wulin continued, “To the rest of you, there will be an interview process. Some of you will stay here and work with us. Many of you will find it is time to move on, to find a new way of serving our illustrious Lord of the Earth.”

Count Wulin lowered his arms and rested his hands atop his cane in front of him, “Anyway, let’s find some rooms for the new Princes, they’ve got work to do!” He clapped his hands, letting his cane balance upright for a moment before clasping it again. Tierna didn’t see it even wobble. At that signal a long parade of unfamiliar aides began to file into the room from behind the Count and lead the new Princes off into the office complex. Where exactly they’d all be setting up was a mystery to Tierna, she wasn’t sure there were a hundred and thirty-six rooms in the Pudite suite, even counting the supply closets and bathrooms.

Mun turned to look at her two subordinates. “Well, I’ve got a tough conversation ahead of me I’d wager,” she shrugged, “They can try and fire the emperor’s cousin if they want,” distant cousin, thought Tierna; did Ming even know who Mun was? “I’ll do everything I can for the two of you,” she finished with an apologetic look to Qi, “I wouldn’t hold out too much hope though.”

As the crowd began to return to business, or more likely to just try and stay out of the way of the multitude of silken-garbed potentates being led around the room, Tierna felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. The ringer was off, but it was a call. She pulled it out and saw her husband’s name; stepping back into their conference room full of lawyers, she answered the call, “I’ve been called into the office,” Dazhou started, speaking quickly, she could hear the sound of him rifling through papers in the background, “I’ve called the maid and she’ll pick up the kids this afternoon, do you know any more about what’s going on?”

Tierna moved to the furthest corner of the room from the lawyers and spoke softly, “Do you know who Count Wulin Huaxin Shu is?” there was some muffled rummaging before Dazhou answered “Who?” incredulously, Tierna repeated his name, and Dazhou again said “Who? No, sorry, no, it’s quite a name, but I’ve never heard it before. I’ll look into it when I get to the office, why, who’s that?” At that moment the door to the conference room opened and a pair of young men entered each holding the hand of a white-silk robed man whose long beard, stooped posture, prodigious wrinkles and eyes that hardly seemed open seemed to suggest he was somewhere north of a hundred years old. Tierna turned away, betting on the old Prince’s hearing to be in the same state as his eyesight. “He’s the new High Lord.”

“What? What happened to Gurion?” was Dazhou’s urgent reply. Tierna continued to whisper, turning progressively in a circle to keep facing away as the young aides and the very old man gingerly stepped their way around the conference table. “No idea,” she said, “look into that too. Look, I might be home sooner than I thought, and it turns out I might need that classifieds page after all, so we’ll talk more tonight. How late will you be?” Dazhou gave an uncertain sigh, “It’s hard to say, they’re throwing out the whole front page, everything is being rewritten for tomorrow morning and they’re talking about putting out a special evening bulletin anyway. Hey, I might call again later to get some quotes, okay? I’ve got to go, love you!” Dazhou hung up as soon as Tierna reciprocated. She turned around to see one of the young aides piling up a stack of what the lawyers had been working on. The six lawyers were now standing at the end of the room near the door, looking uncertain. The old man teetered into a chair and gave a wide toothless grin to nobody in particular. Tierna couldn’t help roll her eyes, and then left as quickly as possible in case anyone noticed.

Back out in the main garden hall Tierna found Qi sitting on a garden bench furiously texting on his phone. Without looking up he addressed Tierna, “Well, I’ve just had my interview.” Tierna sat down beside him, “What? It’s been thirty seconds!” Qi grunted and replied, “That crazy Count walked up, asked me my name, and fired me.” Tierna craned her neck to look around the room, the count wasn’t hard to miss, his cloak billowing behind him as he swept around the room, “If I were you I’d get out of here before he meets you,” Qi said, “I get the impression if you show up tomorrow and say you work here, he’ll believe he hired you.” The former legislative aide snorted again in derision.

“So are you going back to Athuk with your uncle?” she asked. “No way,” Qi replied, “That’s a life sentence to boring jobs and cluttered desks, I’m staying here. I’ll find work in the city.” Tierna nodded, “Well, if you need anything let Dazhou and I know,” then something occurred to her, “hey, he might be interested in getting a few quotes from you about all this if you’re interested.” Qi looked up from his phone for the first time since she sat down. “Yes.” He said simply. “Tell him to call. I’ve got quotes.” Tierna looked around for Count Wulin again and saw him swooping his way across the opposite side of the room, “Hey, let’s get out of here.” She said, pulling Qi along by the arm, “Time to go.”

Keeping her head down while passing between the two Imperial Scholars flanking the door, Tierna led Qi all the way down to the rail station that connected the sprawling Cooperative compound to the city on the coast. It was a high-speed underground maglev railway, only taking about thirty minutes to cover the two hundred kilometers beneath the barren lava fields between the mountain heart of the Brotherhood to the city that supported it. Tierna and Qi were far from the only downtrodden looking Pudite functionaries on this line, and there were nearly as many curious foreigners, journalists and others who could hardly help from asking questions. Some of the Pudites were eager to vent, but Qi and Tierna waved off all their fellow passengers and said nothing.

The two said goodbye when they reached the central city station before Qi added, “There’s a few of us meeting for drinks downtown tonight, want to join us?” Tierna was about to say no, but remembered the maid was already on for tonight and Dazhou would be working late, “Yes, I think I will. See you later, Qi.” Already the TV screens in the station were running pundits talking about the new Pudite Princes. She overhead a dozen conversations on her way to the taxi stand. Whatever this was it had only just begun, but the whole city seemed to be certain the other shoe was about to drop.

[Emporer Pudu]

Dazhou walked briskly from the train station to the newspaper offices, quick-stepping around slower pedestrians, nearly running to make the crossing signals and taking the steps outside the building at least two at a time. He nearly lost his footing at the top but managed to lunge for the door and catch himself. He stopped and took a breath, realizing just how fast he had been going. His mind was racing even faster though, and one name kept coming back up: Count Wulin. He knew he had heard that name before, but he hadn’t been able to place it.

Scanning his badge at the front desk, he caught an elevator up to his office on the fourth floor. The main newsroom was on the fourth, and it was in an uproar. Reporters had been crowding in all day, rushing to write new copy to fill the new pages Dazhou’s fellow editors were planning right now. He crossed the room, fielding all the questions that bombarded him with a rushed “I don’t know yet!” He dropped his bag and papers in his office before turning around and making his way into the editorial board conference room. All the blinds were closed and most of the paper’s editors were in attendance. Dazhou took an empty seat between the regional editor and the lifestyle editor. “City,” the editor-in-chief, who was standing at the front of the room, said turning to Dazhou, “I put Kun,” who was one of Dazhou’s top reporters, “On the front-page story. Get with him and make sure we’ve got at least nine-hundred words, more if we don’t get a good picture, speaking of,” he turned to the photo editor and began to discuss some images that were coming in.

Long Dazhou was the City Editor at the Rheic Ocean Observer, a Pudite-language newspaper that Dazhou’s wife always joked sounded like it was a scientific research vessel. As Dazhou started taking notes he glanced over at the lifestyle editor’s tablet beside him. He was flipping through some pictures, clearly taken on cell phones, of a man in a ridiculous red cape with a huge collar and a gaudy crown and cane combination. “Who is that?” he leaned over and asked quietly. “That’s Count Wulin the Magician,” came the matter-of-fact answer.

Then he remembered. It was fourteen years ago, in the city of Daram on the Yourang Sea, where Dazhou was from. Before the war Ming had been the Prince of Daram and a fixture in the social life of that storied ancient city. Dazhou had been a beat reporter back then for a local paper and had once been assigned to review a stage show that the emperor’s grandson, Jilang Ming, was apparently raving about. When he arrived at the show Dazhou had been horrified to learn that it was a stage magician. Count Wulin the Magician. He had written a few hundred words, careful to avoid offending someone that the volatile young Ming had apparently taking a liking to, but at the same time unable to bring himself to produce even a half-heartedly positive review of a fairly pedestrian piece of performance art.

“I’ll be right back.” Dazhou announced to his fellow editors, standing up and quickly ducking out of the conference. In the bullpen outside he quickly spied Kun, his reporter who had been assigned the lead story. “Kun!” he called out as he approached across the cacophonous room, “what are you writing right now?” The reporter finished typing a sentence and looked up as his boss arrived at the desk he was using. “I’ve got a contact inside the Cooperative who is talking about the hundred and thirty-six Princes, getting reactions from the other delegations. It’s punchy, not much to it yet though,” Dazhou nodded and then jumped in, “Okay, stay on that, but I’m doing something else for the front page,” He saw Kun about to object, “It’s not you, I’m writing something myself, about this new High Lord we’re hearing about. Wulin. I’ve met him.” Kun looked surprised, replying uncertainly “I’ve only looked into him a bit, he’s a performer from Daram the Emperor brought to the Imperial Palace, right? I think someone’s doing something on that, maybe Linwei, you might want to get her on something new.” Dazhou looked up for another of his reporters around the room, “Thanks, keep writing.”

He quickly touched base with all his staff who were here already and sent a few quick emails in between before stepping back into the editor’s meeting. “City!” the chief called out, “What have you got?” Dazhou went back to his seat but remained standing, “I’m doing the lead story, I know this Count Wulin, I’ve got my guys in line.” He looked down to the lifestyle editor who had the pictures, “Can you get me the best one of those cape pictures we have?” he looked back at the boss and asked, “Capes on the cover?” The chief nodded, “Do it. Show me pages in an hour.”

The meeting broke up shortly after and Dazhou retreated to his office to write. About twenty minutes later he had the bones of his story and sat back to think. He opened a window and lit a cigarette. Tierna didn’t let him smoke at home, but he always felt like a smoke after writing. Returning to recline in his chair he dialed Tierna’s number on his phone. “Hey, are you still at the office?” he asked when she picked up. “No, I’m home, I’m going to call Mun later and figure out where I stand but I thought it was best to stay out of the way right now.” Dazhou ashed his cigarette and thought to himself, “So have you heard?” he asked suddenly. “Heard what?” she questioned. Dazhou heard the pop of a wine cork in the background, “Wulin the Magician.” He said simply. There was a beat before she gasped and replied, “Are you serious? The fucking magician from Daram?” Dazhou couldn’t help laughing, “Yep, with pigeons and card tricks. He’s a magician!”

“I’ve got to text Qi, he was just fired this morning, do people know this yet?” Tierna must have switched to speaker phone because Dazhou could suddenly hear the radio in the background, and the sound of their cupboard, presumably the one with the wine glasses. “They’re about to.” He answered, “We’re doing the evening bulletin, and it’s got to be going through the television news rooms right about now. It’ll be everywhere by dinner time.”

“This is incredible. So, Ming made a stage magician the new High Lord of Caliga…” Tierna mused aloud. “Oh, before I forget, I’m going to text you Qi’s number. Put him in touch with whoever you have covering the firings at the Cooperative. Also, I’m going out for drinks with some people from work tonight, I assume you’ll be at the paper ‘till late?”

“Yes, could be all night, there’s supposed to be a session in the Cooperative in an hour or so, we’ve got some guys there but they’re keeping the press sequestered for now. Who knows what that’s gonna be. I’ll get someone for Qi to talk to; you have fun tonight. Pour one out for all of us in the media.” She laughed, “Alright honey, will do. Good luck out there.” Dazhou ended the call and put his feet up on the desk, leaning back and taking a drag on the cigarette. Wulin the Magician, High Lord of Caliga. His wife was right: it was incredible; Dazhou was incredulous, but he had a story to finish. His email was filling up with the newest pictures of the flamboyantly-dressed new lord. This was going to be a long night.

[Emporer Pudu]

The bar was unusually busy for a week-night, Tierna and her coworkers were crowded into a corner booth that was already well littered with empty bottles and dirty ashtrays. A waitress carefully negotiated the standing room crowd bearing a tray of shots, which elicited an excited welcome from Qu and the others. Tierna was the closest and took charge of passing around the little glasses of dark, nearly black, liquid and distributing a stack of hard brown wafers alongside them, “Alright,” Qu began to explain, “You bite the cookie, just half, then shoot,” he pantomimed his instructions as everyone else took hold of their allotted pair of items. “Then the rest of the cookie. Ready?”

“Wait,” said Tierna, grabbing the last shot off the tray and dropping a gold coin in its place. The waitress smiled and retreated, “A toast.” Tierna declared, looking around the table. “To the weather!” came a call from the back, “No, to the Accords!” came another, which each elicited a couple of boos and hisses, “No!” Tierna said, taking control again, “To want adds, and lying on your resume!” A cheer came, and Qu led the group in biting the ginger cookies and shooting the licorice liqueur.

“Agh,” Tierna grimaced, “You forgot to save half the cookie!” Qu said, laughing as she grasped at a glass of dark beer on the table. “Hate licorice,” was all she could say before gulping down a healthy portion of the ale. “Where did you say this stupid shot came from?” Qu’s grin spread across his whole face, “I didn’t, I just made it up! Can’t believe they had ginger snaps behind the bar!” There was another round of boos from the rest of the table. “You don’t get to order the drinks anymore,” someone declared.

A phone rang at the table which caused a flurry of activity as a half-dozen recently out-of-work or uncertain bureaucrats, administrative assistants and legislative aides all checked their pockets – it was Tierna’s, Jilang Mun was calling her. She picked it up and then, hardly covering the microphone, loudly whispered “It’s Mun” at the table before putting it to her ear and offering an only slightly slurred “Hello?”

The crowd noise on Tierna’s end was quite bad, and Mun spoke loudly which caused Tierna to recoil from the phone and make a face before realizing what the problem was, “I’m gonna take this… outside.” Taking one last swig of beer, she stood and made her way out of the smokey, wood-paneled room toward the door. There was a doorman who opened the way for her and she stepped out into the cool night air which did some work in clearing her head. It was damp outside, as it nearly always was, but there was a bit of a breeze blowing down off the tall buildings around her. The sidewalk was crowded too, but she took a few steps down the block and turned her attention back to the phone. “Mello Hun. Er... Hello. Mun.”

“Out with the team, I expect?” came her boss’s reply. “Yep.” Tierna chirped, “Did you meet him? The wizard?” Tierna scowled as soon as she said it, but then smiled and nearly laughed. Mun didn’t dwell on it. “I did, I’ll be staying on, and I can keep anyone I want so don’t worry, your job is safe if you want it.” Tierna felt relief, replaced quickly with a new and different wave of anxiety, “What’s he like?” she asked finally, trying to get her bearings. “He’s…” Mun trailed off for a moment, “Well, the reason I called is this: I’ve just left the Cube.”

Tierna looked up at the skyline around her. The towering glass edifice of the Unity Cube was visible from here, reflecting the lights of the city below in its mirrored windows. “The Cube?” was her uncertain response. “Yes, a woman came to the office this afternoon. Gave me an appointment card. I can’t really talk about it, but suffice to say they’re very, very interested in what’s going on right now.” Tierna felt that anxiety growing. “You… can’t talk about it?” she managed to ask. “No. But they did tell me they’ll be speaking to all my staff. I told them I didn’t know who was still on my staff, but they made me give them a list of all of you. I think they’ll want to talk to you too.”

“Maybe I don’t want that job,” Tierna was surprised she had said that out loud, but Mun simply agreed “I don’t know, I don’t think you guys will be in any trouble,” she said, “But maybe you’re right, this may not be the best place to have on your CV right now.” Tierna was quiet for a moment and Mun continued “Think about it. Didn’t mean to spoil your night! Call me in the morning, or better yet, I’ll call you. Drink some water before bed, and don’t let Qu order a round, absolutely no taste buds!” Tierna laughed at that, “Too late, but thank you.” Her mind was racing now, and she was starting to feel the cool air of sobriety, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow Mun.” They said goodbye and hung up.

Tierna approached a pair smoking outside the bar, “Have an extra cigarette?”

After a smoke and another couple of minutes in the chilly street Tierna made her way back inside. Qu was now on the phone, sitting cross-legged on the booth seat in the corner and talking animatedly. Tierna nodded toward him to another of her coworkers and got the explanation, “It’s a reporter, he’s telling it like a war story!” the man turned and said the last part loudly to Qu, “You know they’re going to print your name on that quote, Qu!” But Qu didn’t seem to notice, he was busy mimicking the Count’s deliberate, and in this case exceptionally pompous, mode of speaking. Tierna just shook her head and sat back down. “What did Mun want?” a woman on the other side of the table asked, “Well,” Tierna began, then took a drink. “I think I need another, anyone else?” A round of assent was given and Tierna stood again and went back to the bar. There was a large mirror behind the bartenders, which Tierna supposed when combined with all these faux-period light fixtures and dubiously sourced hardwood accents was probably letting them get at least an extra ten crowns on all the drinks.

Drinks acquired, filling her hands, she carefully maneuvered back to their corner and handed out the refreshments. “She got called into the Cube.” Everyone looked up at Tierna, Qu even stopped his mocking vocal caricature of Wulin to give her a quizzical look. “Unity is doing something. She couldn’t say what. They have our names.” A beat passed at the table as everyone digested this, and Qu returned to his anecdote with a little less verve.

Suddenly, behind her, a strong female voice cut through the crowd, “Tierna Long?” Tierna nearly choked on her first sip of beer. Everyone else at the table had gone pale, even Qu was silent again and his eyes were locked over Tierna’s shoulder. She turned around slowly.

A slender, gaunt-faced woman with thick black hair tied into a long braid that hung over her shoulder stared down at Tierna. Her light brown skin was smooth and her face betrayed neither emotion nor any indication of age. She could have been twenty-one or fifty-one. “My name is Abhan Hermione Longlife.” Her voice was commanding, but smooth. Despite the woman’s small stature (Tierna was of Kylarnatian extraction, and stood taller than most men she knew) Tierna instantly believed this woman capable of picking her up and tossing her. She didn’t know what to say. “Y-yes?”

“I represent the Temple of Unity.” Tierna noticed there was a break in the crowded bar forming around this woman as people instinctively steered clear. She was wearing a long white tunic which hung to her ankles under a black silken shawl that draped elegantly down her arms with wide silver colored bands that rose over the shoulders. On her hands she wore many gold rings of different designs, with silver ornaments in her hair and a single gold band tight around the bottom of her braid. “We would like to speak to you.”

“Now?” Tierna choked out the question in something just above a whisper. Abhan Hermione Longlife then passed her gaze over the whole table, each of Tierna’s coworkers doing their best to avoid her piercing eyes. “Not now.” She said with certainty, before producing a small white card from one of the folds of the shawl. “Tomorrow.”

“Of course,” she mustered, “I’ll be there.” Abhan fixed her gaze on Tierna again. “I know.”

Without waiting for anything further, the domineering woman turned and left. The other bar patrons gave her a wide berth and she made her dignified way back out into the night.

“Was that…” came a voice from the table. To Tierna it felt like it came from the end of a long hallway. “A River Daughter.” Someone else at the table answered. “I didn’t know the Unity Temple…” the speculative comment died in the heavy silence that fell over the table. The sound of someone on the other end of Qu’s phone could be heard, which eventually snapped him out of his reverie. “Fuck,” said Tierna, after she was certain enough time was passed, “I need another cigarette.” She pulled an ashtray toward her, “Another? You don’t smoke?” someone said. “Tonight, apparently, I do.”

It felt like time for Tierna to go home. She wanted to wrap herself in a blanket and hide. Then her phone rang: it was Dazhou, and she answered it. “Tierna!” he exclaimed before she could speak, “You won’t believe it!” He was right, but he didn’t know it. She said nothing, and he carried on, “He’s not the real Count Wulin!”

“I wish you hadn’t just told me that,” was all she could give in reply.

“What’s wrong?”