You look at the three of them, standing in the wreckage of the attack. Hu’s face is grave, Xifeng’s is positively distraught. Only the man in the wraparound shades is unperturbed, standing passively still beside them. Rosalie’s instructions to you before you left were clear: Be helpful, give the Sages what they need, but only go so far – Be cautious and don’t let them railroad you into anything that you’ll regret later. For a moment you consider turning them down. You’d have every right given Rosalie’s instructions.
But would she see it that way?
“Ok,” you tell Hu. “Explain.”
“This way,” replies the Sage leading you back towards the doors he came in by. “Xifeng, co-ordinate the clean up team.” She mumbles a monotone reply as you follow Hu through the doors and into a short corridor. More bullet holes mar the otherwise flat surface of the polished granite wall cladding. The corridor terminates in an elevator. Hu slips a card from his inside jacket pocket and slides it through an electronic reader beside the doors. “Gāo Chi is our newest member,” says Hu as the lift hums into life. “We only found him two weeks ago.”
That was when Rosalie contacted you about this assignment, you realise.
“You wanted me to meet him,” you ask.
Hu turns to look at you, just as the elevator doors open with a chime. He tries to hide his surprise at your question, and does a decent job of it. The first fraction of a second, before he can mask his reaction gives it away though. “What do you mean,” he asks, gesturing for you to enter the elevator.
“What can you tell me about Feng Meng,” you ask, changing tack.
Hu thinks about it for a second as he presses a button on the inside of the elevator. “Feng Meng’s story is not a happy one. Houyi, the archer, realised that he would die and decided to pass on his skills to the next generation. He selected Feng Meng as his apprentice, but Feng Meng was jealous of his master’s skill and he killed him.” The display on the elevator control panel shows the floors passing as the elevator ascends. “As Sages, students of Feng Meng are harbingers of change, oft times violent change.”
The elevator doors open with a chime, revealing an extensive penthouse suite. Like the parking lot below, it is strewn with wreckage. Much of the furniture has been overturned and, judging by the bullet holes, used as impromptu cover.
“The new replacing the old,” you say as you step out of the elevator alongside Hu. “So Catilindria.”
“As the Stellae would put it,” nods Hu. “Yes Catilindria is an aspect of Feng Meng.”
“And his other ousiarch,” you prod.
“Well that is the heart of the matter isn’t it,” interrupts Táng Bolin, emerging from behind a pillar. The elderly sage has changed little since you saw him last and is still all wrinkled skin and wispy white hair. He clutches a bandage to the side of his head, but little blood seems to issue from his wound. “Welcome again to China Miss Yè, you have not changed at all.”
“Neither have you Sage Táng,” you respond with a stiff bow. For a moment you wonder if you have accidently insulted the old man. He regards you coolly for a minute, then a wry smile twitches at the corner of his lips.
“And yet in another very real way, you are a very different woman from the one I met several years ago,” continues Táng. He half stumbles and steadies himself against the wall before continuing. “Still, let me answer your question first. Another tale of Feng Meng states that he tried to steal an elixir of immortality from Houyi’s wife, Change’e. An interesting tale, don’t you think, Miss Yè?”
The elderly Sage watches you closely, his eyes twinkling with amusement. You look to Hu for help.
“Change’e is the goddess of the moon,” he explains evenly. “And from your perspective Sulva would be an aspect of Feng Meng.”
Somehow it doesn’t surprise you. Yet another Sulva. It seems as it seems as if you have found them everywhere of late. You had eventually spoken to Nash about it a handful of months ago. His explanation had sounded logical enough, but in truth once he started using words like ‘resonance’ you had found him difficult to follow, even though you have long since mastered decoding his thick accent.
“I apologize, Ms Yè,” continues Hu somewhat bleakly. “Sage Táng is making a joke at your expense. We have no intention of stealing your immortality.”
You gape like a fish. It’s true you’ve been able to use your prodigies to cheat death on occasion, but immortality? It seems preposterous. Even more so the idea that such a thing could ripped away from you.
“But you are immortal Miss Yè,” states Táng. Did you vocalise the question without thinking or can the elderly sage just tell what you are thinking? It wouldn’t be hard, you realise as you snap your jaw shut. “You have barely aged a day since I met you last.”
“But that’s just because I haven’t used this face in all that time,” you protest.
“And when you do become old, that lovely face will be waiting to make you young again,” answers Táng with a smug grin. “Can you not put aside disease and injury as easily as putting on a new coat?” You have to nod in admission. “Then age is just the same. A useful trick,” says Táng with enormous understatement. “But of far more interest to us is that you are a student of Sun Wukong. Or you were, you have changed now Miss Yè.”
“What do you mean a student of Sun Wukong,” you ask.
“Hmph,” mutters Táng. “I have already told you much. An exchange, Miss Yè. We will explain the nature of Sun Wukong when you return to me with Gāo Chi.”
“I’ve already said I would help,” you reply.
“Good,” replies Táng, clasping his hands together. “You, Mr Hu and Mr Rèn will rescue Gāo Chi from this Fane.”
“What about he big guy downstairs,” you ask, to Táng’s confusion. “The one in the wraparound shades.”
“Oh, him,” states Táng with a dismissive wave of his hand. “No. He would not be useful for this.”
It’s an odd statement, but you ignore it in favour of more important questions. “Do you know where they’ve taken him?”
“I do not,” he replies. He smiles knowingly again and claps his hands together. Rèn – Sage Rèn – emerges from around a corner a grey clad figure slung over one broad shoulder. “I suspect this one does though.” Rèn dumps the figure on the floor unceremoniously, revealing a western man with a hard face. He’s unconscious, barely breathing a trickle of blood rolls down the side of his face. A soldier. “I believe you can help us here Miss Yè.”
You nod. The soldier’s imago will contain answers, or at least clues. Fane always take great steps to compartmentalise their activities just to protect themselves from eventualities such as yourself.
You kneel down beside the soldier and place the palm of your hand on his forehead. He feels hot and his forehead is covered in sweat. You let the sigil form on your hand and the soldier’s imago floods inside you. His memories appear in your mind, as clear as day.
The attack is clearest. You remember what the soldier – Donnie Jarvis is his name – felt as his squad breezed into the parking lot below, tearing through the unprepared security guards on the barrier. The way their tech expert cracked open the elevator controls and the tension that built as they slowly ascended to the penthouse.
And then it all fell apart for them. The men guarding the penthouse were inhuman. They just soaked up all the bullets the soldier’s squad fired at them, far more than should be possible even given the outlandish experiences the soldier had encountered during his time with Fane’s Spartacus section. His confusion, his anger and ultimately his fear suddenly seem very real to you. The soldier’s last memory is of one of the penthouse guards swinging a huge fist into his face, seemingly untroubled by the dozen bullet wounds that ripped his suit to shreds. Odd that there was so little blood.
You wind back, passing rapidly through the time the squad spent in the unmarked van travelling to the Sage’s facility. There’s nothing important there. The you reach the soldiers memories of the Fane base of operations: The unmarked warehouse, the cry of seabirds and the smell of salt in the air.
Your eyes snap back open and you rise to your feet before turning to speak to Táng. “I know where they’ve taken Gāo Chi,” you tell him. “We don’t have much time.”
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