Hurricane Zhou is the captain of The One-Hundred Percent Magnificent. He has the rugged face of a man who is no stranger to the threat of pirate attacks. His beard is graying but it looks more like a sign of warning more than age. It’s a gray that says, “He got this far, will you?”

He is the most feared man in the East China Sea. Or the South China Sea. It depends on which one he’s in.

His crew is made up of mercenaries with over a hundred years of accumulated experience fighting pirates. With so many passengers to rob, and so much cargo to take, The One-Hundred Percent Magnificent tempts every pirate who shares the sea with her.

Even so, attacks are rare. It is a fortress with sails and it’s crewed by an army of men eager to earn the handsome reward Hurricane Zhou pays for each confirmed pirate kill. It comes as no surprise that The One-Hundred Percent Magnificent has never been successfully raided.

Until tonight.

Hurricane Zhou and his personal entourage of pirate killers are on the deck and on their knees. They’re encircled by pirates armed with cutlasses, sabers, and mismatched scraps of leather armor. Each pirate looks like he walked a uniquely hazardous path through life on his way to this meeting.

The sailors and pirates mutter curses at one another. Someone pushes to get through the pirates.

It’s a woman.

Her hair is tied into a braid that reaches her waist. Her features belong to someone living a softer life. One with servants and feasts. But she disguises this by maintaining a regal harshness. She appears to be continually disappointed by what she finds under heaven.

No one knows her name, but she is called Iron Whirlwind. She is dressed much as the other pirates. Scraps of armor, simple breeches, and a faded jacket over an old robe. Every item is tattered, mismatched, and not quite the correct size. They are also too light for the season because it’s better to be cold on the sea than to be dragged under it.

Her one extravagance is the Triple Dragon Staff. It dwarfs her at six feet in length. Black, iron, and divided into three equal sections that each depict one of the dragons of the three seas twirling around the staff in gold.

It hangs across her shoulders. Her hands dangle from it.

Hurricane Zhou looks beyond Iron Whirlwind, looks beyond the pirate gang around her, looks beyond the ship. His eyes are locked on the spot of the sky where the flare ignited.

Iron Whirlwind paces in front of Hurricane Zhou. She gives an appraising nod.

“Nice ship.”

“You noticed?”

Iron Whirlwind drums her fingers on her staff. “It belongs to the Sea Devil Gang now.”

The pirates’ cheer is deafening.

Hurricane Zhou almost moves. It’s instinct. Pirates? On his ship? His muscles tense and will launch him at Iron Whirlwind. He will slam an elbow into her nose before he’s even aware of thinking about retaliation.

But he doesn’t. The end of Iron Whirlwind’s staff is already at his throat. The cold metal against his skin snaps his mind back into the moment.

Pirates. On his ship. He simmers in his anger.

Iron Whirlwind looks down the length of her staff at Hurricane Zhou. She speaks in calm and clear voice so quiet only Hurricane Zhou can hear her. “No one has to die tonight.”

“All pirates must die!” someone in the darkness says.

Iron Whirlwind turns to face this newcomer and must immediately duck out of the way of a terracotta jug hurled straight at her head. It shatters against the face of a nearby but slower pirate.

There’s no such thing as a road to the nomads of Xiazhou. The winds sculpt the vast desert into new shapes every day. Every path is new. Even well worn ones. Jiang Shan is no stranger to navigating a harsh and shifting landscape.

But the sea is something else altogether.

It’s the third night of The One-Hundred Percent Magnificent’s voyage.

Jiang Shan’s feet are firmly planted on the deck. But the deck won’t stay firmly planted under his feet.

“This must be how you feel all the time.”

Gu Feng wobbles in time with the waves. It makes him appear to be the calm, solid center of a heaving universe. “Not all the time. Only when I’ve not had enough to drink.”

Jiang Shan resists the urge to hug a railing. He merely holds it like a vice. “How much longer must we endure this?”

“We’ve weeks to go yet.”

Jiang Shan’s grip tightens. “Weeks?”

“Two at most.”

“Why!”

“It’s a big country. We’re sailing around it.”

“We could have walked through it!”

“The sea is much faster.”

Jiang Shan would be able to see the shore in daylight. All he can see now is the endless black of the ocean stretching out in every direction. “The sea is wretched.”

Gu Feng considers this. “I think it’s more accurate to say the sea is indifferent.”

“It smells.”

The One-Hundred Percent Magnificent lives up to its name. It’s the jewel of the East China Sea trade lanes. As well, it is among the top three ships of the South China Sea and no one can agree on how those three rank against one another.

But it smells.

This is a fact of travel by sea and it is especially true aboard a vessel packed from stem to stern with, among other things, livestock, sailors, travelers, mercenaries, and food for all of them.

Jiang Shan and Gu Feng feel the deck of The One-Hundred Percent Magnificent shudder. The ship lurches to one side. Gu Feng tumbles over but not overboard. Jiang Shan falls, but only as far as his grip on the rail will allow. The sound of something very close to thunder or canon fire snaps across the deck.

Jiang Shan is assured of his imminent demise. “Are those screams?”

Gu Feng tilts his head. It’s difficult to hear anything over the sea slapping into hull of ship. “Howls more like.”

Jiang Shan pulls himself up. “Or battlecries.”

Gu Feng wobbles out of time with the ship. It’s slowing down. “Pirates.”

There is a terrific crash and The One-Hundred Percent Magnificent lurches once more. This time Jiang Shan loses his grip and hits the deck hard enough to be dazed. The impact is great, but mostly he’s stunned from losing all his breath. Gu Feng has no idea how he wound up face first on the deck. Luckily he is exactly drunk enough that he isn’t harmed.

Both men hear maniacal howls from the blackness. Closer now.

The ship stops moving.

Gu Feng carefully lifts himself up. “These pirates are coordinated. Attacking with multiple ships. They’ll take everything they can and sink the rest.”

Jiang Shan is slow to stand and he can only stay up with the assistance of some railing. “I can’t swim.”

“Nor I.” Gu Feng’s eyes narrow as he tries to remember. “I think.”

Jiang Shan hurls himself toward Gu Feng. He grabs the little monk by the collar and drags him off his feet. “Smoke can’t swim!”

Gu Feng grabs Jiang Shan by his collar. “The wine can’t swim!”

Each attempts to establish the dominance of his point by shaking the other by his collar. At last, Gu Feng wriggles out of Jiang Shan’s grip by falling out of his own robe.

Jiang Shan recoils and drops the robe. Gu Feng’s pants stayed on, but he was right to react that way. There was no sense risking it.

A green ball of fire soars into the black sky. It fades into a cinder indistinguishable from the stars. And then it explodes. For a few seconds its as if a great green sun shines upon the Earth.

Gu Feng huffs. “Distress flares? A ship of this size should repel two pirate crews without help.”

There’s an enormous crash and the deck of The One-Hundred Percent Magnificent lurches and groans a third time. Jiang Shan and Gu Feng are able to hold their ground but only barely.

Jiang Shan watches the final light sputter out of the flare.

“What about three crews?”

Gu Feng rolls up his sleeves. “Three will be trouble.”

It’s another beautiful morning in the Middle Kingdom. Well, it’s not yet noon, but that’s still morning.

“I don’t recall anything else until waking up an hour ago. On the floor. With a sore jaw.”

Jiang Shan wipes his free hand across his face. He drags Smoke through the crowded docks of Shanghai with the other. “It shouldn’t be possible to sweat this much in autumn.”

Gu Feng pulls and tugs at the reins of his donkey. “It shouldn’t be possible for a flying Shaolin monk to hide so well.”

“Maybe he doesn’t hide at all.”

Gu Feng lights up. “More of your philosophy!”

Jiang Shan finds new strength to quicken Smoke’s pace.

Gu Feng struggles to keep up. “We can’t find Leaping Cloud because Leaping Cloud doesn’t hold still long enough to hide anywhere!”

Jiang Shan coaxes even more speed out of Smoke’s pace. “Well done. That’s finished then, yes?”

Gu Feng comes to a sudden stop. The cramped Shanghai traffic veers around him. There are curses. Some of them are muttered but most are shouted.

Gu Feng points at a barge.

“Here! It’s this one.”

Jiang Shan stops. He looks. “What? Behind the palace?”

“It is the palace.”

“You’re drunk.”

“If I’m drunk, then why does the palace have sails?”

It’s a good question. Jiang Shan gives it some thought. “The architect was also drunk.”

“What you don’t know about sailing could fill the ocean,” Gu Feng says. “That is the One-Hundred Percent Magnificent. It’s heading to Guangzhou. None of this means anything to a barbarian like you, so let me just say: we are going south and we are taking this boat.”

Jiang Shan can only see the portion of The One-Hundred Percent Magnificent that rises above the buildings of the harbor.

It’s a large portion.

The ship dwarfs everything else docked at Shanghai as a mountain dwarfs a rock. The front curves upward. The rear is dominated by what appears to be a squat castle. Seven enormous sails sprout out of the deck. Jiang Shan assumes there is a method to their placement but he can’t make it out from this angle.

There are probably terms and reasons for all these things. But Jiang Shan doesn’t know them. He’s a slightly disgraced general of the famed Lightning Cavalry of Xiazhou. A nation of nomads so far from any ocean that he has never seen one. And still can’t, in part, because this massive ship blocks his view of it.

He looks at The One-Hundred Percent Magnificent with a general’s eyes. He sees a vessel that will move an army. Or repel one.

“This is our ship?”

Gu Feng puffs up with pride. Wobbly pride. “Yes.”

“How did you do this?”

“Your elder is wise in the ways of bargaining while half soused. Also, Wei Bo’s funds were of some assistance.”

“Your Chinese paper money can buy an ocean palace?”

“It can rent a portion!”

Chapter 7, The One-Hundred Percent Magnificent

“Not without my horse.”

Gu Feng became tired of hearing this from Jiang Shan some time ago.

The south is a land carved into a thousand fiefdoms by rivers, lakes, and marshes. To travel these lands at anything that approaches an acceptable speed one must travel by boat.

Luckily, the south is well equipped in boats.

Unluckily, not every boat is equipped for the needs of an enormous war steed.

“I didn’t know the barbarians of Xiazhou were in the habit of promoting fools to the rank of general.”

Gu Feng is speaking to the horse.

“Hruff,” Smoke says.

“I don’t mean to imply Jiang Shan is without his uses. For instance, he can carry your spear.”

Jiang Shan overhears all of this. He is meant to. “Are you quite through?”

Gu Feng is not. “And he finds you adequate lodging. From time to time.”

“If they don’t have the room to carry Smoke, what makes you think they have room for your wine?”

“You mean the cart?”

“The cart full of your wine, yes.”

Gu Feng tightens the reins and stops his donkey. He fixes Jiang Shan with a steely, if wobbling, gaze and says, “Would you fault a sick man for bringing a supply of medicine?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Then you will not bring the wine into it.”

It is late autumn but the seasons are different in the south. The presence of so many rivers, lakes, and marshlands conspires to create an ever-present humidity. The air is at once too cold to go without a coat and too heavy to wear one.

Gu Feng braves the weather without a coat. If he has need of warmth, there is the wine.

Jiang Shan is miserable. He grew up wrapped in furs and huddled inside tents that were also wrapped in furs. And all of it combined never seemed to provide enough protection from the icy winds of a winter in Xiazhou. He is unaccustomed to air that suffocates.

Their discomfort compounds the hardships of travel. It has been a month. Their failure to find so much as a trace of this Leaping Cloud only frays their nerves.

They silently consent to moving on.

Maybe the next passenger boat will be large enough for the horse and the cart.

This is likely Gao Wen’s second oldest surviving entry.

Sword Witch brings the carriage to a halt at the town gates of Pingyang.

She sips at her cup. “Don’t worry about that mess. Just put it on my tab.”

Jiang Shan says nothing.

He busies himself with thinking about Wei Bo’s plan.

Jiang Shan’s invasion of the Jin capitol would have started a war between Jin and Xiazhou. Each nation possesses a powerful army. Millions of people would be caught between them. Their suffering could go on for years. The Brotherhood of Crows could not allow this to happen.

And so Wei Bo collected Jiang Shan and Gu Feng to propose an alternative.

Invade the Song capitol instead.

Emperor Gaozong inherited the Song Dynasty when the rest of the Imperial Family was captured in the Jin siege of Kaifeng. Emperor Gaozong has not had time to consolidate political influence and what remains of the Song military offers no resistance to Jin expansion.

Emperor Gaozong has no allies among the court, the military, the governors, or the people. His removal would not cause war.

Wei Bo supplied a list of sympathetic men and women to be recruited to their cause.

Leaping Cloud.
Most Observant Eagle.
Six Sword Wu.
Iron Whirlwind.
Invisible Killer.

They are all strangers to Jiang Shan. Except Six Sword Wu and he has nothing but doubts about their ability to recruit him. Gu Feng seemed happy with the list and went so far as referring to them as Heroes of the Age. Such is the power of drink.

Wei Bo, as an accomplished merchant, will provide funds. Jiang Shan, as an accomplished general, will provide leadership. And Gu Feng…

Uh, Gu Feng.

Jiang Shan turns to his twitching friend and asks, “What was all that ‘Master Gu’ business?”

Gu Feng gulps down a mouthful of wine. It warms his insides and this has a positive effect on the itching. He says, “Wei Bo was obviously raised with more manners than a barbarian. He respects his elders.”

Jiang Shan considers this. The nomads of Xiazhou respect their elders, of course, and Jiang Shan is no different. But Gu Feng never struck him as the kind of elder who gets respected.

“Wei Bo acted like he knew you.”

Gu Feng burps. “He’s Grandfather of Crows. He knows everybody worth knowing.”

“But you’re just a drunk old man.”

Gu Feng adopts what he imagines to be a sagely demeanor, but the wine sloshing out of the jug and onto his sleeves tarnishes the execution. “Ah, but a drunk old man worth knowing.”

Jiang Shan snorts. “Well, I know you and I haven’t found it terribly worthwhile.”

Gu Feng waggles his fingers. Apparently to imply mysticism? “That’s because you don’t know where to look.”

“I’ve seen you naked. I’m afraid to look further.”

Gu Feng raises his jar to Jiang Shan in a sloshy toast. “To the sacred and the profane.”

Jiang Shan laughs. “Since when are you sacred?”

Gu Feng downs another gulp of wine. “I’m a monk is when.”

“That was almost a sentence.”

Gu Feng swats at the barbarian but the space required by the horse, the mule, and the cart makes it more of a gesture than an attack. In any case Gu Feng straightens himself up and says, “You’re a foreigner. Everywhere you are, you’re already lost. Me? I’ve been everywhere two or three times. Jade Devil Fist is known throughout the land!”

Jiang Shan raises one eyebrow. “I thought it was Jade Devil Hand.”

Gu Feng clears his throat. “So what if it is? Hands make fists.”

The odor of the Yangtze is strong.

It’s not the river, it’s the things people take out of it. Battlefields stink of gore and shit, but as far as Jiang Shan is concerned these docks are worse because battlefields do not also stink of fish and the insides of fish.

Jiang Shan snorts the smell out of his nostrils but it’s an entirely too temporary a solution. He watches Gu Feng haggle for passage on a boat. Technically Jiang Shan is in charge of the money but his approach to the fine art of haggling is to issue orders backed by threats.

And so Gu Feng does the talking now.

There is a saying. “In the north, travel by horse. In the south, travel by boat.” They seek passage further south to find the reclusive Shaolin monk Leaping Cloud. Jiang Shan thinks one monk is more than enough.

Jiang Shan and Gu Feng leave Wei Bo one week later on very friendly terms.

How friendly?

Gu Feng’s new donkey pulls his new cart. It’s much roomier than the old one. It carries a ludicrous supply of grape wine with room to spare. Gu Feng thinks of this extra space as entirely wasted but Jiang Shan is glad to have some supplies that are not alcohol.

Jiang Shan has a new saddle for Smoke. It’s not much, but his needs are not great. The saddle was custom made by, well, a craftsman of some distinction according to Wei Bo. In any case it’s quite comfortable. His armor is stowed and his weapon is wrapped up so the locals won’t panic at the sight of a foreign warlord.

As well, both men now have a collection of tailored robes, gowns, and coats.

They have a cache of silver and gold taels along with a considerable sum of banknotes to be used at Jiang Shan’s discretion. Gu Feng is not to be trusted with any of it. Jiang Shan has been assured banknotes are as good as real money. He doesn’t see how, but if the Chinese will give him food for paper he won’t be the one to tell them how stupid it is.

Outside the walls of Wei Bo’s home is a very prosperous district of Jiankang. The banks of the Yangtze River are in some other far away district of the city to minimize the odors from industries dependent on the bounties of the Yangtze.

But Gu Feng can still catch a hint of them in the air. He had cultivated a powerful sense of smell as a survival mechanism. The line between poison and sufficiently potent drink being a thin one.

Jiankang is one of the few cities north of the Yangtze that is not governed by the Jin. Several attempts were made to change this, but the sieges went all wrong. Poisoned supplies, sabotaged equipment, and mysterious deaths ran rampant through the ranks of every Jin army to stand at the walls of Jiankang.

The city had been spared from sieges for over a year at this point due to the persistent rumor among the Jin that Jiankang was ruled by a secret order of assassins.

Of course, this is not true, but rumor is as good as fact in most cases. To clarify: the Brotherhood of Crows is secretive but not itself a secret. They do not rule Jiankang, but they inform the tenor of some policies. And, yes, occasionally the Brotherhood is responsible for the deaths of very specific people, but that does not make them assassins.

Jiankang had been capitol to several powerful dynasties and it seems likely this is why Wei Bo’s estate is so very palatial. Jiang Shan and Gu Feng ride into the street at a leisurely pace. Around them servants escort their masters on all manner of business in all manner of conveyances. People who live in this district are too rich to do something as pedestrian as walk somewhere.

Even in the fine clothes Wei Bo gave them, the traitor and the monk stand out among this crowd. They carry themselves in all the ways rich city people with servants do not.

Also there is Gu Feng’s constant twitching and scratching.

“It’s not fleas, is it?” Jiang Shan says.

Gu Feng huffs. “Of course it’s not fleas!”

“Don’t pretend it couldn’t have been though.”

“There were baths at Wei Bo’s. And servant girls. So, it’s probably not fleas.”

“Then what is it?”

Gu Feng plucks at his robes and says, “These damn clothes!”

Jiang Shan nods. “You can roll around in the dirt when we leave town. That should help.”

Gu Feng grunts and says, “Or! I could go through the stacks of clothes taking up the back half of my cart for no good reason. Maybe there’s one outfit in there that won’t bedevil me!”

Jiang Shan laughs. “In the first place, the back half of your cart is packed with wine and a few provisions and spare coats and robes. We will be traveling far and winter is near. Wei Bo’s closets are deep. We’d have been fools not to take them.”

Gu Feng shifts. He twitches. He is determined to find an angle where the robes do not touch his skin. In the meantime a drink will help! He breaks into the first wine jar.

It is a bright and warm day for autumn. Late-afternoon.

Gu Feng and Wei Bo stand in an immense courtyard. Everywhere you look is a garden manicured to look like it hadn’t been manicured at all. You’re meant to think it fell from heaven fully formed and perfect. Coincidentally they also line up with perfect little paths between them. How fortuitous.

The walls of the courtyard are high and they block whatever is on the other side from view. Gu Feng detects a hint of the sea in the air. He has no idea where the Brotherhood of Crows brought him, but it must be a large city near the sea.

Firstly, small cities simply do not contain compounds like Wei Bo’s palace.

Secondly, nothing else stinks quite like fish. He has a few guesses about where he is now.

Smoke is brought from the stables. Looking at the animal up close Gu Feng is gripped by the fear that it’s a fake. The horse is far too large. But then again this is the first time he’s seen Smoke while very nearly sober, so there’s that to consider.

In fact, this very nearly sober stuff irritates Gu Feng. It makes him doubtful and he frets about all sorts of things that ordinarily never bother him. For instance: whether or not escaping will get him killed.

Wine makes the noise of the inconsequential disappear. If that’s not harmony, he doesn’t know what is. Of course, Gu Feng long ago made peace with the notion that he may not, in fact, know a single goddamned thing about what harmony is. Wine works well enough in the meantime though.

Jiang Shan is led into the courtyard by a pair of Wei Bo’s servants. Gu Feng cannot help but think he looks ridiculous in such delicate robes. Jiang Shan is all smiles as soon as he sees Smoke.

The horse takes one look at its master and says, “Hruff.”

Jiang Shan approaches Gu Feng and Wei Bo. The three salute one another with fists.

Jiang Shan says to Gu Feng, “This is our host, Wei Bo then?”

Wei Bo says, “Ah, I could hardly be considered a host after the way I’ve allowed you to be treated.”

Jiang Shan laughs and says, “Oh, yes. The best bed, and food, and wine, and women. Luckily, I’m a veteran soldier. I can endure these discomforts.”

Gu Feng laughs along with his friend.

Wei Bo flashes his merchant’s smile.

We’re all friends here, that’s the message.

Wei Bo says, “I think you’re making fun of me, General Jiang.”

Jiang Shan pets Smoke on the neck as he says, “I have no rank.”

Wei Bo bows his head in silent apology. He says, “My mistake. It’s only that Master Gu calls you General.”

Jiang Shan inspects the animal’s haunch. “He says a lot of things, and gets away with it too, because everyone knows he’s a useless old drunk. Anyway, I’m not a general.”

Wei Bo says, “But maybe you could be one again.”

Jiang Shan turns his full attention to Wei Bo.

Wei Bo waves his own suggestion away and says, “No, I’m being presumptuous. You still need to see your weapon and armor.”

At that moment a servant rounds a corner that just happens to be there and certainly not because it’s perfectly manicured to be there or anything crass like that.

He carries a large polearm. Its blade carries the polished icy shine unique to whatever goes into the steel of Xiazhou. Another servant follows him. This one carries the robes and cavalry armor of a high ranking Xiazhou soldier. The servants approach Jiang Shan with their eyes to the ground. They kneel before him and offer the weapon and the armor.

Jiang Shan takes the glaive. He spins it through a few simple forms. It seems weightless in his grasp. Satisfied by the familiar heft of his weapon, Jiang Shan brings it to a rest across his shoulders.

Jiang Shan says, “How would I become a general again?”

The escape plan Gu Feng proposed in Jiang Shan’s quarters wasn’t exactly a plan. It was more accurately the suggestion of escape. They’d get Wei Bo to relinquish Smoke and the Avalanche Glaive and shortly thereafter make their move.

Whatever that would be.

But it was decided one of them would signal the other when the moment to strike came along.

The signal hadn’t been decided upon either.

Now Gu Feng worries. This is what he gets for sobering up between the plan and its execution.

Probably the signal would not be conversation though. Right?

Wei Bo smiles his merchant’s smile and says, “Your attack on Kaifeng would have worked had our agents not informed Emperor Taizong.”

Jiang Shan doesn’t even flinch.

Wei Bo says, “You’d have seized the capitol, but the Jin would not give up the rest of their newly claimed lands so easily. You couldn’t rely on the citizenry’s support either. The Jin are unwelcome foreign conquerors, yes, but so would be the army of Xiazhou.”

Jiang Shan shifts imperceptibly but says nothing.

Wei Bo says, “The Brotherhood of Crows can’t stop wars, but we can minimize the suffering of wars.”

Jiang Shan’s expression is blank.

Wei Bo looks to Gu Feng who merely shrugs and says, “Don’t look to me for answers. I got him down here with the understanding we’d fight our way out, but here we are talking.”

Wei Bo loses his smile and replaces it with confusion. “Escape? In your condition?”

Gu Feng laughs and says, “What condition? Jade Devil techniques can unblock vital points. We’re healed up and ready for deadly hand-to-hand combat!”

Jiang Shan puts his hand on Gu Feng’s shoulder and says, “There are more ways to escape than by violence.”

Gu Feng turns to Jiang Shan. Slowly. Suspiciously. He eyes the barbarian like he’s a cup full of an unknown foul smelling liquid that’s bubbling for reasons no one can articulate.

At last Gu Feng says, “Are you doing philosophy again?”

Jiang Shan staggers back. “No. No, stop that.”

Gu Feng stalks forward like a predator. “Admit it. You philosophized.”

Jiang Shan shields himself with the Avalanche Glaive. “Stay back!”

Wei Bo begins to doubt the wisdom of hinging his plans to stabilize all of China on these two.

Chapter 6, Heroes of the Age

About an hour later Gu Feng is led to Wei Bo’s office. It’s lined with bookcases and elaborate tapestries. Wei Bo sits at a table at the far end of the room. He reads quietly from a large book.

Gu Feng does not wobble into the room. He needs a few more drinks to get back to that level. He approaches Wei Bo and waits. Wei Bo finishes the page, places a marker, closes the book, and looks up.

Gu Feng clears his throat. “He wants his spear and his horse.”

Wei Bo flashes the practiced smile of a merchant who likes to get along with customers even when they’re making patently absurd demands. He says, “That’s not possible.”

Gu Feng shrugs. He wants to look like he has no interest in these matters beyond the wine it will fetch him. He says, “He’s a barbarian. And moreover a military man. They have their traditions. It’s an ancestral spear. His father’s or something. The horse is of some value as well. He wants to know they’re safe.”

Wei Bo’s smile does not waver. He says, “Jiang Shan can see them. That should be sufficient, yes?”

Gu Feng does not look convinced. He says, “For the horse, almost certainly. But it’s not so difficult to duplicate a weapon. Especially for a man with your resources.”

Wei Bo says nothing.

Gu Feng sighs and says, “If he’s too dangerous to hold a spear, I dare say he’s too dangerous whether or not there’s a spear in the room.”

“In the first place it’s not a spear.”

Gu Feng makes a series of gestures that are supposed to somehow communicate the shape of the weapon. He just looks old and impatient though. “The pole with a butcher’s knife at one end then.”

Wei Bo says, “The last time he was trapped, the horse and the glaive rather famously extricated him.”

Gu Feng says, “How could he be trapped? He’s your guest.”

Wei Bo’s smile almost falters, but he catches it and instead says, “What did you tell him that there’s all this talk of weapons and horses suddenly?”

Gu Feng waves the question away. It’s nothing but an insect. “You’ll have to ask the wine. Don’t give me that look, he’d have been suspicious if I wasn’t properly soused. But I was, so whatever I said, he knew it wasn’t of any consequence. You worry too much. He’s a barbarian general. They are fond of their horses and their spears. That’s all there is to it.”

Wei Bo says, “Glaives.”

Gu Feng nods, “Sure, those too.”

Wei Bo says, “I only ask because it would be so very foolish to attempt escape while your vital points are still blocked. Your techniques will get you nothing but killed.”

“What is there to escape from? Free wine and servant girls?”

“Well, as you say, he’s a barbarian. They don’t always see things the way we civilized men do.”

Gu Feng says, “Hence this business with the cherished glaive and the horse. They aren’t complicated people.”

Wei Bo stands up. He paces. He looks at Gu Feng. “Fine. He may inspect them.”

Gu Feng says, “And his armor.”

Wei Bo loses his merchant’s smile instantly. “Now, this is asking for too much.”

Gu Feng beams a monk smile right back at him and says, “He woke up in the nicest bed he’s ever known and beautiful girls served him Ping Fei’s amazing food. Escape is not on his mind.”

Wei Bo calculates.

Gu Feng sighs and says, “He can’t be loyal to a man who would deny him these things. It’s as simple as that.”
Wei Bo nods. His merchant’s smile returns and he says, “Master Gu has a way of getting straight to the heart of things. Come. We shall meet Jiang Shan in the north courtyard. His armor, his glaive, and his horse will be brought there.”