The discussions continued for the remainder of the day and well into the night.
The more they talked, the more the four disciples of Mount Faa found themselves exchanging glances.
Shikladak almost seemed to be in a permanent state of dissociation. He smiled and nodded but barely added anything to the discussion, and spent a great deal of time staring at Chan Bik, who tried to glare back at him but was unable to maintain her gaze.
“I don’t think he’s human,” she whispered under her breath to Gaam Yuk Ying. “He reminded me a bit of the phoenixes I met in Wong, but… he gives me the creeps.”
She wasn’t the only one unnerved by him. Baak Tsau Saa’s eyes kept flickering nervously in his direction, and Grandmaster Luk, seated next to him, was leaning ever so subtly away, although her expression remained neutral. The Mou Dang Master Laan mainly kept silent, evidently not eager to draw attention to the role that Mou Dang had been playing so far.
Oddly, Wong Tang and Gong Lau Yan had also been quiet. They sat in the background, listening wordlessly.
Mest’at’s pale eyes could have burned holes in the pages and tablets that Cheng Baak-hap handed her, with the intensity that she was examining them. She passed the writings back to her delegation as she completed each one.
“We’d like for you to meet with some of the demon nobles,” Cheng Baak-hap said.
“There are demon nobles?” Mest’at responded instantly.
“Of a sort. At least, the demon village that we primarily engage with has a ruling group who make the bulk of decisions.”
“Where are you proposing to meet them?”
“We have established a base in the Demon Realm-”
“No. We will not be entering that place.”
“Scared, wolf?” Shikladak sniggered.
“Do you want to become my next meal, chicken?”
“Will Mou Dang be joining us?” Dzue Dziu Ming asked Master Laan innocently, sipping more of the Tiet Gwun Yaam.
Master Laan choked on his own tea. His eyes surreptitiously swept the faces of the other delegates, but there was no assistance forthcoming. Gaam Yuk Ying was running his thumbs over the hilts of his swords and thoughtfully eyeing the Mou Dang disciples who had accompanied their Master.
“I’ll come along,” Shikladak piped up cheerfully and unexpectedly, folding his long fingers. “It would be very interesting to see a different plane of existence.”
Did he think they were going to a party?
Mest’at, on the other hand, after conversing with her delegation in their own language, said coolly, “I have too many responsibilities to travel with you. But my younger sister will do so. Näkṣātär.”
Of the group of Dzang delegates, there had been only one who had been more striking than Mest’at. Her sister not only had the same blue eyes and round face, but also wispy, pale hair, a faint silver-gold like the silvergrass that grew in the plains of Sek’seun. Her cheeks had a permanent pink flush that contrasted with her cold expression. She bowed politely, in the manner of the southern kingdoms.
Gong Lau Yan shifted as though she were about to speak, but she seemed to think better of it. Only Gaam Yuk Ying saw her grey-brown eyes dart towards her grandmother.
“We will send a squad.” Having dabbed the tea from his grey beard, Master Laan had apparently regained his composure.
“We will need confirmation of the names of those travelling to the Demon Realm within two days.” Cheng Baak-hap was scribbling rapid notes with a charcoal stick. “I will be departing myself tomorrow to speak with the demons and arrange a meeting date.”
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“Näkṣātär, go with her.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Looks like we’ll be departing tomorrow too, then.” Shikladak smiled at Chan Bik.
Wong Tang chuckled. “It will be good to travel with you again, young bird.”
A sense of unease flitted across Shikladak’s narrow face. Gong Lau Yan smirked.
“And you, Grandmaster Luk?”
“I will have one of my disciples travel with Lady Näkṣātär.”
“Elder Baak?”
The nervous little man shook his head. “We will not take part. I… trust we will be kept informed of the results.”
Cheng Baak-hap finished her notes with a final flourish. “Then, it is agreed that representatives of the Kingdoms of Wong, Dzang and Dzue, along with representatives of the Mou Dang, Ngo Mei, and Mount Faa Sects, will be travelling to the Demon Realm to attempt to negotiate with the demon nobles and broker peace agreements.”
“There is one matter we have yet to touch upon,” Mest’at observed. “The Fire Demon.”
“The Fire-” Chan Bik interrupted, her face dark. “Are you perhaps referring to that… to Teem Djeung Baak?”
Mest’at shrugged. “I don’t know her name. But I hear there is a demon who appears often in the southern kingdoms, killing demons and humans alike. She cannot be caught, appearing and disappearing at will. People call her the Fire Demon.”
Chan Bik ground her teeth. “She is a human, not a demon.”
“And her goal?”
“As far as we’re aware, she simply seems to enjoy the chaos,” Yuen Muk supplied. “We haven’t been able to link her to any particular group.” He looked to Cheng Baak-hap for confirmation, and she nodded.
“Then your investigatory skills are useless. We will look into it.”
Ignoring Chan Bik’s affronted expression, Cheng Baak-hap shrugged and tidied away her notes. “Very well.”
But Mest’at hadn’t finished. “Have you established a name for this new language?”
For the first time, Cheng Baak-hap lost a little of her composure. A faint blush appeared on her cheeks. “I… I have.”
“And?”
“… Xiǎng.”
“‘To wish for’?” Mest’at raised an eyebrow.
“Wow, you already learnt that?” Shikladak asked. The lack of interest in his eyes contradicted his words. Mest’at ignored him.
“Yes.” Cheng Baak-hap squared her shoulders. “That’s right.”
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It was Dzue Dziu Ming who suggested they all relax a little before preparing to depart. The Dzang delegation, despite their solemn faces, had brought some strong alcohol with them that had everyone tipsy after a single cup.
Wong Tang, Mest’at, and Grandmaster Luk had disappeared. Näkṣātär sat apart with the remainder of the Dzang envoys. Master Laan had tried to excuse himself, but couldn’t escape Dzue Dziu Ming, and now sat next to him with a disgruntled look on his face. On the Dzue Regent’s other side, Baak Tsau Saa nursed his third cup and muttered darkly under his breath, casting sidelong glances at Master Laan. Gong Lau Yan was teasing Chan Bik and Cheng Baak-hap, who wore identical pink blushes from the alcohol as they sat arm-in-arm. Shikladak lurked nearby with his delegation, watched from the corner of Yuen Muk’s eye. Gaam Yuk Ying kept trying to challenge the Mou Dang disciples to duels.
Slightly unfocused, Chan Bik frowned at him, as if trying to decipher a riddle. “Hey, Gaam Si-hing, you used to fly on Lo Fu Ngaa before you got Yiu Tsing, didn’t you? How did you manage that? It’s a curved blade.”
Wordlessly, Gaam Yuk Ying drew Lo Fu Ngaa. There was the slightest hint of a wobble in his stance as he stood. Tossing the blade lightly, he jumped on it, the sharp edge facing the ground, his feet resting on the narrow, dull side of the blade.
A second later, he collapsed into a magnificent heap as he lost his balance.
“Ha ha, you’re drunk. You’ll need to stand on the flat edge!”
For the next few minutes, Gaam Yuk Ying, balanced on the flat edge of Lo Fu Ngaa, flew in circles, following the shape of the curved blade. Spinning drunkenly, he almost careened into a small group of newcomers who were mounting the steps to the dining area. He stopped with a sudden jerk, rolling off Lo Fu Ngaa to hang upside-down with both feet and a hand. Face inches from Envoy Laam’s, he squinted suspiciously at her.
“Envoy Laam, you’re late,” Dzue Dziu Ming admonished lightly, as if he had been expecting her arrival. He approached cheerfully, Yuen Muk in tow. The latter smiled at the envoy too as he pulled the still-floating Gaam Yuk Ying to a more respectable distance.
“Your Majesty.” She bowed formally, without any change to her usual concerned expression. “And all distinguished guests, I apologise for our lateness. We had good reason, however, as I trust you will come to understand.”
“Let’s discuss this later, Your Excellency. Come and meet everyone.”
But Envoy Laam stood fast. “I must also introduce you to a member of my delegation, Your Majesty. Please…” She gestured to a veiled figure behind her. Yuen Muk was trying to encourage Gaam Yuk Ying to get off Lo Fu Ngaa when he realised that the Cheon delegation was merely formed of Envoy Laam, the veiled figure, and four people who could only be guards, all at least Second Daan-tin Experts.
Gaam Yuk Ying landed on the ground, his hand on the hilt of Lo Fu Ngaa. He did not sway at all.
The figure stepped delicately forward and lifted the white veil around her travelling hat. The woman underneath was beautiful, pale and dropping like a little flower. The pale purple of her rich dress, painstakingly stitched with silver threads, made her veins stand out all the more starkly. Her eyelashes were so thick they seemed to weigh her eyelids down.
Even Yuen Muk, who had no interest in women, had to admit she was beautiful, in a very frail sort of way. Gaam Yuk Ying remained with his hand on his sword. But Dzue Dziu Ming’s expression was inscrutable.
“Your Majesty, may I present her Royal Highness, the One Flower, Princess Cheon Maan Ging?”