"I like the feel of your body now," the querulous voice of Scribe Wulan said.

Chang-li jolted awake. He stared up in horror to find the ghost of the dead scribe hovering over him, sitting cross-legged in thin air.

The room was dark and quiet, the other scribes sleeping on their pallets. Chang-li managed to stifle a gasp at Wulan's appearance. The ghost seemed more substantial now, somehow, with traces of color in his face and robes. Chang-li sat up and edged backward.

The ghost chuckled. "You did not think I'd forgotten about you, now that you are a step closer to fulfilling both our purposes?"

Chang-li shook his head, his tongue tied. "What do you want?" he hissed. He couldn’t have been asleep more than a few minutes. After forging the papers and handing them over to Brother Stone, he’d snuck back into the bunkroom and found his fellow scribes asleep. Outside the window, the sky had begun to lighten to grey.

"Merely to have a word with you," Wulan said. "It is so much easier to speak with you with this nice dense core you've got. So much lux. I will be able to manifest for days at this rate. You have progressed well, young Chang-li. Congratulations to you and your ally."

"Thank you.” It did feel good to have his status acknowledged by someone who wasn't going to get him killed. "Now, what do you want?"

"We made a bargain, you and I," Scribe Wulan said. "I saved your life, and you swore to help me fulfill my unfinished business.”

“We were in a bit of a hurry at the time, and I feel as though I did not ask enough questions.” The pen case he had taken from Wulan's bag lay under his thin mat. Perhaps that was why Scribe Wulan could speak to him so easily at night, or perhaps he was just waiting until no one else was around. "Can others see you?" he asked the ghost.

Scribe Wulan shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. My experience with ghosts is limited to a few interactions with long-passed sect elders in the course of my duties as a scribe. They were, of course, far, far more powerful than either of us. But I do not feel as though I am going to fade away like a family shade. So perhaps there is more to me than you think."

Chang-li took a deep breath. "All right, tell me what it is you want me to do for you. Write a letter and get your sect's good name restored?"

"It will take a great deal more than a letter to bring the Morning Mist Sect back to life," Scribe Wulan said. "But you and your friend have already made a good start. Clever of the barbarian to claim our name. What I wish for you to do is to take my pen case back home to the sect headquarters."

"I thought you said the sect has been destroyed."

"The people, yes, but the buildings were erected long ago by great cultivators on the level of Prisms. It would take more than the Inquisitors and army officials who rose against us to destroy those. You will be rewarded. There are no doubt still treasures remaining at the sect headquarters."

"Prisms? How long ago was your sect destroyed?" Chang-li asked. "I mean, what year was it?"

"I perished in the four hundred and fifteenth year of our glorious emperor's divine rule."

Chang-li choked. Scribe Jun in the next pallet over stirred in his sleep. Chang-li froze until Jun flopped back on his face and resumed snoring. "That's over five hundred years," he hissed. "Are you sure the sect headquarters still stands?"

"If we return and there is nothing there, I shall hold you released from your oath," Scribe Wulan said grandly.

"And you were barely even a member of the sect."

"Nevertheless, I made an oath to Cultivator Kang to accompany him on his journey. Until I return there, I cannot hold my oath fulfilled. If I do, I can put an end to my vow and rest in peace."

Chang-li sighed. "All right, so where is this headquarters?"

"Oh, a very long way from here indeed," Scribe Wulan said carelessly. "I do not think you will survive the journey until you have at least reached the Peak of Spiritual Refinement.”

"But I have only just reached Physical Refinement! Without a sect of my own to back me and teach me, I'm not going to be going anywhere else."

"Then you had best join a sect," Scribe Wulan said.

"You make it sound so easy.”

“Sects are always looking for scribes to update their training manuals and record the great deeds of their masters," Wulan said. "It shouldn't be that hard."

"You told me you spent all your life as a scribe to a sect, and it was only at the very end when Cultivator Kang had no one else to teach that you made any headway on progression. If I join a sect, how long do you think it'll take me to reach spiritual refinement?"

"A point," Wulan conceded. "You shall have to find a way to convince them to teach you their secrets, and quickly."

"I'll do my best," Chang-li said. It was an easy promise to make. He wanted to continue cultivating more than almost anything else in his life. "But it may take me a few years to get back to your sect headquarters.

"Don't take too long," Scribe Wulan said. "I feel our bond growing stronger by the day. It might be difficult to sever our link once we do return if you do not manage it quickly enough. And then I'd have to spend the rest of your life attached to you before I'm able to move on."

Chang-li shuddered at the thought of the cranky ghost being in his room every night for the next eighty years, watching him sleep. "I'll do what I can," he promised.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

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HIROKO

Hiroko's studies with the Dowager were a surprise. All her life, she had been aware of the presence of Dowager Pearls. They were everywhere in the imperial garden, quietly managing the emperor's harem and the lives of his children and grandchildren who dwelt within palace grounds. Her own grandmother, for whom she had been named, was a Dowager, one of the eight in charge of the grounds themselves.

Hiroko had spent time with her grandmother as the older woman directed the landscaping of the great gardens, ordering a tree to be removed or a new water feature added, sending hundreds of servants scurrying to do her bidding. What she hadn't realized was that the rest of the empire functioned the same way.

Now, as she spent her afternoons under the tutelage of the Dowager, she began to understand yet another aspect of the emperor's magnificent plan of governance. The Dowager worked closely with Magistrate Bao, the master of this tower cull. He, in turn, spoke with and directed the sects and cultivators who had come to attend, but he took no action without first closeting himself with the Dowager to discuss it.

Hiroko was privileged to sit in on several of their meetings over the next few days as they discussed the recent events in the tower and how to react to them.

"It was not a disaster," the Dowager Pearl told Magistrate Bao.

Hiroko sat quietly in a corner, kneeling on a cushion, eyes down, ears open.

"We lost three disciples and eight servants," Magistrate Bao said. "We could easily have lost several Young Masters or even some of your charges, my lady."

"But we did not," the Dowager said briskly. "I had a chance to see most of the Young Masters in action as well as expose my charges to the realities of cultivation. Many of them had foolish notions which have hopefully now been dispelled. I expect the Inquisitor to allow lower ranks back into the tower later this week.”

Bao replied, “While I bow to your experience and wisdom, I have no intention of losing my job. Even once the Inquisitor has reopened this tower, we should take care who we permit inside.”

“I agree. In addition, I wish for you to send out another call for cultivators."

"As you wish, revered Pearl, but this will be our third call. It is beginning to sound a little desperate."

"Desperate is our situation here if we do not get a few more worthy Young Masters," the Dowager snapped. "I am biased, but I am satisfied with the performance of my own relatives in the Moon Whispers sect. They performed adequately. Jiya has a good head on her shoulders, and Jen merely needs a chance to advance. The Jade Lotus cultivators are completely subpar. If this is the best their sect can manage, perhaps they need an inquisitorial visit to look into their training methods and techniques. They are wasting the potential of the cultivators they take under their wings."

"Young Master Feng made a good showing for himself," Magistrate Bao said. "He has reached the Peak of Mental Refinement."

"I expect no less from him. He did keep cool in a dangerous situation," the Dowager allowed, "but his personal manners are off-putting.”

“Many of the best cultivators are arrogant.”

“Then they are not who we should be seeking to raise up to serve the Emperor," the Dowager said. "It may be that the Indigo Princess chooses Young Master Feng, but she should do so because he is truly the best, not because she has no other choices. Send out the call."

Hiroko found herself reddening, but neither looked her way. She hoped the Dowager was successful. The idea of marrying Feng was repulsive. She would not do it. There had to be another way.

"What of this newly arrived Sect of Morning Mist?" Magistrate Bao asked.

"Yes, what of it? Have you made inquiries?"

"Nothing in the local records. I'm going farther afield. You have noted, I am sure, that Young Master Joshi is of the Darwur people. He claims to have studied with the monks of Harupa.”

“I do not know the name of every barbarian people out there,” the dowager said, with a dismissive wave. “Are the Darwur of interest?”

“They have pushed back the Army of the West for five seasons, dealing even the Great General of the West several setbacks. And that despite having no true cultivators, only shaman and demon-tamers at his command.”

Hiroko’s ears pricked up at mention of her father. She hadn’t realized he was fighting Joshi’s people directly, and the thought made her a bit sad. But the Empire had to push back the frontiers of ignorance and superstition, bringing the light of the Emperor’s civilization to the wild places of the world.

The Dowager frowned. "That is a very long way for a Young Master to come. This tower cull has nothing to particularly recommend it. Surely there are broken towers closer to home if he wishes experience with one."

"I shall see what I can find out."

Hiroko bit her lip, worrying. How could Joshi establish his bona fides with Magistrate Bao? Morning Mist wasn't a real sect. Or rather, she didn't think it was. That was the name of the sect from Chang-li's journal, and they had all been wiped out. Hadn't they?

She would not speak up and get her companion in trouble. He had saved her life, and not for the first time, either. She was glad, so glad, that Joshi had succeeded in reaching the Peak of Bodily Refinement. But she was afraid someone would recognize the former slave. Perhaps she should try to warn him to flee.

After Magistrate Bao left, the Dowager called Hiroko over to her side.

"Do you understand what it is I am doing?"

"Magistrate Bao is in charge of the climb, but he does nothing without consulting you."

"This is as the Emperor wills," the Dowager said. "Everything he has ordained works together. All of us Pearls achieved at least the Peak of Mental Refinement before being chosen as Imperial consorts. The ten years that we spent inside the Garden Grounds were not easy lives of luxury and pleasure. I studied more intently than I ever did as a cultivator. History, governance, laws. At the end of our ten years, the Dowager Pearls are the most educated officials in the entire kingdom, as well as understanding the Emperor's power, shall we say, firsthand." She shivered at that, and looked away. “As his descendants guide and shape the cultivators who make the empire strong, so his former Pearls guide and shape those who govern. Our lives are like a weave of lux; each color has its own purpose, but together we can form a greater whole.”

“I see, Dowager,” Hiroko said respectfully.

“But enough theory! Let us put it into practice. How have you come with the technique I set you to study?”

The Dowager had given Hiroko a scroll two days ago describing a healing technique that used primarily green lux, enhanced by red and blue. Hiroko had diligently tried, but the weave escaped her grip. “I am struggling.”

“Show me,” the Dowager commanded.

With some regret, Hiroko coaxed forth her limited lux reserves, feeling the loss of the blue most keenly. It resonated with her in a way green and red did not.

“No, no,” the Dowager said. “It’s like you’re trying to use the blue to make the green answer. You must let the green guide you. So.” She called out her own lux and deftly wove the colors together, before letting them come apart.

Hiroko tried to copy, but the green slipped from her.

The Dowager sighed. “This is common with cultivators who have a strong natural tendency toward one of the higher luxes. Using the lessers is difficult. You must concentrate on it. I hoped that since you have used blue to heal, green healing would come naturally. Using blue to heal is much harder. Try again.”

For the next hour, Hiroko sweated and strove under the Dowager’s tutelage, but the green remained stubbornly unresponsive. “No matter,” the Dowager said at last. “Once you’ve reached the Peak of Physical Refinement, perhaps it’ll come more easily. As soon as we’ve declared the tower safe, I shall see about allowing you back in. We should not stall out your cultivation, not when you show such a talent for it. You may go.”

Hiroko rubbed her temple, glad to be done. She bowed to the Dowager. “Thank you for your tutelage.”