1. Chapter 3

Pao became Tan’s brother. Except not really. They were more than friends but not bound by blood. But they were brothers all the same.

The four cultivators built Pao’s room in an afternoon. Tren, Tan’s father, did most of the work, but Wensho helped quite a bit, while the children mostly fetched and carried.

When they finished, Tren brought Pao out to the same hill that Tan used for his cultivation and carved a second circle for the older boy to meditate and cultivate on. They were out there for hours, but every time Tan tried to go and see what they were talking about his mother distracted him in one way or another.

When Tan’s father finally returned to eat, Pao remained out on top of the hill for hours. Until Tan went out to tell him that his parents said it was time for him to come inside and go to sleep. Pao had blinked at him in surprise, then looked at the sky and realized that it was dusk.

“Wow,” he said. “I completely lost track of time. I thought that your father left only a few minutes ago. I mean, I knew it had been a while, but not hours.”

“What were you doing?”

“Cultivating.”

“Nobody can cultivate that long,” Tan said authoritatively. “What were you really doing?”

“Cultivating.”

“You’re boring,” Tan said.

“You’re not entirely wrong. I wasn’t just cultivating like he showed me how to draw power from the earth. I was also thinking about his lessons. But he says that that’s a form of cultivation as well, so it counts as cultivating even when I was pondering the dao.”

“You’re really boring,” Tan amended. Pao responded by putting him in a headlock, but Tan spun out of it and danced around Pao. The little boy was so much faster than the fledgling earth cultivator that it wasn’t until Tan’s mother came out to scold them both and send them to bed that the game ended.

Seven days after Pao came to live with them, Tan woke in the middle of the night without knowing why. Something was wrong, and he did what he always did when something was wrong in the middle of the night. He went into his parents room.

His father wasn’t there, but his mother swept him into her arms and promised that everything was alright.

“I’m surprised that it woke you,” Wensho told her precious son. “But you are even more sensitive than I was at your age, so I guess I shouldn’t be.”

“What woke me?” Tan asked.

“The ward on the spirit stone shed tripped. Someone is trying to steal from us.”

The thought of someone stealing from his father incensed Tan, but his mother stroked his hair and calmed him down. “Don’t worry. The intruder couldn’t get the door open, and they’ll regret it in the morning.”

“Why is that?”

“Your father put magic wards on all of our valuables, including the spirit stones. Perhaps especially the spirit stones. Anyone who tries to steal from us will be marked for the entire village to know that they’re a thief,” Wensho explained. She smirked in the darkness. “It will last for five mortal lifetimes unless someone lifts the curse.”

“Oh,” Tan said, feeling better. “Will it hurt them?”

“It’s just a little spell that turns their hands red. And something else red too, if they’re male. Don’t tell your father that, I modified the wards myself for that bit. Just because I thought it would be funny,” she said.

“Oh,” Tan said, not understanding. “Where’s father?”

“He’s following the thief to make certain that they’re actually going back home empty-handed,” his mother explained. “It’s okay. Go to sleep.”

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And he did, safe in his mother’s arms.

The thief was exposed the very next day. His name was Hoten, he was seventeen, and he was not pleased at all to have been branded by the ward on the door. Not his hands, and not the other part that made all of the girls in the village laugh when they heard it. Tren had only followed him home the night before, so he’d thought that he’d gotten away clean until he’d woken up and saw the evidence of his night’s activities upon his skin.

In his defense, he was one of those children who had tried to buy a stone but been turned away because they ‘didn’t understand what it was that was being asked.’ He’d brought ten silver, and he’d been outraged when Tan’s father had turned him away while giving a little girl a spirit stone for nothing more than a ragged doll.

“You’re a merchant’s son. To you, ten silver coins is worth less than that doll is worth to her,” Tren had informed him patiently.

“I could by a hundred dolls with this much silver!” Hoten had objected.

“You could do a little good or a lot evil with it. But coin on its own is worthless. That child made a sacrifice. You tried to make a deal. Do you understand the difference?”

“How much coin would it take to buy one of these damn things?” Hoten demanded.

“All of it,” Tren had answered.

And the argument had gone on until Tren had simply shook his head and snapped his fingers, causing the earth beneath their feet to shake. “It’s clear that you’ll never understand. I will not ever give you one of these stones. If I find that you’ve taken one from the other children, I will punish you. I assure you you are not too old for a spanking.”

Intimidated by the display of magic, Hoten had run away. So had a few of the other children, while others had cheered. Either way the procession had moved on.

Now once more Hoten confronted Tren to demand that the curse on his body be removed. Tren had simply looked at him and said “Undo what you did last night, and I will undo its repercussions.”

When Hoten’s parents had gotten involved in the matter, things grew more and more heated. Hoten’s father promised retribution for the curse, threatening to cut off the Shen family and all of its supporters.

He carried through with his promise for all of two months, then showed up one morning with a hangover and begging forgiveness from Tren for his transgressions against the family. Tan had been confused by the man’s about-face on the matter, but his mother had explained that both of Tan’s parents had connections which far exceeded what Hoten’s father had known about, and what he could compete with.

One of those connections had somehow heard of the situation and made their displeasure known to Hoten’s father. They wouldn’t take it any further than that without Tren and Wensho’s permission, but it would have taken them no more than a simple letter to get that sort of reaction from most merchants.

Tan had frowned and asked who it was who had sent the letter. Wensho had simply shrugged.

“I don’t know and I don’t care. Whoever it is, they’ve already shown too much interest in this sleepy little village, and I’d prefer that they keep their distance until all of our children have grown up and left it behind.”

“But I’m your only child.”

“No, Tan, you’re not. Or at least, you won’t be soon,” she said, rubbing her belly fondly.

Tan had given her a funny look, not understanding what she was getting at. Wensho laughed and realized that it was time to tell him about the birds and the bees, so she did.

Time passed slowly. Wensho’s belly grew big, and Tan loved feeling it whenever his little brother or sister was kicking. He became closer and closer with Pao as they did their chores together. Tan always raced through his, eager to get them out of the way so that he could play. Pao took his time, mindful that he was being paid and paid well for his labor and determined to do a good job to earn the coin.

For a few hours every day, Pao would sit atop the hill that he and Tan cultivated on. Tan cultivated as well. Every day. As much as he could stand. And like Zephyr had said, he thought about the nonsense that his father spoke to him about the wind and the sky and the air.

One day that was just like any other, he suddenly wondered what it would be like to fly. So he tried it. It was as natural as walking to him.

And just like learning to walk, he fell the first time he tried it.

He had only been ten feet in the air, but he landed hard and began to cry. Pao had seen it and rushed to his side, but before he’d even gotten close, suddenly Wensho and Tren were simply there.

“What happened?” Tren said, looking around with a frightful expression that Pao had never seen on the friendly man’s face before. Anger, Pao realized. “Did you have a fight?”

“No!” Pao exclaimed. “He flew, and then he fell! He must have hurt himself in the landing. I don’t know!”

Tren saw how shaken the boy was and quickly schooled his expression. And he reigned back in his intent, a small sliver of which had been leaking out. “I’m sorry, Pao. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“He’s your son,” Pao said by way of understanding.

“And he’s making a big fuss out of nothing,” Wensho said, dusting the boy off and pulling him to his feet. “A fall that shallow isn’t enough to hurt you, Tan. Not anymore. If you were still a mortal then yes, but you’re a cultivator. A cultivator of the Path of the Azure Sky. The heavens are your birthright. You’ll fly again, and maybe you’ll fall again, but one day you’ll fall for the last time ever. And then there will be only flying left for you to do.”

Tan pouted at the nonsense that she gave him instead of kisses for his owchies. But she wasn’t entirely wrong; he was more surprised and confused at his sudden reacquaintance with gravity than he was actually hurt.

And that’s how Tan learned to fly.