Chapter #11This Space Reserved For... by: imaj   "But my ousiarchs are Eldibria and Sulva," you say weakly.
"No they are not Mr Prescott," scolds Táng. "Not originally. You said it yourself, you chose Eldibria. You came to be a student of Lin Moniang, but I suspect you did not start as one. I know, I know - the idea is alien to your Stellae, but we Sages have rather more experience in this matter."
You frown in confusion. Stupid, how could you be so stupid. Some old memories stir in the back of your mind: Training with Nash in the archives. He'd told you that your original ouisiarch was Kenandandra. How could you have forgotten that?
"Hmm, you see it now Mr Prescott," smirks Táng.
"Yeah," you admit. "You want me to train this girl?"
That wheezing laugh again. "No Mr Prescott," replies Táng after he recovers. "If only we could be quite so open about you joining us. Sadly your Rosalie Durras might feel pressed into taking action against the Great Sages in such a case. No Mr Prescott, I want you to be the girl. Well, young woman I suppose." Táng rolls his eyes. "This continued density is unbecoming Mr Prescott. She isn't really a student on Lin Moniang. She isn't much of anything, except a gap where we could place someone with genuine ability. You see," he continues, gesturing first with one hand, then the other. "Will Prescott disappears and this young woman takes her place as one of the Sages."
You frown. "It can't be that simple," you mutter. "Isn't it a bit, well, obvious?"
"Doubtless Mr Prescott, doubtless," replies Táng with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Oh but what could the Stellae do? I suppose that Rosalie Durras would find a way of letting us know that she knows. And we in turn would tacitly acknowledge that we know that she knows. In practical terms, to take any overt action over, shall we say, this young woman's affiliations would cause something of a diplomatic incident. Between the Stellae and ourselves. Between the United States and the People’s Republic of China."
"Would having Rick Bredon sneak a blanket over my head and bundling me into the first flight home cause a diplomatic incident," you mutter sourly. "Because that's what would happen."
Táng laughs again. "Home would be here Mr Prescott. Besides, even your Mr Bredon would find it difficult to achieve such a task without alerting us. And escaping China with you as his prize would be more difficult still," Táng adds with the slightest twitch of lips into a smirk. "You will consider this offer? I think perhaps it is the closest to something approaching a normal life you can have now. Insofar as ones such as ourselves can have normal lives." Táng looks away for a moment, staring at the skyscrapers the limo rolls past. "Perhaps the last chance you have too," he adds quietly, without looking at you.
You stare out your own window, seeking to give the impression you are considering his offer. It's not what you want. Not why you really came here. Nor can you afford to reject Táng's offer out of hand - he's claimed he has no desire to hand you over to the Stellae, but you have no intention of putting that to the test, nor seeing what kind of wiggle room he could afford himself whilst still remaining true to his word.
"A compromise then," says Táng. "We'll introduce you to this woman - to this gap we have prepared for you. Shall we say you spend one night as her? If you find her life agreeable then she becomes one of the Sages - a student of Lin Moniang - as I stated. If not, then you'll have your ritual and you shall be a student of Sun Wukong once more." His milky eyes bore straight into you. "We cannot protect you if you choose that course, but we shall not stop you from escaping afterwards, and nor shall we aid the Stellae in pursuing you." Táng grins, exposing a row of ancient, yellowed, teeth. "As I said, Mrs Durras should be reminded just how far her authority extends."
"Ok," you reply. "I'll bite."
*****
The classroom is a surprise. Not as much of a surprise as the two way mirror you are viewing it through, but a surprise nonetheless. On the other side of the glass Hu Minquiang, the third of the Sages that you have met, paces stiffly about the room. The low drone of his lecture can just about be made out. His class is small - six people, four men and two women, all in their early twenties by your estimate.
"We are something of a finishing school for the elite, to put it in your parlance," says Táng from beside you. His voice is a whisper now, barely on the edge of hearing. "China is a very big country and there are very few of us to protect it. So we give a select few the knowledge they need to protect it themselves. The three at the front," he adds, pointing a bony finger at where three athletic looking men conscientiously scribe notes. "Military. Special forces, air force and army," explains Táng, ticking off each in turn.
"And which one is mine," you whisper back.
"At the back," Táng replies. "Her name is Jennifer Tseung."
You blink a couple of times in surprise at the westernised name. The woman is pretty enough, stunning even, for all that the obvious expression of boredom on her face detracts from it. Her button nose hints at plastic surgery while her generous breasts - far too large for her otherwise slim body - scream at it. A manufactured beauty then.
“She doesn’t seem interested in class,” you mutter.
“Ah, I shall confess an ulterior motive Mr Prescott,” says Táng.
You carefully refrain from stating Another one.
“Miss Tseung is the child of two high ranking party officials,” he explains. “She has something of a gilded life ahead of her, an effortless route into perhaps even the highest positions of leadership. Yet, as you note, she is not academically enthused.”
He pauses for a moment, turning to face you before continuing.
“You understand, Mr Prescott,” he says very quietly. “That the entire purpose of the Great Sages of The Heavenly Court is to ensure the protection of the Empire of China and the stability of whichsoever dynasty happens to rule it at the time? Shall I say that there have been times when we have had to prune the branches, so to speak, to save the tree? Lest the Mandate of Heaven be lost?”
“Isn’t China a republic,” you ask.
“I prefer to think of it as the Communist Dynasty,” replies Táng biliously. You realize that you have never actually considered just how old Táng actually is. Surely he cannot have lived the century and a half required to remember when emperors last ruled the country. Or is it simply the case that the whole organisation of the Sages was never quite able to adapt to modern China?
Beyond the mirror the lecture is breaking up. One by one the students are gathering their notes and leaving. All except for Jennifer Tseung. She scowls angrily, marring her beauty considerably, as Hu Minquiang holds her back to discuss some minutiae.
“Will you prune this branch for us Mr Prescott,” asks Táng.
To stop reminiscing, attend to Fi's reports in "A Short Hop" 
 indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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