A Light for All

“Hey, you just left me to your old dad guy!”

An angry goose greets me as soon as I join the festivities ongoing at the temple courtyard, having been peeled off the hay in the stables to much horror and fussing. I only closed my eyes for a moment.

“I mean he’s kinda just weird, and laughs real loud, but also he’s the Emperor! Y’know, Emperor? Big guy who rules the Empire? Me, commoner from fishing town?”

I fold onto the bamboo mat under the imperial pavilion with a sigh. “Father wouldn’t behead you even if you stole his regalia.”

“...Did I do that?”

“Once. For an emergency.” I assume Atsukute’s forbearer still lies in the chamber while her current form is at my side. A strange contradiction to think about. Oh well. As long as she doesn’t suddenly disappear.

“Your hell-future me is pretty cool. Even if she’s probably as dead-inside as you.” She flops down next to me, watching the strings of blue-lit lanterns and people milling in the garden courtyard below the steps.

I can see the three tiers visibly laid out, here: the Imperial pavilion at the temple doors, the richer, higher echelons of the city in the stone garden, and out in the street, the commoners milling in a packed crowd. Unlike us, they eat the food sold by street vendors, watch puppet shows and skilled imbuers with gryphon companions creating fireworks to entertain them, marvelling at the simple magic of a lively flutist in colourful flowing robes.

“Why we hafta stay here in this stuffy boring place anyway?” Seelis is obviously watching, as well, shifting restlessly. “Looks way more fun out there!”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

I can feel her squint at me. “What’s up with ya? Ya sound even deader than usual.”

Looking away from a sparkling scatter of fireworks rising above the low stone wall, I give her a smile. “Let’s skip the stuffy dinner and escape for a bit, shall we?”

“Wait, ya mean it?!”

“Of course.” It hasn’t started yet, in any case. Father is talking to his generals and a few others off to the side, and sister is nowhere to be seen. “We have time. In general, they spend a while rubbing shoulders and talking political smalltalk before the gong is rung. Then the crowd quiets down, Father speaks, and the rich eat.”

And I’ll know that’s about to happen when sister arrives. Stretching, I lever myself to my feet and head off.

“But aren’t ya s’posed to be boring and do lotsa talking too?” Sels hurries to catch up, trotting at my heels.

No one questions me as I stride across the courtyard, past low bushes, stone lanterns, and hazily-remembered faces. “You can spend an eternity talking in circles with those who will never respect you. I’ve no need to rub shoulders with small men ruling little empires of greed.”

“That some kinda quote from some old guy?”

“Yes. His name is Dyste-Eino.” I glance down at her. “Hop up on my shoulder. You’ll get lost like that.”

“Weird kinda name. Thought your shoulder was busted.” She flutters up as we pass through into the crowd, a flash of light sparkling into glitters in the corner of my eye.

“Only my left.” She isn’t very heavy yet. I’ll last a while.

A group of children catch my eye, bouncing before an older man sitting against a wall with no gryphon companion in sight. As I watch, he draws a glowing ball of light into his hand, and with one puff scatters it into a handful of flittering butterflies.

“How’d he do that?” Sels gawks at the shaped lights being pursued by shrieking children.

I point out the glowing markings swirled along his bare arms and bald head. “See those? Imbuers call them focals. They’re runes that shape the way spiriscence flows from your body. One draws it into a wisp, another shapes that wisp, separating it; still more shape those into butterflies, and... from the look of it, he has at least eight shaping each— eight more to control them. Impressive work.”

The man smiles up at us through his bushy beard. “You sound as though you know a thing or two yourself, young man.”

“A thing or three.” I smile faintly back. “Do you use a container?”

“Only to keep from running this old container dry,” he chuckles, drawing a sparkling line with his finger into another two focals as the butterflies fizzle out. This time, he blows out nine butterflies, sending one to flit around Sels.

“Hey, you can draw those with your finger? Where’s it come from?” She tracks it like a striking snake. “We had an old lady who used a green rock and carved it in her skin or somethin’. You’re like old guy here? You just magic?”

At least she didn’t say “cursed”.

“Oh, no, it takes a long time to master. Everyone starts out with jade containers until he can focus his own spirit essence.” The man’s eyes twinkle. “I’ve even heard of ancient masters so advanced they could draw a focal with a mere thought. It would save me a lot of effort, if I could learn that!”

I watch Sels chomp down only for the butterfly to pop out of a nostril, chuckling at her squawk. “You certainly could, master.”

Shining lines drawing around my hand, I bring forth a wisp and shape it into a swallow, sending it to flutter from Sels’s startled face over the heads of the gaping children.

I smile. “But the cost might be high.”

He sputters and gapes, himself. “You must be a talent, boy!”

“I’ve had a lot of time to practice, master.”

“Hey how’d you do that?” Sels lunges forward and grabs at my sleeve, yanking it up to reveal nothing except the focal in the palm of my hand. “Wh’? Don’ r nee’ a mi’rin ‘ingth f’r ‘ad?”

Making an assumption on whatever she just said, I waggle my fingers, splitting the focal into two with a thought. The swallow turns into a flying fish, and the second mark fades once the transformation completes. “There’s no need for more when a focal can change shapes, unless you want to modify something on the fly.”

“Amazing....”

“Can you make cool lights too?” one of the children begs, setting off a chorus of pleading bows. “A whole flock of birds! And fireworks! Pleeease?”

“Hmm.” I crouch down, pondering this important question deeply. “A flock of birds and fireworks, you say?”

“Yes! Yes!”

“And a kite!” shouts one little boy, throwing his arms wide. “As big as a house!”

“No— as big as the palace!”

“Now that one might take more spirit essence than I can spare.” I smile, twirling a glowing strand around my finger that grows from thread to ribbon to eel as I stand.

In a burst of light, it flashes apart, a flurry of birds and sparks exploding outwards in every direction. The children shriek, darting everywhere after them, passersby slowing to watch, Sels’s wings slack as she openly gapes.

Even my toughest audience member seems to have been shocked speechless, for once.

With a smile, I flourish my hands as if dragging the swirling lights from the sky, a flurry whirling together in a dizzying snowstorm whizzing past my fingers and over Seelis’s head. She ducks, yelping, despite the fact that none would hurt even if they did touch. Raising an eyebrow at her, I twirl a string from the tip of my finger, shooting it up to the ethereal kite now stretched above us, floating in an imaginary breeze.

“Wow! It’s huge!” The little boy who requested it could catch a hundred flies with that open mouth.

I gaze up at it, almost as big as a small house’s roof, awed murmurs whispering through the gathering crowd. No one screaming, no fissure beasts in need of an imbued dagger or two; no blood, no death.

It’s nice to be able to do this for fun, for once.

“Isn’t that the prince-heir?”

“The prince-heir made that—?”

No malice or wariness on anyone’s tongues, only admiration. A strange thing, to listen to. They speak of a dead man whose life I’ve stolen.

I must admit, it doesn’t fit very well.

The moment passes with the whisper of a shadow creeping into the edges, and the kite breaks apart in a cascade of glimmers, falling to the earth like tiny stars. Through the laughter and outstretched hands, I see that darkness between quietly-watching houses. A glint under a hood, a presence that ducks away as soon as it catches eye contact.

So, dinner is here early. I’d pursue, but I have something to do, first, before we can get down to business. Sister has arrived at long last, in any case.

For now, I ignore the twinge of scars and smile, bowing to the applauding crowd as the gong sounds. They clap for a wounded soldier, returned from a nightmare to spread wonder with a pure heart.

If only he existed.

“I believe I stole your audience for a moment.” I bow to the younger yet more wizened man, as well. “Please continue.”

He bows back. “Oh, no, you had me spellbound as well, my lord! My apologies for not recognising your highness.”

“There is no need to apologise.” I turn to walk through the crowd, and the smile fades. For now, they gaze at a long-dead man in adoration.

After tonight, they won’t.