Autumn's Final Dynasty

The Grand Preceptor played chess with Heaven's emissaries high atop Golden Blossom Pagoda. It was the tallest tower on Jade Palace Mound. The Grand Preceptor interpreted the signs behind each move and used them to analyze events unfolding in the mundane world. Unlike demons, Heaven's emissaries never told outright lies. Like demons, however, they only revealed what they wanted to reveal – when and how they wanted to reveal it. 

Moonlight Chamber performed its work in an ancient well. Ten yards across and forty deep, the well looked empty and dry. It was raining when Giselle arrived at the top of the well. Downpours were frequent in the central Feng River Valley. Water followed spiraling grooves cut into the well's walls. Rather than accumulate at the bottom, however, it drained into hidden spaces. Stairs channeled people around the well much like the grooves channeling water. As Giselle descended, she admired the "curtains" the flowing water made whenever it overflowed its grooves.

The staircase down wove together with one coming up. To anyone unaware of their true purpose, the steps served only the purposes of meditation and exercise. But Giselle knew where doors hid in the well's masonry. Beyond those doors, chambers had been cut into granite. Several chambers opened onto natural crevices which brought in air and sometimes light.

Sentries waited behind every door. Traps abounded.

Giselle knew where to step. When she reached the bottom, rather than cross to the ascending staircase, she turned right and disappeared into a wall.

Alistair had called.

Twenty years ago, he and Giselle were too young to participate in the Strife of Ten Brothers and One Tyrant. Five years after the current Emperor took the throne, however, they joined Moonlight Chamber as young hot shots. Giselle described her technique as "becoming less than dust," so her nickname was "Dust." Together with Alistair, they formed "Sand and Dust."

Sand planned. Dust executed.

Two decades of prosperity had created a dangerous situation. In any social structure, fractures inevitably formed between actors pursuing their own selfish interests. Meanwhile, common dangers helped push opposing factions together. Without that common danger, society became a baroque temple cracking under its own weight.

Moonlight Chamber did not look at celestial phenomena to catch signs of collapse. It looked at numbers. The numbers Sand wanted most were hiding in plain sight. How much grain were farms producing? How many people and livestock required that food to survive? How much ore was pulled out of the ground? Where did the ore come from? How many barges were there on the Feng River?

On and on the most important numbers went.

Every room around Moonlight Chamber's ancient well was devoted to the collection, storage, and processing of numbers. Sentries in the entrance to Sand's chambers saluted. Giselle marched through a maze of shelves, cases, desks, and scribes madly scribbling. Finally, she reached Great Yao's great spymaster. There was no wall behind Alistair's desk – only the void of a dramatic chasm.

Moonlight Chamber's commander stood taller than average but looked frail. He had looked frail since he was twelve. To that day, Giselle remained unsure if that appearance was an intentional or coincidental deception. Sand had studied under the Sword Saint. His speed and technique were so formidable, Snowblind Tigress once expressed the opinion that Alistair might be able to give her a cut before she killed him in a duel. But duels were rare in the field, and Giselle was Moonlight Chamber's top killer for good reason. She couldn't take out Alistair in a fair fight. But she could get away – and then fight unfairly.

"Have you learned to cheat yet?" she asked her commander.

Sand looked up from his numbers and smiled.

"I've learned to call you more quickly," he replied.

"It's true I can be in two places at once," said Giselle. "But it's still only two."

"No plan survives contact with the enemy," said Sand.

"What's gone wrong now?"

Sand stood and walked to a table displaying a map of Great Yao. He gestured at various locations – monasteries, temples, mountain fortresses, roadside inns, caravansaries, cave formations, and the like. Then he gestured at villages scattered along rivers and canals.

"Small boats, small deliveries, small towns," said Sand. "Odd times. A wagon here, two wagons there. They disappear from one toll road, and appear on another."

"Food?" asked Giselle.

"It goes in," said Sand, "but doesn't come out."

"Weapons?"

"Ammunition," said Sand.

"These are Floating World hotspots," said Giselle. "Sacred peaks. Raggedy holes. Pretentious monks. Spooky Taoists. Foreign warlocks. If they're preparing for a siege, does that mean we have a leak you want plugged?"

"These preparations won't work for anything that might have leaked," said Sand. "But it's not unreasonable for the societies to independently conclude they're next. The Emperor's effort to restructure military power is complete. Banks and trade associations have been brought under central control. The societies must realize the Emperor will eventually insist on an imperial monopoly over violence."

"You wouldn't have called me just to ask," said Giselle, "so I take it we advance our plan?"

"Place the first contracts," said Sand.

"Sorrow Woe Society is part of the Floating Word," said Giselle, "and violence is all they do."

"The Emperor's gold is good," said Sand.

"The best," said Giselle. "But they'll know we're setting them up for a disaster."

"Sorrow Woe thinks they're smarter than we are," said Sand. "If they execute well, that accomplishes two things. One, they prove how valuable they are to the Emperor. Two, the other societies will be unable to retaliate effectively. So we are only setting them up for disaster if they do not deserve their reputation."

"I'll tell them that if they ask," said Giselle. "There was a brawl at the docks."

Sand went back to his desk.

"There's always a brawl somewhere. If it doesn't change the numbers…."

"It didn't change any numbers," agreed Giselle, "but it almost had two royal guests."

Sand glanced up from his ledgers.

"My pretty headache has discovered gambling dens," said Sand. "But who was the other?"

"The Crown Princess," said Giselle.

Sand wasn't expecting that. Esmaralde loved to fight – but not against random thugs.

"You're sure?" he asked.

"We've got most of the story now," said Giselle. "Your pretty headache went gambling. He got involved with a Gargogryeon gangster. Third parties were offended. The Crown Princess took your pretty headache away before fighting broke out. The brawlers submitted to arrest without incident. They spent the night under Magistrate Berge's care and were released. Most left town."

"Most?" asked Sand.

"Your pretty headache's Gargogryeon gangster remained behind."

Sand closed his eyes and thought for several moments.

"The part you don't know," he said, "is why Esmaralde was there."

"Correct," said Giselle. 

"Esmaralde knows the Fourth Prince has his own protection. She wasn't there for him."

"I agree."

"The Gargogryeon connection is conspicuous," said Sand.

"I agree."

"Who knows about the royals being down by the river?"

"Her Royal Highness personifies Gargogryeon contempt for discretion," said Giselle. "The gangster and a street vendor know. But the other parties were not present when she showed up."

Sand tapped a finger on his desk.

"This will become its own problem," he said, "but won't affect our work with Sorrow Woe."

"Allow me to suggest it should," said Giselle.

"Why?"

"Dragon Turtle Society is not one of the initial contracts."

Sand considered.

"That's a tough contract," he said. "How would you rate their chances?"

"Fifty fifty," said Giselle.

"What's the issue?"

"The Great Turtle is in Gargogryeo. Sorrow Woe's network won't be strong there."

"Discuss it with them," said Sand.