The inside of the Apricot Seed was pleasant and simple, with apricot silk hangings dyed by the locals. Xiong had discovered this from his Grandfather's animated chatter with the proprietor not an hour and a half before. This time, however, Sheng ordered a pot of peach tea, having somehow managed to get the newcomer's tea preference out of him before sitting down despite the priest's attempts to defer to the old man.

  In the light it was obvious that Flowing Silk Ribbon was surprisingly young, probably not even 20, for all he was reasonably tall. The hat marked him as a full priest despite his age and the gold hems on his white robes made his favoured immortal obvious. His golden skin and fine features identified him as probably being from the Imperial City, having neither the darker tones of the south from intermingling with the people of the island chain, the paler skin of the mountain folk or the slightly different hues of the plateau and the west.

  But for all the mutterings of death priests being strange and alien - standing apart from any group they were in - the young man in front of them seemed relatively normal, though polite and soft spoken.

  “I have been travelling the Empire for some time pursuing a missing lady from the Imperial City." Flowing Silk explained, "On my travels I came across an old abandoned shrine, part of a pilgrimage route for Xiá Long long laid forgotten. A Barbarian was attempting to hack down the doors and attacked me.”

  Xiong bristled at the news of a shrine of his immortal being attacked, but looked to his Grandfather to get a grasp of just how bad this was. Sheng's brow furrowed, “Some scouts will always get past the Wall, how far in?”

  “Enough that it was closer to the Howling Wastes than it was the Hun lands.” Flowing Silk replied, “The spirit of the place asked me to help defend his home, so I did. On re-consecrating the shrine - and finding out that it was a full Temple - the ghost thanked me, introducing himself as a Grandmaster of the Pure Flame School.” The priest indicated the covered wheels, “These were his, a relic of the Style, and he entrusted them to me until such a time came that I found someone more worthy of carrying them. Those brigands saw me fight and wished to take them for themselves.”

  Sheng nodded, still looking grave as the priest continued, “As I said, I was coming here to investigate a lead on a missing lady when they cornered me. The leader of the ones tracking me was a man with the number 51. I hid in the tunnels in the cliff and you found me when I emerged to try and escape.” He folded his hands around his cup and lowered his head, a clear indication of his story being done.

  “We saw two others waiting to ambush you and decided to intervene.” Sheng replied, Xiong nodded.

  Flowing Silk winced, “Ah, so my plan would have succeeded if it was them I came across and not you. My apologies, I hope you're not hurt?”

  “Not at all.” Sheng said disarmingly, though Xiong had to wonder whether it was to appease Xiong as well as charm this stranger into telling them more.

  The priest nodded, “May I ask why you are here, Wise Elder? I assume that your grandson is accompanying you.”

  “More the other way around really." Sheng said cheerfully, "We are pursuing a thief.”

  Flowing Silk frowned slightly, “While I am not officially a magistrate, as a priest of the Golden Phoenix I may be able to assist you a little. I am good at reading people's reactions and gathering information.”

  A farmer wearing a workstained brown tunic with a white patch on the shoulder that had a character saying 'forest' on looked over to their table as he said this, but returned to his tea quietly.

  “This particular theft is somewhat unusual, I must add.” Sheng continued, taking another sip, and Xiong was certain that he was keeping an eye on the man who looked over, no matter how nonchalant he looked. “He stole a star.”

  Flowing Silk glanced over as well, far more obvious than Sheng. “Then someone around must have noticed something, I would not imagine it is an easy thing to conceal.”

  “No. One would think not.” Sheng commented noncommittally.

  “It is no small thing. He would seem to possess great strength to carry it with such speed away from us.” Xiong finally said.

  “Perhaps we should ask around then?” The priest suggested.

  “But you, oh Sage, you said you were searching for a lady?” Sheng asked, the priest nodding.

  “Yes, also an artefact, but they are one and the same quest." He glanced at the other two Xia, "If two quests of such importance are one then I would be unsurprised if other things were tied into it as well.”

  Sheng nodded sagely, casually rotating his teacup in his hands, “Such things often are connected…”

  The farmer that had been watching them, having wrestled with himself for a few minutes, got up and crossed over to their table. “Excuse me, sirs?”

  Flowing Silk subtly moved to make space for him at the table as Sheng looked up, “Yes?”

  “It's jes' that, well, there's a spot of bother down at my village, and you being a priest and all, might be able to help a spot.” the villager asked, fiddling with his hands.

  The young priest tilted his head slightly, “What kind of trouble?”

  “There's been all'a manner of hauntings and some folk acting reet strange, you know? Someone puts a pot of water on the fire and it freezes over, a stream flowing uphill, cats chasing dogs and the like.”

  Flowing Silk was already moving to stand, “Then that sounds like something I can help with.” He bowed politely to Sheng and Xiong, “I believe I may be needed, but I would certainly not object if you wished to accompany me.”

  Sheng gave a broad smile and Xiong thanked whichever deity was responsible for this only being a brief visit to a teahouse as his grandfather stood, “I would be honoured to assist in such a worthy endeavour, and I believe we’ve just finished the pot…”

  —

  It was only a few hours of travel into the mountain area along a forest trail, but the town was obviously out of the way, a high mountain ridge and thick forest cutting off most avenues of approach. A few woodsmen worked on trees or hunted and gathered food. All of them cheerfully greeted and had the same shoulder-patch as the man they were with - who had introduced himself as Five Days Turning.

  Eventually the forest opened up to a town with sweeping farmland on the other side obviously reclaimed from the forest. Now some of the villagers they saw had patches on the opposite shoulder instead, reading 'plains' instead of 'forest'.

  Xiong eyed the patches dubiously, watching as the two groups didn't seem to even acknowledge the other's existence. Meanwhile, the place had the look of the poverty-stricken. Hungry people watched the group from doorways and windows with signs of rot on the shutters, scrappy plants growing up from between the cobblestones.

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  And amidst it all, nobody seemed to even glance at the skeleton in the middle of the clearing where the well stood. It laid there, ignored. Those who were sensitive would feel a black aura, a knot of chi, somewhere around the body. The flow through the town was disturbed by its mere presence here.

  Sheng’s brow furrowed and Xiong stood behind him, arms crossed and frowning at lack of respect for the dead. Flowing Silk immediately tried to go to the skeleton, “Why has no-one done anything about this?!”

  Five Days stepped in front of him to stop him getting too close, “Careful, sirrah. 'Tis powerfully cursed." He looked nervous, as those who didn't treat the dead with respect should, "We'd send him on, sir, we would! But, well, everyone who tried, they fell ill of the shakes after not a minute had passed.”

  Flowing Silk paused and looked at the skeleton, softening slightly, “Who were they?”

  “'Twere the tax-men, it was. They came down, you see, and the city-folk hadn't been paying their share. They said someone'd have to answer for it, and so the Mayor Ton, he goes out to deal with them - he tells us, he tells us to go into our homes and hide for 'afear of the retribution." He looked sideways at the group, "We came out after we heard the wailing, you see, of 'is wife Ila. But then she went a-down with the sickness, didn't she, and she wasted away, but 'er ghost and his, they're restless, I reckon.”

  Flowing Silk didn’t look away from the skeleton apart from to glance at the well itself. Five Days kept talking despite the lack of reaction, “And then the plains-folk, they blamed it on us, sayin' it was we as hadn't paid our shares. It were those two what brought our people together, see, her of our lot and him of theirs.”

  “Then I suspect you need to come together once more.” Flowing Silk said, finally turning away, “But firstly, I believe we should attempt to speak to their spirits, if they are still tied here.”

  “Work together with them?” Five Days looked disbelieving, “Good luck, sir, for a more contrary bunch you'll be hard-pressed to find.”

  “And I suspect they would state the same of you.” Flowing Silk said a little too sharply before breathing out and returning to his usual polite tone, “But enough of that. Would you tell me about them, or show me where they lived? The more I know of them, the easier this will be.”

  “Well, nobody's been in their house, really, since Ila up and died and we buried her up at the hill.”

  The priest looked toward the hill and nodded, “Would you show me?”

  “Oh, aye, as long as you're respectful-like.”

  Flowing Silk looked at him as if to say 'Did you really just imply a funerary priest wouldn't be respectful?' but said nothing. The villager beckoned him in the direction of the woods and Flowing Silk followed with a small bow of temporary farewell.

  Sheng stretched, "Well, I suppose we should get some information from the living. Let's see if their stories match up." Sheng beckoned for Xiong to follow him and headed straight for the nearest teahouse.

  Xiong looked around, rolling his shoulders. The place looked to be part teahouse and part tavern - a generalised social hub for the village. Even here the patrons were split into their groups, though it was busy enough that Xiong wouldn't have noticed had he not been tracking which table had which kind of patch.

  Sheng wandered over to a group of old people drinking nearby and bowed respectfully, sitting at a rickety wooden table that nevertheless had a nicely carved top. Xiong followed him, staying at a respectful distance, but just close enough.

  “You're not with those forest wastrels, are you?” one of the men asked immediately.

  Sheng waved a hand, “Please, I am but a simple traveller from far away, I know nothing of such things.”

  “Well, it all started with the bad summer, you see, a few years back…” the old man burst out coughing, “Ooh, if only I had something to drink while I told a story…”

  “Ah, how remiss of me, it would not do for either of us to have dry throats.” Sheng said, standing to go and get some drinks.

  Another man already at the bar looked glanced his way, a wide bamboo hat obscuring most of his face and a loose green coat obscuring most of his body. On top of the hat sat an actual live peacock the same colour as the coat looking at Sheng with seeming disdain.

  Sheng nodded to him politely, “Evening, stranger.”

  “You're passing through as well?”

  “Oh yes, just passing through, accompanying the young priest.”

  The hat tilted, “Oh? This is a busy season, then.” He took a sip of his drink, “I was hoping to find a few good men, myself, but most have gone to fight the Huns. So I'm left scouring the backwoods looking for those with the right... potential.”

  “Hmm…” Sheng said sombrely, “Many great men and women go to fight the Huns, fewer return.” His smile brightened, “I wish you the best of luck, sir. I am sure if your cause is honourable many young men will flock to it. They usually do.”

  “None more honourable than the defence of the Empire.” The stranger pointed out.

  “But if not against the Huns, against whom?”

  The man gave a chuckle, turning back to his drink, “There are plenty of foes that aren't the Huns, Elder. The cults of the north, the Diamond Sea raiders, and injustices like these you see here, to name a few - though the tax collectors I heard to be responsible I have... admonished.” The peacock preened itself in a smug reflection of the satisfaction in the man’s voice.

  Sheng stroked his beard in the way that implied he'd seen that was something more to this man than met the eye, “Forgive me sir, I believe I never introduced myself. My name is Sheng.”

  The stranger inclined his head, the peacock remaining in place with practised ease. “You can call me O-Sou.”

  It was clearly some kind of alias, but Sheng didn't pry and simply inclined his head in return, “Well met, O-Sou. I hope we will have chance to speak again soon.”

  “It might be sooner than you think, if I get desperate enough.” he replied, the eyes under the hood flicking sideways to where Xiong had been edging closer to hear the conversation. “Tell you what. Take this; and if someone asks, tell them I gave it to you from my hand, if you find anyone who might be interested…”

  He plucked something from under the coat and passed it to Sheng - a mah-jong tile, the 1 of bamboo - which showed a peacock. Well that explained why he was using the tile's name as an alias. Sheng admired the inkwork for a moment and bowed deeply, “I thank you, sir.”

  Ou-sou nodded and turned back to his drink, the conversation clearly over. Sheng returned to Xiong and the table of older village folk with the 'plains' patches and drinks. Their stories weren't much different from Five Days - countless petty gripes against the other half of the village with Ton and Ila uniting them, giving the two halves an avenue for peace and conflict resolution.

  Personally Xiong thought the pair might be better off not being stuck at the go betweens for their families and ought to have run away together instead. What they had left behind was worse, though, the village not only going back to its infighting ways with each side accusing the other of not paying their share of the taxes and the blame for Ton and Ila's deaths.

  Once that round of drinks had concluded Sheng guided Xiong to another table, Sheng performing much the same service there, though with the added bonus of making it look like they'd been booted off by the Plains elders. Again the stories here were similar, with the only difference being that the elders insisted they'd handed the full and appropriate share of taxes to Ila instead of to Ton.

  The curtain over the door parted and the woodsman from earlier approached, Flowing Silk in tow. The green coated man melted away into the crowd before the pair got there. Flowing Silk bowed politely on reuniting with them and thanked Five Days before the three travellers found a bench.

  Flowing Silk waited for the woodsman to be out of earshot before beginning the conversation exceptionally quietly, his soft voice containing an edge of steel. “She was murdered, though by human or otherwise I do not know. A curse does not break someone's neck.” He bit his lip and seemed to cool a little, or possibly just regained his composure.

  Sheng nodded, “That would appear to suggest a human agency.”

  “Or a hungry ghost.” Xiong added.

  Flowing Silk nodded, “But given the atmosphere of this town, I suspect the curse is being caused by the animosity of the two sides.” He frowned again, eyes flicking around as he considered his options, “I have a link with which I can communicate with Ila - her grave money - and Ton should be easy enough to contact due to the presence of his body, but that doesn’t solve the animosity.”

  “I was speaking to the elders of both the tribes to see if I could divine the cause of the animosity, but there was nothing of substance.” Sheng replied.

  Flowing Silk sighed, “If you could find a way to help them settle their differences, wise elder, I would be very grateful. It would be somewhat rude to simply rip the patches from their clothes and bang their heads together.”

  Sheng smiled indulgently at the impetuous youth. Xiong looked out the window as the sun dipped below the horizon. “It will be night soon, priest.”

  Flowing Silk jumped, “Thank you, yes, I should prepare the ritual.”

  “Then I wish you the best of luck, sage.” Sheng replied.

  The priest hesitated for a moment, “You may wish to attend. The ghosts might say something which helps in your discussions, though I admit I am more worried about the chance that restless spirits - or other beings - may not take kindly to the summons.”

  Sheng looked at the priest’s tense posture and stood, “Then we shall be with you.”

  Flowing Silk relaxed a little, “I would be very grateful for that, wise elder.”