With the restless spirits of Duan and Leping laid to rest, and the curse on Songxi broken, it soon became obvious that the power which had bound the spirits of the dead to the drowned village had also held it in physical stasis. Even as Khatia poled them back to the River Gate, five years of partial submergence was beginning to take its toll. Almost every building began to sag as rotting wood gave way, collapsing those parts that had remained above the waves into a watery grave. 

Increasing sounds of snapping wood and splashing water rose up across the lily-infested lake as the boat crunched onto the gravel shore near the faded red tori gate that had marked the southern boundary of Songxi. By the time the companions had all disembarked and turned to look, almost nothing of Songxi could be seen. Only the Ancestors’ Hall on its stone foundation remained, a lone island, with the tall finger of the watchtower beyond it jutting up like a skeletal finger from the lapping water. Somewhere beyond one of the larger clumps of bamboo there was one final, immense splash, and then silence.

But the silence didn’t last long.

“Do you hear that?” Sujia asked after a minute, a note of wonder in her quiet voice. “The birds are back!”

And it was true, where before there had only been the sound of wind and water in the graveyard silence of Songxi, and for miles beyond, now birdsong could be heard again. If not quite as many, nor yet as loud, as in other parts of the Bamboo Sea, the avian chorus was steadily growing, and colorful forms could be seen flitting amidst the restless green motion of the trees.

“And all the other forms of life will be returning soon enough,” a high, clear voice added from… where? They all glanced quickly about, Viroj and Khatia half-drawing their blades; but it was Edain who spotted the speaker – a large, beautiful carp, it’s head sticking above the water just a few feet from his sandaled feet. It’s gold and white scales glittered like metal in the late afternoon sun, which also caught the gleam of intelligence in its large, limpid black eyes.

“Sorry to intrude upon your conversation,” the fish continued, with a polite bob of its head, “but I wanted to catch you before you left the area. Might you and your friends spare me a few moments of your time, Blessed One?”

“Oh. Umm… certainly, honorable, uh… err…” Edain floundered, momentarily at a loss as to how one should properly address a talking carp.

“I am Zhú-zu [shoe-ZOO],” the creature offered. “And you are the Pona Hanni, to whom, along with your companions, I owe a great debt of gratitude.”

“Really?” Edain said, his surprise breaking his temporary mental paralysis. “How could you possibly be indebted to us? I mean,  such a large and beautiful fish as yourself?” He knew enough folktales and myths to know it was generally wise to lay the butter on thick with supernatural beings… 

The carp seemed almost to preen at the compliment, its scales flashing as it turned coyly away, as if abashed. “How kind of you to say! But you see, like every other spirit here I was trapped within the terrible curse of Duan and Leping. So when you freed them, and all the other restless spirits, you freed me as well.”

“But you are surely as alive as any of us,” Sujia said, crouching down next to Edain at the waters edge to peer in wide-eyed fascination at the shining fish. “How could you be trapped? Unless you’re the ghost of a carp, I suppose…”

“No, I am no ghost,” the carp laughed, its tale whipping about in apparent amusement. “But I am a spirit. The spirit of this river, to be precise, as my name might suggest.”

“Ah, that makes perfect sense, noble spirit,” Viroj said, pulling his robes up to kneel on the other side of Edain. “But like my friend, I wonder how one such as you came to be ensnared in a mortal curse?”

“It was a powerful enchantment, as you saw… In the aftermath of that terrible night five years ago I sensed something terribly wrong here at Songxi, usually one of the most serene human  places along my banks. I came to investigate, and sensed the nature of the problem as I neared. I watched awhile, and saw the fate of those unhoused spirits caught within the vortex and bound to it. Even I feared the power of such love and anguish intertwined… but foolishly decided I would be safe from its effects if my own spirit was encased in a mortal shell.

“So I used much of my innate power to fashion myself this body, no trivial task even for me! Then I entered the flooded town… only to find I had been wrong! My spirit was not bound to this flesh, as true mortals are to theirs. It was a mere disguise, and so I fell victim to the curse myself and it held me in this place. I struggled for long days to free myself, but only weakened my already spent powers. 

“Thereafter, all I could do was watch those few humans who eventually ventured into the trap meet their own fates and become bound and restless spirits in their turn. I lent what power I could to those few mortals who tried, as you did, to break the curse that bound us all… but they all fell short, and then fell themselves into bondage.”

“But as you said, with the curse now broken, you are free as well,” Khatia commented, Fromm where she stood behind Sujia. “Why do you remain in this form, then?”

“A good question, fire mage,” Zhú-zu sighed. Khatia wondered briefly how a creature without lungs could do that, then realized it was a minor quibble, given the talking and all. 

“I remain weak because I had to spend every moment of the last five years holding onto this body – it was my only shield against becoming as mindlessly enslaved as the other spirits caught in that terrible snare. Now I seem to be… stuck. I suppose, in time,  enough of my power would return to allow me to transform back into my spirit form, but I have spent too long in mortal flesh already. I would return to my true form and function now!”

“Is there some way we could help you with that, noble Zhú zu—“ Edain began, only to be cut off by the sudden excited splashing of the glittering carp.

“I’m so pleased you asked, Blessed One!” she said after calming down. “In fact, I was hoping you and your companions might aid me in achieving my goal. You see, the Guardian Dragon of Loushang Mountain, the mighty Jin-Zhi, has the power to restore me to my true form… but her home is high atop that mountain, and even if I should make it up the river without being killed, I could never make it through the Dragon’s Gate in this form. I need protection along the way and assistance at the end.”

“Ah,” sighed Sujia, a sudden gleam in her eye. “As they say, ‘The Carp has leaped through the Dragon’s Gate,’ yes?”

Zhú zu froze for a moment in apparent surprise, then bowed her head at the acolyte. “Indeed Noong Sujia, that is my hope!”

“But isn’t this the same dragon who destroyed the Imperial dam and caused all this chaos to begin with?” Snow Crow asked, recalling his conversation of the evening before with the headman of Yaohima hamlet. “Do you really think it’s safe to actually visit such a dangerous and unpredictable creature?”

“I am not certain what happened that night,” the carp said, her tone suddenly serious. “But I have known Jin-Zhi for many centuries, ever since she took up her position as a Guardian Dragon, in fact. She is powerful and wise, and I have never known her to act capriciously or without forethought… she has always considered the requests for aid from the humans who live within her realm, and granted their wishes if she could. Perhaps that night was a mistake, or… or, I don’t know, something else. But I know she will listen to me, and help me regain my true form… and when she does, I will repay my debt to you by granting you each a wish…”

“A generous reward, but this is not a trivial thing you’re asking of us,” Edain said, glancing around at his friends. “We will certainly discuss your request, Zhú zu – but first we have another obligation to fulfill, one that will not wait on any delays. We must return the Sky Blade to its rightful guardian, who lays at death’s door.

“But once that is done I, at least, will return and give you a decision concerning your quest. You have waited for five years, noble river spirit, can you wait another tenday or less?”

“I can wait,” the shining gold and white fish said, sighing again, to Khatia’s private amusement. “And I know such noble souls as you all possess will not deny me in my time of need. I trust you will return and join me as I seek the Dragon’s Gate – I will await you near the hamlet where the Xiǎo xī mèi joins my river.”

It seems that supernatural creatures are quite capable of laying it on thick, too, Edain thought as he rose. The carp gave a great jump and a twist, splashing back into the water and vanishing in a flash of gold.

It was dark by the time the companions reached Yaohima, and Viroj wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or insulted by the amazed greetings of the villagers – once they’d made sure they weren’t ghosts, of course. Had they so little faith in them, then? Well, why shouldn’t they have doubted? It wasn’t like the villagers hadn’t seen others go down that road and never return.

The rest of trip, from Yaohima to Kirai’an, took three days,  the companions entering the town’s western gate in the late afternoon of 26 Byan. Feeling a strange certainty that there was no time to waste, Edain insisted they head straight to the Kohan-yen hospice, before even stopping at their inn to clean up. No one argued with him.

They arrived to find Zun Zhe Yi dozing, the evening sun gave a golden glow to his lined and weathered face that made him look almost ethereal. For a moment Edain feared the old man was dead, but at the clack of Viroj’s sword against the door frame his eyes opened, and he smiled as he recognized his visitors.

“You have returned, all of you,” he said, his voice whispery and thin, but clear. “And by the look in your eyes, Pona Hanni, I dare to hope you have returned in triumph.”

“Indeed we have, sir,” Edain affirmed, and he turned to take the silk-wrapped blade from Sujia, who had pulled it from her pack when they’d entered the room. He drew back the shimmering cloth, revealing the black and silver sheath and the leather-wrapped hilt, then pulled the blade half-way out. At the old priest’s wide grin he bent down to lay it in his trembling, outstretched hands.

“Ah, at last, my charge is again safe and my responsibility fulfilled.” He looked lovingly at the black blade for a moment, then his face darkened. He slid the blade firmly back into its sheath and looked up with serious eyes, searching Edain’s face. “But there is more to tell, is there not? What of the fate of my grandson and his beloved wife?”

With Sujia at his side and the others arrayed in the doorway or just outside, peering in, Edain told the tale of Leping and Duan, in full and leaving out nothing. The old man deserved to know the whole truth, and he was strong enough to bear it, even now. It was dark outside by the time the tale was told, and Zhe Yi smiled sadly as Edain finally fell into silence.

“He was a good lad, with a will of iron, and I know Duan loved him passionately… what a world we live in, where such virtues can turn to such horror. But that is the nature of being human I suppose… and in the end all was set right. Or at least as right as this broken world will allow.” He closed his eyes with a sigh.

After a moment they all thought he’d fallen asleep, but just as they were looking at each other and wondering if they should depart, the old man roused himself again. 

“My guardianship of the Tiankong Zhiren is renewed, but it will not last long now. So I must find a new guardian for my family’s legacy. And I can think of no more fitting candidate than the Pona Hanni themself.”

He lifted the sword in both hands, in a way that seemed starkly ceremonial, and held it out toward Edain. After a moments hesitation, the Pona Hanni bowed his head, and accepted the sword. He had suspected something like this might happen, given the priest’s age and health, and had given the matter some deep thought on the journey back from Songxi. In the end he had realized he could not turn down the responsibility, if it was offered to him… and now it hand been, and he accepted the duty.

“Keep the Tiankong Zhiren with you until you find the one who is destined to wield it for the greater good,” Zhe Yi said quietly. “You will know them when the time is right…” His voice trailed of into a barely audible whisper, which only Edain and Suija heard. “Even if it proves to be yourself, my boy…”

This time he really did drift off into sleep, and the friends quietly left the room, Suija closing the door softly after one last look back at the old man. She was sadly certain she would never see him alive again.

It was an hour past dawn the next day when the same runner from the hospice who had summoned Edain to his first visit to the elderly priest arrived at their inn with the news that Zun Zhe Yi had died in his sleep sometime in the early hours of the morning. The physicians had said his passing had been peaceful and painless, although Snow Crow silently wondered how they could know that. He had the sense, however, to realize this wasn’t the time to bring up something like that.

The news really came as a surprise to no one, nor the fact that the hospice wondered if the Pona Hanni would lead the funeral rites for the elderly priest, as he had no known living relatives to do the honors. Edain agreed, of course. 

The next day, 28 Byan, under gray and intermittently weeping skies, the Pona Hanni officiated before a small group of those who had known and cared about the old man… half the attendees were, in fact, the Wanderers themselves.

That afternoon, back at their inn and over a meal honoring the memory of Zun Zhe Yi, the group discussed their next move. Specifically, would they honor the request of the incarnated river spirit Zhú Zu, and escort her carp-form up her namesake river to the home of the Guardian Dragon Jin-Zhi, in the hope of restoration for her and answers for the humans?