Ch 10 Dancer

"They're said to be the finest Sword Dancers in the Empire, it would be a shame if you were to miss them."

Hong Yunsung rubbed his chin reflectively, and regarded the speaker with measured scepticism. As always when Kamala Na Ayyuthaya suggested anything he almost invariably wondered whether there was a hidden motive. At the moment her conventionally beautiful features were set in an expression of brooding dissatisfaction, the pouting look of a spoilt princess, appropriate enough for someone a single remove from royalty. But any one of her many and varied moods could be a mask to deceive the unwary.

Kamala was of something less than medium height, so the long, flowing dresses usually worn by women of the court did not particularly suit her. She made up for it by the vivacity and elegance of her appearance: her jet black hair was carefully styled, her make-up flawless, the embroidery on her red, one-shouldered garment was the finest, and her gold earrings and bracelets were set with costly gems.

Hong wasn't sure whether he continued to associate with her out of sloth, or to avoid offending her, or because she occasionally amused and intrigued him. Or for another reason he was loath to admit to.

He said, "You know that Plaek Bhuvunath will practically have me in irons if I don't complete the guard inspection on time. Or worse, put me on cleaning detail."

Kamala gave a trill of laughter. "You are always going missing from your duties. Usually to fritter away time with that hussy."

Hong didn't bother to react to the young noblewoman's slighting reference to Seung Mina. The two were deadly enemies, or at least what passed for deadly enemies in the artificial, closed world of the imperial court. Yes, perhaps his real reason for befriending Kamala was because he knew it annoyed her arch foe.

He replied mildly, "We spend most of our time in practice, as it happens. To maintain your position in the First Rank isn't easy."

Kamala sniffed. "Practice! I heard she recently had you digging for truffles like a pig!"

Hong coloured, "That was … an exaggerated rumour." Attempting to change the subject, he said, "The Emperor will be attending the performance, and that means every courtier, flunky and hanger-on who isn't otherwise engaged will be there, tongues wagging and hanging out. It would be impossible for me to avoid being noticed by somebody. Plaek would almost certainly find out."

Kamala tapped her nose confidentially. "Ah-ah. There I'm ahead of the game. We will be able to watch in privacy and comfort."

Hong considered. He knew Plaek Bhuvunath, commander of the Imperial Guard, generally regarded him as a dilettante officer, a wastrel and a ladies man, owing the position to his status as a well-connected foreigner and renowned fighter. Consequently he seldom trusted Hong with important assignments, and on the occasions that he did, often checked that they had been performed correctly. With the large influx of performers for the festival, Plaek might count guard inspection as more than usually significant. It was well known that assassins, insurgents and other potential infiltrators commonly disguised themselves as itinerant entertainers.

Looking round at the well-kept gardens, ornamental pools, and tall towers, Hong reflected that strolling from guard post to guard post accompanied by an attractive young woman was one of the pleasanter tasks of an imperial officer.

He said, "Even so, its not worth the risk. He may well check up on me."

"Oh, pooh, you are being so dull! You'll have much more to worry about soon. Plaek is only a Second Rank fighter, even if he's your commander."

So now they came to it; she had something up her sleeve! Trying to sound nonchalant, Hong asked, "What can you mean? Mina and myself are the only First Rank fighters here."

Kamala gave a simper. "Not for much longer! Hwang Seung Kyung has completed his naval posting and is on his way here. No doubt he intends to marry Mina imminently."

Hong's attempt to keep his features impassive wasn't a good one. "And why should that concern me?"

The noblewoman giggled, "Perhaps you'd like to tell me. You look like you've eaten something disagreeable." When Hong said nothing, she continued, "Well, let's see now: you spend a lot of time with Mina doing … whatever you do … and she has a habit of flouncing around wearing revealing and inappropriate clothing. What do you think the rumours are about the two of you? And don't you think Hwang's likely to hear them?"

Hong said loftily, "My conscience is clear."

Kamala smiled mockingly, "No doubt it is. Nevertheless people will talk."

Including quite likely you. Hong said, shrugging, "What can I do about it?"

Looking at him coquettishly, Kamala said, "Perhaps if it was given about that you were fixated on another woman, myself for instance, the gossip would be diverted in another direction.

How extremely clever you've been! Hong thought, admiringly. He had always suspected Kamala of entertaining thoughts in that direction, either out of genuine affection, or lust, or more likely, as a means of angering her rival. He weighed up, in addition, some of the other ways she could exploit such a relationship. If it was revealed as fake, then blackmail, either directed at himself or Mina, was one of the choicer options available to her.

Well he would rather face the music than be manipulated.

He said, "While I'm flattered that you should do me so generous a favour, I cannot allow you to lower your reputation in such a way. Although an officer in the Guard and a former envoy for my country, I am of humble birth."

Kamala's expression went from gently flirtatious to sorely vexed in the blink of an eye. She said stiffly, "The dignity of your present position is sufficient for me. I strongly recommend you give the matter further thought."

Hong said diplomatically, "I will endeavour to do so."

Sunset was near as they approached the main gate, where a drawbridge surmounted the river enclosing the entire city. A colourful wagon was crossing, the driver shaking the horses' reins.

"Ah, the Sword Dancers are arriving! They must have been delayed!" The noblewoman was either mollified by Hong's words or for her own purposes chose to appear so. "Let's go and see."

Hong said, with dignity, "You may do so. I will inspect the guard."

The vehicle had disgorged over half a dozen mostly young women, laughing, giggling and exchanging banter with the gate guards. Hong noted that the latter were taking more than the usual trouble to search for unauthorized weapons, contraband and other forbidden items; perhaps because of the importance of the occasion, or more probably due to the presence of so many nubile females. The guard sergeant was meticulously inspecting the wagon's weapon racks to ensure all were blunted as required.

Kamala sighed, "Hmm, just as I feared, a bunch of provincials without any real class. Most of them look half-starved, and in need of some serious grooming. Someone seems to have thought skeletal, young girls wearing a breeze of clothing would fit the bill better than older women with more grace and poise."

Hong refrained from mentioning that the women, predominantly tall and willowy, looked considerably more athletically built and toned than his companion, who had a rounded figure more appropriate to someone a trifle too fond of over indulging in delicacies, and more than a little averse to anything resembling serious exercise.

The guards had begun the process of body searching the women, a task which they embarked on with even greater enthusiasm, provoking giggles and squeals of outrage in equal measure. All eventually submitted to the indignity with varying degrees of protest, apart from the smallest member of the troop. The sergeant moved purposefully in her direction

Kamala chuckled, "Look at that ridiculous runt! She looks like a child barely out of her nappies. The Emperor was expecting seasoned professionals, not little girls in training."

It was hard to say exactly what happened next, but it appeared that the dancer had taken umbrage in some way, because the sergeant was suddenly propelled backwards through the air, landing heavily on his backside. Two more soldiers attempted to restrain the girl, but ended up hopping about clutching their privates. The scene degenerated into chaos, with the other dancers jeering and obstructing the guards' efforts.

"All right, that's enough for now!" Hong decided to take a hand, using his best parade ground voice. Shamefacedly, the guards stood at attention.

Hong slowly approached the recalcitrant member of the troop. Like most of the other girls, she wore flowing, diaphanous robes under a travelling cloak, and a gauzy veil obscured her features except for her wide, dark brown eyes. Hong gave an encouraging smile, and gestured expectantly. The dancer glared back at him for a moment, then finally unpinned her cloak and parted it to show a twin set of sheaths for weapons about the size of a dagger or short sword. They appeared to be empty.

Hong nodded significantly. He signalled to the guard to allow the wagon's passage. As it rumbled past the gatehouse, he followed it through to rejoin Kamala, looking thoughtful.

She said, "Well, you handled that altercation superbly! Have you changed your mind about my proposition yet?"

Hong said, "As a matter of fact, I have."

Kamala grinned broadly. "I knew you'd see it my way eventually. Else there were nine chances out of ten that Hwang would hear something scandalous."

"No, not about that. I've decided that I'd like to see this famous sword dancing after all. When opportunities arise, its often worth taking a calculated risk."

"Well, what do you think? The Emperor himself would envy the splendour of my arrangements."

"Quite a little nest!" Hong looked around the disused tower room. Boxes, cushions and drapes had been used to create couches, tables and chairs. Some were piled up high enough for them to comfortably view the stage below through the tower windows. He noted with approval that the "tables" were laden with enticing sweet meats and other savoury morsels. "How did you manage all this?"

Kamala arranged herself seductively on a couch. "A word or two in the right ears of those who know how to be discreet." She reached for an olive and slowly bit into it. "Why don't you eat something? The performance won't start for a while yet." She tapped the couch next to her.

While he couldn't help rather enjoying the situation, with the other part of his mind, Hong was frantically debating how he could extricate himself without giving offence. Kamala's intentions were perfectly obvious, and she had quite likely used this place for previous secret liaisons with lovers. He could only hope that, despite her earlier acerbic remarks, eagerness to see the dancing might forestall her from making any immediate move.

Deliberately remaining standing, he helped himself to some chicken. "The Emperor will be arriving soon. We don't want to miss that, do we?"

Kamala shrugged impatiently, "Of course I never said this, but after a long time at court, his Imperial Majesty's arrival becomes something of a royal bore."

Glancing out the window, Hong said casually, "It seems Mina doesn't think so. She's at the imperial bore's side right now."

It was a slight exaggeration, but enough to cause Kamala to leap out of her couch to join him at the window. In the gathering darkness, torches marked the progress of the imperial party, approaching across a small arched bridge over a water feature. The Emperor, a venerable, distinguished figure in a flared gold robe and a greyish beard and moustache, was accompanied by his much younger consort, and followed by a gaggle of dignitaries and courtiers including, a pace behind, Seung Mina.

Kamala said, waspishly, "I see the trollop isn't above a little toadying and has covered up for once." Hong smiled to himself, thinking how much better the long, red form-hugging apparel became Seung Han-myeong's beautiful daughter. She had retained a touch of individuality by wearing her usual scarlet headscarf across her forehead.

The Emperor having taken his place seated in the large wooden stand facing the curtained stage, the entertainment commenced. The musicians struck up a rhythmic melody, a soft plucking at stringed instruments, a low tapping of drums, the lightest touch of cymbals. In the background, unseen hands manipulated long red and orange ribbons of cloth in an undulating motion like the flow of a lava ocean. Seven sword dancers entered one after another stage left, dressed in translucent silk garments, open at the midriff and reaching just below the thigh. They wore headdresses and veils, and each carried a light, thin blade. Two bare-chested men with torches accompanied them, periodically blowing streams of fire from their mouths.

The women danced in a line across the stage, eventually forming a circle well spaced apart. They began to twirl their rapiers with great dexterity and speed, pausing to strike poses, with the swords thrust high or low, crouching with arms extended, sometimes poised gracefully on one leg, or with the blade held behind and pointing forwards or upwards. And all the time the rhythm of the music grew faster and stranger and more abandoned.

Kamala said, "Their swords are so slender and flexible, they look as though they might snap, like a child's toy."

Hong said, "They are light, double-edged swords called Jian, and might break against a blade like White Storm. They are made to be springy that way so as to keep swinging inside an opponent's body, causing more lethal injuries."

The noblewoman shuddered. "You put it so nicely!"

The troop went on to perform a number of different dances in varying numbers. The fire-eaters occasionally became involved, blowing out sheets of flame which the dancers had to leap over or roll beneath. But to Hong's secret disappointment, the girl he had confronted still did not appear.

Kamala commented on this, saying. "No sign of the runt. Probably past her bedtime!"

The dancers were once again in a circle, all looking towards the right of the stage. The music rose to a climax, then suddenly stopped. A small figure stepped into the torchlight, looking apprehensively this way and that, darting across the stage like a hunted thing. Music started again, intermittently, a shaking of tambourines, a rattling of drums. The sword dancers advanced towards her in turn, whereupon she recoiled in apparent fear, rushing in one direction only to retreat in another. Eventually they all withdrew to leave her isolated in the centre of their circle.

The drums beat out a sensual rhythm, gradually gathering pace, accompanied by tambourines and stringed instruments. The lone figure began to dance in slow, swaying movements. By degrees she drew out first one, then another of the ornamental daggers from their sheaths at her hips, which she shook gently in time to the music. Her arms moved sinuously as she described patterns in the air with the shining points.

As the drums beat faster, she began to strike out to the left and right, eyes blazing as if surrounded by enemies. The torchlight reflecting off the blades traced lines of fire around her form, the scything of the daggers perfectly complimented by precise bodily evolutions.

Hong could sense that the audience, even the sceptical Kamala, were held fascinated by the display. The difference between this dancer and the others was not only a phenomenally greater degree of skill, but that she seemed to put her heart and soul into the performance. The apparent simplicity and ease of the movement gave her a natural grace.

Now she leapt to clash weapons with each dancer in the circle, the crowd raising a cheer as each one fled offstage. Finally completely alone, the dagger dancer performed a triumphant jig, whirling her weapons in time with the almost impossible speed of the drums, faster and faster, until her hands and blades became a blur, and then suddenly she held her arms aloft, and the music instantly ceased.

The ovation was thunderous. All the players returned to the stage and knelt to bow low in the direction of the Emperor, remaining in that position while the cheering continued. As the applause became more scattered, the aged ruler could be seen addressing an aide, who then advanced to the stage and spoke to the smallest dancer. After a moment's pause, she laid down her weapons, and followed him.

The thin, reedy voice of the Emperor commanded an immediate, respectful silence.

"Dancer, you have done well. Never have we seen such a fine demonstration of skill. What is your name?"

The dancer hesitated for a full second, then replied in a surprisingly low-pitched voice, "I am Lidi, a shamaness, Your Imperial Majesty."

Kamala, looking on, asked, "Why is she speaking in that peculiar way?"

Hong stopped himself from replying out loud.

As if she were trying to disguise her voice, and not succeeding very well!

The Emperor smiled benevolently. "Please unveil yourself, that we may see your face."

Again a long hesitation, until the dancer haltingly began, "I cannot do so."

There was a collective intake of breath, before she continued, "Forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty. According to my beliefs, I may not remove my veil until I'm wed."

The uneasy silence was broken by the Emperor saying, "We are renowned for tolerating our subjects' religious convictions where they are harmless. You have greatly pleased us, and we will grant you one request."

The dancer seemed to consider, then replied, "I have none … except that I may perhaps stay a little longer at Your Majesty's palace?"

The sovereign magnanimously waved a withered hand. "Remain as long as you wish, with our blessing. We will have quarters arranged for you."

"I thank Your Imperial Majesty."

As the Emperor left, and the audience began to disperse, Kamala turned back to Hong and said, "Well, now that's over we can …" Her voice trailed off, as she saw the imperial officer had risen and shouldered White Storm. "Where do you think you're going?"

In a pleasantly firm tone, Hong said, "I'm going to visit the dancers."

"You're going to do what?!"

"I'm going to vis …"

"And what exactly am I supposed to do?"

Hong said equably, "You can stay here and eat the food or you …"

"What?!"

"Or you can come with me. Whatever you like." Hong kept his features composed with difficulty, as the stunned expression on Kamala's face was one to treasure.

"Why would I want to come while you … while you molest a bunch of silly girls?"

"Well … you might want to watch … or even join in?" He watched Kamala with amusement. She had gone white.

"I … I …"

"After all, I've heard it said you've tried nearly everything else." He delivered the final line in a faintly insulting tone that was payback for all the times she had belittled him.

With a scream of fury, Kamala began to snatch food from the table and hurl it at Hong, who put his hand up to protect his face.

"Ten times out of ten!" she shrieked, continuing to pelt him as he retreated down the stairs. "Oh, you're going to regret this!"

Hong hastily fled out of range of her vituperation and thrown confectionary. At a safe distance, he stopped to brush himself down. He had made one bad enemy, and at the worst possible time. Well, it probably couldn't be helped. And there were more important things to concern him.

"I saw something move on the wall, sir."

The guard captain regarded the pale-faced young recruit with amused patience. He asked, "How long have you been on duty now, soldier?"

"Nearly four hours, sir."

"Well, it's about that time that your eyes may start playing tricks and you think you see things that aren't there. It's a perfectly natural phenomenon. The outer wall is virtually smooth; no one's going to be able to climb it without a rope or pitons. Did you see a rope, soldier?"

"No, sir."

"Did you hear anything?"

"No, sir."

"So, there you are," the captain concluded good-humouredly. "Just imagination."

"Sir, with respect, sir, I saw something move on the wall, sir."

The captain sighed. "You can stand down now, soldier." Just in case, he thought. "Kasem, Deng; check the South East Wall. Look for ropes, ladders, anything else unusual. Report back immediately if you don't find anything. If you do, call a general alert."

A dense white mist was curling over the battlements, as the two guards went about their task. The first muttered irritably, "This is a waste of time. The young fool shouldn't have been allowed out the barracks for weeks yet."

His comrade nodded. "You're probably right. Still…" he shivered, "Of all nights, if anyone was going to try sneaking in, this would be the one they'd choose."

"Or anything. Have you heard the tales of ghouls that can walk up walls?" Deng chuckled.

"Now you're scaring me! Look, I'll keep watch from up here, while you check past the corner tower."

The guard remained, stamping his feet a little nervously, as the other patrolled the junction between the south and east walls, his breath hanging in the fog chill. There was an uncanny feeling about the palace tonight, almost as if something malign was close, ready to pounce. He shivered again. He glanced westwards to see if the replacement watchman had arrived, but there was no sign of him yet. He was about to turn his attention back east.

What was that? He could have sworn he heard something – something like faint music - a flute or pipes. A yearning tune for the lost or unattainable. But who would be playing out here? He looked downwards both sides of the wall. Nothing. Perhaps it was only the memory of music in his head. Or his nerves jangling.

Rubbing his hands to warm them, he shouted loudly, "Hurry it up, Deng!"

He thought he heard his friend give a muffled cry in reply, and turned towards the sound. He couldn't see anyone. Either the mist was becoming damnably thick or Deng was out of sight behind a buttress.

With a growing sense of unease, the guard advanced cautiously along the battlement. "Deng, you all right?" He gave a sudden sigh of relief, as he saw the soldier leaning over the battlement.

Walking up to him and clapping a hand on his shoulder, he said, "You know just for a minute, I thought …"

Deng toppled sideways to lie staring upwards. His face was contorted into a ghastly expression of fear. The eye sockets were blank.

The guard opened his mouth to scream, but before he could do so, a strong hand clamped itself over his lips, cutting off the sound. Something cold was pressed to his neck, and a terrifyingly evil voice whispered into his ear.

"Move a muscle, and I'll take your soul."

For the second time in a short while Hong found himself dodging a variety of colourful missiles, these ones being mostly of the larger and more damaging kind, such as combs, brushes, rollers, empty bottles of unguents and, slightly less alarmingly, women's underwear. Holding up his rod of office more as a defence than in the hope of impressing the outraged female performers, he shouted, "I've a message for the Emperor's favourite sword dancer."

The hail of objects slackened, and one of the older women said commandingly, "That's enough girls." To Hong, who had ceased turtling, "She's through the back there." Smirking slightly, "She's changing as well, but no doubt she can handle you." And with a sly wink, "You can barge in here any time you like, handsome."

Hong made his way through the changing rooms, smiling disarmingly, and trying to keep his eyes fixed on his destination, although with some difficulty. The door the woman had pointed to was open, leading through a corridor to a backroom.

In front of a mirror and dressing table, Talim, clad only in her underwear, was carefully removing some kohl from her eyelids. On a perch nearby, a small, brown owl rotated its neck to fix its fierce, round eyes on the intruder.

Hong sauntered forward with a broad grin. Talim suddenly swivelled her body to land a roundhouse kick on his chin, and before he knew it, he was on the floor, with the wind priestess cum sword dancer straddling his chest, and two sharp, glowing daggers held in front of his eyes.

Blinking in the strong light, Hong managed to gasp, "Hey, don't you know a friend when you see one?!"

Talim regarded him unsmilingly, with an assessing look. After a moment's consideration, she got to her feet, put the elbow blades back on the table, and returned to removing her make-up.

Hong also got up, though a little gingerly. He asked, "So a hug is out of the question?" When that brought no response, "You found it then?"

Talim paused at her task long enough to give him a moody glance.

"Yes." After another silence. "You can see them?"

Hong rubbed his chin ruefully, "Yes, now I can see them."

"Nobody else can. Or if they do, they don't see them as I do; to everyone else they look just like ordinary blades."

"When I looked before, I could see a shimmering where they should have been. Soul Calibur is a cunning weapon; it conceals itself when it does not wish to be seen."

"And now it does?"

"It recognises the presence of the Gatekeeper. It knows it must pass me to become complete, which is its greatest wish."

"Except for its desire to destroy Soul Edge." Talim frowned.

Looking at her carefully, Hong said, "I take it you still seek the third gate?"

Talim squinted, as she started on the other eye.

Hong said, a little grimly, "Let's cut to the chase. What's with the disguise, the pantomime act and the unfriendly reception?"

Talim blinked. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do. Why couldn't you have come to the front gate, announced yourself and asked for me?"

Talim went to sit down on a wooden stool. She looked doleful. Hong waited for her to speak.

After a while, Talim said, "Have you ever tried getting admittance to the imperial court? All the documents that have to be signed, it's an absolute nightmare."

"I'm aware of that actually. But that doesn't explain why you tried to conceal your name or your face. Nobody here knows you except me – and Mina, of course."

"So you know about that, then." Despondently: "I didn't know who to trust anymore. I was frightened. Soul Calibur told me I was surrounded by enemies."

"It speaks?"

"In a way. When I'm about to sleep, I think I hear the cold voice of a woman whispering in my head. Afterwards it's like a half-remembered dream."

Hong said, "So its female. That figures. They always love to boss you."

Talim said, "Funny then that it's mostly men who run everything."

"Maybe, but never mind. I still don't understand why you thought myself or Mina would be against you. We've only ever been your friends."

Talim seemed to hunch within herself miserably. She tried to speak, then failed. Finally she murmured, "T–Taki."

"What about Taki? What happened?"

"She's taken Soul Edge. And it's about to devour her soul. And none of you would have realised until too late. And it's all my f-f-fault." Talim dissolved into tears.

"Ah, don't cry!" Hong rather awkwardly put his arms around Talim, who immediately began sobbing against his shoulder. "She wouldn't have fooled us, we'd be standing right by your side, depend on it. Just like we're going to be doing now." He patted Talim gently on the arm, as she soaked him with floods of tears.

Talim said eventually, sobbing "You don't hate me for what I did?"

"No, of course not. Whatever it was. Listen …" Talim's sobs were now sporadic, and Hong was becoming aware of the embarrassing fact that he was hugging her while she was in her underwear as, belatedly, was Talim.

Disentangling himself carefully, Hong continued, "You must be tired and emotional after all you've gone through. Rest now, and I'll take you to see Mina in the morning, and we'll work out what's best to do."

Talim said, "I suppose so, but …what's that noise?"

The loud clashing of a gong could be heard, followed by shouting and the thudding of heavy boots.

Hong said, "It sounds like a general alert. Probably just a drill, but I'm going to have to go."

Alun gave a squawk, flapping his wings. Talim became intent, staring upwards at nothing.

Then she said in a trance-like voice: "She's here."