David

The gates of Bei'an rose the height of ten men into the sky. They were cut of the same lustrous, dark volcanic glass as the walls which surrounded the city. The doors were somberly decorated, rectangular with sharp seams. If opened, twenty men standing shoulder to shoulder could march through - far more the Iron Road could accommodate.

Etched into the dark glass were thousands of scenes of mining and metallurgy. As the trio approached, the dawning sun struck the walls and the glass captured some of that light in rose and blood orange - fires and forges sparkling in red heat.

Along the wall were scores of little arched entrances - dark tunnels which promised light on the other end.

"If there were to be an invading army, wouldn't those be a little too convenient?" Alice asked, pointing at the arches.

"The service entrances?" Li chortled. "No, not at all. The walls of Bei'an can be shifted at the whims of the sect master. Only the Mouth of the Dragon," she said, pointing at the gate, "remains unchanged."

"And only the inheriting disciple can force the Mouth to part," she added. Daoist Li liked to remind David and Alice of her importance. "If I were to raise my sect token to the sky and utter a verse of the Iron Scripture, I could get this gate to open."

"Are you going to do it?" asked Alice, who was more excited about this than Li.

Li averted her eyes. "That would cause too much of a fuss. There are plenty of perfectly ordinary service entrances for us to go through."

Alice frowned. "But this is a special occasion! It's not every day the inheriting disciple of the Iron Scripture establishes her foundations and enters core formation." Her frown became a conspiratorial grin. "You should open the gate."

Her excitement overtook Li's reticence. Li drew out the sect token from her robes and stared at it. Compared to when Alice held it, the strangely shaped glob of white jade looked less out of place. "I've done this once before, but only once," she admitted.

She held up the token unsteadily. When the light of dawn splashed onto it after it had met the wall of glass, David heard the sound of the Song - deep and old and pure, a chorus of chanting men and women. They stood as three with the Song for a few, timeless moments. The walls of Bei’an were old.

But it wasn't just the walls of Bei'an that stirred. David felt the dim arrival of many Songs, some proud, some principled. The heaviest Song stood behind the gate, and the rest sat along the walls. A question rumbled forth from the gate.

What says the Iron Scripture on Duty?

David slipped Alice's hand into his own and dragged her towards one of the little service entrances lining the walls. "This isn't for us," he said sharply, making sure Li heard him. "This is her big moment."

Li gave him a thankful nod. From the way she scanned the top of the walls, David's suspicion had been confirmed - her peak masters and hall elders had arrived. She schooled her face into something more determined and turned to the gate, then spoke at it.

"Under the same sky - ruling sword, encroaching fates - raise the saber. We melt and bend to protect our children. Rearrange the stars like fishbones on a plate, kneel at ten paces."

Under the shadow of the little archway of cold, dark glass, David heard the sound of distant thunder as the gate cracked open, accepting her verse.

The Daughter of Iron refuses to kneel.

Alice had an expression on her face he didn't like - disappointment. David made himself clear to her as the gate creaked open an inch at a time. "You saw one side of this - why it was important for her to open the door as the inheriting disciple."

Alice nodded, her eyes as bright as the dawn.

"But we can't be beside her when it happens. Because she's chosen to stand by her own power," he said, breathlessly, in English. "If you take everything she says at face value, her position within her sect is secure and she's effectively the princess of a prosperous city loved by all. But if you listen to all her little comments and insecurities, she's had to prove herself at every turn to the world. Don't take this from her."

Alice folded her arms, mutinous.

"Taking this from her would be as if Uncle Jiang had taken the saber from you."

"But-"

"But nothing," said David, firm and out of patience. "Think about what Uncle Jiang named you, about what he named me. We aren't the heroes of this story. We," he paused. "We are the fifty ninth generation of the Falling Leaves, whether or not Uncle Jiang wants to admit it."

Thunder, again, closer.

"Don't envy her fate and don't try to steal it. Greed is not good. You don't believe in karma and neither do I. Don't get your wires crossed over something like this."

"What should we do, then?" asked Alice, annoyed.

"Nothing," said David. "Just watch. Sometimes it's okay to just do nothing. We've done plenty, for her and for us."

The gate opened in full. Alice, who wasn't content with watching nothing, pulled David through the little service entrance into the city of Bei'an.

Bei’an roared with the noise of the living. Even in a clearly residential area of town, the city had more of a resemblance to Ping’an than Dongjing. There was a peculiar smell in the air, rust and fish and spices.

David’s attention was drawn to Li, who had also walked into the city. She stood a hundred paces from them, in front of a man who must have been the Mendicant Beggar.

He did not look like a beggar - his sect robes were well kept and his face was clean shaven. He looked only several years older than David. But from Li’s posture and the deep bow she gave him, David could tell the man was someone she was used to obeying.

There were some key differences between this man and Uncle Jiang - there was none of that air of otherworldliness that wrapped itself around the world like a blanket.

The man embraced her, then withdrew something from his robes - a little satin pouch, and pressed it into her fingers. Then, he disappeared.

Li stood alone on the Iron Road as the gate shuddered and closed behind her. One by one, the various Songs faded into non-existence. When they were gone, Li slumped into herself, sighing.

David and Alice approached her.

“He’s different from what I expected,” said David, who had pictured someone like Daoist Nan, the teamaker who had waylaid them on the road, but in rags.

Li glared at him. “Master has been a fantastic father to me.”

David held up his palms. “I meant his appearance.”

“But I do miss when he’d give me lessons rather than money,” said Daoist Li, who hadn’t been listening. She stuffed the pouch into her robes, then turned to David with clenched fists. “Wait, what’s wrong with Master’s appearance?”

David sighed.

The streets of Bei’an were wide and straight, and paved with the same grey slate as the Iron Road. In a few minutes, the road funneled into a boulevard split down the middle with linden trees. Scores of merchants and their pack animals pulled wagons full of goods up the boulevard, which had nearly three lanes of actual traffic going either way.

And it was loud traffic - people shouted at one another for skipping them in line, merchants attempted to turn off the road onto the dock area, animals came to dead stops - refusing to cooperate.

Across the boulevard were many docks and many, many more ships. Ping’an had been the busy trading hub on a decently sized river, but Bei’an was something else entirely. When the trio crossed over to the waterside, David realized that these docks lining the boulevard did not account for even half of the port.

“Three Blades Bay,” said Daoist Li, with a touch of pride. The sheer size of Three Blades Bay couldn’t be measured in visible docks and ships - rather, across from it was Anvil Mountain, no larger than David’s hand when he held it up. The three ‘blades’ could be seen, smaller bays jutting into the peninsula where the mountain sat.

The boulevard ran what looked to be at least ten miles, parallel to the waterfront, and ended at Anvil Mountain. Each stretch of distance was littered with more docks than could be counted.

From their elevation, David could see hundreds of ships moored in each of these bays, on different docks.

“The only larger port in the world is Minghai, to the south,” explained Daoist Li. “Come, we will follow Seaside Road until we reach the mountain. Somewhere in the mountain is Junior Shen, and he will have your saber,” she said to Alice. None of them had forgotten the original reason why David and Alice were in Bei’an.

Li walked the world with her head held high, no matter the setting. It was far more apparent, however, in Bei’an. David was already used to the unawakened giving a wide berth to cultivators, even if they only did so with guarded politeness in Dongjing. In Bei’an, the merchants averted their eyes and parted like fish in the sea for the inheriting disciple of the Iron Scripture.

“They’re scared of you,” said Alice, who often enjoyed scaring people.

“Oh, of course,” said Daoist Li, breezily. “The Inner Disciples of the Iron Scripture are a collection of easily angered doctors to whom most people in this city owe both their lives and their livelihood. The Iron Fairy is the worst of them all - I’m not even a doctor. In Dongjing, the Clear Skies are the heartless landlords to whom you’d rather not bring grievances about the other tenants. In Bei’an, the Iron Scripture are the law.”

“I see,” muttered Alice, who admittedly preferred fairness to scaring people. Li, who felt judgment more acutely than most, harrumphed and folded her arms. No more words were said in the next few minutes as they rounded Three Blades Bay. As they approached Anvil Mountain, David expected the clinking of hammers and pickaxes, but there were none. It only grew quieter as they moved further and further from the sounds of the busier ports.

“The goods shipped closest to the sect are generally raw materials for cultivation and medication,” said Daoist Li. “Here, the merchants are more civilized, and far more respectful.”

A faint bitterness hung in the air - the aroma of herbs and poultices and tinctures and other things that David hated. They’d come close enough to Anvil Mountain that the members of the Iron Scripture were everywhere now, wearing different shades of grey robes. Li’s robes were the darkest. Li began flagging down different disciples, all of which she recognized.

“Junior Ma!” she’d call out. “Have you seen Junior Shen?”

Li mimed Shen’s mullet with her fingers, which got her a few laughs. She was popular, at least amongst the younger disciples. David could see why - Li remembered the names of every single inner disciple they encountered from the sect, and the names of most of the outer disciples she’d met before as well.

They stepped onto a stone causeway which was the only road between the city of Bei’an and Anvil Mountain. It was as wide as any of the docks. Some disciples loitered on it in groups, gossiping about other disciples, medicine and the Dao. Others fished alone.

Not many of the outer disciples had known who Junior Shen was. None of the inner disciples had run into him, but all of them had excuses as to why they hadn’t - and tried their best to monopolize Li’s time. A few asked about David and Alice, who wore robes far lighter a grey than the outer disciples. Some of the inner disciples clearly hated Li and looked as though they would have preferred to be anywhere else.

All of them congratulated Inheriting Disciple Li - may fortune smile upon her - on establishing her foundations. Li thanked them graciously.

Alice grew more and more discouraged as they approached the foot of the mountain, until she spotted a man step onto the causeway in grey robes the color of stone. He wore a deep seated anger.

And a mullet.