Alice

The first thing Alice noted when she stepped into Sky Peak was how quiet it was. It wasn't quiet in the way Sword Peak was, where words echoed and metal swished in desolate, empty halls. It was quiet in a homely way.

The corridor which led deeper into Sky Peak was a short hallway of polished stone that led in one direction with no side doors. The walls were bare, but for a series of bamboo sticks stretched across them - the Skybound Scripture. The bamboo was old and decayed, and written on them were characters that weren't quite the words of this world or Alice's own, but something in between.

But there would be no time for Alice to examine the words on the wall, as Fairy Guan hurried them along briskly through the archway at the end of the corridor. The archway opened up into Sky Peak's atrium.

While the center of Earth Peak was effectively a marketplace and gathering hall for disciples at all hours, and the center of Sword Peak was the Sword Platform, the atrium at Sky Peak looked and sounded something like a tavern in a small town. The room was markedly smaller than its equivalent in the two other Peaks, with rounded corners and small alcoves lit with oil lamps of dark metal and waxen candles perched on tarnished brass plates.

Disciples drank mulled wine poured from enormous casks out of small ceramic saucers and spoke quietly to one another. If Alice were to stick her arms into one of the casks, her elbows would have disappeared into it. The casks were stacked in pyramids of glossy, dark brown pottery. Candle and lamp light glimmered off the casks, casting shadows of moving lips, gesturing fingers and raised saucers.

Close to thirty disciples sat at tiny dark stone tables drinking wine, in tiny dark stone chairs. All of them gave hurried nods to Fairy Guan, but these were mostly inner disciples and core disciples in heavy boots and leather aprons who were too busy to give the Peak Master formal greetings.

There was an air of listlessness and leisure in Earth Peak, but there was no sign of that sort of relaxation here. The disciples of Sky Peak were alert and hurried. The tables were seated not with parties of friends, but meetings of colleagues.

Alice caught snatches of conversation that blended into an amalgam about the melting point of copper, the proper strength of hammer blows when iron was white-hot and wet, when it was white-hot and dry, about folding, about cracking, about sharpness. There were congratulations, perfunctory and professional, there were commiserations, heartfelt and morose.

Fairy Guan led Alice and her housemates past all of these conversations towards a table in the corner of the room, no different from the others, except for the man who sat there.

“Brother Ling.”

Peak Master Ling sat alone, with his back turned to the rest of the room. He was a tall man who wore the sensible brown leather boots seen commonly amongst the disciples who lived and worked at the Skyforge. Around his waist was a thin leather belt, the same color as his boots. A small, well-worn hammer of solid stone was tucked haphazardly into the belt. The belt encircled the simple garb of an Outer Disciple, a single robe of well-woven black wool.

Long ropy muscles bulged from his too-tight sleeves. A thin brush was perched in his large, thickly callused fingers that peeked from wide, flowing cuffs.

Unlike the rest of the robes, the cuffs were unkempt and pockmarked with uneven holes - burns. Upon closer observation, Alice realized from the peculiar way the edges of the holes curled and warped that it wasn’t just burning - something incredibly hot - the Skyforge, had melted the holes into his sleeves.

Ling turned around and looked directly at her. He was scowling.

Alice bit her lip, remembering that it was considered rude to reach for someone’s qi.

Ling studied her. The scowl deepened for just a moment, and then faded into a deep tiredness. The faces that cultivators wore were a reflection of how they saw themselves in their mind’s eye. Ling already appeared to be a man at the twilight of his life, but only now was Alice struck by how old he was.

Ling turned to Fairy Guan. “In the coming years, we’ll learn just how difficult it’ll be to keep this one alive,” he said, pointing the back of the paintbrush at Alice.

“We will try our hardest,” said Fairy Guan. “Every pretty pearl comes from a dangerous dive, as our friends from the South say.”

“Why have you come to my peak, shimei,” asked Ling, changing the subject.

“This old lady seeks a successor,” said Fairy Guan, referring to herself.

Ling squinted. “These aren’t all of our newest disciples.”

Alice frowned. David was indeed missing but, sure enough, she counted Kanhu, Qitai and Feiyan. Her housemates were also frowning.

“These are the ones I like. I won’t be testing the other two.”

Alice had forgotten about the creepy twins.

Ling shrugged. “This is the sort of favoritism that breeds resentment,” he warned, as he returned his brush to a little stone slab with a rounded indent full of ink.

“The bells are my responsibility,” said Fairy Guan. Her voice remained soft, but it had taken on a sharpness. “I don’t offer advice on how you run your Peak.”

Ling stood. “Maybe you should,” he said, in a tone that was equal parts patronizing and loving, distant and polite. Ling began to walk towards another archway at the far side of the room. An errant hand bade them follow.

The two Peak Masters had caught the attention of the disciples within Sky Peak now - the whispers were growing. Alice let her ears catch the snatches of conversation which floated towards them. At first, none of it was very interesting - just disciples confirming to one another that this was, indeed, Fairy Guan’s trial, but then it took a slightly different turn.

“Who looks the most promising amongst them?” came a low voice.

“None of them, Elder Zhu,” was the reply.

Alice glared in the direction of the corner from which the offending conversation had come. The first speaker, Elder Zhu, was a man with a pretty, perfectly proportioned face. By contrast, a thin scar ran from cheekbones set directly under his left eye, past his nose, to his right earlobe. The second speaker was someone Alice recognized, so she felt a hint of betrayal at the woman’s response.

“Isn’t that a bit harsh, Disciple Liang?”

Alice hadn’t seen Liang Dadu since the woman had guided them with her two friends to the auction where her saber had been stolen by the sect master. Daoist Liang still wore a flower in her hair, but it clearly hadn’t been changed in a while - the bright purple petals were drooping forward, matching the general despondence in her eyes.

That despondence wasn’t reflected in her voice, confident and dismissive. “The Skybound Scripture is cultivation in totality, a scripture that requires true belief. The Fairy wishes for her Disciples to ring the bells with her. Maybe it’ll happen, but not without-”

As Alice stepped into the hallway that Peak Master Ling led them into, Daoist Liang’s voice was immediately cut off. Alice tried to quash the flash of frustration, but it must have shown on her face, because she found Feiyan frowning at her slightly.

“A good cultivator doesn’t consider the opinions of the sheep who roam the plains,” decided Feiyan.

Alice considered Feiyan neither a good cultivator nor a purveyor of good advice. “Please don’t speak poorly of Senior Sister Liang,” she replied, less for the purpose of defending Daoist Liang than to needle Feiyan.

“Hmph,” said Feiyan, turning her nose away and crossing her arms, immediately prompting Kanhu and Qitai to imitate her. Both the Peak Masters ignored their antics entirely.

The hallway continued onward for nearly a hundred paces but conversation did not - there was a shroud of silence from Peak Master Ling which chilled a studious expression onto Feiyan’s face. Alice’s two other roommates mirrored her expression - Qitai easily and Kanhu with some fidgeting.

At the end of the hallway, against the stone of the wall, was a rectangular bronze slab framed like a door. Compared to Peak Master Ling, it seemed small. There might not have been any tarnish on it, but compared to everything else in the Sect, which was polished until it shone, it felt old and worn. It had no knob, or any indication as to how one might open it, but in front of it was where the Peak Masters stopped.

On it were hurried scratches, cut with finger and nail, that were scared and small. The scratches formed words and writing, a single line that bisected the bronze slab.

Will the Sky turn dark, Will the Rain begin?

It was not the writing of the Stars in the Sky that was used in Tianbei and the realm at large, but in the Chinese of the world from which Alice had come. She closed her eyes and heard the whispers of silkworms in the darkness.

When his eyes circled the lip of the valley he could see a thousand cultivators. He was bleeding, he was bleeding everywhere, it was vile, it was treacherous, what had been done to the Master. She Who Bore Water, he’d always been second to her in Master’s eyes, he would have to die for her, he would have to give his life to light the forge and ascend to the Sky-

“Girl.” The voice was rough and disapproving. “Some stories are not meant to be heard.”

Peak Master Ling was standing in front of her, his arms crossed, wearing a deep glare. The Fairy stood in front of Alice’s roommates, who were peeking at Alice from behind her.

“You have little regard for the safety of your fellow disciples.”

Alice pouted, folding her arms to mirror Peak Master Ling. He didn’t seem to like that, because his expression darkened further.

“Insolent.”

Alice heard in her ears the whispers of a hundred stories rising, slithering like smoke from the Peak Master. She saw his clenched fists, the disgusted curl of his lips, she saw the man draw himself up to his full height. But as quickly as that happened, the Fairy stepped in front of her.

“Brother,” said Fairy Guan, softly but firmly. “We swore an oath to never punish as our masters did. She can’t help it.”

Peak Master Ling took a deep breath and though he looked no less angry, he looked infinitely more tired. He turned around and gave the bronze door a heavy shove and it opened inwards.

Behind the door was complete and utter darkness, but when the door swung open in full, the light from the lanterns in the corridor spilled in and there was a sudden glint as the yellow light reflected off hundreds of bars of burnished steel. The light pooled and reflected off sconces and cul-de-sacs in a cave filled to the brim with metals and stones of great worth, refined and not.

Ling passed the door with purpose, helding towards a pyramidal stack of sunset orange metal bars, each as wide as Alice’s forearm and the length of her hand. They were piled six feet high at least - as tall as the Master of Sky Peak.

Fairy Guan held up her arm as Alice and her friends strode forward to enter. “None of us are allowed inside,” she said. When she studied the disappointed look on the young disciples faces, her eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t like the consequences if you tried to enter.”

Ling turned around and counted them, and then pulled five bars off of the pile, then returned and pressed the stack of bronze bars into Fairy Guan’s hands.

“Good luck,” he said. Without another word, he walked back down the corridor. The bronze door closed behind him soundlessly.