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Fate's Attendant 1.24
🕑 Added 2025-09-08 19:33:31 +0000 UTCMa Mo wove a restless path between the merchants specializing in fine furnishings for the well-to-do residents of the middle city. Ostensibly, he was supposed to be guarding the Yu family’s own Gallant Hero Marble Sculpture Gallery, but the man simply couldn’t seem to stay in one place for long.
He’d likely return to another scolding from the gallery’s boss, but it seemed that Ma Zhi’s influence extended even to the family’s businesses—there’d been no reports so far to the Yu’s steward of Ma Mo’s dereliction.
Hong Fei trailed behind him, wearing a different set of city clothes and a wide-brimmed hat to obscure his face. Both swords remained at his courtyard, but a knife was strapped to his arm, hidden in his sleeve.
He kept his distance from Ma Mo, though his quarry seemed remarkably unobservant. The man’s eyes were more interested in the goods on display than the people on the street.
Ma Mo entered a shop specializing in tapestries and bed linens—the textiles brightly dyed and colorfully embroidered. He sat on a bed showing off the artisan’s best work, then fell back onto it while spreading his arms as if he owned it and the linens covering it.
Hong Fei passed the shop as Ma Mo continued to lay there, and he realized his quarry had fallen asleep—while on duty and in the middle of the day, no less. Was the man not sleeping enough at night? What was he doing, if not resting? Was it another gambling ring or something else, something worse?
When Hong Fei passed by a second time, it became clear that the merchants were letting Ma Mo sleep.
The shop across the way specialized in figurines carved from the wood of local trees. They didn’t seem to be the most prestigious artisans, but the goods on display outside were well-made and affordable. The place was called Local Bounty of Treasure Carvings, and a plainly dressed customer wouldn’t be out of place, so Hong Fei went inside to await the end of Ma Mo’s nap.
Only one shopkeeper tended to the goods—an older woman who noted his arrival but gave him the opportunity to look around before approaching him. She waited to see which subjects he was drawn to. From his posture, she thought it might be the dragons, but he stayed near the front of the shop where they kept the small figurines meant to be hung on necklaces.
Back and forth he paced, as if unable to decide between the displays of the goddess Sanzu’s figurines and those of the local wildlife. The former was a consistently popular choice among the shop’s clientele, while the latter were a holdover from the barbarians who’d been driven out. Though the people were gone, their arts lingered.
The customer sighed as if indecision, and the shopkeeper knew the time had come to strike. Her name was Lin Yan, and she prided herself on her sharp eyes.
“The ferret badger may seem an assuming animal at first,” she said with a kindly voice, “but farmers keep them near their storehouses to hunt rats and other rodents.” Lin Yan approached to pick up the figurine in front of him with pride. “This one is product of our workshop, crafted by a master artisan.” She declined to state which one, surely a sign of her humility.
Hong Fei had been looking without looking, relying on his peripheral vision to keep track of his surroundings while his attention had been on Ma Mo. Now, he examined the figurines more closely.
The lines were sharp, and the subjects were clearly identifiable. If there was one complaint, it was that the figurines didn’t have life to them. There was a spiritedness missing that even Little River Stick had been able to capture. The shop was perhaps not as good as he’d thought.
Lin Yan saw the slight frown on the customer’s face and stopped herself from bristling. While she prided herself on her sharp eyes, her reputation was for a sharp tongue, which was why the shop’s bosses rarely let her out of the workshop. She would definitely prove to them, however, that she could be pleasant to customers—no matter what said customers thought about the figurines she herself had carved.
“Do you have a thought about the quality of our artisans?” she asked mildly.
“No, no, this is fine,” Hong Fei replied.
“Oh, but I’m sure you do,” Lin Yan said. “I can see it—” She paused when the customer looked up at her, and she saw his face covered in scabs. Was he an artisan working in stone? And making judgements about her art?
At her narrowing eyes, Hong Fei decided it was time to leave. He’d let Ma Mo sleep and observe him at night instead, yet the shopkeeper grabbed his shoulder before he could leave.
“I’d like to see you produce something better,” she demanded. “Where’s your workshop?”
Hong Fei wondered at what he’d done to anger the shopkeeper. “I assure you, I don’t think poorly of the craftsmanship. I’m sure the quality is fine for the clientele you serve.”
Lin Yan’s grip on him tightened. Her temper was getting the better of her, she knew, but the man before her had made it abundantly clear he wasn’t going to be a customer. She could therefore say whatever she wanted to. “You wouldn’t recognize good craftsmanship if it smacked you in the face! Or was that what happened to you already? Did the stone rebel under your clumsy hands?”
Hong Fei’s frown deepened. He shook off her grip and turned to leave in earnest. But before he did so, he couldn’t help swinging around to slam the wooden figurine he’d gotten from Little River Stick onto the shelf. “A twelve-year-old boy is a better wood carver than your so-called master artisans.”
He stormed out afterward and thought that the people of the mid-city must all be eccentric. The shopkeepers across the street had gone so far as to cover Ma Mo with a blanket.
Hong Fei got as far as the intersection when he heard running steps chasing after him. It was the damned shopkeeper with a wild look in her eyes. He checked for alleys nearby and found one just ten zhang to his left. He headed that way in a hurry.
Lin Yan followed him inside and found him glowering, his hands within his sleeves. “Oh… oh... I caught up.” She placed one of her own hands on her chest as she recovered her breath. The other gripped the remarkable figurine the man had left behind. “Where did you buy this?”
His stern expression softened. “Is that why you came after me?” he asked.
“This is unpolished work, but the artist was still able to uncover the inner spirit of the wood.” Lin Yan’s eyes shone as she spoke. “Is he really only twelve? Who is he apprenticed to? I don’t recognize the style.”
The man sighed and let his hands fall from his sleeves. One of them ran through his hair as if in indecision—perhaps unsure of whether he should reveal the identity of the hidden genius.
“He’s just some boy I found on the street,” the man eventually replied. “He was crafting images into wood salvaged from shipping crates.”
Lin Yan’s lips thinned in sympathetic indignity. That anyone should be forced to work with such mediocre materials was an affront to all artisans. “Take me to him. I must save him from working with crates.”
“No,” the man replied simply. He strode toward the alley’s exit.
Lin Yan grabbed hold of his shoulder, gently since she must coax him for the necessary information. “Our shop will be in your debt and can offer a ten percent discount in exchange. No, make it fifteen percent, including on a Sanzu carved from a thousand-year-old camphor tree.”
An artisan needed a strong grip, but the man shook her off as easily now as he’d done before.
“Twenty percent!” Lin Yan offered. “The statue is the pride of our workshop. It was meant for a temple and is the best work I’ve… we’ve ever been commissioned to create.”
“Enough! I have better things to do with my time,” the man said sternly.
“You don’t understand,” Lin Yan pleaded. “A talent like this needs to be nurtured. The boy’s fate is in your hands. Please don’t let it be buried by mediocrity.”
The man stopped at the alley’s exit, his back to her. Slowly, he turned his head, his face obscured by the light from the street.
Lin Yan quieted her impetuous mouth. Anything she said now would only make things worse, so she let the moment extend until it pained her to keep silent. This must be what it’s like to petition a dragon, she thought. Your life in their hands.
The dragon in a man’s guise relented. She saw it in the way his posture eased, his decision made. Lin Yan prided herself on the sharpness of her eyes, and she wasn’t entirely wrong about them.
“I’ll lead you to the boy,” he said.
###
Hong Fei wondered if he was being foolish. He’d been perfectly willing to leave the mad shopkeeper behind until she’d mentioned changing the boy’s fate. Something about those words had stopped him.
So, he’d agreed to her demand, and he held the brim of his hat low as he led her through the backways of the mid-city, taking a roundabout route to where Little River Stick did his work.
They approached from the direction opposite the Rock Knives’ residence. The shopkeeper stuck close as if afraid Hong Fei would leave her behind.
The sky overhead had been patchy all morning, and a light rain began to fall as they were approaching their destination. Neither Hong Fei nor the shopkeeper seemed to mind. Hong Fei had his hat, and the shopkeeper didn’t deign to notice it.
Little River Stick apparently did care about getting wet, because he’d shoved himself inside a scavenged crate. His knees were in his face and his shoulders cramped together, yet that didn’t stop him from whittling a piece of wood held uncomfortably in front of him.
“That’s him,” the shopkeeper hissed, then ran past Hong Fei to kneel beside the crate and examine the wood in the boy’s hand.
“It’s ten bronze coins if you want to buy it,” Little River Stick told her.
A smile spread across the shopkeeper’s face as she watched him use a sharpened spike to add details to a river otter’s face. “Have you ever used proper tools?” she asked him.
“This is good enough,” Little River Stick replied, gesturing with the spike.
“But haven’t you ever wondered what you might create with real chisels and knives?” she pressed. “What you could do with a master’s guidance?”
The boy glanced at the older woman. From his expression, he must’ve shared Hong Fei’s assessment she was mad. “If you want me to dream, then it will be twenty bronze coins.”
Lin Yan couldn’t stop the words spilling from her mouth. “How about room and board instead? You’d also earn those ten bronze coins weekly. You’d have to work hard as an apprentice, however, and mind what you’re taught. Our workshop demands eight years before you can leave to open your own place.”
“What are you on about?” Little River Stick demanded.
“I’m offering you an apprenticeship at our workshop,” Lin Yan explained. “Where are your parents? I’ll talk to them.”
Hong Fei moved to check the alley opposite. There was no sign of the couple who’d been unconscious before. When he walked in that direction, the Rock Knives’ residence came into view.
The guard at the gate held an umbrella to protect himself from the rain, but there was no sign of the one on the roof. There also didn’t appear to be anyone going in or out, and the second-floor shutters were closed. In Hong Fei’s estimation, there was a decent chance the people inside were still asleep.
He observed the place for the length of time it would take a stick of incense to burn, noting that the Rock Knives were fond of engraving images of tigers and sharks as decorations. Climbing the building’s side would be easy.
On his way back down the alley, he felt a cool energy flow into the space above and between his eyes. He ran then, expecting the mad shopkeeper to have stabbed the boy, but instead he found Little River Stick kneeling with his head on the ground and the shopkeeper standing proudly before him with her head held high.
The number above Little River Stick’s head was gone. A yellow light shimmered briefly between him and the shopkeeper, then it disappeared.
“What happened?” Hong Fei said, his eyes intent.
The shopkeeper laughed. “He agreed to an apprenticeship!”
“That’s it? That’s all it took?” Hong Fei demanded.
“Room and board and twelve bronzes a week, plus another twelve bronzes to his parents,” the shopkeeper said. “It’s more than we usually pay, but he agreed to ten years of service, which is worth more. He doesn’t realize it yet, but I’ll make sure he doesn’t regret this decision. Not for the rest of his life.”
Little River Stick sat up. His voice was flat when he spoke next, but there was hint of something else in it: “It’ll be good to carve somewhere dry. I would like to try using a chisel.”
“And your parents?” Hong Fei asked. “Where have they gone to?”
The boy’s eyes flicked back down the alley. “They told me they’ve found work.” His hand tightened on the spike. “I was to be on my own until I grew old enough to join them.”
The shopkeeper sniffed. “I, Lin Yan, swear on my name that no such thing will happen. You’re with our workshop now. We will sharpen your talent until it gleams.”
The boy got up and started to collect the wood he’d previously scavenged.
Lin Yan stopped him with hand. “You’ll have better materials at home.”
But he shook his head. “I’ve already picked these and can’t go back on my promise to them.”
Somehow that made sense to the shopkeeper, and Hong Fei wondered if the both of them were mad. He watched as she helped him pick up the wood, then carry it off.
He trailed after them, noting how the number above Little River Stick’s head really was gone, thinking that yellow was the color of a different kind of connection.
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Characters Mentioned in this Chapter
Little River Stick, a poor wood carver
Ma Mo, a Yu soldier, Ma Zhi’s cousin
Ma Zhi, a Yu shízhǎng, night estate patrol
Comments
3seed
There's a reasonable chance that the two people drunk on dream blossom wine in chapter 22 were his parents.
Spacefather
It's really touching to see that a homeless boy (orphan? Where are the parents? But if the parents are gone, what happens to the coin that is promised them?) have his life turned around, simple because of fate.
SC
The story is getting really interesting
