Page 35 of The Wind Dancer
Except he wasn’t the old bookseller I knew.
He wore a strange, demon-like half mask, covering one eye. The mask’s eye flickered with a cold blue light. A chill went through me as I realized what it was, an artifact which could allow him to see in complete darkness. My gaze shifted to the magical crossbow in his hands. The loaded bolt hummed with power.
My throat felt dry, and unease crept over me.
Who was he really?
Sima was wearing a loose sleeping robe, and it hung open in such a way that it revealed tattoos on his chest and arms. They were the symbols of the elite imperial legion, the Sunset Storm.
The lessons that I once found strange were indispensable these past few days. I remembered asking my mentor why I had to memorize family crests, unit insignias, armor patterns, and weapons. He’d smile and tell me that such information could be extremely valuable. It could cost me my life to rob the wrong person, and that stuck with me, so I studied really hard.
I didn’t know the full extent of what these exact tattoos meant. But I knew he was at least a commander.
“Feng Lao,” he began in a raspy voice. “You can put your hands down now. If I truly wanted to kill you, you’d be dead.”
I slowly lowered my arms, but I was still tense. Even through the mask, his gaze was piercing, as though he could look into my very soul for answers. I tried my very best to remain calm, though my stomach was twisting into knots.
“Good evening, Uncle Sima.” I bowed respectfully. There was a slight tremor in my voice, and I hoped he hadn’t noticed. “I apologize for such a sudden and late visit.”
The old man chuckled.
“It’s all right, boy. Old people often have trouble sleeping. Besides, you obviously didn’t come here to steal my only joy in life.” He looked around at the shelves filled with scrolls.
“Of course not.”
Sima slowly lowered the crossbow, but his gaze remained alert. The mask continued to flicker with a cold light, and his visible eye was studying me.
“So why are you here, Feng Lao?” he asked. His voice sounded like the creak of old wood. “You know that I don’t likeunplanned visitors, especially ones who break in through the back door.”
I took a deep breath, trying not to show my nerves.
“I need help,” I said, looking straight at his face.
“Help?” He chuckled, but it wasn’t mocking. Rather, it was a tired realization. “In memory of your mentor, my commander, I will try to help you. But don’t expect too much, I’ve grown very old.”
“Commander?” I looked at the old man in disbelief. He chuckled in response.
“Did you think I had always been an old man selling dusty books?” He took a step forward, and the light fell on his tattoos. “These,” he pointed at his chest, “aren’t decorations. They’re a reminder of who I was. And what I can still do.”
He looked at my face carefully and seemed to come to a conclusion. “So he didn’t reveal his old identity to you? Perhaps that’s for the best. Sometimes, the best way to protect yourself is ignorance.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If Shen didn’t tell you who he was, then I shouldn’t either.”
“But he’s dead.”
“Are you sure?” Sima looked at me carefully. “Did you examine his body yourself? Did you see him pass?”
I shook my head. Doubt took root in me, but even the Secret Chancellery believed him dead. Until I found evidence tothe contrary, I couldn’t let that doubt distract me from finding the culprit and taking my revenge.
“All I can tell you,” the old man returned to the previous topic, “is that in his previous life, your mentor was averypowerful man. He could personally request an audience with the Emperor, the Son of Heaven.”
I was stunned. The weight of the words was heavy in my chest. That meant that he had been a member of the great houses, or at least a third-rank official.
“People are after his legacy.”
“Then abandon it and live in peace, boy. Commander Shen kept you away from all this for a reason. I don’t think he wanted you burdened with what he carried.”
