Waters Under Earth

A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic by Alan Harnum 
-harnums@thekeep.org
-harnums@hotmail.com (old/backup)

All Ranma characters are the property of Rumiko Takahashi, first
published by Shogakukan in Japan and brought over to North
America by Viz Communications.

Waters Under Earth at Transpacific Fanfiction:  
http://www.humbug.org.au/~wendigo/transp.html
http://users.ev1.net/~adina/shrines2/fanfics.html

Chapter 31 : Totentanz

     Akane and Ryoga carefully made their way through the slowly
dispersing crowd of Joketsuzoku that ringed the platform.  The 
Phoenix had been taken away now, but, not being fluent in 
Chinese, neither of them were really sure what exactly had 
happened.

     Shampoo spotted them approaching through the crowd, and 
hopped down from the platform onto the trampled grass of the 
meeting field.  Behind her, the older members of the Council 
were dispersing into huddled twos and threes to quietly discuss.  
On the platform, Lang Bei and Fang Shi locked eyes for a moment,
then turned away and went to converse with other Council members.

     "What was that all about, Shampoo?" Akane asked, frowning
slightly as the Joketsuzoku approached.

     Shampoo ran a hand through her damp hair, beading her 
fingers with water droplets.  "Talk later.  Want to get changed
first."  She flicked her eyes to Ryoga.  "Lost boy staring."

     "I was not," Ryoga muttered, going beet red and turning his
eyes away.  The golden robe Shampoo wore was soaked to the skin,
and left very little to the imagination.

     Shampoo grinned and thumped Ryoga on the shoulder.  "Okay to
look.  Just don't get any ideas."  The grin faded as quickly as
it had come, and she glanced back to the Council members.  In the
distance, a large crowd followed the captured Phoenix people back
towards the centre of the village.  "Too many people around to
talk now.  We go back to house."

     "You're the Maiden now, aren't you?" Ryoga asked quietly.
"What you told us about last night?"
     
     Shampoo nodded proudly.  "Yes.  Because of Jusenkyou.  Is
great honour."

     "Congratulations, Shampoo," Akane said.  "You must be 
really happy."

     Shampoo nodded again, but her smile this time was tinged 
with melancholy.  The remainder of the crowd pressed in around 
them now like an eager school of fish, some reaching out to 
touch Shampoo's shoulder and offer what must have been 
congratulations.  They ignored the outsiders completely.  Shampoo 
answered back in Chinese, brushed hands with some, and slowly 
began to edge away.  Akane and Ryoga followed.  So, to their mild
discomfort, did some of the crowd.

     As they made their way back towards the main village from 
the meeting field that skirted the edges, the land rose almost 
imperceptibly, and then ended in a rocky, upthrust wall that 
stretched from left to right as far as the eye could see.  
Stairs, wooden or carved from the face of the small man-high 
cliff, provided a means of ascent.  The Joketsuzoku had built the 
houses of their village on all parts of the uneven land they
occupied, from the large public buildings that rested on the flat 
central portions to the small huts that edged up to the 
mountainous slopes.

     As they entered the village proper, the villagers following
them gradually began to disperse, most waving goodbye or saying
quick farewells to Shampoo.  In the shadow of a small house, a 
group of children sat in a circle on the ground and clapped hands 
with each other, occasionally laughing as some new twist entered 
their game.

     Shampoo stopped to watch them for a moment, and Akane and
Ryoga stopped with her; the villagers who walked the streets
diverted around them, talking in Chinese and occasionally
casting an appraising glance at the outsiders.  

     Ryoga smiled slightly; Akane looked at the children, and 
then at the ground.  The silent pause was broken when a voice 
called out Akane's name, a hint of desperation in it.

     Akane turned.  "Rouge?  What's wrong?"
     
     The older girl hurried up, panting and out of breath.  "I
lost sight of you when the crowd broke up.  There was some
trouble."

     Ryoga gaped.  "What?  Where are..."
     
     Rouge's face twisted as if she'd tasted something 
unpleasant.  "That venomous, horrible, lecherous, peeping--"

     Akane blinked; there was only one person she knew of that 
Rouge would describe like that.  "Tarou?"
     
     "--monstrous, ugly, bullying--"
     
     Ryoga frowned.  "Pantyhose was here?"
     
     "--filthy, degenerate, wormlike--"
     
     Shampoo stepped forward and grabbed Rouge firmly by the
shoulders.  "What Pantyhose boy do?"

     Rouge stopped in her tirade and took a deep breath.  
"Nothing, really.  There was someone else.  An old man who I've
never seen before.  Ranma's father and Rik--" She paused, then
locked eyes with Akane.  "You could have told me who he actually
was, you know."

     Akane pushed at the dirt of the village streets with her
foot.  "I never really got around to..."

     Rouge shook her head vehemently.  "It doesn't matter right
now.  Ranma's father, Happosai and that filthy beast went to look
for him in the mountains."

     "What for?" Ryoga asked.
     
     Rouge touched one hand to her cheek and glanced away from
him.  "I'm not sure.  Happosai tried to talk to the old man after
he immobilized that filth, but... the old man hit him and ran 
away.  Happosai said they might not be back for a while."

     Akane exploded.  "That's just like him and Genma!" she
snarled, clenching her fists at her sides.  "Running off on some 
stupid little errand when we're this close..."

     Ryoga shook his head, and Akane trailed off, looking
suddenly ashamed.  "No," he said.  "You won't ever catch me
saying it to his face, but we wouldn't have gotten here without
Happosai, and he's been the one putting forth most of the ideas.
He wouldn't run off like this unless it was important." 

     Akane looked unconvinced.  

     "Besides," he continued with a weak grin, "I'm sure they'll
be back by tonight."

     "But what about Pantyhose?" Shampoo asked.  "What was he
doing here?"

     "Well, his village is around here," Akane said with a shrug.
"Happosai probably used his name as a bargaining chip."

     The Joketsuzoku nodded, and glanced around.  "This really 
not the place to discuss this.  Especially not in wet clothing.
We go back to house, yes?"

     Leaving wet footprints in the dust, Shampoo turned and     
walked away, not waiting to see if any of the others would
follow.  Akane frowned and glared at the other girl's retreating
back.

     "She does have a point," Ryoga said quietly.  There was a
pause from him.  "And all that wet clothing is really, really..."

     Akane glanced to him; against her will, one corner of her
mouth edged up in a grin.  "Really what?"

     "Distracting," Ryoga muttered, casting his eyes to the
ground.  "Really distracting."

     Unexpectedly, Rouge laughed.  "He's a sweet boy, isn't he
Akane?"

     Akane finally allowed herself a full grin.  "He is, isn't
he?"

     Ryoga scowled.  "You do realize I'm still here, don't you?"
     
     "Stupids!  You coming or not?"
     
     The voice pulled them away, and they ran to catch up with
Shampoo.  Around them, the bustle of the village went on without
interruption.
     
**********

     His hands opened the case carefully, almost reverently.  The
case itself was of a hard, dark wood, dull and unpolished but
sanded until it was smooth as silk.  The clasps were silver, 
without tarnish after all the centuries.

     The sword lay within, scabbardless, resting carefully upon a 
lining of red velvet.  There had been a scabbard, once, a 
decorated thing of black leather, gold thread and jewels.  
Impressive, but he had considered it useless ostentation, and 
discarded it as soon as he was able to do so.

     The sword itself, however, was without such needless
fanciness.  The blade was long and slender, forged from steel
that glistened almost blue in the afternoon sunlight coming
through the window of the room.  The long guards over the hilt
curved slightly upwards, and the hilt itself was the same plain
steel as the blade.

     It was over fourteen centuries old.  It looked as if it had
been forged yesterday.  Wrapping his hand about the sword's 
hilt, the Serpent pulled it forth and rose from his crouch.

     He went through a few slow motions with it.  A weapon was
hardly a necessity for him; his physical strength alone was 
enough against any foe, and that was before even consideration of
his other abilities.  But the sword held a certain nostalgia for 
him, a memory of what he had once been, before he had fully 
awakened to his purpose.  It hummed as he passed it through the 
air.  The metal glistened, so bright it seemed to leave a trail 
of sparks behind as it moved.

     A knock at the door.  He turned, dropping the sword's tip 
until it nearly touched the floor.  Silently, he waited.  If the
door opened and it was not who he expected, he would likely have
to kill them.

     "Are you there?" Fang Shi's voice asked from the other side.
No killing yet.
     
     "Come in, old one," he answered.  The door slid away, and
the shrivelled old Joketsuzoku shuffled in.  Hard, probing eyes
searched at him from under the wiry white twists of her bangs.

     She stared at him for a moment, and then, finding he would
not speak further, spoke herself.  "It is done."

     "It is?" he asked languorously.  
     
     Annoyance showed on her lined face.  "They have been taken
away.  Now what?"

     "Wait and see," he replied.  "Just do what you said you
would."

     "The Council is meeting tonight to decide what to do with
them," she protested.  "There is not enough time for--"

     "I know," he interrupted, "perfectly well what the Council
is going to do.  I have relied upon it, in fact."

     Her eyes narrowed.  "You know more of my people than I would
expect of an outsider, particularly one not even from Asia."
     
     A narrow smile creased his face.  "I get around."
     
     "Who are you?" Fang Shi asked suddenly.  There was suspicion
in the tone.  "I have never heard anything of you from the
Circle."
     
     "And how often does the Circle communicate with you?"
     
     "Not often," the matriarch admitted.  "The last time was
several years ago, when I and the others delivered certain items
to them.  But... I know what they desire.  What is it you 
desire?"

     He hid his amusement, hard though that was.  "What does the 
Circle desire, then?"

     "What all those who would call themselves Joketsuzoku 
should," Fang Shi said.  Her eyes looked away from him, as if
staring into some glorious future.  "That all the world lie under
the domain of the female race.  Inferior man--"

     He raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly.  "Such as I?"
     
     She went on as if she had not heard him.  "--will be treated
as he has treated his wives and daughters and sisters for so many
long centuries.  We shall turn things back to the way they were
before the sky-gods and their priests made women slaves."  She 
broke out of her speech, and was silent for a moment before again 
turning a suspicious gaze to him.  "And where do you fit into 
this?"

     "One of the Phoenix took something from me long ago," he
answered softly.  "I was never properly avenged upon him.  I have 
waited quite a long time for this."

     Fang Shi cupped her chin with one wrinkled hand and mused, 
"It is always helpful for a leader to have an external enemy.  It 
helps to unite the people under her."  The suspicion in her eyes 
had lessened.  Only slightly, but a little.  She seemed to notice 
the sword in his hand for the first time.  "A beautiful weapon 
you have."

     "I suppose," he answered, lifting it slightly.  "It is very
sharp and kills things quite conclusively."

     "Is this plan of the Circle's going to work?" she asked,
unable to entirely disguise her eagerness.  He analysed the
question for a moment; the plan had already been ascribed to the
Circle, not to him.  That was good, as he had wished it to be.

     "It will work," he answered finally.  "By the time the sun 
rises tomorrow, I would guess that nearly all of the Joketsuzoku 
that live will be united behind you."

**********

     Shampoo did up the last tie on her shirt and studied herself
in the mirror.  As she had the first time she'd seen her face in
a mirror after the judgement, and probably would for some time, 
she gritted her teeth as she looked at the new length of her 
hair.  It had taken a literal lifetime to grow it to its former
length; Fang Shi had undone all that in a few minutes.  One more 
thing to pay the old woman back for if she could.

     She carefully ran a brush through the still-damp strands a
few times, and then tossed it away to land on her bed.  At this
length, she grudgingly admitted to herself, it was a lot easier
to manage.  Stepping out into the hall, she took the narrow, long
stairs two at a time to where they exited at the spacious kitchen
of the house.  Her father hummed softly to himself as he 
half-crouched near the stove.  His head turned at her footsteps, 
and he nodded in greeting, a small, hesitant smile coming onto 
his face.  "<Hello, daughter.>"

     "<Father,>" she acknowledged shortly.  
     
     He straightened up and walked over to her, his head 
half-bowed.  "<I am so proud of you, Shampoo,>" he said softly.  
"<Maiden of the Council.>"  He reached out and took one of her 
hands in both of his.  "<Your mother would be proud as well.>"

     Shampoo nodded uncomfortably and slipped her hand out of
his, giving her father a small pat on the shoulder as she stepped
by him.  

     "<Your friends are out back,>" her father said offhandedly,
as he went back to paying all his attention to the stove.

     The route to the back door from here led through the living
room and down a narrow rearward hallway of the house.  No one
among the Joketsuzoku really had what could be called a back
yard.  For her family, the closest had always been the small area
at the back of the house where a porch extension had been built
long ago; in beds of earth that ran the perimeters of the porch,
her father kept a vegetable garden.

     Akane, Ryoga and Rouge sat in broad-backed wicker chairs.  
The porch faced off towards the east, providing an unobstructed 
view of the mountain slopes a hundred yards away, due to a dip in 
the uneven land that left the back of the house near a ten-foot 
drop.

     Shampoo pulled the last of the porch chairs into the rough
semi-circle the others had formed, and sat down without saying
anything.  Late afternoon, and the sun was high, but the peaked
roof of the porch left them all in shadow.  

     "The Phoenix were spies," she said after a moment.  "Fang
Shi must have figured out from what I tell her about them."     

     Akane rubbed her arm and stared at the wooden boards of the
porch.  The expression on her face was that of someone 
remembering something she didn't really want to.  "Kima said they 
used Jusenkyou to spy on humans before she..." For a moment, 
silence.  "...drowned me," Akane finished at last.

     Shampoo scowled and gripped the arms of her chair with both
hands.  The old wicker creaked, as if upon the point of breaking.
"Should have killed the winged bitch when I have the chance."

     Ryoga looked at her, apparently a bit surprised by her
vehemence.  "Why?"

     "Teach her what it is to make slaves of Joketsuzoku," 
Shampoo snarled in reply.  "Capturing soul and heart not go
unpunished."

     Akane fixed Shampoo with a flat look.  "Oh?  Like, say,
trying to make someone love you by magic?  Is that wrong?"

     "Yes!" Shampoo said before she could stop herself.  The
impact of Akane's words and her own reply struck her a moment
later, and she glared at the other girl and turned her head away
to intently examine the detail on a creeping vine that had wound
its way up some of the porch railings from the garden.

     "What's going to happen to them?" Rouge asked softly.
     
     Shampoo glanced at the older girl for a moment.  "Whatever
Council decide should happen to them."

     Ryoga raised a hand and minutely adjusted the position of 
his bandanna.  "But you're a part of the Council now.  What do 
you think should happen?"

     She opened her mouth, then closed it.  "Don't know," she
admitted grudgingly, shaking her head.  

     "Putting that aside for now," Akane said, "what about
Happosai and Genma?"

     "Wait and see," Ryoga sighed, rubbing his hands together
slowly.  "If they're not back by dinner time..."

     "Ranma father not miss dinner unless he in prison or dead,"
Shampoo quipped.  "And if he in prison, he probably break out."
The joke fell absolutely flat, and even she couldn't bring 
herself to laugh.

     "So when does the Council meet tonight?" asked Ryoga, 
breaking the awkward silence.

     "Few hours after dinner," Shampoo answered.  
     
     Akane stood up from her chair, the wicker creaking 
mournfully with her motion, and went to stand by the porch 
railing.  Resting one hand on it, she stared east towards the
mountains.  "We're running out of time.  We still don't know
where Ranma is, we only have..."

     "We should talk to the Guide," Ryoga interjected.  "Before
Happosai left, he really got me thinking.  It was after Saffron
that Cologne started acting the way she did."  He stood up and
came to stand behind Akane; Shampoo watched, almost jealous, as
he laid a hand capable of crushing boulders upon Akane's shoulder
with the utmost gentleness.  "Even before that, when Kima and her
goons came, she was acting funny.  Why didn't she come to China
with us?"  A glance back caught Shampoo's eyes with his.  "Her
great-granddaughter enslaved, and she stayed behind.  Why?"

     "Maybe Cologne not care for me as much as you think she 
did," Shampoo snapped, surprised even at the bitterness in her 
own voice.

     Ryoga went on.  "The Guide knows as much as anyone we know
about Jusenkyou.  Aside from asking the Phoenix themselves, he's
probably our best bet for anything about Saffron."

     "You're right," Akane said, sidestepping so that his hand
fell away from her shoulder.  "He knew about Jusendo, about the
Kinjakan's purpose..." 
     
     "Go after dinner," Shampoo said.  "Is nearly time now.  I
have to prepare for Council meeting, so I not able to come." She
stood up and began to walk down the short flight of steps that
led off the porch.

     "Where are you going?" Akane asked.
     
     "Going for a walk," Shampoo replied.  "Have a lot to think
about."  If anyone said anything else as she walked away from
them, they did not say it loud enough for her to hear.

**********

     Lang Bei opened the door at the first knock.  "<Hello,
Shampoo.>"

     "<Can I see Mousse?>" Shampoo asked softly.
     
     Lang Bei hesitated for a moment.  Then the hard, handsome
lines of her face softened slightly.  "<Come in,>" she said,
stepping aside to let Shampoo enter.

     Mousse was as still as he had been when Shampoo had seen him
earlier, his eyes shut as he lay flat on his back with the sheets
pulled up to his chin.  His arms, out from under the covers, lay
motionless at his sides.

     "<I'll leave you alone with him for a little while,>" Lang
Bei said from the hallway.  Her voice betrayed little emotion; a
moment later, Shampoo heard the door close, and she was alone
with him.

     She pulled a slender wooden chair out from where it stood in
the corner, next to a small wooden chest, and placed it by the
bed.  Sat down, and folded her hands in her lap.

     Mousse drew a breath.  Long, slow, inhalation, exhalation.
After a moment, Shampoo reached out and took one of his hands in
hers.  His flesh was cold, uncomfortably so.  She cupped it in
both of hers, and yet his hand seemed to grow no warmer as the
heat slowly seeped from her body, as if he were taking all of her
and giving nothing back.

     "<How did you get here, you idiot?>" she muttered.  Useless
question, of course.  He would not answer.  She sighed, and
studied his face.  Placid, almost serene in sleep.  Handsome - he 
had always been handsome.  Sometimes, there just is something in 
people that lets you go no further than friendship.

     A chill ran through her, and she let his hand fall back to
the sheets, no warmer than it had been before.  As she stood up,
Mousse drew another breath.  With her hand, she brushed a stray
strand of hair away from his closed eyes.  Blind eyes.

     Guilt, perhaps there was a little of that.  His fault, and
hers as well.  He had wanted what she would not give him.  But
she could not, in retrospect, say that she had not used him at
times.  

     They had been friends in childhood.  And then things had
changed, and his feelings had changed, and hers had stayed the 
same.  Now, it came to this, and he lay blinded.  The question 
still, of course, was how he had come here in the first place.
     
     Not enough time to answer that now.  She leaned down,
somewhat to her own surprise, and gently kissed him on the cheek.
His skin was so cold it seemed almost to burn, and she
straightened up shivering.

     Mousse's eyes were open.  Behind the cloudy veil, the dim
spectres of his pupils seemed to focus on her.  Shampoo held her
breath, and could not speak.

     "<The blood of the innocent one upon the stone will open the 
path to the land of the first ones,>" he said.  "<Beyond the sea,
beyond the sky, where even time has gone to die.>"

     His eyelids flickered.  The cloudiness of his eyes blurred 
and shift, as if upon the verge of disappearing.  The air of
the room seemed thicker suddenly, as if filled with some ethereal
smoke or fog.  "<You will bear the pillar of the heavens in your 
arms,>" he said to her, to her only.  The words echoed through 
her, transfixed her like a fly in amber.  "<It will fall to you 
to hold safe the separator of earth and sky, until the true
wielder shall claim it.>"

     "<What are you talking about, Mousse?>" she asked in a bare
whisper, taking a step back from him.  Involuntarily, she let out
a shriek as she bumped into someone else.

     "<He often says things in his sleep,>" Lang Bei said,
putting a hand on her shoulder.  "<Pay him no mind.>"

     "<How long have you been there?>" Shampoo said as she turned
and faced the other woman.  "<Why did you...>"

     "<I heard him speak,>" Lang Bei answered.  "<I only wanted
to be sure he was alright.>"  She glanced past Shampoo to the
bed.  Mousse was asleep again, and the thickness of the air was
gone.  "<He should rest now.  Would you walk with me for a while,
Shampoo?>"

     They walked; not towards the sprawl of the village, but out
the back door of Lang Bei's house and down the slope of the hill
it was built upon, towards the towering mountains in the
distance.  They walked slowly and in silence for a few moments, 
and then Lang Bei paused and sat down without a word on the lower
slopes of a rocky hill, barely more than a hump amidst the rise 
of the land as it approached the mountains.

     From far away, the sounds of bustle and life in the village
carried to them, faint and dispersed - a snatch of children's
laughter, the single bark of a dog.

     Shampoo settled down next to the old woman and looked back
at the village.  "<Lang Bei?>"

     Lang Bei said nothing, staring up at the sky, her staff 
balanced across her knees and held steady with one hand.  

     "<Lang Bei!>"
     
     She finally glanced back to Shampoo, and smiled wearily.
She looked older than she usually did, the lines of her face more
sunken.  "<Sorry, Shampoo.>"

     "<Did you want to talk to me about something?>"
     
     Lang Bei nodded.  "<It won't take long.  I won't be evasive.
The Maiden can be a powerful presence on the Council, and having
your support would help me greatly in opposing Fang Shi.>"

     Shampoo nodded.  Lang Bei frowned as she continued.  "<The
circumstances of Cologne's departure leave me in a bad position.
She was always the leader of what might be called our faction.
We didn't always share the same views, but we had the same
attitude to the way things should be done.  We were pragmatics,
as opposed to Fang Shi.>"

     "<What does Fang Shi want, really?>" Shampoo asked.  
Cologne had never talked much about Council politics to her.

     "<Fang Shi's dream is for the Joketsuzoku to be rulers
again,>" Lang Bei said after a moment.  "<She wants the other
villages to come to us for protection.  To give us tribute.  And
perhaps beyond even that.>"

     "<And what do you want?>"
     
     Lang Bei smiled bitterly.  "<I want to see the Joketsuzoku
survive.  This modern world is not a fit place for a people such
as us anymore.  Either we will adapt to it, or it will destroy
us.  Fang Shi believes that we can force the world to change to
our desires.  I believe, and your great-grandmother believed, 
that this was folly.>"  She shifted slightly, and brought her 
staff up to lean upon it with both hands, as if it were the only 
thing that kept her sitting upright.  "<I think the old ways are 
fading away, Shampoo, whatever we desire.  We must preserve what 
we can, what is good, but we must not hesitate to discard what is 
no longer useful.>"

     "<The marriage laws, for example?>" Shampoo asked softly.
"<And the Kiss of Death?>"

     Lang Bei's bitter smile almost hurt to see.  "<Commit them
to the flames.>"

     Shampoo stared at her hands.  "<But the laws are...>"
     
     "<The laws are what?>" Lang Bei snapped.  "<What purpose
does the right to give Kiss of Death serve but to isolate us 
from outsiders?>"

     "<It will teach them to respect our strength,>" Shampoo
said sharply in return.  "<The Joketsuzoku are not to be 
humiliated.>"

     Lang Bei's face darkened.  "<Whether you will stand with me 
or not, Shampoo...>"

     "<I will not be Fang Shi's pawn,>" Shampoo interrupted.
"<Or yours.>"

     "<You can still serve her purposes,>" Lang Bei said.  "<When
you chose to give the Kiss to that outsider, do you know what 
kind of example that was to you generation?  How much Fang Shi
must have rejoiced to see you do that?>"

     Shampoo glared, but said nothing.  Her face felt hot, with
embarrassment or anger.  "<Ranma... the girl should not have
challenged me at that time.  I was not...>"

     "<You must not allow personal feelings to interfere in the
decisions you make upon the Council, now or tomorrow,>" Lang Bei
said.  "<Fang Shi returned from the outside world in terror of
how alien it was.  Bi Shou... to her, every outsider male is her
dead husband, and every outsider female little better.>"

     Shampoo blinked.  "<Her husband?>"
     
     "<He defeated her,>" Lang Bei said,  "<before you were born.
He was... not a pleasant man.  There was a child, but it died at
birth.>"  She shook her head.  "<It is not my place to speak of
these things.>"  With a shake of her head, she rose to her feet, 
still leaning on her staff.  "<We should head back.  I've said 
what I had to say.>"

     As they walked back towards the village, Lang Bei seemed to
straighten up, and by the time they reached her house again, the
weariness was gone from her completely.

     "<Come by after the dinner hour, if you want,>" Lang Bei
said as she stood on the porch of her house.  "<We can go out to
Watcher's Hill together for the meeting.>"

     At the foot of the stairs, Shampoo nodded.  "<Goodbye.>"
     
     She turned and walked away towards the centre of the 
village, not feeling entirely like going home yet.  A pleasant
half-hour was spent wandering throughout the Joketsuzoku village,
giving greetings to old friends and acquaintances she happened to
encounter.  In time, perhaps, she would become a true part of 
village life again.  And there would be time, she promised 
herself that; there would be a resolution to all these things.

     She turned away from a group of girls she had known before,     
smiling and laughing, and went walking down the dusty main street
of the village on the winding route that would take her home.

     He was standing there in the shadows of a house as she
turned a corner.  Without a word, he fell into step beside her,
so silently she didn't even realize he was there for a second.

     He said her name.  "Shampoo."
     
     She turned, and drew a long breath of shock.  "Asakazu."
     
     He smiled.  The blue eyes, shockingly vivid, seemed to look
down into her soul.  "It's good to see you again."

     "What are you doing here?" she said, before she could stop
herself.  "I say we shouldn't..."

     The wind stirred the dust around his feet.  "I know," he
said softly.  "And you might have been right.  But I wanted to
see this place first-hand.  My family is wealthy; I have the
money."

     Shampoo shook her head.  She could not, would not deal with
this on top of everything else.  "You no should have come."

     "Please don't say that."  The wound in his voice was clear
and painful.  She almost winced, and then found her strength not
to.

     "It not work," she said quietly, staring at the dust,
patterned with lines of footsteps.  "What happen was my fault.  I
sorry to hurt you."

     He sighed, a long, heavy sound.  "It wasn't just you.  
Perhaps just... can we not at least be friends?  I will be here 
for at least few days more."

     There was a silence between the two of them.  No one else
seemed to be around; somehow, they had found a patch of calm 
within the bustle of the village.

     "What happened to your hair?" he asked finally, blinking and
looking at her as if seeing the difference for the first time.

     She laughed.  "Is complicated.  I tell you later, okay?"
     
     A hesitant smile crossed his face.  "There will be a later?"
     
     "Tomorrow," she assured, touching his arm lightly.  "I have
things to do now, though.  You come by house tomorrow; anyone in
village can give you directions."

     He ran a hand through his tousled dark hair.  As before, she
was struck by how beautiful he was.  His eyes were like the sky 
on a clear day.  "I'll look forward to it."

     She let her hand linger on his forearm for a moment longer
than she had to, and then turned and walked away, fighting down
the urge to blush, fighting down the urge to smile.  She hurried
away; she could not have stayed a moment longer and remained as
she wished to be.

**********

     The thing that called himself Asakazu watched the girl walk
away until she was out of sight.  Only then did he smile again.  
The smile was cold and cruel, honed to an edge upon so many long 
centuries of bitterness and hate.

     "Fool," he whispered quietly to himself, the ancient
memories rising in him like a tide of venom.  "Little damned
stupid fool."  He took a few steps back into the shadow of a
house and waited for a few moments, gathering his thoughts,
steeping himself again in the long darkness and sharpening his 
hatred; until it would cut like a razor, until it would cut down 
through all the mists of time itself, and he would have his 
long-sought dream at last.

**********

     The winged one stood upon the edge of the cliff, arms folded 
over his chest, and watched the smoke of the chimneys wreath the 
air above the houses in dark tendrils a thousand feet below.  
Evening was coming slowly down upon the Valley of the Waters; in 
the west, the sun was sinking behind the long chain of the 
mountains, a dying cast in red-orange fire and a shifting haze of 
purple sky.

     He had been called the Fair once, and fair he had been.  
Fair no longer, and the few who might have known him would have
called him Traitor, for that was the name he had been given after
he had ceased to be the Fair.  Fair no longer, for there had been 
changes, and more in the time he had spent away from this place.
In time, he had come to consider it a metamorphosis, a passing to
a higher form of existence than the one he had before.

      There was a cave mouth, yawning behind him vast and dark.
From it, he could hear the breathing of his kin as they slept.
Sleep warded off the hunger, but only for a little while.

     As if at that thought, he heard the sound of bodies 
shifting, and the tread of bare feet upon stone.  He looked back
into the blackness of the cave.  "Go back to sleep."

     The voice that answered was barely more than a hiss.  "I'm
hungry."

     "Not time yet," he answered wearily.  "Go to sleep.  We will 
feed soon.  That has been promised us."

     "So hungry," the voice complained sibilantly.
     
     The Traitor was hungry as well.  He had fed earlier, but
that had not made the hunger go away, only lessened it.  The
hunger never truly went away.  "We do not move until we are told 
to."

     "You take orders now," the voice accused.  "You grow weak."
     
     The Traitor whirled and took two long steps into the
darkness of the cave.  His hands found the throat easily enough.
With a measured movement, he leaned forward until his face was
scant inches from that of the other.  "From this one I take
orders.  Only he and one other might command my loyalty.  You
will go to sleep and wait.  Or I will sate my own hunger upon 
you."

     "Forgive my impudence," the voice begged, the hiss high and
frightened.  "I will sleep."

     The winged one tightened his grip slightly, and then flung
his rebellious kin back into the depths of the cave.  There was a
clamour of angry murmurs, and then the sound of bodies shifting
again.  The kin huddled their bodies around each other like
newborns, shifting and writhing as they slept.

     He walked back out of the cave and back to the edge of the
cliff, to watch the dark coming down across the land and wait for
the signal that would tell him it was time.  

**********

     Akane knocked on the door of the Guide's hut, glancing
warily down the dip of the land towards Jusenkyou.  The pools
glistened like liquid fire in the last of the sunset, catching 
the dying light within themselves and trapping it.  Mist, which 
had risen and dispersed in the heat of the day, was again 
descending down upon the pools for the cooling approach of night.

     The traditional dinner hour was an early one in the village.
They had eaten and then bid farewell to Shampoo, before taking
the quick walk from the village to Jusenkyou.  The sun would be
entirely gone soon; already they could hear the night sounds as
the nocturnal animals awakened.  Overhead, a flock of small birds
flitted, then spun and flew away over the mountains.

     Akane knocked again, and this time heard the sound of
footsteps from beyond the door.  Behind her, Ryoga shifted from
foot to foot and looked down at the hundreds of pools.  The moon
was visible now, a dim spectre in the sky amidst the last of the
day's light.  Soon enough, the stars would come out.

     The round face of the Guide peeked around from the edge of 
the barely-opened door.  When he saw who it was, he smiled.  
"Ahh, welcome customers," he said solicitously.  "I was hoping
you would come back to visit.  Come in, come in."

     He swung the door wide, exposing the interior of his small
hut, and Akane and Ryoga stepped past him.  Outside, Rouge hugged
her arms around herself and watched the mist drape down around 
the forest of the bamboo poles.  

     Akane glanced back.  "Rouge?"
     
     The other girl blinked and shook her head.  "Sorry.  Just
thinking."

     She joined them inside, and the Guide closed the door
against the night.  In the corner of the hut, Plum looked up from
where she sat by the stove drawing.  "Hello," she said, and then
went back with childish intensity to her drawing.

     "Hi Plum," Akane said, walking over and crouching down.  
"What are you drawing?"

     "The lady I see in my dreams," Plum explained carefully, 
gripping her crayon in one small fist.  "She lives under the
earth and helps to keep the evil away."

     Akane smiled.  "That's nice."  She straightened up and
turned away.  Ryoga and Rouge were already seated at the table,
being offered tea by the fussing Guide.  

     Her eye caught on something on a small table by the door.
She walked up behind the Guide and tapped him on the shoulder.  
"You know, I never wondered about this before, but how do you 
have a working phone out in the middle of nowhere like that?"

     The Guide glanced to the old-style rotary phone by the door
and shrugged.  "I know it works.  That is enough for me."

     "But how?  There's no phone lines out here, or..."
     
     The Guide shrugged again.  "It here when I become apprentice
Guide.  Guide before me not know how it work.  I live next to
magic pools and get kidnapped by winged people.  Worrying about 
why phone works is not top priority."

     Akane laughed.  "Can I use it?  I promised Nabiki I'd call
her, but I never really got a chance."

     "Go ahead," the Guide said as he turned back to the other
visitors.  "I never get long-distance bill yet.  Plum?"  The
little girl looked up.  "Come have tea with guests.  You can
finish your drawing later."

     "Okay," Plum said agreeably, putting her crayon and paper
down and coming over.  Her father sat down at the table and
lifted her onto his lap, as Akane picked up the handset of the
phone and put it to her ear.  Amazingly, there was a dialtone.

     She smiled, and carefully dialed in the numbers for an
international call to Japan, then the area code for Tokyo, and
then her home number.  The phone clicked as the old dialing
mechanism rotated with each number.

     One ring.  Two.  A third, and the phone picked up.  No
greeting, not Kasumi's cheerful hello or Nabiki's languid hi.
Only a silence, and then the sound of heavy breathing.

     "Hello?  Dad?  Nabiki?  Kasumi?"
     
     Only the breathing.  Then a click, and the empty buzz of the
dialtone again.  Akane shook her head; she must have entered the
number wrong.  Carefully, she dialed again.

     The phone rang and rang and rang.  No one picked up.  "I
guess they're out," she said softly to herself, and hung up.  She
almost turned away, but then on impulse picked it up and dialed
again.  This time, there was a busy signal.

     Frowning, she put the handset down in the cradle and joined
the others at the table.  "Weird.  No answer, and then a busy
signal."  She didn't mention the first answer; that had surely
been just a wrong number.

     "Old phone," the Guide said.  "Sometimes work a little
funny.  Tea?"

     Akane nodded and accepted the steaming cup gratefully.
     
     "We actually came here to talk to you about some things,"
Ryoga said.  He proceeded to relate quickly the story of Ranma's
disappearance and their search; Akane listened in silence,
sipping her tea and trying to ignore the way the story made her
hurt inside.

     The Guide sighed.  "Very tragic story."
     
     "Anyway," Akane said, forcing down the lump in her throat.
"We think what happened had something to do with Ranma defeating
Saffron.  You know everything there is to know about Jusenkyou,
and you seemed to know a lot about Phoenix Mountain.  Do you
think there's any connection?"

     The Guide looked lost in thought for a moment.  Then he
frowned.  "I... don't remember.  Saffron..."  He rubbed his head.
"I am sorry, customers.  Is like a blank spot.  Something
important about Phoenix Mountain, about Saffron, but..." He shook
his head.  "Maybe it come to me soon."

     "Well, why did they have to destroy Jusenkyou?" Ryoga asked.
     
     The Guide blinked.  "I... they were going to dry up the
pools.  But..."  He looked more and more distressed by the
moment.  "But the pools dried up, and came back, and..."

     "Remember the man who came to visit us, father?" Plum said.
"He gave us the map and told us to take it away, because the
Phoenix were going to destroy Jusenkyou."

     Ryoga stared at the Plum.  "Why didn't you tell us that when
you came to Japan?"

     Plum looked as distressed as her father.  "I don't know.  
Why are you asking all these questions?"

     Akane glanced to the Guide.  "What man?"
     
     "A man in a cloak," the Guide answered.  "He came... and
brought the map... but..."

     Rouge spoke, breaking her silence.  "So... as I understand,
you sent a little girl--"

     "I'm eight," Plum said sourly, glaring at Rouge.
     
     "--running away by herself to Japan, with dangerous enemies
in pursuit, because someone you had never met before came and 
told you to?"

     The Guide nodded.  He scratched his head, shifting his
peaked cap back and forth across his bald skull.  "Now that I
think about it, not a very good idea."

     Akane glanced up to the single lamp that lit the small
interior of the hut.  Flickering shadows danced across the walls
from the sputtering wick.  "Shampoo told us that when she was a
child, someone told her a story.  They said that when the Phoenix 
dies, so dies Jusenkyou, and all her peoples.  Does that remind 
you of anything?"

     The Guide looked almost terrified now.  "It should.  I know
it should.  But... I can't remember.  Like the memories have been
taken away.  I..."  He shook his head.  "I'm sorry.  Perhaps it
come to me later."

     Akane looked around the table at the unhappy faces.  Even
Plum was frowning.  "It's okay, I guess," she said quietly.  "Did
the man ever come back?"

     "No," the Guide said.  He sounded almost angry.  "Seem such 
a stupid thing now.  And Jusenkyou not destroyed.  Jusenkyou
survive being drained just fine.  And Saffron transformed in the
past.  I remember..."  A look of sudden comprehension snapped
across his face.  "The pools drained before.  Three days, no 
water.  About ten years ago.  Old Guide, one who taught me to be
Guide, he say it happen sometimes.  That it necessary.  He tell
me never to go near Jusendo when it happens."

     "Then why..." Ryoga began.
     
     "I NOT KNOW!" the Guide shouted, his face red.  "I not
remember.  What happen to me after Phoenix come to house looking
for map, I not remember.  Everything..."

     Plum shifted in her father's lap and touched him on the
shoulder.  "Father, it's okay."

     The colour drained from the Guide's face.  "Forgive my
outburst, guests," he apologized.  "I sorry I not more help."

     "You know what I think," Akane said slowly.  "I think
something was done to you.  Something to make you forget about
all this, to make you send Plum to Japan after us.  I think we
were just pawns the whole time, matched against Kima and Saffron
and the rest."

     "But why?" Ryoga asked.  "And who?"
     
     "I don't know," Akane muttered.  "Any ideas?"
     
     There was nothing but blank faces.  
     
     "No," Ryoga said finally, breaking the silence.  He gripped
the edge of the table with one hand.  "But we're going to find
out.  I think Happosai was right.  It's all got to do with
Saffron somehow.  It's all got to do with the Phoenix."

     "You should see if you can talk to those prisoners," Rouge
said quietly.  "Maybe they know something."

     The Guide's eyes widened.  "Prisoners?"
     
     Akane explained.
     
     The Guide frowned.  "That not good.  The Joketsuzoku will
not go easy on spies.  If they make the Phoenix angry..."

     "The Council is meeting about it tonight," Ryoga said.  
"Whatever happens, it can wait till morning.  In the morning,
we'll talk to Shampoo and Lang Bei.  See what we can do."

     The Guide nodded.  "Ranma be okay.  If Saffron not kill him,
he not need to worry about much else."

     Despite herself, Akane giggled.  It turned into almost a sob
halfway through, and she wiped at her eyes.  "I hope so."

     The Guide lifted Plum out of his lap and stood to his feet.
He walked to the door and opened it, staring out into the night.
The set of his body spoke of hesitation, and then he looked back.
"Guests, if you want stay another hour or two, you see something
very interesting.  Very few people ever see.  You want to stay?"

     Ryoga shrugged.  "Why not."  He looked to Akane and Rouge.  
"I mean, if it's okay with you two, I don't mind..."

     "Sure," Akane said after a moment's thought.  "Rouge?"
     
     Rouge was staring out the crude bamboo-barred window at the
swathe of night visible beyond.  "Hmm?"

     "Is it okay if we stay?"
     
     She smiled and nodded absently.  "I guess so.  I thought I
didn't like this place, but the more I stay here, I feel... 
better.  More complete."

     Plum was over in the corner again.  "My drawing is 
finished," she declared.  "Does anyone want to see it?"

     Everyone did, of course.  Such imaginations children have,
they all thought, looking at the drawing, done all in scarlet and
gold.

**********     

     Lang Bei pushed a thin branch out of the way as she walked
ahead of Shampoo.  The forest that ringed Watcher's Hill was 
dense with trees, and there were no trails.  The light of the
moon and stars was the only illumination, barely enough to see 
by; they made their way slowly, careful of their footing.

     Lying over a mile south of the Joketsuzoku village, the 
ancient meeting-place of the Council was not exactly forbidden, 
but there was a certain sense conveyed by the older villagers 
that it was one of the few places in the area it was not
appropriate to go exploring.

     "<So when was the first time you came here, Shampoo?>" Lang
Bei asked with a glance back.

     Shampoo shook her head.  "<I've never been here before,>" 
she lied.
     
     Lang Bei laughed.  "<That's what they all say.  You may not
believe it, but I was young once myself.  I first tried to go to
Watcher's Hill when I was thirteen.  Made it a few steps into the
forest with my friends, and then we all gave up.  We thought we
saw something moving behind the trees.>"  She smiled.  "<Of
course, none of us admitted it.  Somehow, from what I know from
talking to others, no one ever comes this place a second time 
unless it's as a Council member.>"

     "<I was eleven,>" Shampoo admitted.  "<Mousse and I... we
came together.  We went in, and kept on hearing someone singing.
It wasn't frightening, but... Mousse wanted to go back.>"

     "<You, of course, wanted to press on?>"
     
     Shampoo sniffed.  "<Of course.  I wasn't scared.  Not like
him.>"     
     
     Lang Bei sighed as she picked her way over a fallen log.
"<Sometimes I wish...>"

     "<Wish what?>"
     
     She shook her head, grey braid bobbing back and forth.  
"<Nothing.>"

     Shampoo hopped over the log and fell into step beside
Mousse's grandmother.  "<No, tell me.>"

     "<I always wondered if things would ever work out between
you and my grandson,>" Lang Bei said after a moment's silence.
"<He loved you so much.  He begged me to train him to fight so he
could impress you, until I finally gave in.>"

     "<I know he loved me,>" Shampoo said softly.  "<I just 
didn't love him.>"

     "<I know, I know,>" Lang Bei said.  "<But now...>"  She 
paused.  "<I fear for him.>"

     "<Why?  He'll wake up.>"
     
     "<That is not what I fear,>" Lang Bei said cryptically.
     
     "<Then what?>"
     
     "<We're almost there,>" Lang Bei answered, as if she had not
heard the question.  "<We can talk later.>"

     Up through the dense trees ahead, a clearing became visible
around a dome-shaped hill.  Atop the hill, a half-dozen lamps 
burned on wooden tripods, casting away the darkness of the night
around the clearing.

     On the flattened top of the hill, a rough, vaguely conical 
piece of white stone rested, the base sunk deep into the ground
around it.  It was taller than a man and as thick around as 
three, of a white, vaguely-mottled stone that was stark and pale
against the rich green of the grass.

     Shampoo stared, half in awe, at Watcher's Hill and the 
Watcher's Stone.  The stone itself was said to have come from the 
first mountain in the world, the one that had spanned between the 
earth and the heavens.  Shattered in a battle between the gods
and their demon enemies, only the capstone remained now.

     Almost all of the Council was gathered atop the hill, 
talking in two different groups and occasionally casting a
suspicious glance at one another.  Shampoo recognized the two
factions; one Fang Shi's, the other the one those who had been
loyal to Cologne.

     Dai Jin, short and powerfully built and only in her late
twenties, came down the hill to greet them.  "<Lang Bei, Shampoo.
Welcome.  We're still waiting for Fang Shi and Bi Shou, of
course.  They like to arrive late because it makes them feel
important.>"

     Dai Jin laughed at her own joke without waiting to see if
they would, then threw a plump but muscular arm around each of
their shoulders and shepherded them up the hill.  "<Come on up to 
our little group, Shampoo.  Our dreams may not be as big, but 
we're a lot less uptight and more fun to be with.>"  She winked 
broadly.  "<We have better booze, as well.>"

     "<You can drink after the meeting, Dai Jin,>" Gu Shu said
grouchily as they approached.  The ancient woman had been the
other Ancient on the Council besides Cologne and Fang Shi; if
Shampoo had to guess, she would have said she was older than both
of them put together.  "<Sit down.  You know everyone already,
Shampoo, so let's not pretend you don't.>"  She hooked a thumb in
the direction of the other group.  "<Lin Ran's over there right
now.>" Lin Ran was the new Ancient on the Council, selected to
replace Cologne's position; a contemplative, quiet old woman 
without known affiliations with either side.  "<I think she's 
with us, but they've got to try on get her on their side.  Fang 
Shi and Bi Shou should show up soon enough, we can get this over 
with and go home, and I can go to sleep.>"

     "<And how are you feeling tonight, Gu Shu,>" Lang Bei asked
with exaggerated courtesy as she sat down next to the ancient 
woman. 

     "<Old,>" Gu Shu complained.  "<I feel old and tired and I
still resent you putting me on this Council anyway.>"

     "<You were the best choice,>" Lang Bei said, patting the
shrunken, wrinkled matriarch on the shoulder.  Shampoo settled
down on the grass next to Dai Jin, adjusting the two bonbori she
wore at her waist.  After a moment, she hesitantly accepted a
drink from the flask Dai Jin offered her.  The small sip burned
fiery going down her throat, and she coughed as she handed it
back with tears in her eyes.

     Dai Jin laughed.  "<Takes some getting used to.  Don't
worry, I'll give you plenty in the future.>"

     "<How reassuring,>" Shampoo said, still coughing.  Dai Jin
laughed again and pounded her on the back until she stopped.
     
     The sound of branches cracking underfoot came from the
forest around them, and Fang Shi and Bi Shou walked out of the
cover of the trees, the flickering light from the lamps seeping
into the map of wrinkles on Fang Shi's face and defining Bi 
Shou's faded beauty in harsh lines.

     Fang Shi ascended the hill, leaning on her weapon, and
looked, hawklike, around at the other Council members.  "<We're
all here.  Let's begin.>"

     The Council gathered in a circle around the Watcher's Stone,
the thirteen women chosen to guide the path the Joketsuzoku took.
There was a vague air of hostility hanging in the air; Council
politics were adversarial at best.

     "<We lay down our weapons,>" Fang Shi said, the first part 
of the old ceremonies that began the meeting.  "<Let us settle
with words and not with blades.>"  

     As the tradition went, the Council laid their weapons down
around the silent sentinel of the Watcher's Stone.  Shampoo put
her bonbori on the grass, and they were joined moments later by
Lang Bei's staff.  Dai Jin tossed her sheathed sword down, and Bi
Shou began to roll up her sleeves in order to extract an 
inordinate number of hidden knives from her person.

     Fang Shi's polearm was put down, and Gu Shu picked up a
wicked-looking axe that had to weigh twenty pounds from the grass
behind her and carefully set it down near the other weapons.  The 
weapons of the other Council members soon followed, ringing the 
stone though none touched it.

     "<The weapons are lain down,>" Dai Jin said.  "<Let us 
share water from the same cup, and unite ourselves in
sisterhood.>"  A voluminous wooden cup was filled, and passed
around in the circle, each of them taking small sips.

     Shampoo tried not to look eager or excited, but a rush of
pride filled her when she sipped and passed the cup on to Dai
Jin.  The older woman winked at her, sipped, and passed it on.

     When that was finished, Lang Bei spoke.  "<Let us sit and
settle what must be settled.>"

     They sat, cross-legged around the Watcher's Stone.  The
vestiges of the lantern-light that reached up the hill glinted on
the metal of the weapons.

     "<Only one thing concerns us tonight,>" Fang Shi said.  
"<What is to be done with the inhuman spies that have only now
been discovered among our people.  Who knows how long they have
sent their people among us in disguise, learning our secrets to 
use against us?  How can we be sure that...>"

     It was, Shampoo concluded near the end, a truly excellent
speech, filled with passion and conviction.  Fang Shi talked
about tradition, about the need to punish harshly any who dared
disrespect the ancient power of the Joketsuzoku.  She talked 
about a lot of things.  The word 'inhuman', Shampoo noted, seemed
to come up frequently.

     "<...for this, I put forward that these spies be executed,
and their heads left at the foot of Mount Phoenix as a warning.>"
She looked around the circle of Council members, nearly all of
whom sat staring at her raptly.  "<Does any speak in
opposition?>"
     
     "<I speak in opposition,>" Lang Bei said.  "<You call these
spies inhuman, Fang Shi.  But what do you define human as?  Is it
in the body or the soul?  If we judge these spies inhuman, do we
not undermine our own humanity...>"

     Lang Bei was not the same sort of speaker as Fang Shi,
Shampoo observed.  Her words were measured, precise, and lacked
the same passion, if not the same conviction, as Fang Shi's.  She
did not have the same fire in her voice; more like an ice, 
glistening and hard.  

     "<...for this, I put forward that we send messengers to 
these people, who were legend among us and are now a reality.  We
will offer to ransom back their spies to them.  Perhaps we may
come to know more of them.  Who knows what they might offer us?>"
She glanced from face to face.  "<Does any other wish to put
forth an alternate motion.>"

     "<I do,>" Bi Shou said.  Fang Shi, Shampoo noted, looked
surprised.  "<I put forward that we cut their eyes and tongues
out, slash the tendons of their wings and legs, and dump them 
outside their mountain.  That is an appropriate warning, both to
their people and to any other outsiders who might think the
Joketsuzoku grow weak and soft.>"  She smiled.  "<On second
thought, perhaps that is excessive.  I hereby withdraw it.>"

     Fang Shi released the breath she'd been holding.  "<Anyone
else?>"  No one came forth.  "<The motions are advanced.  Does
anyone have anything to say.>"

     Dai Jin's hand went up immediately.  "<An execution is 
excessive and permanent.  It would be stupid and unwise to 
antagonize a people who, as Shampoo tells us, have a king who 
blows up mountains.  Let's get this vote over with so we can go
home and have some drinks before bed.>"

     That sent laughter rippling through the Council, even among
some of Fang Shi's faction.  Most of the other Council members 
had something to say in support of one motion or another, 
including a comment from Gu Shu about keeping the elderly up too
late being a bad idea.

     "<We get grouchy, you see,>" she explained, looking around 
at the others with dark eyes sunken behind a face that seemed to
have wrinkles on its wrinkles.  "<And when we get grouchy...>"  
She glanced pointedly at her axe.  "<I'm too old to be executing
anyone these days.  I'm too old to fight if you decide to start a
war over something like this.  So why don't we save the killings
for another day, and more deserving targets?>"

     At last, the comments seemed to end.  Fang Shi opened her
mouth to speak.  Suddenly, Shampoo raised her hand.

     "<I had been hoping to hear from you,>" the old woman said.
"<You among all of us have the most reason to despise these
monsters.  Enslaved and forced to turn against your friends by
them, were you not?>"

     Shampoo scowled.  "<Yes.  But only by one of them.>" She
felt strangely angry, a natural response at the mention of her
slavery to Kima.  But all the anger was not only for that.  Fang
Shi spoke so casually of executing living things over something
so trivial.  It was not as if the Joketsuzoku did not gather
their own information through not entirely honest means at times.
And Bi Shou had smiled when she had put forward her motion, as if
it had been a joke.  Shampoo saw a mirror of herself, of what she
had once been in the two of them, and it sickened her.  

     "<They are not monsters,>" she continued.  "<Their ancestors
were human as you and I.  They are not inhuman.  Different from
us, perhaps.  But not inhuman.>"  She stared at the grass.  
"<That is all I have to say.>"

     Fang Shi nodded and stood.  Lang Bei did the same.  They
backed away from the circle, each facing the other.  Silently, 
the other Council members rose, one after the other, to stand 
with Fang Shi or Lang Bei and cast their vote; at last, Shampoo
was the only one left.  The Maiden was without a vote.

     Except, as now, when the decision was split.  Six upon one
side.  Six upon the other.

     "<The Maiden will break the tie,>" Fang Shi said.  "<Stand
with us, Shampoo.  Remember what was done to you by them.>"

     Lang Bei met Shampoo's eyes with hers.  "<The Maiden will
break the tie.  Stand with us, Shampoo.  Do not allow whatever
personal hatred you may bear to turn you away from what you know
is right.>"

     The decision was far easier than she could have hoped.  
Shampoo walked to stand between Lang Bei and Dai Jin.  

     "<The decision is made,>" Fang Shi said caustically.  
"<The meeting is over.  Let us return to the village.>"

     The air of tension relaxed slightly.  Dai Jin threw a
friendly arm around Shampoo's shoulders.  "<You did good, kid.
Come on back with me and have-->"

     There was the wet sound of an impact.  Dai Jin gasped.  
Shampoo looked in shock at the bloodied arrowhead and the short 
length of wooden shaft protruding from Dai Jin's left breast, 
piercing her heart from behind.

     Blood ran in a thin red trickle from Dai Jin's mouth, and 
she slipped to the ground, her hand clutching spasmodically at
Shampoo's shoulder as she did.  Behind her, Shampoo heard the 
sound of one of the wooden tripods collapsing, and the lantern 
breaking on the ground.  The whistle of arrows cut through the 
air again, and someone screamed.

**********     

     The flame of the lamp danced back and forth behind the glass
walls that imprisoned it, consuming slowly the waxen length of
the wick.  Outside, night was coming down in black layers, and 
the moon burned cold in the sky; the shutters were drawn upon the
single window of the room, keeping it at bay for now.

     In the bed against the wall, Mousse lay upon his back.  He
inhaled once, slowly, a long, rattling breath.  The lamp's flame
flickered, licking against the glass walls, as if hungering for
escape.

     Mousse breathed out, and the flame moved in time, matching
the rhythm of his breath.  Outside, the daytime bustle of the
village had ceased, and the life of the streets seeped slowly
away into the night air as the people returned to their homes and
closed their doors against the darkness outside.  

     Down to the south, the arrows began to fly.  The latch that
held the shutters closed rattled once, half-rose, and then fell
back; a second time it happened, and on the third it lifted and
unhooked itself.  A moment later, the bamboo shutters snapped 
open with twin bangs, bouncing once off the walls beside them,
the thin slats rattling like bones.

     The window behind the opened shutters was four glass panes
in a metal frame, and did not open.  Slowly, beginning from the 
top, the glass began to disintegrate, falling silently to a fine 
powder that gathered upon the bare wood of the floor below.  When 
the glass was gone, the metal frame that had contained it 
crumpled and twisted like a leaf touched with flame.  Spots of 
rust broke out upon it, and then consumed it, and it too fell 
away into a reddish powder that mingled with the sparkling silver 
of the glass upon the floor.

     From the north, the night wind came.  Far it had travelled, 
over mountain and desert, river and stream, forest and hill.  It 
drifted in through the window, languid as if it had all the time 
in the world, though time now was desperately short.  The 
ancient, pungent scent filled the room, an arid perfume of lilies 
and endless sleep.  

     In a sudden lonely dying, the lamp went out.  The room 
plunged into darkness.  Mousse sat up, every muscle of his body 
tensed and rigid.

     Awake, servant, the night wind said.  Mousse's eyes snapped
open and he rose, stiff and precise as an automation, from his
bed.  Dark dark dark all around, but no need for light to see.
He walked towards the door.
     
**********

     Shampoo spun and dove, grabbing up her bonbori from the
ground and rolling to her feet in one smooth motion, her back to
the Watcher's Stone.  None of the arrows touched her; most, in
fact, fell well short of the hill.  Warning shots.
     
     Dai Jin was down.  Dying, or already dead.  A quick glance
around showed another Council member, one of Fang Shi's faction,
fallen with an arrow through her throat.  Blood stained the
shoulder of Gu Shu's blue robes, but the tough old Ancient didn't
seem to notice.

     The other Council members were grabbing up their weapons.
From the forest that surrounded Watcher's Hill, shapes that were
murky even in the light from the lanterns emerged, silent as the
wind.  Dozens of winged figures, some holding bows, others
gripping spears or swords.

     "<Ambush!>" Fang Shi snarled.  "<Still want to make friends
with them, Lang Bei?>"

     Lang Bei scowled and said nothing in response.  She raised
her staff in both hands.  "<Break through before they have a 
chance to surround us,>" she said, quietly but clearly.  As one,
the women of the Council shifted their posture slightly to
prepare for a charge.

     Too late, as it was.  Wings beat in time, and now the 
Phoenix had ringed the top of the hill, over three dozen of them.  
Or not the Phoenix, Shampoo realized now that they had come into 
the light; winged and human-shaped, perhaps, but the resemblance 
ended there.  

     The hands that held arrows nocked to bows or hefted spears
seemed entirely human.  The wings, black for all of them, 
glistened with an oily, metallic sheen.  Horribly emaciated, 
the winged men looked as if they should not even be alive; 
fleshless skin was stretched tight over their bones - except 
upon their faces, which were disturbingly healthy and plump in 
comparison to the rest of them.  And none of the Phoenix had 
possessed fangs like these things did; each grinning face seemed 
to hold a mouthful of broken glass.

     "<These are not the Phoenix,>" Shampoo said.  She hefted one
bonbori into an attack position and held the other low for
defence.  Around her, the other Council members did much the 
same, waiting for now to strike.

     "<Of course they aren't.>"  The voice came from down the 
hill, cold and sardonic.  Up the hill came a figure that towered
over the others, the only wingless shape among their ambushers.
A huge golden-haired man, the flames of the lanterns making the
metal of his long sword and the black iron of his mail shirt
swim with fire.  "<The Phoenix will stay in their mountain until
they die.  Which will be soon.>"

     Out of the corner of her eye, Shampoo saw Fang Shi's weapon     
waver slightly at the sight of the man.  The old woman recovered
almost as quickly, however, and there was no sign of anything but
anger in her voice when she spoke.  "<Who are you who dares to 
attack the Council of the Joketsuzoku at their most sacred place, 
then?>".

     "<Oh, come now, old one,>" the golden-haired man said.  
"<Do not keep up this charade.  Do you stand with the Circle, or
with these ones?>"

     The blood drained from Fang Shi's face.  "<I do not 
know...>"
     
     "<Come and stand with us, or die with the rest of them,>" 
the man said with a shrug.  "<It matters not to me.>"

     "<You never said that it would-->" Fang Shi began.
     
     "<TRAITOR!>" Gu Shu screamed, cutting her off.  She darted,
axe held overhead, towards Fang Shi.  A single arrow arced from a 
bow and pierced Gu Shu's eye.  She dropped screaming.  Amidst the 
mass of winged creatures, one slightly taller than the rest 
lowered his bow.  Shampoo stared at him in horror; he was even 
more inhuman than the others.  A tail, serpentine and barbed, 
twitched continually around his legs as if with a life of its
own; as she watched, a forked tongue flickered out from between
his mouthful of fangs and just as quickly withdrew.

     "<Let us feed now,>" he said.  His voice was hideous, 
rattling and hollow.  On the ground, Gu Shu moaned softly.

     No one seemed able to move, or even speak.  Lang Bei's face
was white and furious, terrifying.  At last, Fang Shi stepped 
away from the circle of the Council and began to walk towards the
golden-haired man.  None moved to stop her.

     "<There was one other upon the Council,>" the huge foreigner
said.  "<Is she with the Circle, or not?>"

     "<Whichever one of us it is,>" Lang Bei said, her voice
deadly cold.  "<If you would call yourself Joketsuzoku, do not
step forward.  Stand with us.  Die like a warrior if you must.>"
The loathing, raw in her voice, made even Fang Shi wince.  "<You
have dishonoured yourself and your family beyond any measure,
Fang Shi.  You are no Joketsuzoku; you are a traitorous worm.>"

     "<What are the Joketsuzoku?>" Fang Shi exploded.  She stood
next to the golden-haired man now; around them, an invisible
circle seemed to exist, and the winged creatures kept their
distance.  "<A dying, forgotten people who have become weak.  I
would make us strong again.  The Circle dreams the same as us!  A
world where all men will know their place!  Join me,>" she 
pleaded, almost desperate.  "<Do not force me to do this!>"
Around her, the winged things grinned their mad shark grins.  The 
man with the sword smiled as well; somehow, it was even more 
frightening than the smiles of the winged ones.

     "<We force you to do nothing,>" one of the Council said.
Shampoo glanced over, her hands gripping her bonbori so hard they
were starting to hurt; Dao Tai, a Great Mother, one of Fang Shi's
faction.  "<What you have you allied yourself with, Fang Shi?  
You were not worthy of the respect we have given you.>" She
looked around at the two dead Council members, at the 
weakly-twitching body of Gu Shu.  "<Three of us are dead already.
What are these monsters you give your allegiance too?>"

     Fang Shi opened her mouth to speak; then, as if she had only
now realized what she had done, she fell silent.  "<I am gone too 
far to go back now,>" she said resignedly.  "<Believe me that I 
did not ever wish it would come to this.  Bi Shou, do you stand 
with the Circle above all else, as you and I both vowed?>"

     Shampoo looked over to where Bi Shou stood, a knife in each
hand.  Indecision warred on her face for a moment, and then she
almost ran to Fang Shi's side.

     The ranks of the winged things shifted slightly, closed
tighter around them.  They were trapped, Shampoo realized;
trapped by betrayal in the most ancient and sacred place of their
people.

     A rage filled her, beyond anything she had ever known.  Her
eyes fell upon Dai Jin; she thought for a brief moment of the 
dead woman's two children.  But there was no room for grief; only 
rage.  Looking around, she saw it was mirrored on the face of all 
the other Council members.  Weapons were gripped in 
white-knuckled hands, faces set in determined fury.

     They would die, perhaps, but they would die like 
Joketsuzoku.  Shampoo pointed to Fang Shi and Bi Shou with her
bonbori.  "<I swear upon my ancestors that I will take you with 
me, traitors.>"

     The golden-haired man laughed powerfully.  "<Brave little
one.  I liked you.  It is unfortunate you must die so young.>"
Shampoo blinked, not understanding.  The man lifted his sword in
a half-salute to her.  "<It was nothing personal, of course.  You
were a convenience at the time.  Unfortunate things did not work
out as I'd believed they might; you would have enjoyed it.>"

     Fang Shi and Bi Shou had retreated down the hill now,
having pushed their way through the crowd of the winged creatures 
who parted before them with hideous grins.  

     The tall winged thing with the tail looked almost
pleadingly to the golden-haired man.  "<Now?>" he asked.

     The man drove his sword point-first into the ground and 
rested his hands on the pommel.  "<Now, Shouzin.>" he said
softly.  "<Let it begin.>"

     Silently, as one entity, the winged things fell upon them.  
Seven Council members and herself, Shampoo thought dully as they 
came on in a rushing tide of dark wings and feral smiles.  They 
were massively outnumbered.  But they were Joketsuzoku; they 
might win yet.  No room for regrets or grief now; no room for 
thoughts of Ranma or Asakazu or her friends.

     Only the rage.
     
     Only the battle.
     
     The first of the things to come within her range fell
screaming with the left side of its chest caved in.  She stepped
back into the circle the Council had made around the Watcher's
Stone, caught the swung sword of the next upon one bonbori's 
shaft and broke its skull with the head of the other.  

     Next to her, Lang Bei smiled grimly and brandished her 
staff.  There was a flare of shocking brightness from the weapon, 
a roaring sound that echoed in Shampoo's ears, and two of the
things toppled twitching and smoking in front of Lang Bei.  
Shampoo snapped out her right arm, spinning the weapon upon its 
axis, and drove back two of the monsters as they came.

     Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dao Tai take the sword
of the one called Shouzin - the leader of the things, it seemed - 
through her belly.  She was dragged into the seething mass and 
disappeared from sight, but Shampoo heard her screams abruptly 
cut off a moment later.

     An overhead swing broke the collarbone of a foe; ribs
shattered under the heel of her foot.  A quick parry knocked 
aside a spear thrust; a return strike smashed the thing's 
grinning, florid face in.

     They were everywhere, a chaotic mass of wings and weapons
and needle-like smiles.  Hai Feng, a short old woman who had
taught her and other girls to shoot a bow years ago, was run
through with a spear and pulled into the mass; Shampoo heard a
horrible sound of tearing flesh, and saw a spray of blood, and
then it was back into the thick of battle, raining down a dozen
blows in seconds upon the faces and bodies of three of the
things standing before her.  

     A sword slipped through her defences and slashed a shallow
but long cut into her side.  She bit back her scream and broke
the monster's arm at the elbow into splinters of jagged bone;
Lang Bei's staff flicked out from nearby, the tip glowing 
white-hot, and sent the thing falling back with his face lit 
afire.  

     A scream of agony echoed from behind her, but she never saw 
who it was.

     Five of them left.  Whatever of the monsters had fallen were
dragged back into the horde or trampled over by their kin.  She
could see the tall one with the tail back beyond the first ring
of attackers, half-crouched down over a bloody, twitching shape 
in red that she realized sickly was Hai Feng.

     Shampoo screamed a battle cry, split the skull of a foe,
crushed the ribs of another.  Still too many of them; still
surrounded.  A scream from somewhere to her right.  Fan Lao, 
whose daughter had been her second-best friend when she was 
eight.

     The edge of a spearhead ripped through her left shoulder, 
nearly down to the bone.  She staggered; a numbing pain spread 
through her arm, and the wielder of the spear pulled it back to 
deliver a killing blow.  He was too far back to reach before he 
thrust forward; Shampoo hurled her right-hand bonbori and felt a 
dim satisfaction as it hit him full in the face, crunching bone
and dropping the monster to the ground in writhing agony.

     Could it be that they were thinning out?  That they'd
actually killed enough of them to make some difference?  Two more
came to fill the gap in the fighting that the one who'd speared
her had left, and thought disappeared.  With one weapon left, she
was at a disadvantage; dimly, she realized she was going to die
sooner or later.  She had sworn to take Fang Shi and Bi Shou with 
her.  With a howl, she pressed forward, away from the Watcher's 
Stone and its protection of her vulnerable back.  She was dead; 
let her die like a Joketsuzoku then, and take as many with her as 
she could.  Let her take the traitors, the gods willing.

     "<Shampoo!>" Lang Bei screamed behind her.  She ignored it.
They were everywhere now; she spun, a circle of kicks and weapon 
blows and fist strikes, cutting them down all around her.  A 
dance it was, endless as time; battle-rage consumed her, pushing
away all else.

     There was a dying shriek from behind her.  Not Lang Bei's;
that realization gave her some small comfort.  She dropped low 
and sliced the legs out from under two of them with a sweeping 
kick, rose and punched another full in the throat with her
remaining bonbori.

     Suddenly, the leader of them loomed in front of her, tail
lashing, wings stirring agitatedly, forked tongue flickering.  
His sword sliced at her head; she parried, barely.  He was 
strong, stronger than she was, and the blow forced her back as a 
numbing shock ran up her arm.  The barbed tail whipped out and 
scored a glancing hit along her left thigh.  Again the sword fell 
like a hammer-blow upon her weapon, and again she was forced 
back, nearly stumbling over a body.

     The ranks of them _were_ thinning out, she realized.  More     
than half of them were dead.  She could see the golden-haired man
beyond them, smiling softly, his hands gripping the pommel of his
sword.  He caught her eye, and winked; something in his gaze
assured her that no one he wanted dead would leave this place of
killing alive.

     She was distracted for a moment, and she cursed her own 
stupidity.  Shouzin whipped his sword around her parry and cut 
her across her shoulder, the one wounded by the spear; slowly but
surely, her left arm was growing numb.  Almost snarling, she
viciously retaliated as he recovered from his swing; Shouzin 
caught her return strike full in the chest and staggered back 
across the blood-slick grass.

     Suddenly, Lang Bei was behind her, staff whirling in circles 
as she fought off attackers at Shampoo's back.  "<Just us left,>" 
she said wearily.  "<The stone, Shampoo.  Your blood upon the 
stone at my signal.  You'll know what to do next.>"  Lang Bei's 
face was bloody, and the grey robes on her left side were a mass
of red.  Shampoo sidestepped Shouzin's next blow, and drove him 
back again with a snapping kick.  

     "<NOW!>" Lang Bei screamed, snapping her staff out in a 
long, wide arc and driving back the foes around her with the 
glowing end of it.

     Shampoo whirled, switching positions with Lang Bei, not
understanding, but trusting.  Shouzin's sword rang upon Lang
Bei's staff; the Watcher's Stone lay only a few feet ahead,
bodies of the winged beasts crumpled all around it.  Shampoo ran
forward, smashing aside the single foe that stepped into her way.
Blood upon the stone was easy enough; a press of her shoulder to 
it sufficed.  Mousse's words of earlier in the day suddenly came 
back to her then, but there was no time to consider them.
     
     She heard a rumbling sound, and then the ground dropped out     
from underneath her.  She landed on her bad arm a dozen feet
below, and stifled a cry of pain.  Overhead she saw the stars,
heard the sound of Lang Bei's battle cry; light flared again.

     A tunnel.  She was in a tunnel, under Watcher's Hill.  Far,
far down the almost pitch-black length of it, she saw a tiny
pinprick of light.

     Staggering to her feet, ignoring the pain of the wounds in
her side and shoulder, she ran towards it.  For some reason, as
she did, she finally began to weep.

**********

     The Serpent watched, hands on his sword, as Shouzin and his
kin slaughtered the Joketsuzoku.  Down the hill, the two traitors
had turned away from watching.  

     He smiled.  The beginning of the end.  He caught the eye of
the girl as she fought, and winked broadly.  In a way, it was a 
mercy she would die here; she would never know the truth of what 
Asakazu Hidarite had been.  

     Impressive.  She was fighting Shouzin now, and holding her
own.  More than half of Shouzin's kin were dead already, but only
the girl, the woman with the staff and one other stood.  The 
other was eliminated a moment later; he wished vaguely that 
Shouzin's kin would wait until the end of the battle to start
feeding - it was very inefficient.  The Traitor and his kin were
little more than animals now, but useful animals.  For now.

     The pull of Jusenkyou was strong tonight.  He was not sure
entirely why.  He waited, watched as Shouzin wounded the girl,
watched as she struck back with a blow that would have killed an
ordinary man - but Shouzin was far from ordinary, warped beyond
even the warping of his kin, and he did not die so easy as that.
For a moment, the Serpent turned away to look down upon the two 
traitors, and smiled.

     When he turned back, the girl was at the stone, pressing
against it, and then he felt the ground rock under his feet as
she vanished.  Another presence made itself felt, startling as a 
splash of ice water within his mind, and then he was forcing his
way through the remains of the combatants towards the stone.  One
of Shouzin's kin blocked his path for a moment, madly grinning
mouth stained with blood and gore, and he cleaved it in half
without stopping.  The brothers of the thing pulled his bisected 
remains into one of their feasting circles without a word.

     The tall woman with the staff was dueling with Shouzin now;
Shouzin's kin were paying no attention at all, gathered in dark
clusters around the bodies of the fallen.

     He shoved Shouzin aside without a word, caught the blow of
the woman's staff in one hand and ripped it away, and then he had 
her by the throat.  She gasped, and stared into his eyes; her 
gaze was weary and full of pain, but not afraid.

     "<The damned first ones,>" he snarled, shaking her casually.
"<Always getting in the way.  Damn them to all the hells of
creation.>"

     "<I have seen you...>" the grey-haired woman gasped.  
"<Before... in my dreams... you led... the barbarians down upon
us... what in the name of all the gods are you?>"

     He tightened his grip.  The woman struggled in vain, beat at
his arm weakly, and he smiled as he replied.  "<Ask the gods.  I 
don't have an answer for you.>"

     The woman inexplicably smiled back at him.  "<She is safe.  
I know she is.  You may kill all of us, and turn traitors those 
who remain, but the spirit of the Joketsuzoku will not die.>"

     "<Everything dies,>" he said.  He tightened his grip again,
until he felt thin bones shift, then broke her neck with a swift 
snap of his wrist.  The light of life left her eyes, and she gave 
a soft rattle in her throat.  He dropped her, and she crumpled, 
silver-grey hair falling free of the braid to hide her face where 
she lay.

     He turned.  The traitors stood behind him, staring with sick
horror at the feeding of Shouzin and his kin.  "<Well?  Get back
to your village and tell them of the horrendous ambush and
slaughter by overwhelming numbers of the inhuman foes that 
threaten the lives and existence of the Joketsuzoku.  I don't 
think it will be hard to start a War March with that story.>"

     Fang Shi licked her withered lips.  "<Bodies,>" she said
numbly.  "<We need bodies.  Ours and theirs.>"

     "<I'll make sure they don't eat all of their dead,>" he said
casually.  He indicated the woman he'd killed with a sweep of his
hand.  "<Take her body back.  Say she died while she carried 
her.>"

     "<Died of a broken neck while we carried her?>" Bi Shou
said, glaring at him hatefully.  "<Are you...>"

     Fang Shi put a warning hand on her arm.  The Serpent 
grinned, and ran his sword through the heart of the woman on the
ground.  "<They won't look too closely.>"

     Bi Shou picked up the body and slung it over her shoulder.
The sounds of Shouzin and his kin feeding filled the air.  "<What
are they?>" Fang Shi whispered.  

     "<Allies of the Circle,>" he lied.  "<Stupid but obedient.
I am useful to the Circle because they obey me.>"  He paused.  
"<You made the right choice, you know.  The Circle will soon take
Jusenkyou, and then the world.  With this choice, your people
will live.>"

     Fang Shi nodded mutely.  "<I...>"
     
     "<They were weak and unworthy to serve upon this Council,>"
Bi Shou said firmly, if not sounding entirely convinced herself.
"<The Joketsuzoku have become weak.  We shall make them strong
again.  This sacrifice is for the greater glory of the 
Joketsuzoku.>"

     "<Exactly,>" he agreed cheerfully.  "<And now, I am going to
go make sure the last part of that sacrifice gets made.>"

     Without waiting to hear them respond, he turned and walked
towards the hole that gaped at the base of the stone.  Once he
was down in the tunnels, he let the casual facade he'd adopted
for talking to the traitors evaporate; his face went cold and
hard.  Lashing out, he sliced through a stone wall with his sword
as if it were butter, leaving a long scar.  Far up ahead, he 
could see the light, and hear the faint footsteps of the girl.  
He began to run.  He was not worried; he would catch her in time,
and she would die.
     
**********

     They sat on the upper slopes of the land, looking down upon
Jusenkyou.  Moonlight fell from the sky above and turned the mist
clinging to the pools to spun silver.  Haphazardly scattered 
across the terrain, skeletal trees twisted gauntly with the wind.  
Insects chirped and chittered in the grass nearby, and small 
animals scuttled through the underbrush just out of the range of 
the light from the lamp the Guide had set out; in the distance, a
bird sang, and it seemed as if the very night were alive.

     Next to Akane, Plum settled more comfortably into her 
father's lap and stared raptly down towards Jusenkyou, eyes 
bright in the darkness.  "It start soon, father?"

     The Guide was consulting a small notebook, occasionally
making marks with a pen.  "It start soon, Plum."

     "What are we going to see?" Rouge asked, toying with a
bangle on her wrist as she stared at the grass.

     "Wait," the Guide replied, ticking off something in his
notebook.  "It not be long."

     Akane sighed softly and looked up at the sky.  The moon was
waning further and further with each passing night.  A hand fell
on shoulder, and she looked over to Ryoga's concerned face.

     "We're getting closer to finding the answers we need, 
Akane," he said reassuringly.

     Akane sighed again.  "Answers, maybe," she said wearily.  
"But are we any closer to finding him?  We seem to be doing
better at losing people than finding them."
          
     Genma and Happosai hadn't been back for dinner tonight.  It
was something she was trying not to think about much.  She wasn't
particularly worried about either of them, as long as they were
together - Happosai was as close to invincible as almost anyone,
and he'd look after Genma if it came down to it - but the 
suddenness of their departure coupled with Tarou's appearance was 
troubling to say the least.

     Ryoga looked as if he had some response, then shook his head
and turned away from her.  In her father's lap, Plum yawned.  
"How much longer, father?"

     The Guide smiled and ruffled his daughter's hair.  "Soon,
Plum, soon."

     "The birds have stopped singing," Rouge declared, staring
down raptly at Jusenkyou as if she saw something in it none of
the others did.  A silence had fallen over the land.  No insects 
chattered in the grass; no sound of animals moving; no call of 
birds in the night.  No wind either; even the leaves of the trees 
had stopped moving.

     Akane watched and waited.  There was a feeling in the air, a
charge like that just before a storm.  But the night sky was
clear, the few clouds small and vague.  

     Then there was a humming sound, low and voiceless music
coming from the air around them.  Akane stared; down below,
the mist that surrounded the pools had begun to glow with a soft
golden light.  The hum rose in pitch, and there were other sounds
in it now; snatches of voices, the sound of birds, the cries of
animals.  

     *No, I don't want to go in there*~*Shhhhhhhh*~*Father help
me*~*Shhhhh*~*Nonononono*~*Shhhhhh*~*I WILL NOT BE BOUND~*Shhhh*~
*I WILL NOT BE BOUND~*Shhhhhh*~*Hold her she's breaking free*~
*Shhhh*~*Mother*~*I WILL KILL YOU ALL*~*Father*~*KILL*~*Mother*~
*YOU*~*No*~*ALL*~*Ranma*

     Akane gaped.  That last voice, interspersed with the others
in the mad symphony of animal and human cries, was hers.  The
pools were shining with light, turning the mist into a cloud of
fire.  The light flickered and twisted in strands through the
translucence of the mist; around her, the faces of the others 
were rapt and shocked.  The voices, human, animal, cried and 
screamed around them.  One was familiar; one was hers.

     The Guide and Plum seemed as entranced as the rest of them.
The voices rose in volume until the seemed to engulf all senses,
until it seemed the very air danced before the eyes at the sound;
then, slowly, they died away.  The light began to disappear, 
until the only light left was again that of the Guide's lantern.  
The entire event had taken no more than a minute.  It had been 
almost indescribable; the mad terror of the sound, the spectral
beauty of light and mist interwoven.

     Akane turned to the Guide, and forced words past her dry 
throat.  "What was that?"

     "None of the Guides ever really sure," the Guide explained.
He indicated his small book.  "We make records, try to predict
when it happens.  It follow a cycle, over ten year period.  We
not know why."

     "But we're going to find out," Plum declared, clambering out
of her father's lap and standing up.  "If father doesn't, I will
when I'm the Guide."

     "Maybe it's the souls," Ryoga said softly.  "The souls of
all that have drowned at Jusenkyou, coming back home."

     Akane looked at him flatly.  "I heard my voice in there."

     Ryoga didn't respond.
     
     Rouge clambered to her feet and hugged her arms tightly
around herself.  "I heard Ashura," she said in a small, 
frightened voice.  "She was calling to me.  She wanted me to come
back to her."

     Akane turned away from Ryoga, immediately concerned.  "You
feeling okay, Rouge?" she asked as she stood.  The other girl 
looked pale and shaky, scared even.

     "I'll be okay," Rouge replied, giving Akane a weak smile.
"I don't really want to be here anymore.  Can we head back?"

     "Sure," Ryoga said gently.  "It's getting late anyway.  
Let's go and see if Shampoo's back from the Council meeting yet."

     Akane nodded and turned to look at the Guide.  He was     
standing by his daughter, one plump hand on her shoulder; the two
of them looked down on Jusenkyou, as if unaware of the presence 
of anything else.  "Thanks for your help."

     The Guide looked back at her.  "Sorry I not remember more,     
guest."  He looked disturbed, and there was an odd edge of stress
to his voice.  "If I think of anything, I come and tell you."

     "Thank you," Akane said.  "You take care."  She leaned down,
hands on her knees.  "Bye, Plum.  Look after your father."

     Plum nodded gravely and held up her arms to her father.  He
picked her up with a smile on his face, and the two stood 
watching them walk away, Plum waving until she was out of their
sight.
     
**********

     Mousse walked slowly down the hallway.  Behind him, the
night wind followed, and as he passed the lamps that Lang Bei had
left burning upon the walls, it snuffed them out.

     The house fell into darkness as he walked.  His 
grandmother's house now, the ancestral home of his family.  From
room to room he went, putting out the lights until the entire
dwelling lay shrouded, blacker than the night outside.  Where 
he placed his feet, wood aged and darkened, fabric faded and
unravelled, and stone cracked.

     Last he came into a small room with chairs before a massive
stone fireplace.  Here there was light, though not light as any
might imagine; in the bare hearth, flames flickered pale as snow
behind an iron screen, and only he could see them.  There were
faces in them; so many faces, so many names.  Nothing but that,
the white flames that pierced even the dark haze of his blindness.
So bright they were, so beautiful.

     Above the mantle, the spear that rested was wreathed as well
in palest flame from point of blade to butt of shaft; burn it 
did, yet it was not consumed.  Aching, pained, desiring and blind
in the darkness, he reached out and closed his hands upon it.  
The flames ran up his arms and rimmed his body, and he burned 
without heat or pain.  Like a spectre he shone in the darkness,
and the light of the spear and his light were as one.  The flame
ran up his face, caressing his cheeks, and touched his eyes.  He
opened his mouth, as if he would scream, but there was no sound.

     By the time it ended, the night wind was gone, and so was 
nearly all the light.     
          
**********

     They saw the torch-fires in the centre of the village as
they came to the top of a hill.  It was late, later than they
had thought, and no lights burned behind the windows of most of
the houses; but in the centre a ring of fire blazed, held up by
hundreds of Joketsuzoku.

     "What's going on?" Ryoga muttered, pausing in his walking to
stare down.

     "Another ceremony, I expect," Akane replied.  "They seem big
on ceremonies."

     "No," Rouge said softly, running a hand through her bangs.
"Something is wrong.  I can feel it.  Let's hurry."

     They hurried down the hill and through the wide dusty
streets of the village, past darkened houses at the fringes and
into the more crowded central area.  At the edges of the crowd
they stopped, looking for a familiar face, any familiar face, and
finding none.  All the Joketsuzoku in the crowd seemed to hold a
torch, and the flickering light played across their faces, making
each one seem menacing and unfriendly.

     "Ask someone what's going on," Akane said to Rouge.  The
older girl said something in Chinese to a middle-aged man whose
eyes bulged as he stood at the edge of the crowd, half with rage
and half with fear.

     The man glanced back, and snapped something off before
pushing his way deeper into the crowd, torch held high.  Rouge
went pale, and she turned.

     "They're executing the prisoners," she said.
     
     "What!" Akane said disbelievingly.  She began to try and
push her way through the crowd.  "Let me through!" she said,
using her elbows, her entire body.  Angry shouts in Chinese
surrounded her, a few hands grabbed at her - and then Ryoga was
beside her, simply plowing his way through.  Anyone standing in
his way moved or was moved.  Akane followed in his wake, all
thought almost drowned out by the babble of angry voices and the
glaring light of torches.

     They reached the centre far faster than it seemed they
should have.  Fang Shi and Bi Shou stood there; they seemed to
bear a dozen minor but bloody wounds between them.  Five tall
Joketsuzoku warriors held the two weakly-struggling Phoenix to
the ground, pressing their faces into the dirt before the feet of
the two Council members.  Wings and hands were bound behind their
backs, and there was blood in the woman's dark hair.  As Akane
and Ryoga stepped into the ring formed by the crowd, one of the
Joketsuzoku kicked the winged man squarely in the ribs, and his
high scream pierced the babble of voices like a knife.

     "What are you doing?" Akane snapped, striding forward from
the turmoil of the crowd.  
     
     Bi Shou regarded her as if she were a mildy annoying
parasite, and then spat in the dirt at her feet.  "Go away,
outsider filth."

     Ryoga clenched his fist, uncaring of the angry stares of the
Joketsuzoku all around.  "Watch how you speak to her," he 
growled.

     Fang Shi took a step forward, past the prisoners, and looked
up at them with glittering black eyes.  There was a bloodstained
bandage wrapped around one stick-thin forearm, and a shallow cut
across her withered forehead.  The rage in the old woman, it
seemed, had long gone past hot to the chill of ice.  "This is no
concern of yours, outsiders.  You have been welcomed among us as
friends; do not think it gives you the right to enter an
Execution Circle.  Do not interfere in our business."

     "Your business?" Ryoga asked incredulously.  "Killing
innocents is--"

     "Innocents?" Fang Shi interrupted.  "The rest of the Council 
is dead, you imbecile.  Slaughtered by these monsters.  Bi Shou 
and I barely managed to escape them."

     Akane felt all the blood drain from her face in an instant.
"Shampoo?" she whispered, her tongue thick in her mouth.

     Fang Shi's voice seemed to carry a genuine grief in it.
"She was right behind us when we forced our way out.  Lang Bei
too, but she took a sword through the heart; we brought her body
back, but there were so many of them... Shampoo..."  She bowed 
her head.  "I am sorry, child."

     Tears blurred Akane's vision.  "No!" she snapped.  "Shampoo
can't be dead!  What really happened?"

     "They're all dead," Fang Shi said softly.  "All we can do 
now is avenge them."  She looked around at the crowd, and said
something in Chinese.  A muted roar rose, gathered like an ocean
wave, and then broke in a frenzy of battle cries.  Torches 
lifted higher.

     Ryoga spoke.  He had been deadly silent for a time, ever
since Fang Shi had first spoken about the death of the Council,
but now his voice was deep and heavy.  "The Phoenix killed them?"
he asked softly.  "Killed Shampoo and Lang Bei and all the rest?"

     "Yes!" Bi Shou snapped.  "Now go!"

     "Incredible," Ryoga said softly.  "Ranma, Mousse and I went
through dozens of them like they were nothing, and yet they 
manage to kill a dozen warriors as fine as the Joketsuzoku 
Council and force the two survivors to flee like cowardly dogs."

     Bi Shou's eyes narrowed.  "You call us liars and cowards?" 
she hissed.  "You dare, outsider filth?"

     "I call it suspicious," Ryoga answered.  "And whatever
happened, these two--" He indicated the two Phoenix with his
hand.  "--were prisoners, and had nothing to do with it.  
Whatever your laws are, I hope you don't execute people for
crimes they don't commit."

     "For the crimes of their people, we will take their lives," 
Fang Shi said with deadly surety.  "For the deaths of the 
Council, we will wreak such a vengeance upon the Phoenix that 
time shall never forget it."

     "Let them go, Fang Shi," Akane said softly, still aching
with grief for Shampoo.  "Don't do this.  You can't turn back
once you do this."

     "I am already too far to turn back," Fang Shi answered just
as softly.  She sounded almost regretful.  "Go away from here,
outsiders.  You have no place in this.  Your vanished friend is
not here, and Shampoo is dead."

     "You're lying," Ryoga stated bluntly.  "Something about this
whole story stinks."  He glanced around at the angry faces of the
crowd; an occasional war cry still sounded from them.  "I know
some of you can understand me.  They're lying to--"

     "I have heard enough of this," Fang Shi snapped.  She darted 
forward; withered fingers touched Ryoga's hip, and his leg 
crumpled beneath him.  With a surprised cry, he fell to one knee,  
and her other hand lashed out and struck a point on his neck.  
Without a sound, he collapsed flat on his face, eyes glazing as
he toppled.

     "Ryoga!" Akane cried.  She turned; out of the corner of her
eye, she saw a Joketsuzoku warrior raising her sword above the 
heads of one of the Phoenix.  The edge of the blade glistened 
razor-sharp, swimming hypnotically with firelight.  Transfixed, 
Akane stared for a moment.  The face of the winged woman who lay 
below the arc of the sword was beyond terror.  Inexplicably, she 
remembered the sound of Kima's laughter as the waters closed over 
her head.

     The two Joketsuzoku holding the Phoenix woman pressed her
down by the shoulders.  As if defeated, she lowered her head.  
Tears splashed upon the fire-litten earth, tiny puddles in the
dust.  Time seemed to slow; a hundred angry faces stared at her
from the crowd.

     The sword was raised higher, and Akane moved.  Bi Shou 
realized what she was doing a moment later; too late, though, to 
stop her.  She hit the unexpecting Joketsuzoku with a straight 
blow to the stomach, and heard the woman gasp as the air rushed 
out of her.  A grappled wrist and a twist of her arm slammed the 
woman hard to the ground, and sent her sword spinning away to the 
edge of the crowd.

     The world seemed to go back to normal; the red haze of anger
dropped from her eyes, and she looked down into the surprised
face of the winged woman.  She had very green eyes, startling 
against the pale skin of her face and the darkness of her hair.
Around her, the indignant voices of the crowd rose to a fever
pitch.

     The Phoenix woman opened her mouth.  Akane never heard what
she said, but always wished she had.  To her left, she heard a
cry of rage, and then there was a blinding pain in her ribs.  She
stumbled, dropped to one knee, and someone kicked her in the side
of the head - darkness threatened to enfold all.  Angry voices 
were everywhere, but Bi Shou's filled the world.

     "Outsider scum!" And another kick to her ribs, hard enough
to bend them, not hard enough to break.  "Filth!" Behind her 
knee, in the soft part of the joint.  "Japanese whore!"

     Then to her stomach, and it felt as if something broke 
inside her.  Bile filled her throat, threatening to choke her.  
Then, almost mercifully, she finally succumbed, and let the black 
river of unconsciousness carry her far, far away from here, and 
from all the pain that came with it.
     
**********

     Mousse stirred on the floor.  He groaned softly, and sat up,
rubbing his head.  He remembered very little; the plane breaking
apart, the rush of air, the mountains.

     He could not see, even with his eyes open.  There was
darkness all around, but not even the darkness of lightlessness.
He was, he realized, not knowing precisely how he knew, blind.
Somehow, he didn't care.

     Sensitive fingers searched across the floor, brushed against 
something slender and warm to the touch.  His hands closed around
it, and he lifted it.  A staff, perhaps, he could not be sure.

     Something important he had to remember.  He didn't know what
it was.  Tracing his hands along the length of what he held, he 
suddenly cried out in pain as a sharp edge sliced into his palm.
     
     Gasping raggedly, he raised the deep cut to his mouth and
sucked on it.  The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth, and a
sudden shock ran through him.  His vision turned white.  A roar,
like all the oceans of the world battering against all the rocks,
filled his ears.

     He fell back, insensate.  His hands traced the shaft of the
spear.  He felt it grow warmer beneath his touch, then hot, so
hot it almost hurt to hold.  But hold it he did, and he rose to
his feet clutching the spear as if it were the most precious
thing in all the world to him.

     A bead of blood rolled across his hands.  White, white,
still blindingly white was his vision.  He felt himself smile.  
He did not understand why.

     As if by instinct, he cradled the spear in his bleeding 
hand, and sliced into his other palm with the razor-edged head.
Without a sound of pain, he lifted the spear above his head in
both hands.

     Shapes began to emerge from the indistinctness of the white.
Chairs, the floor, the fireplace - familiar shapes, but no
comfort in them.  The spear was a brand in his hands, searing 
his flesh, yet soothing him also.  His blood was upon it, upon
blade and shaft.  Carved on the dark wood, characters that he did 
not know the meaning of glowed with pale fire tinged scarlet.

     He laughed.  Joyously, delightedly, as his vision came back
sharper than ever it had before, even when wearing his glasses.
He wore no clothing, he realized.  Laughing still, he went up the 
stairs and to the small room that had been his.  He drew forth a 
robe, black as starless night, that the traditions of his family
would have had him wear upon his wedding day.  In the room he had 
been lain in, he drew forth a cloth-wrapped object from a small 
chest and tucked it away.  All the while he laughed, not knowing 
why.

     Out into the village, ignoring the crowd and the circle of
torches.  No one saw him.  He did not wish them to.  To the
north he went, walking without cease for what must have been 
miles.  No laughter now; silence.  Blood upon the spear.

     He walked to the top of a hill, an unremarkable one it 
seemed except for being the largest in the area.  Its height was
middling in the shadow of the mountains that surrounded the 
valley.

     Above the hill, a circle of clouds boiled in the sky,
blotting out the stars, fierce and dark.  He raised the spear in
one hand, blade pointing to the clouds and the hidden stars, and
called.  There was an answering sound, a noiseless thunder that
shook the earth beneath his feet, and he pointed the spear
towards the grass and bright flowers of the hill.

     The clouds boiled down in a column of roiling grey, touched 
the head of the spear and began to gather before him.  A shape 
formed, cloudy at first, pale as moonlight and coalescing slowly 
into solidness.  Even when it was solid, though, the starlight 
and moonlight shone through every part of its body but the eyes.  
Those were blank and rolling orbs of white fire, matched by what 
lay beneath the eyelids of he who was now the master of the 
steed.
     
     Mounted, without saddle or bridle, he took to the air.  On
the ground below, four hoofprints burned cold upon the grass.  In
him was something beyond pain, beyond all memory.  He had been 
Mousse; he had loved Shampoo, had suffered for her, finally lost 
her.  And he was something else altogether now.

     He flew.  So high it seemed he might touch the stars, that
his spear might pierce the moon.  His hair streamed behind; white
fire burned in his eyes.  Silent his steed was, pacing wingless
upon the blank air, driving them higher towards the stars.
     
     They dipped once, and almost before he knew, he stood on his
feet before a cave.  The mouth yawned black, the depths within so
deep they might well have been endless.  Behind him was a desert.
He knew this place, had always known it.  Water flowing.  Blood
upon the spear.

     He stepped within.  Behind him, the pale horse stood as
sentinel, unmoving.  He met her in the darkness, saw with eyes of
white fire that her lips were red and her eyes were black, and
upon one cheek there lay a long white scar.

     "Guardian," his lady said, and it was his name, it was all 
his names.  "Spearwielder.  Come."

     She gestured, and he was hers, and he wept for his own
innocence lost, and she cradled him and drew him down with her
upon the cold stone floor.  The spear clattered to the floor,
rolled away to rest against the wall.

     And she was his, he was hers, she was everything, everything
he had ever needed, lips cold, body warm.  His hands touched her,
and his wounds healed, and he was consecrated in her name.  Blood
upon the spear - desire beyond all desire.

     "Lady," he said at the end.
     
     "Go forth," she replied, stroking his hair.  "It is not the
end yet.  Soon it will be, and you will be mine forever, beloved,
and I shall be yours."  She touched his face.  "Then and 
forever."

**********
     
     The raven watched the spearbearer mount back up and soar off
into the sky.  Once he was out of sight, the messenger took to
flight as well, winging his way across the desert.  He had waited
to see that after bearing his message to Chenmo Shan, and 
receiving one to bear back to Mount Phoenix.  Fourteen hundred 
years in coming; blood upon the spear.  Not nearly so long in
coming as the other, but still long ages as time was to mortal
men and women.

     He passed over the Dragon's Ribcage and Jusendo, turned once
over Jusenkyou, and then saw the torches burning in the village.
Shiso thought of what he had been told.  The one gloried in blood
walked among them now.  Apprehension stirring in him, the 
messenger began to fly towards the village.

     He never even heard Shouzin coming.  The Traitor, most hated
of the Lady, fell upon him like a descending hammer, silent as an
owl in flight.  The barbs of Shouzin's tail slashed through his 
left wing, and he squawked with surprise and pain as he went into 
a spinning, tumbling fall.  Shouzin snatched him with both 
long-fingered hands and held the struggling bird up to gaze into
his eyes as he soared higher into the air with a single beat of
his vast black wings.

     "Now, what have we here?" he gurgled thickly through his 
mouthful of fangs.  "You again, tidings-bearer?  This does not do 
at all.  None of your interference now." The raven gazed 
hatefully back at him with solid black eyes, and said nothing.
"Can you die, messenger?" the Traitor continued, tightening his
grip until the bird cried out in pain.  "Answer!"

     The raven did not.  
     
     "We shall see, then."
     
     Down amidst the circle of torches, a blade fell.  Someone
screamed, and a blade fell again.  The wind carried the cries a
short distance, and then they too were lost to the dark.