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hou nodded off in the bedside chair in the wee hours of the morning. Someone had draped blankets over him and put his feet up on a footstool and removed his shoes. Now that someone was gently nudging him awake and their excitement was palpable.
“Liang Meng, calm down,” he said, feeling grumpy. Of all the inappropriate times to bubble over with childish delight, he resented it was at the death bed of his dearest friend. Lemony ceased nudging him but she was still nearly jumping up and down with excitement.
“It’s Pen! He’s awake and he wants to talk to you.”
The foolish monk was actually delighted over Pendaran wanting to speak his final words? How could she be so blind acting as if it were a wonderful surprise?
“Master?” Pendaran croaked, “Don’t be angry at her.”
Zhou sighed and tried to hide his annoyance so that Pen’s sensitive mind did not have to be subjected to his pettiness. It was still dark outside but it must have been very early in the morning for he could see several of the visitors had curled up on the floor. Mabane was once more sleeping beside his father even though Zhou had asked the servants to return him to Brigit and Armand’s suite. Xue Xue was curled on the window seat under a blanket. How blind could Lemony be letting children into this place to witness such a sad and pointless death?
“I’m sorry, Pendaran. I’m here now,” Zhou replied, awake enough to push aside his anger and be present for his friend, “What did you want to tell me?”
“I think my death has been called off again.”
Zhou forced himself to smile, wondering why his apprentice felt he needed to cheer him up in this dark hour.
“There is no need to protect my feelings, Pen.”
Pendaran chuckled softly and coughed, his face contorting with pain.
“Pen, you’re naughty,” Lemony giggled, “I’ll tell him if you won’t.”
“I did tell him. He doesn’t believe me,” Pendaran rasped sleepily, “No more amuridan, by the way, I hate it.”
Now Zhou was completely lost. Lemony smiled at him and drew back the blankets, revealing the scars that had mysteriously faded. Overnight they had gone from raw jagged lines potent with magic to a faint silvery tracery.
“How…?” he choked, overcome with emotion, “Did you do this, Liang Meng?”
“Me?” Lemony giggled, “I’m not that good. It was Pen.”
Pendaran chuckled wearily.
“No, it wasn’t me,” he replied, his face grim and tears beginning to stand in his eyes, “I am feeling a little unworthy, Master.”
“You’ve been through so much, Pen,” Lemony said gently, “Both of you have. Whatever happened, I’m sure the gods felt you were worthy and that is all that matters.”
Zhou clasped Pendaran’s hand as Lemony climbed onto the bed and placed his head in her lap so that her tiny hands could soothe away his tears. Like a mother with a sick child, she gave her love and care without expectation and seemed unfazed by the depths of Pendaran’s grief. Zhou could not help but smile through his own tears, loving Lemony with all of his being.
“Master?” Pendaran said after a while.
“Yes, Pen?”
“What does tè mean?”
“I know that one!” Lemony announced, “Boy animal!”
Zhou chuckled and Pendaran grinned slyly through his weariness and pain.
“How was it used?” Zhou asked.
“It was something Shikai’s people called me,” Pendaran murmured, “I saw her. I will tell you about it when I am not so exhausted.”
“Of course, Pen, you should sleep now. There will be plenty of time. But to me, tè means special and extraordinary. No doubt that was how they saw you.”
“For once, I think Lemony may have nailed it, Master,” Pendaran chuckled sleepily.
“Penny!” Lemony giggled, “you’re not an animal, I agree with Zhou.”
“Zhou, Shikai asked me to tell you something.”
His stomach lurched and he mentally backed away from the pain that was there, still untouched. How he missed her on this last day of autumn, the traditional time of their parting. For them there would never be another spring together and he had put off grieving for her with Pendaran’s loss so close and raw.
“She said that when the geas was lifted she loved you still.”
He squeezed Pendaran’s hand, realizing that his apprentice was confused and did not understand what had happened. By this he knew Shikai had indeed spoken to him and that the message was authentic. In the end she had intervened on behalf of humanity and he wondered what the consequences would be. If only he could speak to her a final time.
“Thank you, Pendaran. I will be sure to thank her as I am able.”
“I’m sorry she’s gone, Master. I know how much you loved her.”
Zhou smiled for his friend, humbled by him once more. His own grief seemed petty in light of what Pendaran had lost.
“We will talk more when you are rested. In the coming days there will be much grieving to do, but I promise you, my friend, that you will know happiness again. I will make that my highest duty.”
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