Unintended Cultivator

“Falling Leaf, this is Laughing River and Misty Peak,” said Sen, gesturing at the foxes.

Falling Leaf inclined her head to Laughing River in a gesture of muted respect. She eyed Misty Peak askance for a moment before issuing a little sigh and nodding to the other woman.

“Hello,” said the ghost panther.

“Laughing River, Misty Peak, this is Falling Leaf. My friend,” said Sen, before he added something he thought was necessary. “I will note that, should I discover she’s been drawn into any kind of fox plot, scheme, or foolishness, I will become profoundly unhappy.”

Laughing River and Misty Peak traded uncertain looks. Finally, Misty Peak worked up the nerve to ask.

“What would that mean? You know, what would that translate to in practical terms?”

Sen gave her a stern look. “You don’t want an answer to that.”

She traded another look with her grandfather. “No, I really think I do.”

Sen looked at Falling Leaf. She gave him the nod.

“What that means in practical terms,” said Sen, “is that it moves out of my hands. It becomes Larry’s problem.”

“Who is Larry?” asked Laughing River with pure bafflement on his face.

Falling Leaf gave the pair of foxes an icy smile and shouted, “Hey, Larry! There are some people here who want to meet you.”

After a moment of silence, everything in the inn that wasn’t bolted down began to tremble and then jump in place. The foxes began to look around with wide, panicky eyes. Before either of them could ask the question, one of the walls disintegrated into a shower of tiny pieces to reveal the massive, majestic form of Larry. The spirit ox gave the foxes a look that would have killed mortals on the spot. Misty Peak looked like she wanted to dive under the table, and even Laughing River had gone pale at the sight.

“I’m Larry,” said the ox in a basso voice that shook the building. “And I fix problems. Are you gonna be a problem that needs fixing?”

“No,” said Laughing River in a voice that was two octaves higher than usual.

***

The morning’s activities and the food seemed to overwhelm the girl’s youthful vigor because she almost fell asleep while she was eating. Sen carried her limp, yawning form to her bed. She was asleep before he even left the room. He stepped outside and took a deep breath. Keeping up with Ai wasn’t physically demanding, but it did require a lot more mental engagement than Sen had expected. He’d need to figure out things that she could do that would keep her mind engaged for a while. Sen left the door to the galehouse open so that he’d hear it when Ai got up from her nap and decided to take advantage of the brief lull in his day. Drawing his jian, Sen worked his sword forms. He felt Glimmer of Night approach but didn’t let it immediately interrupt his work. When he finished the form he was working through, he stopped and looked over at the spider.

“Is this what you mean to teach me?” asked the spider.

“Among other things,” said Sen. “The basics, at least. I can teach you some spear basics as well. We’ll cover some of both, and you can decide if you like one of them better.”

“Why would I need this?” asked the spider.

“Most cultivators use a weapon of some kind. It’s not impossible to fight them without a weapon of your own, but it’s much harder.”

“And how long did it take you to learn it?”

“Years,” said Sen. “But it sounds like you’ll be around for years. Might as well take advantage of that.”

Glimmer of Night nodded in agreement. “Will you teach the child these things?”

Sen stared at the spider as though he had clearly suffered some manner of severe damage to his spider brain.

“You’re damn skippy I’m going to teach her these things.”

“Because of cultivators?” asked Glimmer of Night.

“Because of boys! They’re evil, rotten, terrible things. Every last one of them.”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The spider was silent for a long, long moment before he asked, “Aren’t you a boy?”

***

Liu Ai spared Sen more awkward conversation by coming out from behind some folding panels. She was happily trying to adjust a robe and not doing a terribly good job of it. Sen set his cup down and went over to help her, gently tying the knots and settling the folds of blue and black fabric around her. She held out her arms to each side.

“I’m a flower,” she announced.

“You certainly are,” agreed Sen. “A beautiful chrysanthemum.”

A look of hesitant uncertainty crossed the little girl’s face. “What’s a kercinnamon?”

Sen could see the seamstress shaking her head in disapproval from the corner of his eye.

“Really?” said the woman. “A hundred flowers out there with short names, so you pick the one that no child can pronounce?”

“It was the first thing I thought of,” said Sen.

“What a cerkanadom?” asked Ai, looking unhappy.

The seamstress crouched down and smiled at Ai. “Don’t you worry about that. He’s just got duck feathers for a brain. What he meant to say was that you’re a beautiful lily.”

Ai gave the woman a perplexed look.

“It’s a very beautiful flower,” said the woman, before she shot Sen a look. “Beautiful and easy to pronounce.”

“I’m a lily!”

“Yes, you are,” said the seamstress.

Ai pointed at Sen. “You’re a duck brain.”

“Yes, he is,” said the woman, smiling in approval.

***

“Don’t be fooled. I’m entirely made up. Turn your back, and I’ll vanish like smoke in a dream.”

“Can you—” Li Hua hesitated. “Can you really do that?”

Sen went to deny the silly idea and then thought a little harder about it. Could I?

“Maybe,” he said. “Probably not if anyone was paying close attention.”

“So, not all-powerful?”

“Not even remotely. Any cultivator who says otherwise is lying,” answered Sen. “I think it’s probably time for a quiet departure. Things are calming down at the gate.”

“How do you know that?”

“I can hear them,” said Sen as he walked over to collect Liu Ai.

She noticed him and ran over, her eyes wide.

“Did you chase the monsters away?” she asked.

“I did, with some help,” said Sen, not feeling the tiniest bit guilty about the half-lie. “But it is about time for us to head home. Otherwise, we’ll never get there before dark.”

The girl got a pouty look on her face. Ai wasn’t generally a willful girl, but Sen had learned that she could get tired or cranky like anyone else. He wanted to cut that off before it turned into something ugly.

“Why don’t you show me what you were drawing?”

Distracted by the task, she reached out, seized one of Sen’s fingers in her hand, and pulled him over. She proudly pointed to a misshapen, vaguely flower-shaped creation and proclaimed it a beautiful orchid. Sen nodded gravely while the other girl awkwardly stared up at him, seemingly unsure what to do. He crouched down and spoke to Ai in a very loud whisper.

“Who is your friend?”

“Zhi,” said Ai. “She drew birds.”

Sen peered over at what the other little girl had been drawing. He frowned and looked a little closer. They didn’t look like birds. They looked like dragons. Remarkably, impossibly realistic dragons. The dragons that had been scratched into the ground started to move. Sen’s eyes shot up to the little girl, who was staring at him with eyes as old as the world itself.

“What?” asked Sen, unsure what else to say.

“You didn’t really think we were just going to let you wander around without a minder, did you?” asked the little girl who was clearly not a little girl.

Sen was one more struck dumb by this turn of events. He turned to look at Ai, who was also staring at him with eyes that held the knowledge of ages.

“You didn’t kill those little girls, did you?” he demanded in a low, furious voice.

The false little girls both gave him aghast looks.

“Who raised you?” demanded not-Zhi.

“Honestly,” said not-Ai. “What kind of question is that? Of course, we didn’t kill them. They’re in daycare.”

“What in the thousand hells is daycare?!”

***

Wang Bo was shifting back and forth on his feet, his eyes bright and hopeful. Sen knew that he was missing something here, but he just couldn’t put his finger on what was escaping his notice. He felt like it must be obvious. He turned to look at Dai Bao. The gruff man had barely opened his mouth to speak when impatience won out over Wang Bo’s painfully limited self-control.

“When will you start?” asked the young man.

Sen frowned at him. “Start what?”

“Training us.”

“Training you to do what?” asked Sen.

“To use the spears and halberds!”

Now, Sen understood. This kid had taken that offhand statement Sen had made and exaggerated it in his mind into some kind of promise that Sen would become their teacher. He didn’t have time for that nonsense. He had his own training to deal with. He had little Ai to take care of and teach how to write. This was not a problem of his making, and he refused to be bound by a promise he never made. Then, Sen felt something blossom inside of him. Something that rather reminded him of Laughing River. He directed a big, bright smile at Wang Bo.

“Right now,” said Sen.

“Really?” asked Wang Bo.

“Really,” answered Sen. “All you have to do is pass one little test first.”

Dai Bao looked profoundly skeptical at this turn of events but elected not to say anything because, apparently, he’d been born with his good sense intact. Wang Bo plowed immediately forward.

“I’m ready for any test,” declared the young man.

“Terrific!” exclaimed Sen. “Let’s head outside.”

The three of them exited the community building, and Sen reached down to grab a handful of snowy rocks off the ground. He gave Wang Bo an encouraging smile and pointed.

“You should go stand over there,” ordered Sen.

“What test is this?”

“I like to call it the Dance Dance Revo… Insurrection. That’s it. Dance Dance Insurrection. All you need to do to pass is keep up for the next four minutes.”

“Keep up with what?” asked Wang Bo.

Sen drew an arm back and hurled a rock at Wang Bo’s feet. The rock hit the ground right in front of the young man, sending up a spray of slush, show, and displaced dirt. Within a few seconds, the ground around where Wang Bo had been standing was filled with tiny craters, and the young man was fleeing for his life.

“How long until he figures out it wasn’t a real test?” asked Dai Bao curiously.

“I give it a week,” said Sen.

“I’ve got a silver that says he figures it out in three days.”

“Done.”

***

This ends Unintended Cultivator Volume Seven. Sen and company will return in Unintended Cultivator Volume Eight.

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