If a story can be said to have a beginning, this story began on a drowsy summer afternoon, cicadas humming in the trees, the taste of dust in the air. General Li, who had seen much meritorious service in the army of the King of Wuyue, sat in his Great Hall, sipping tea and looking back across the years. Not all his reminiscences were pleasant but his brow smoothed out when his six-year-old granddaughter ran in, closely pursued by her nanny.

"Zufu!" Little An-Xia launched herself into his arms.

"Oof! You are getting too big for such antics! Or I am getting too old."

Her bright amber eyes smiled into his. "You are not old. Your hair is hardly gray at all."

"Forgive me, General," the nanny said, bowing. "She is too naughty."

"I do not want to go back to the women's quarters," An-Xia said. "They are talking about silly stuff and I am bored. I want a story."

"Your nanny knows many stories."

"I have heard them all. I have heard them all a hundred thousand times. I want you to tell me a story."

General Li waved the nanny away. "Very well."

Sergeant Mo Tse-Mai, once his son's body-servant and now his, came in, his arms full of ledgers. He smiled to see the child for she was much loved in the household. "I see you have found a mouse, General."

"I am not a mouse! I am a...a little girl."

"Tell me, An'er," her grandfather said. "What would you like this story to be about?"

"Hmmm?" She looked around his hall, filled with the spoils of his long career. Looking behind him, she pointed a small finger at the sword hanging behind his chair, in the place of honor. "That! Tell me a story about that!"

"That?" He tried to look over his shoulder but an old scar prevented him turning in such a way. "What is she pointing at, Mo?"

The sergeant bowed. "The Thunder Sword, my lord."

"Ah. Yes, there is a story about that. Bring it here for me."

It lay on the tabletop, the scabbard brown leather, much rubbed and worn. The hilt had been wrapped with sweat-darkened hide and wire, but something showed a sinuous form beneath that utilitarian covering. General Li set his granddaughter on her feet beside the table. With a practiced gesture, he drew the gleaming blade, the loose guard ringing. The edges were as bright and sharp as they had been on the eve of a battle, the channel down the center of the blade intentionally left dark gray.

"Ooh...." The child, knowing no better, reached out toward the bright steel. Though both Mo and the General would have sworn ever after that he instantly moved it out of reach, somehow her forefinger was cut. A drop of blood stained the steel.

"Ah! What's that?" The female voice went unheard by anyone present.

"An'er!"

Instantly, she stuck her finger into her mouth, her eyes filling up. She blinked away the tears, knowing her grandfather hated to see her cry, and looked at her fingertip. "It's all right. Look, Zufu. I am not hurt at all." Indeed, the cut had already closed, leaving not even a red line on the pad.

"Still, you should be more careful. This sword has taken many lives. You would be like a silk handkerchief dropped onto the blade."

"Wherever did you get it?"

He sheathed it again, the guard ringing against the scabbard mount. "The late king gave it to me in exchange for mine, after the Battle of the Three Armies. That battle broke the resistance of the Eastern war-lords and our king won much territory for Wuyue. But that is not the story of this sword...or so they say."

She knelt beside him, her eyes intent. "Tell me."

"Long ago, the Emperor of Heaven decided that he should have a regiment of female bodyguards to guard his women's quarters. There had been trouble there." He looked at Mo and winked. "He thought that female guards would be loyal to him only. So he ordered eighty-eight minor deities to present themselves and brought them to his Highest Heaven to train. He had the Thunder God make them all identical swords; it took a long time even as Heaven measures such things. All the maidens were very skilled but the most skilled was the last to be chosen. Eighty-Eight accepted her sword from the Thunder God but when he gave it to her, their fingers touched and they fell in love."

"That doesn't sound good."

"No. They had to conceal their affection because the Jade Emperor had given strict orders that none of these female guards could ever dare to fall in love or change their allegiance. The others hid Eighty-Eight and the Thunder God's affection for a long time."

The little girl's face was alight with fascination. "What happened when the Jade Emperor found out?"

"He was very angry. He called all the maidens together and demanded that they give up the one who had betrayed him. They refused. Eighty-Eight, not wishing for her sisters to be punished for her fault, stepped forward. The Jade Emperor bound half her spirit into the steel of her sword and tossed it from the Highest Palace to earth. She leapt from the clouds to follow it, determined to regain her whole soul. Without hesitation, all her sisters also threw their swords away. It is said they fell like rain. The Thunder God arrived too late to help his beloved but he vowed that he would find her again, no matter how long it took."

"And did he?"

"No one knows. I have heard it said that the Jade Emperor forbade the Thunder God from ever leaving the precincts of Heaven but that may not be true. I have also heard it said that her eighty-seven sisters are still guarding the Heavenly wives, but they have spears now."

"That was a lovely story," the little girl said, sighing happily.

The General and Sergeant Mo exchanged a glance. The expurgated version of the tale of the Eighty-Eighth Guardian turned it into a fairy tale for children. The uttermost agony of having one's soul ripped in two without even the hope of being reunited was something no child could or should understand. Both the men, however, knew too well what it was like. No miracle could bring a lost love back to life.

The Eighty-Eight Guardian would search through all eternity to repair the rift in her soul. Her lover, helpless in heaven, would realize anew every day how impossible it was to so much as hope for a reunion with his lost love. Only a heaven-granted miracle could make that happen, and miracles were the responsibility of the Jade Emperor himself.

An'er's wide eyes studied the sword before them. "Is this the sword of Eighty-Eight or one of the others?"

He laughed. "It is just a story, An'er. This is a fine sword but it was made on Earth by a master of the art."

"I want it to be true. I want to be one of the eighty-eight sisters. Teach me how to sword-fight."

It was a hot afternoon. The cicadas in the trees sang of the pleasures of a languid hour spent drowsing. From the kitchen quarters came a tantalizing fragrance of a hot pepper stew while somewhere in the gardens a man-servant chopped wood, adding a deep rhythmic note to the cicadas' song.

"Why not? It might be amusing," the General said. "Make her a sword, Sergeant Mo." A fierce weapon of two sticks tied together with a loose thread was quickly forged by Sergeant Mo.

"Hold your arm out like a tree branch, An'er. Stalwart, steady." The old eyes under sprouting brows studied her tiny form as he had watched thousands of young recruits over the years. He rose from his chair and came closer, his thickened body leaning heavily on the stick of knotted elm that aided his never-entirely healed leg.

"The enemy approaches like a wave breaking on the shore and you must withstand the onslaught. Plant your feet deep and do not lift them as you turn. Let the enemy come to you."

"I wait, Grandfather," the child's voice piped.

"The greatest sword-masters do not slash away like children playing war. They choose their moment and only when it comes do they attack." He motioned Sergeant Mo to approach the child slowly with the sheathed blade.

"Do you remember the shouts of the Suiang warriors as they over-ran our forward ranks?" the sergeant asked.

"Do I not? Men who shout the loudest do not always fight the...."

"Oof!" While the men were reminiscing, they did not observe the child shorten her arm, turn her torso, and strike out, driving the blunt end of her toy into Sergeant Mo's kidney. Fortunately, he wore a broad leather belt to keep his belly in and the point merely scratched along the hide.

Instinctively, if a little too late, he parried, knocking the wooden 'sword' aside. In an instant, little An'er spun completely around, using the momentum from his strength, and returned the blow, knocking the famous sword from his loose hold. She returned at once to lunge position. Sergeant Mo found himself looking down at the end of a wooden stick two finger-widths from his heart.

"This is fun!" An-Xia said, laughing. "Show me more, Grandfather!"

The two men stared at each other in wonder. Even the cicadas seemed to still. Then, as if in spoken agreement, they glanced down at the child. She looked back at them with bright, wide eyes, blue ribbons clasped with enamel butterflies in her hair. Standing there, the sword now by her side, she looked like any other plump-cheeked infant.

"Tell me, An'er," her grandfather said, his voice trembling with more than age. "Who else has showed you this?"

"No one, Grandfather. I want to be one of the eighty-eight sisters," she said impatiently. "Show me some more, Sergeant Mo."

"That...that is enough for now," General Li said. "Run back to your nanny. I think it is time for your nap."

"May I have tea with you later, please, Grandfather?"

"Yes, yes. Go along now."

He sat down heavily. "What on earth...?"

In the evening, as the clouds above turned pink and gold, sitting in the tea-pavilion where the water from the pond trickled among rocks, General Li gently asked An'er, "You are sure you have not played a game with swords before, little one?"

"No. I had a funny dream just now, though. It had a sword in it, I think."

"A dream? What do you remember of it?"

The child glanced up into the rafters, looking for the sparrows that liked to nest there. "I remember...a lady came and spoke to me. Then there was a man. He had funny clothes; they shone. I remember...I remember he wore his sword across his back. He put his arms around the lady the way Shu Ban-Li does with the maids.

"Does he indeed." General Li shook his head. "The rascal. What did the man in your dream do then?"

"He....may I have another cake, Grandfather?"

General Li pushed the dish toward the child. "What did he do?"

An'er put down the cake on her plate before taking a bite. She was, for the most part, a polite child and knew adults liked to scold children who spoke with their mouths full. Even Grandfather. "He gave me a scroll but was angry that I could not read it."

"But you read so well."

"I could not recognize any of the characters. They were all funny-looking. I am sorry, Grandfather," she said, looking at the cake. It was one of Mrs. Loo's special ones, with candied sesame seeds on top. "I do not remember anything else. Mother's maids were talking on the terrace and woke me up."

As though summoned, the young Mrs. Li came along the garden path. Upon the death of her husband, General Li's only son, she had retired here with her infant. They had been married six years but Li Zhan-Se had been away so often fighting wars or in remote outposts that they had only spent perhaps six months together in all that time. He had perished in the same battle with the Northerners that had permanently wounded the General. All military honors becoming empty without male descent, General Li had left the army.

Mrs. Li had a sweet face, though no one would call her a beauty now. Happiness had given her some claim to that title but the fragile nature of her happiness had caused it to fade like a flower that blooms only for one day. "You should not tire your grandfather, An-Xia," she said, bowing to the old man.

"Please be seated," he said. "Her company does not weary me." But he knew the interlude with his granddaughter was over. He thought, 'We are born into the tyranny of women; to the tyranny of women we return at last.'

Taking Sergeant Mo's advice, General Li sent for the Taoist priest. He presented the dream as though it had been his own. The priest consulted his glass orb, his beads, and his mirror. "The Gods often present us with scrolls that are impossible to decipher. In time, all will be made clear."

"But which God was it?" General Li asked, impatient with this mystical shuffling.

"If you remembered any of his attributes, I could perhaps tell you, sir. There are many who wear some kind of shining clothing."

"I remember only he wore a sword on his back."

"On his back? I will consult the temple. Perhaps someone there knows."

"Never mind, never mind. As you say, in time, all will be made clear."

As Mo showed the priest out, the old general snorted. "Magicians and priests....I would get better answers from the fish in the pond."

* * *

"Owwww...I hate embroidery!" An-Xia sucked her wounded fingertip. It was her third needle prick of the day. Her mother's maids giggled and gossiped as they worked their own pieces.

"Every accomplished lady must know the arts of embroidery, music, painting, and calligraphy," her mother said. Her own work, destined to become a cushion, was like a painting of two hopping frogs among bamboo. "You are ten years old now. You should not be so careless."

An-Xia signed and picked up the rather grubby piece of silk. "I prick my fingers at embroidery which makes them too sore for the zither, and the zither hurts my wrists so that I cannot hold a brush properly."

"If you hold your wrists correctly, they would not hurt."

"Yes, mother."

Rapid steps sounded along the hall and Mrs. Loo came in. "Madame, that good-for-nothing Shu Ban-Li has returned at last from the marketplace. But he did not remember to bring the special salt for the duck or the fermented pepper-sauce. My girls are all too busy preparing for the banquet tonight to go. May I send one of your young ladies?"

Mrs. Li sighed. "Of course. Zi-zer, you go."

"May I go too, Mother?"

Glancing at the embroidery hoop her daughter had thrown on the table, Mrs. Li pursed her lips. How the child pulled and tugged at the silk, warping the image until the peony blossom was impossible to tell from a mushroom. She did not see how this impatient girl would ever become a sensible bride at sixteen. Keeping her at her studies would try the patience of a sainted lo-an. The only study she enjoyed at all was poring over her grandfather's military tomes for endless hours. And what use was that to a wife?

"Very well, child. But hurry back as quickly as you can. You must dress especially well for dinner tonight."

"So, Zi-zer," An-Xia asked as soon as they were beyond the gate, "what is the reason for all the fuss over dinner tonight?"

"Some fancy fellow from the capital is stopping here on his way back. He and the General are old friends. He came two years ago but you were too young to attend the dinner."

"Well, maybe they will talk about something interesting. Mother's friends only talk about servants and who is getting married."

The marketplace hummed with a hundred voices, while the bands at several different restaurants and inns competed with each other over who could make the most appealing racket. The spice-dealers' booth was near the loudest.

While Zi-zer haggled, An-Xia wandered over to look through the pillars to see the musicians. There was one fellow with cheeks that puffed out like a bullfrog's as he played a horn, always making An-Xia giggle.

"Stand aside, little girl," said a man's voice from seemingly a hundred feet above her head. He hammered on the nearest pillar, putting up a handbill. An-Xia tilted her head back to read 'Greatest Sword-master in the Lands of Zhong Guo. All Ages; All Classes. Weapons provided. Learn the Lordly Art from the Flame of Zhao'. Then in smaller letters underneath: At the Inn of Seven Stones.

"Please, sir," An-Xia said with sudden sharp intention. "How much do you charge for a lesson?"

The tall man paused. "You perhaps have a brother at home? I do not teach girls."

"Yes, my older brother. Well, the same age as me, mostly. We were born in the same year of different mothers."

"Your father is industrious, I see. The charge is three copper cash per lesson. But I only take ten students for each class."

"What time is the class for...one of my brother's age?"

"Between the hours of noon and two, every third day. Classes commence tomorrow."

On her way home, An-Xia did not weary her mother's maid with detailed reports on everything she had seen, heard, and thought. Indeed, Zi-zer began to feel a little worried about Young Mistress as they walked back. "You are not feeling unwell, are you? That would be most unfortunate."

"Oh, no."

"Your eyes look bright as though we had a fever. I will tell your mother so."

An-Xia took the maid's hand and pressed it to her forehead. "No fever, see?"

Cavalry-Colonel Hsia complimented his host on the docility and silence of his granddaughter as they sat together at a table in the Great Hall. "She has such a far-away expression in her eyes, as though she were dreaming of fairyland."

Privately, General Li feared that his daughter-in-law, anxious for her daughter's future, had given the child some kind of drug to keep her quiet. She had a bright bloom on her cheeks, unusually so for a child who was often pale. When anyone spoke to her, she gave a slight start as if unaware of her surroundings until recalled. Still, so long as Hsia carried back a good report of the child to the King, all would be well.

"Come here, child," Hsia said, waving his heavy-fingered hand.

The girl's eyes flickered briefly to her grandfather who gave an infinitesimal nod. Gracefully, the child rose from her knees and approached, the layers of her spring-green robe fluttering. "I am honored by your attention, sir," she said, keeping her head properly bowed.

"How old are you now?"

"I am ten years old as of the spring."

"And do you mind your mother?" Ho glanced at the General and laughed. "Well, perhaps we shall table that question for another time. What is your favorite past-time? Do you sing? Can you play?"

"My skill is gravely lacking, sir. I should be embarrassed to display it."

"A very proper answer."

Though Mrs. Li did not attend upon her father-in-law's male guests, An-Xia knew her mother was not far away. In fact, the large carved screen that usually stood in her grandfather's study had been moved to the Great Hall. Mrs. Li would be behind it, her ear inclined toward the gap between the panels. An-Xia did not want to disappoint her mother by giving pert or impolite answers, though, privately, she thought the questions Cavalry-Colonel Hsia asked were very foolish.

"Still, if you would entertain us with a song...? My own daughters cannot be bothered to learn and I am so very fond of music."

An-Xia knew when a request was an order, though couched in polite terms. Her grandfather was already calling for the Young Mistress' instrument to be brought into the hall. When the long wooden box came, An-Xia took two breaths, clearing her mind. Then, with care, she played the piece familiar to all students, Flowing Rivers and Streams.

Hsia smiled widely, his cheeks creasing into his ears. "Very good! And only ten years old!" He motioned her over. With difficulty, he drew a jade ring from his finger. "Take this, in memory of Old Hsia."

An-Xia glanced at her grandfather. Though his fond expression did not alter, she saw a hint of displeasure in his eyes. "You are too kind," she said to Hsia, with a dip of her knees, "but it was not worthy of such a gift. Tell me, instead, what your daughters like to do."

"They are mad for horses. Are you?"

"I should like to learn to ride. But my mother fears for my health."

"Health? Nothing healthier than learning to ride, but perhaps I am somewhat biased as I am in the cavalry." He laughed heartily at his joke. The maid that stood at his elbow refilled his wine cup. Then, unseen behind him, the girl pointed to the door, her gaze focused on the Young Mistress.

"I will bid you farewell, Colonel Hsia. Thank you for honoring our house." She again slightly bent her knees in a more-or-less graceful acknowledgement and walked away demurely.

"A very pleasant child, indeed, General Li. When I see his highness, the Third Prince, I will be sure to tell him about her improvement in looks and manners."

"You are too kind, sir. Pray, fill your cup again and let us drink to the happy days to come."

After another cup or so, Hsia nodded toward the wall behind his host. There, hanging from golden hooks, a sword rested in the center of a display of all General Li's best pieces. "I have been here several times, General, but I have never asked: Is that the famous Thunder Sword, given to you by our king's father for your service?"

"It is indeed." The General signed to Mo to bring the sword to his guest.

"May I draw it?" the Colonel asked, rising to his feet.

"You can hardly look at it in the scabbard, my dear Hsia."

The Colonel turned the blade this way and that, admiring the water-pattern in the steel...or was it flame? "Magnificent," he murmured. "One would never believe so bright a blade could be over three hundred years old."

Three hundred years? Fool! Not three hundred, or three hundred hundred! Why have I awakened? There is no battle here! Surely I have not returned for this creature who smells of spoiled milk?

But Hsia was a man of gross body and appetite. He could not hear the outraged words. He came to attention, lifting the weapon in the first movement of sword-drill, but then he dropped it clumsily, nearly impaling his own foot. He blamed the wine, though for an instant, the sword had seemed so heavy...the impression faded out of his mind.

Mo hurriedly picked it up, while Hsia busied himself with apologies for his clumsiness. He added, "There are many strange tales told of the Thunder Sword. I am pleased to have seen it."

"Old soldiers vie with old wives to tell the most outrageous tales. I have carried this sword for many years and it has hung behind me for many more years. Nothing uncanny has ever happened, in my experience."

Perhaps I am not supposed to be awake now. What was that strange dream? There was a little girl. Where is she? Ah, well. Put me back in my scabbard and let me sleep again.

Three days later, Hsia arrived in the capital. After dropping in to his own house for a change of clothes and to roll his memorandum of horses purchased and prices paid in a length of silk, he went to the palace asking to visit the rooms kept for the Third Prince. There he was waited for an hour until Prince T'ien Luo-Bi finished his daily martial arts practice.

He came in to his hall, a single robe over his smoothly muscled bare torso.

Colonel Hsia rose, instinctively sucking in his gut, wishing he drank less wine. At nineteen, the Third Prince was already widely known as the handsomest of a famously good-looking family. Some said that their surname of 'God' was bestowed because of this quality; others claiming the semi-mythic story of their origins gave them this name. Certainly the Gods had been on their side in many battles, lending credence to the notion that this Royal House might be part, in some way, of the Celestial Family.

His thick hair was gathered in a top-knot, stuck through with a silver pin. He had long eyes, a blunt nose, and a muscled jaw that gave evidence of determination. His portraits were acclaimed as those of a heroic ideal, but his mouth was full as a maiden's and just as red. His servants knew to make themselves scarce when those long eyes half-shut and his voice dropped into a low register. At this moment, he seemed, if not affable, at least not in a towering rage.

"Well, what did you find out?"

"General Li seems to be in excellent health, barring his injured leg."

"Damn him. And the girl?"

"A pretty child, a trifle pert perhaps."

"Any obvious flaws that I can use to end this farce of a betrothal? Does she drool? Twitch? Have scars?"

"None that I saw. She played music for me, as a child plays but without giving any evidence of incapacity." Hsia presented the memorandum of horses purchased for the Household Cavalry which he commanded but which T'ien Luo-Bi controlled. It would be altered subtly before being presented to the Royal Treasury for reimbursement.

"Very well. Make your report to the King. He will want to know how his father's old friend, General Li, is keeping."

Hsia paused mid-bow. "One more thing, your highness. I saw the Thunder Sword. I even held it in my own hand."

"You did what?" the Prince snapped.

"I could not contain my curiosity. It is a most magnificent object."

"Did you draw it?"

"I did."

"So much courage...." The prince drawled the words, leaving no doubt that he did not believe them himself.

Hsia flushed. "If the tales were true, how much better that I should suffer the consequences than you, your highness."

"If the tales were true, my revered grandfather would not have given the Sword away. Try not to be so credulous, Colonel. There are more dangerous things in this world than mythic swords."

In his own chamber, T'ien Luo-Bi tossed off his robe and stood for a moment, naked, in the cross breeze between the open door and windows. He clenched his fists, cursing the town of Bashan for all his dearest enemies lived there. General Li, who knew the truth of the Battle of the Minzang Fords five years earlier, his idiotic granddaughter, pledged to marry in the royal family by agreement between fond friends, and the miserable second prince, T'ien Sun-Sin, son of an impious mother. What a Heavenly blessing it would be if the entire village dropped into the Pits of Hell. He began to revolve in his mind ways to send at least some of the residents there.