little while. The weakness was long gone, and after she had rested a bit, the weariness wasn't quite so heavy. She felt strong.
There was a roll of thunder outside the entrance to her cave, though the day was bright and sunny. Another moment and a shadow fell over the entrance.
"So you did it. I had to come see for myself. And don't bother to get up."
In a roil of clouds and vapor, the Taoist Immortal known as Wildeye strolled into Springshadow's cave. He seemed like an ordinary man, slightly graying hair and beard, middling height. All that set him apart — other than the drama of his entrance — was a faint glow about him that seemed to flicker in ragged ways that had nothing to do with the clouds or wind.
She frowned. "I won't bother, but how did you know about the Elixir? It only happened a few minutes ago."
"I would guess that your sense of time progression would be affected by your impending immortality. But I'm more of the opinion that you're simply preoccupied. Zou Xiaofan's body was discovered three days ago."
"Oh," she said, and that was all.
"Oh? Surely you're not surprised. About the body, I mean, not the matter of your losing track of time."
"He didn't give me a choice," said Springshadow.
Wildeye frowned. "You sound defensive. Meaning you made a choice not entirely pleasant to you?"
She shrugged. "If you came to chide me, Wildeye, please yourself. Xiaofan was the last human I used for my own purposes, but he was hardly the first. It was only through my own forbearance that I managed to take what I needed without killing anyone before now. I am sorry for Xiaofan. It would have been pleasant to complete my mission without taking any life at all, but I did what I had to do, and there's the end of it. I've had the final draught of the Golden Elixir that I will require. That's all that matters."
He sat down on a low stool without waiting for an invitation. "Why pleasant?" he asked.
Springshadow blinked. "What do you mean? As a former human, I would think you'd applaud my mercy."
He shrugged. "As a former human? Certainly. But you're not human, former or otherwise. You're a fox Springshadow, and I've known other foxes on the same path you're on. There's not a one of them who left her victim alive at the end, save by accident. Why do you care?"
"I don't. I just thought it would be more...elegant, this way."
"Of course."
"It's not as if their deaths served my purpose as such. It was their living essence I required, not their lives."
"True, though a man drained of his yang essence is scarcely worthy of the name."
"That's not my concern. Besides, too many dead bodies attract attention, which I obviously did not need or want."
"No argument," replied Wildeye, looking disgustingly cheerful.
She scowled at him. "Well, it sounds like an argument."
"I'll just note that your answer keeps changing. Which means you're still thinking about it. Which means you're not sure yourself why you tried not to kill."
She looked up at him. "Which means?"
He shrugged. "It may not mean anything. I don't judge, Springshadow. I merely observe. It's really all I'm competent to do."
Perhaps the strangest — and certainly most annoying — thing about Wildeye was his penchant for stating the truth, even about himself. Strange because he had not achieved his immortality through meditation or the Eight Pillars of Taoist practices. Rather, he had managed to slip into Heaven itself and steal one of the peaches of immortality from the Celestial Garden. He was immortal because he had no choice. He was powerful because it was the nature of power to align itself with immortals of all stripes. He claimed no special virtue, and it's true enough that, so far as Springshadow had observed, he possessed none. He had become Springshadow's friend over the centuries because they understood one another, though sometimes Springshadow ruefully conceded that he understood her just a little too well.
"So I killed one lover rather than hundreds.
There was a roll of thunder outside the entrance to her cave, though the day was bright and sunny. Another moment and a shadow fell over the entrance.
"So you did it. I had to come see for myself. And don't bother to get up."
In a roil of clouds and vapor, the Taoist Immortal known as Wildeye strolled into Springshadow's cave. He seemed like an ordinary man, slightly graying hair and beard, middling height. All that set him apart — other than the drama of his entrance — was a faint glow about him that seemed to flicker in ragged ways that had nothing to do with the clouds or wind.
She frowned. "I won't bother, but how did you know about the Elixir? It only happened a few minutes ago."
"I would guess that your sense of time progression would be affected by your impending immortality. But I'm more of the opinion that you're simply preoccupied. Zou Xiaofan's body was discovered three days ago."
"Oh," she said, and that was all.
"Oh? Surely you're not surprised. About the body, I mean, not the matter of your losing track of time."
"He didn't give me a choice," said Springshadow.
Wildeye frowned. "You sound defensive. Meaning you made a choice not entirely pleasant to you?"
She shrugged. "If you came to chide me, Wildeye, please yourself. Xiaofan was the last human I used for my own purposes, but he was hardly the first. It was only through my own forbearance that I managed to take what I needed without killing anyone before now. I am sorry for Xiaofan. It would have been pleasant to complete my mission without taking any life at all, but I did what I had to do, and there's the end of it. I've had the final draught of the Golden Elixir that I will require. That's all that matters."
He sat down on a low stool without waiting for an invitation. "Why pleasant?" he asked.
Springshadow blinked. "What do you mean? As a former human, I would think you'd applaud my mercy."
He shrugged. "As a former human? Certainly. But you're not human, former or otherwise. You're a fox Springshadow, and I've known other foxes on the same path you're on. There's not a one of them who left her victim alive at the end, save by accident. Why do you care?"
"I don't. I just thought it would be more...elegant, this way."
"Of course."
"It's not as if their deaths served my purpose as such. It was their living essence I required, not their lives."
"True, though a man drained of his yang essence is scarcely worthy of the name."
"That's not my concern. Besides, too many dead bodies attract attention, which I obviously did not need or want."
"No argument," replied Wildeye, looking disgustingly cheerful.
She scowled at him. "Well, it sounds like an argument."
"I'll just note that your answer keeps changing. Which means you're still thinking about it. Which means you're not sure yourself why you tried not to kill."
She looked up at him. "Which means?"
He shrugged. "It may not mean anything. I don't judge, Springshadow. I merely observe. It's really all I'm competent to do."
Perhaps the strangest — and certainly most annoying — thing about Wildeye was his penchant for stating the truth, even about himself. Strange because he had not achieved his immortality through meditation or the Eight Pillars of Taoist practices. Rather, he had managed to slip into Heaven itself and steal one of the peaches of immortality from the Celestial Garden. He was immortal because he had no choice. He was powerful because it was the nature of power to align itself with immortals of all stripes. He claimed no special virtue, and it's true enough that, so far as Springshadow had observed, he possessed none. He had become Springshadow's friend over the centuries because they understood one another, though sometimes Springshadow ruefully conceded that he understood her just a little too well.
"So I killed one lover rather than hundreds.
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