1: The invitation

         Taowren crouched, slowly folding his robes above his freckled knees. The shallow depths of the pond would soon reveal his prey. Stalking slowly through the waters, with arms outstretched and brown hair hanging loose about his face Taowren lunged for the small frog as it leapt from lily pad to cool water. Taowren missed and could only watch as the little critter swam away and left ripples in its wake.

         “So close!” Meimin’s voice sang out as she mimicked her cousin’s actions from where she crouched in the reeds at the pond's edge.

“Hey, look! I caught one!” Victorious, she held up the squirming green and yellow creature high for both Taowren and her older sister to see.

“Well done!” Taowren smiled widely, as the young lady beneath the nearby tree clapped enthusiastically. Meimin was grinning from ear to ear as she gently tossed the poor frog back into the waters of the pond.

         “How is that I’m nineteen and you’re only five, but somehow you’re better at this than me? Doesn’t seem fair, does it Min-min?” Taowren snickered at his little cousin.

“She has the Gift. Of course, animals like her.” The girl beneath the tree turned a page of her book with a shake of her head. “You’re so loud, Taown. I’m surprised you haven’t scared everything in the pond away.”

         “Looking like that, I’m surprised he hasn’t scared you off, Tomei.” A disgruntled voice came from up the path behind the cherry tree. This fourth youth had the same heart-shaped face as the other three and, although he stood a head taller than both Taowren and Tomei, there was no mistaking the family resemblance. Tomar was Tomei’s older twin brother, and heir to the Nightingale Clan. “Honestly, Taown. Can’t you keep up appearances for even one day? It’s bad enough you refuse to take those rings out of your face, or tie your hair back, but do you have to walk around in your underwear in the middle of the day?”

         Taowren glanced down at himself. In truth, standing barefoot in one’s inner robes in an algae-ridden pond was more practical than drenching one’s outer robes. However, it wasn’t exactly becoming of a young noble charge. Taowren never put much thought into things so trivial, especially when standing in the private gardens of the Nightingale Manor.

“No-one’s around right now, are they, Tomar? Who’s going to know?” Taowren grinned, watching his cousin’s face distort as if he had just bitten into a delicious-looking fruit, only to find it bitter and rotten inside. This scowl-and-twist-of-the-lips expression was famous across the Nightingale clan’s province. The Honourable Tomar, Heir to the Nightingale Manor, was regularly and accurately referred to by his more forgiving relatives as “The Nightingale Clan’s Sour Plum”.

“Actually, someone is here right now, that’s why I’ve come to find you.” Tomar’s dark eyes skirted over Taowren once more, his expression only getting uglier. “You look more like a street urchin than an honoured member of our clan. Put some clothes on, for the Gods’ sake.”

         Tomar bent and grabbed Taowren’s discarded robe from the banks of the pond and threw it at his cousin. Taowren deftly caught it, all smiles.

         Hearing her twin brother’s words, Tomei’s ears perked up. Her eyes brightened as she looked towards the graceful white-walled manor that sat up the gravel path.

“We have a guest? Who is it?”

“Someone from the Okan Clan.” Tomar grunted. “They’re in the study, with Father. You want to go find out why they’re here?”

         Tomei nodded with a smile, while Taowren finished dressing himself before scooping up little Meimin, who was still splashing around in the reeds.

“Remember, be quiet while we’re listening,” Taowren told the child in his arms, as he followed his twin cousins  up the gravel path, walking between the low walls topped with elegant stone lanterns, “or Tomar will make that face again and chase you and me both off.” Tomar shot him a scowl over his shoulder, only making Taowren laugh. Meimin only nodded sagely in reply, pursing her lips together solemnly to show that she was very serious and thus shouldn’t be left out.

         The four crested the hill and came to a stop at the back of the manor. It was a single-story building of white plaster walls and wooden beams painted black, with sloping tiled roofs. Into the pillars were carved renditions of the Nightingale’s songbird insignia, a nightingale sitting upon a branch enclosed in a circle of delicate leaves. The group clambered up onto the wooden porch that spanned the outside of the manor and dropped to sit down on the edge overlooking the garden, around the corner from Lord Nightingale’s main study. The wooden lattice windows and sliding doors to the study were open to allow in the fresh spring air, so they stopped around the corner out of sight, where it was easy to eavesdrop on the conversation coming from inside.

         “The Triennial Summer Summit has come around again so soon?” Taowren’s uncle’s voice carried through the air first. “It feels like the last one was only last season. It creeps up on me faster every time.”

A second voice laughed huskily in reply. “It certainly does come around swiftly.”

         This second voice was female, with a slight hint of a northern accent, “But yes, Lord Tanno—it has been three years already! Am I bold enough to assume you will be in attendance?”

“Of course, of course,” replied the Nightingale Lord. “I am thankful you have come yourself to deliver this invitation, Lady Bayfolin.”

         Tomar and Tomei exchanged an excited look. Taowren glanced at them, hopelessly lost.

“What is it? Who’s that?” He whispered at them. 

“Bayfolin is Lord Balin’s eldest daughter,” Tomei murmured back, “I can’t believe she came herself!” 

         Taowren blinked at them both, not understanding what the fuss was about. He had been adopted into the Nightingale clan four years prior, when his nomad mother had died. Since then, Taowren had never set foot out of the Nightingale lands, much less met any members of the other noble families. This, paired with his inability to remember the ramblings of his tutors, meant that he was utterly clueless when it came to the identities of the noble clans and their kin.

         Back inside the study, the conversation between Lord Tanno Nightingale and his guest continued.

“I mentioned at the last summit that my younger brother, Weiran, had a son.” He paused and gave a small cough. “Illegitimate, of course, but Weiran wanted to formally recognise him before he passed.”

“Ah yes, I remember—he was adopted a few years ago. Is he still in poor health?”

         “Thankfully he is much improved. Might I humbly request that he joins my party? Only if there is room of course.” Lord Tanno continued quickly, with voice edged with an emotion Taowren couldn’t place. “He is of an age with my two eldest, and it would do him good to become acquainted with the other clans, now he has reached adulthood by our province’s laws. His health has prevented him from travelling with us at all until now, but I fear if I leave it much longer he will never learn to socialise!”

“Of course, Lord Tanno.” Bayfolin cut him off calmly. “We of the Okan Clan have always opened our doors at the summit to all members of the alliance. Though, speaking of your children, I have to be honest—it is not just the summit that brings me here today.”

“Oh?”

 “I have heard your youngest daughter, Meimin, is blessed with the Gift. Might I ask how goes her training?”

         At the mention of her name, the child in Taowren’s arms began to wriggle and squirm until, like a salmon leaping upriver, she escaped and bounded off towards her father. Tomar hissed at her to stop, fearing the other three would be caught eavesdropping, but Meimin paid him no mind, babbling loudly as she bounced around the corner.

“Papa! Papa!!”

“She is progressing well, my own aunt, Muun, has taken over her teaching—oh, here she is now!”

         A delighted laugh reached the trio’s ears, followed by a low “oof!” as Meimin threw herself into her father’s arms.

“Come on,” Tomar muttered with a shake of his head and began leading the other two away. They all knew from experience that the conversation would inevitably be derailed by the addition of his little sister, “and, you,” Tomar added pointedly to his scruffy cousin, “should change clothes before dinner. Or father’s going to change his mind about bringing you to the mountain.”

“It’s up in the mountains?” Taowren’s dark brows rose as he hopped off the wooden planks to the grass below the porch. “What is this summit for, anyway?”

         Tomar rolled his eyes, expression saying: you’ve been tutored here daily for four years and you still don’t know basic geography or clan history?

         But Tomei was always more patient than her brother.

“It only happens once every three years. It’s to strengthen our trade agreements and alliances. There will be feasts, and lectures, and competitions—oh, and duels!” She said with a wistful sigh. “The Okan Clan are based at the foot of the Heavenly Peaks—remember what Master Inchin was lecturing us about the other day? They’re often called the Wolf Clan. All of them have the Gift.”

“The entire clan?” Taowren had a vague memory of that lecture. Like all lectures on the Noble Classes’ History (or, well, any lecture whatsoever), he had found it painstakingly difficult to pay attention.

         The Gift, as it was called, was a type of magic that allowed a person to commune with the spirits of the heavenly realm. It tended to pass down noble blood lines, but it was rare. One or two people in a generation may have it, if the clan was blessed, but for an entire clan to all be able to communicate and bond with heavenly spirits? That sounded ridiculous.

         “If you had been listening to Master Inchin, basically, ever,” Tomar said as he stomped around the manor to the front entrance, “you’d know that’s why their residence is at the foot of the mountains. They say a great wolf-spirit sleeps at the top of the largest peak. It was bonded to the founder of the clan and their link has been passed down through all their generations—or that’s how the legend goes, anyway.”

“They’re in charge of keeping demons and poachers off the peaks, and they’re all very proficient with mana manipulation, weapons training and battle tactics.” Tomei added.

“That’s probably why Father wants you to come.” Tomar nodded in agreement.

         These words made Taowren grimace - if there was anything he wasn’t keen on, it was battle strategy and practising sword techniques - but his brow soon smoothed itself out. After all, in the four years since he had been adopted and sent here to become some noble lord’s son, he had never once left the province. Everyday had been lessons on history, on calligraphy, geography, politics—they had been the most stiflingly dull years of Taowren’s young life. The idea of leaving the manor and the days of sitting and learning to be a proper young lordling to wander some spirit-populated mountains? He would even face off with a demon alone for the chance!

“If they’re all already linked, have they undergone the Changes?” Taowren asked now, hopping around a corner as they made their way to the front entrance. “I’ve never met anyone bonded a wolf-spirit. Does that Bayfolin lady look like one? Do all of them look like wolves?”

“The entire clan are lightly marked, yeah.” Tomar shrugged a shoulder. “They all have wolfish eyes and white hair, the whole lot of them.”

“They look quite beautiful actually,” Tomei let out the kind of sigh only a teenage girl could, “like immortals from a painting.” Tomar’s response was only to snort contemptuously. Tomei paid him no attention, and added: “It’s too bad Brayandli didn’t visit with his sister, imagine how jealous Taklora and the others would be!”

         Tomar rolled his eyes again and he muttered to Taowren behind his hand.

“Bayfolin’s brother is our age and most of Tomei’s friends fancy him.” His mouth curved into a smile that was half jealous but also half mocking. “But to be honest, he’s the dullest person I’ve ever met. Doesn’t joke, can barely keep a conversation going. He’s really anti-social, a total recluse! I’m not sure he even notices girls looking at him. All he cares about is practising with his sword and doing calligraphy.”

         “Tomar, don’t be rude!” Chided Tomei, batting him on his arm with her book. “The Okan Clan in general are quite… Studious people and very devout to the spirits, it’s not just Brayandli.” She shook her head and sighed, as if this was a terrible waste of these beautiful creatures to her young romantic heart. “But anyway! Forget about the Okan Clan for a minute, let’s talk about the Summit! There will be feasts and dancing and celebrations, I’ll introduce you to everyone from the other clans! I know you’ll enjoy it, Taown. It’ll be nice to get away from here for a bit. The mountains are beautiful themselves, too.”

         “What are you so excited about him coming with us for?” Tomar harrumphed. They had entered the front of the house and stopped to take off their sandals—everyone but Taowren, because he had never bothered to put his back on after exiting the pond, instead tying them to his waist sash. Now the disreputable youth simply stamped his bare feet off on the welcome mat to dust them off, the chain wrapped twice around his right ankle jangling loudly as he did so. This, of course, made Tomar’s Sour Plum scowl deepen. “Look at him! He’s going to embarrass our entire clan for sure—you better not be like this when we get up the mountain.”

“Like what?” Taowren laughed in feigned ignorance. Winding up his pompous cousin by acting as un-noble as possible was a favourite pastime. He casually tossed his unworn shoes into a pigeon-hole and danced up the steps into the lobby.

“He’s going to vex the Okan Clan to death, I swear to the Heavens,” muttered Tomar under his breath while scowling at his apparently unbothered sister. Tomei could only laugh and shake her head.  

         “Who knows brother, at least he might liven things up a bit. The Okan Clan take everything so seriously!”