The Five Cardinal Directions

Wushi collapsed, sitting down as soon as he made it into the kitchen. "Why does this temple have so many stairs?" He wiped his forehead with a hoof, panting and taking a weary look around the kitchen. It was pretty modest, about what one would expect for a High Path temple. The stone floor was, thankfully, very cool and smooth. The kitchen was adjacent to the main hall, so at least the cook wouldn't have to walk a ridiculously long way to serve dinner.

Ping just shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. I guess we just value the journey more than the destination?"

"I can tell." Wushi rolled his neck slightly. "So, what's first?"

The monk smiled and gestured with a wing to a large tumbler that looked a bit out of place in the kitchen. "It's quite simple! You make the dough, and I'll make the filling. Then you use that tumbler to keep the dough moving so it doesn't settle, and I roll the filling up into little balls. Then I dip them into the dough 'till they get nice and big, and there you have it--sweet Lantern Festival dumplings!"

"How do I go about making the dough? I've never really... cooked before. At all." The most inroads Wushi had made in the culinary department was the occasional grilled daisy sandwich, and he still had trouble getting the right consistency, even though it was his go-to recipe.

Ping waved a wing dismissively. "That's okay, Wushi. See the rice flour beside the tumbler?" There were several bags on the floor. "Just mix that with water 'till it's just right. If it's too sticky, add more flour, and if it's too dry, add more water. It takes a bit to get it right, but once you do, all you have to do is keep it moving. You can do it!" The monk smiled warmly at Wushi. It didn't sound so hard.

Using his horn, the unicorn levitated the ingredients into the mixture. Ever the scholar, Wushi simply went with what he felt was a logical balance between flour and water and went from there. Testing it with a hoof, he found it was far too dry, so he added water in meticulously measured increments until he found it to be satisfactory. "Don't forget to keep turning the tumbler, Wushi." Ah, yes, that was right. The device began to spin under the guidance of the unicorn's mental grasp. "Wow," commented Ping. "We'll be done in no time with that magic of yours."

"It's not exactly what I imagined I'd be doing on the first day of the job," he truthfully replied, keeping the tumbler going as he watched Ping cook up a batch of the sweet filling.

"The first day of what job?" asked Ping.

"I'm the new court sorcerer," Wushi attested.

"Oh, congratulations, Wushi! And may I say, you have a very auspicious cutie mark for a sorcerer." Ping nodded to the dragon on Wushi's flank, poring over a scroll. The mark had appeared on the unicorn when he realized as a colt that he wanted to be a powerful magician like Wo Long.

"Thank you, Ping. If you don't mind me saying so... yours seems a bit unorthodox for a monk. What is your special talent?" The white pegasus bore a curious mark. It looked to be a burning piece of joss paper whose fumes were an unusual shade of blue.

Ping seemed a bit hesitant to answer, going so far as to cover his cutie mark. "I can speak to spirits."

"So can everyone else, on Ghost Day," said Wushi, continuing to churn the tumbler.

"Not just ancestors, and not only on Ghost Day. Ever since I was a little colt I was sensitive to... well, spirits of any kind. Lost souls, other people's ancestors... spectres." He shivered, nearly dropping a ball of filling. "People treated me differently. They meant well, but foals pick up on that kind of thing."

"Is that why you decided to become a monk?"

"Yes." Ping continued rolling the filling up into little balls, though at this point it seemed like he was trying to occupy himself with the task rather than enjoy it as he was before. "The monks don't treat me any differently, and I learned ways to refine my talent here."

Wushi watched the sweet filling dip in and out of the rice dough, coming out thicker each time. Ping's white hooves probably had plenty of that dough on them, though it was hard to tell. "Were you picked on for your talent?"

"No, not at all. Mediums are a very respected part of our culture, and I'm quite proud of it, even if ghosts still frighten me a little. There's no greater feeling for me than helping a spirit move on, or putting somepony in touch with their ancestor. It's just that..." The pegasus paused, peering over the filling balls he'd made thus far. "I wish I could change the way people treated me. So many people just 'handle' me. Do you understand?" He dipped a few more treats into the tumbler, holding them in for long enough to give them an ample coating, then darting them out quickly. Wushi observed that Ping had the speed of a warrior, even if he didn't use it for combat.

"I don't think I do, but I'd like to."

"Really? I had you pegged for Low Path."

"I am Low Path."

"Your empathy surprises me, Wushi."

"Call it that, if you want to. I call it making an informed judgment."

Ping canted his head in confusion for a moment, then smiled for the first time since they'd started talking about his special talent. "Okay," he said with a little laugh. "I guess, being 'handled' is... It's everypony being nice to you in a really fake way. They don't know you, but they know you're a medium, and they just assume you'll send a spirit after them if they don't show you the proper respect. In the temple, it's different. I use my talent to help when I'm needed, same as anypony else. It's a part of who I am, but not all I am."

"I see."

"So what are you going to do now?" Ping's smile faded into a neutral expression as the question left his lips. It went without saying that he was worried Wushi would somehow treat him differently.

"I'm going to keep making these treats until we're finished," replied the unicorn. "It doesn't look like we have much longer to go."

"That isn't what I meant."

"Say what you mean. Be direct."

Ping bit his lower lip. "You're not going to... treat me differently?"

"No. I'm not in the habit of giving undeserved accolades."

The pegasus paused, making a few of the treats too big. Looking at them awkwardly, he placed them with the others. He supposed those few would have to be saved as treats for really tough riddles. Returning his gaze to Wushi, the pegasus cracked a smile. "Thanks, I guess."

"Of course. You'll always get a fair assessment from me."

Some time passed without either of them saying much. Perhaps within fifteen minutes or half an hour, they'd made a truly impressive amount of treats, an amount worthy of the capital city's celebration. Ping managed to get into a decent rhythm with Wushi, who occasionally needed to add more flour and water as the treats were dipped in. It wasn't long before they'd used up all of the supplies. "That should take care of it," said Ping.

"Really?" Wushi sounded almost disappointed.

"Yeah," the pegasus responded with a nod. "I know it doesn't look like enough for the city, but generally we make enough to cover the initial rush and then continue making them through the festival. Most of the revelers shy away from the riddles after the first hour or two of the festival."

Wushi stroked his chin with a hoof. He didn't think he would at first, but he actually enjoyed himself. Still, he had perhaps spent too much time here. He did still have a mission to do. The Emperor had said that all stories had a seed of truth. Was he trying to affirm the unicorn's suspicions without being too direct? Perhaps, Wushi thought, he was meant to come to the conclusion on his own, without the Emperor's help? "Ping, I should get going soon, but I have a question. It's important."

"What is it, Wushi?" Ping wiped his hooves with a dishcloth.

"What's the oldest spirit you've ever spoken with?"

"The oldest?" The white pegasus touched a hoof to his lower lip, trying to remember. "I don't know, exactly. Some of them have been pretty old. It can be dangerous to talk to the older ones if they're not honored ancestors."

"Why is that?"

"They're old, so they're powerful, but they're also not ancestors. They don't have anypony to remember them, or anything in the living world to serve as a monument to them--no shrines, or in some cases not even a grave. When spirits aren't remembered they get sad. And then they get angry, and it twists them up inside." Ping frowned in such a way that Wushi almost felt the emotion himself. "When ponies get that way, they can lash out at people. Imagine what a centuries-old spectre with putrified chi can do."

The sorcerer nodded grimly. "So, if I wanted to safely speak to a pony from the Jade Warlord's time, I would have to find someone's ancestor from back then."

Ping quirked a brow curiously. "Yes, but the Jade Warlord is a folk tale."

"I'd like to see how true that really is."

"Well, I'd love to help you, but how would we find an ancestor spirit from that long ago? Scholars have been trying to find relics from that time period for years."

Wushi, a scholar himself, gave a shrug. "I don't know, but I know where to start looking. It just so happens the pony that can help us is also helping with the festival this year. I need to go see him anyway to see if he needs any help. It wouldn't be much to leverage his assistance in return for mine."

Ping gave that some thought. "Leverage doesn't sound like a nice word," he mused.

"Maybe not, but if that's what I need to do to get his help, then it's acceptable. Come on, let's go."

"You want me to come with you?" Ping offered an excited smile.

"Yes, you're useful."

The pegasus' spirits dimmed a bit.

"And perhaps I'm evaluating the advantages of a friendship."

"...I'll go tell Abbot Cheung."

Wushi's old enemies, the stairs, seemed to have their fangs dulled this time around. Perhaps it was a psychosomatic effect induced by Ping's company. He'd have to look into that later. "His name is Jiejan, but he'll probably insist that you preface his name with his title. He was promoted to a Minister last month and he's very proud of it."

Ping nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. What does he do?"

"He oversees taxes and trials for Shanliang City."

"For the whole capital city? That must be a stressful job."

Wushi chuckled. "I don't know how he does it. Jiejan is... one of a kind, I'll give him that."

Ping stretched his wings a bit as they walked. As the reached the next level down, he gave a respectful bow to Tiny Forest, who received a scowl from Wushi. "Is Minister Jiejan your friend?"

"I've known him for years, but I don't know if I'd call him my friend."

The pegasus frowned. "Why not?"

"We only know each other because of how often he delivered reports to the Emperor before his promotion. Besides, I don't know if I'd call anypony my friend."

"Is it because you're Low Path?"

Wushi nodded as the entrance to the temple grew nearer. "Yes, that has something to do with it. We generally don't have an interest in things we can't define in concrete terms. Friendship is one of those things."

"But you are... evaluating the advantages."

"Yes. It's always best to make an informed decision. If there's some kind of intangible advantage to having sincere friends, as you put it, then I'd probably decide in favor of the idea."

The white pegasus smiled, content to leave the matter alone for the time being. The two stallions made their departure from the temple with relatively little fanfare. Life went on inside the walls of the temple just as it did inside the walls of the Empire's capital city. The monk found, as the two of them approached the Ministry of Certainty, that he rather liked the way the sorcerer treated him. It was a little prickly, but his honesty was refreshing, as was his open-mindedness. It was almost like kindness, in a convoluted Low Path way. Wushi, on the other hand found that Ping's simple mannerisms and easygoing nature made him a most... inoffensive pony to be around. Yes, he didn't dislike Ping.

"Here we are. I hope you're ready to jump through some hoops." The pegasus brightened. Games? "Figurative hoops, Ping."