The Dragon of Jin-Sayeng

by K. S. Villoso

  I slept in the common room, curled up in a wool blanket near the window. To the naked eye, I was nothing but a homeless peasant relying on the charity of others.

  It was odd to recall a life that used to be so much more than filling one’s days with work and sustenance. That I could now find comfort wedged in the corner of a wall and a cold, stone floor, or numbly take orders from a woman younger than me. Change Teo’s clothes, Tali. Kisig ran out again, find him for me. Who was the queen of Jin-Sayeng? Lately, she seemed like a stranger. One time Errena, the landlord, came by complaining about the price of rice, which had climbed since the Sougen had been cut off from the rest of the world. As the kids helped her pick out small pebbles from the substandard bushel she was forced to buy, I listened to her talk about news from the east, of Prince Rayyel’s imprisonment and the raging debates in the council concerning the foreign prince, of the jokes about the queen following Dragonlord Rysaran’s legacy. “He was rarely seen at court, you see,” she said. “Why did we expect the next Dragonlord to do better?” They sounded like stories from a faraway land. After Errena was finished, she glanced down at the papers spread all over the floor and the kitchen table, and asked, “What’s this you’re both working on, then?”

  “History,” I found myself replying.

  “Learning from the past is important,” Errena said with a slight shake of her head. “But today? Today we’re alive.”

  Spring came with vehemence—steady drops of rain that didn’t quite resemble the torrential monsoon, but which made every day wet and dreary. I thought about Thanh and if the snow was melting up at the Sougen. I imagined the mountains up north would still be covered in a layer of ice. I had yet to hear news of him, which I chose to believe was a good thing. If the boy was dead, they would talk. I wondered what the last year had done to his perception of the world. He had his father’s habits, and perhaps a little bit of his temperament, too. On most days, Thanh shifted between mild interest in current events and deep retrospection on the mundane. He once spent an entire summer ruminating on the differences between brushes and quills.

  “Would the style of writing not affect the thoughts of these scholars?” I remember him asking me one hot afternoon, a particularly rare, quiet one that wasn’t interrupted by meetings with angry delegates and impatient emissaries. “The Zarojo favour brushes since their language and scripts allow for shorter writing, but Jinsein language is richer, isn’t it? Or maybe it’s just because we like to go on and on—”

  “… and on,” I finished for him, wiping a streak of ink from his face. “You’re seven years old, Thanh. Let’s go fly kites.”

  I paused from the memory to Sayu clearing her throat. I lifted the quill away from the parchment before I could dribble more ink on it and turned to her. “You’re thinking of your son,” she said.

  I looked up.

  She glanced at the window. “You go into a trance whenever the boys are out,” she explained. “You hear them laugh, and your mind wanders.”

  “The roads to the Sougen are still closed. I wonder… how he is doing. How long I can trust the same chains that damned us both.” I bowed to her. “I’m sure you must be tired of feeding me.”

  Sayu cracked a smile. “I am. You eat like a construction worker.” She glanced over at my work. “But at least you’ve improved your handwriting. Small miracles.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Given how you started, it’s nothing to brag about.” She handed me a wet towel.

  “I am going to be out of your hair soon, Sayu,” I said as I wiped my hands. “I know I’ve taken advantage of your hospitality.”

  “Well—” She gave a small shrug. “You’ve kept the children entertained plenty.”

  “Still…”

  We fell silent. I returned the towel to the basin.

  “We both have to face what’s waiting for us out there someday,” Sayu said at length. “Me, for my sons. You, for yours.” She gestured at my manuscripts. “I’ll bind these myself. No sense letting you ruin them after you’ve worked so hard. If you do want to be useful, I need more ink and parchment. Could you go to Anong Joset’s and pick up a crate of each?”

  I got up without complaint and left to do as she’d asked.

  Allowing trade from the Kag over the last half century or so had resulted in Fuyyu hosting a variety of shops and establishments that looked like nothing in the riverlands. With only an aging mayor to oversee things, Fuyyu became a hub for Kag construction, favouring heavy wood columns, plain rooflines, and clean facades, marked only with bamboo panelling—the only Jinsein feature of many of the buildings.

  The shop Sayu sent me to was an older establishment, built right at the cusp of the war. The windows were unwashed, covered by tattered curtains. An old man was inspecting them with a look of quiet contemplation. He was neither Jinsein nor Kag, as I’ve come to know Kags. His skin was dark—darker than Khine’s or someone from the islands, a stark contrast with his white hair and beard.

  “Staring at them won’t wipe them clean, you know,” I said.

  The old man gave a sigh that sounded like it rattled his bones. “I don’t even know why I bother. Joset never gets anything done right.”

  “Are you the owner?”

  His eyebrows quirked up. “Some days I’m the boss, some days I’m the unwanted visitor.” He spoke Jinan with an odd lilt—not uncommon for someone who had picked up the language later in life. “Joset went for lunch, so I suppose today I’m the help, too.” He gave a grand gesture, inviting me into the shop.

  He went straight to the counter as I stepped in. A tall, much younger man with yellow hair greeted us. “You’re Miss Sayu’s guest, aren’t you?” he asked cheerfully. He was Kag, but his Jinan was fluent. “I’m Geor. I delivered her packages to your place at the start of winter. How is she doing? I asked her to let Joset know if she needed anything, anything at all, and—”

  “I remember you,” I said. “You cut your hair.”

  He rubbed the fuzz with a grin. “I’ve been on the road. Fleas, you know. Are you running errands for her? Tell her she works too hard.”

  “Her client wants twenty copies of his book by the end of the season. She’s convinced she isn’t working hard enough.”

  “A woman that talented could find better work.”

  “I wouldn’t know. I’ve got her list here.” I handed him the piece of paper.

  “The boss will take care of that for you,” Geor said.

  The old man rolled his eyes. “With employees like you…”

  “You know I can’t read Jinan, boss.”

  “Invest some of the money I pay you for an education.” The old man leaned over the counter to look at the note. “I think we have these. Pull up some of the new shipment, Geor. A bit of activity would be good for your circulation. And your gut.”

  Geor grumbled as he placed the broom against the wall and limped towards a pile of crates on the corner. I noticed one of his legs was covered in bandages.

  “Rough journey?” I asked.

  “You have no idea. It’s war up in the Sougen. Barely got out with my life, too.” He pointed at a splotchy bruise on his chin.

  “But the roads are closed.”

  “Not really a problem for wily merchants,” Geor said with a grin. “The river tunnels…”

  The old man cleared his throat.

  “What I really meant—”

  “Ah,” I said, placing a finger on my lips. “I understand.”

  “If the soldiers catch us, there’ll be hell to pay,” Geor whispered. “We’re not supposed to be bringing goods in there. But they’ve got the best beetles for red—”

  “Should I have you drawn and quartered, Geor? Or pickled in a jar?” his boss wondered aloud.

  Geor laughed. “You’ve got to love the boss’s humour.”

  “I really don’t think he’s joking,” I said. I glanced back at the old man. “Were you with him?”

  “Gods, no,” the old man said.
“Travelling here is difficult already. All the cold air isn’t good for my bones.”

  “No desire to see your nephew, boss?”

  The old man grimaced. “I wouldn’t call him that. Pisspot troublemaker. Should’ve cut his arms off when I had the chance. Are you going to open that crate or do I have to hire someone who talks less?”

  “You can hire the neighbour’s girl if you can stop staring at her bottom long enough for her to get work done,” Geor said with a grin. He cut the twine around the crate with a knife and stepped aside to pry it open.

  The shop owner approached us with the list and began pulling out the proper items. “You know a way into the Sougen,” I said as I watched him work.

  He smiled at me. “The less you know, my lady, the better.”

  I glanced at Geor. “And you had a run-in with the soldiers. Kaggawa’s, or Anyu’s?”

  “Ah, you don’t have to worry about me,” Geor said, crossing his arms. “It was an accident. No need to tell Sayu, either. I don’t want her worrying.”

  “What prompted it?”

  “Looking at them the wrong way.”

  “Kaggawa’s, then,” I said.

  The old man snorted. “Kaggawa’s men are uncouth louts from the west. Mercenaries who are in this line of work because they’re good for nothing else. What did you expect?”

  “I heard Kaggawa’s family is well-connected,” I said. “Money for a whole army.”

  “If that boy thinks he can take over a whole country with a gang of no-better-than-thieves, he’s got a harsh lesson to learn,” the old man snorted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s used up whatever he has on this ridiculous tirade.”

  “They’ll have a better chance of securing the region if he hires better soldiers,” Geor broke in. “His men wanted to confiscate our goods. Said the roads were closed, which meant I was doing something illegal, whatever that meant. But they had another prisoner there who pointed out that there was no legality when they themselves were breaking the law, and… well, he said other things that confused the soldiers long enough for us to make an escape.”

  “Fraternizing with prisoners. That’s what I pay this useless slob for.” The old man returned to the counter to prepare Sayu’s package.

  “This wasn’t just a prisoner, boss. He spoke Jinan with an accent. Quite the smooth-talker, too.”

  “Like me?” his boss asked.

  Geor pointed at him. “Like the exact opposite of you.”

  “This man,” I began. “Was he Zarojo?”

  “Hell if I know,” Geor said. “I can’t tell you people apart. Unfortunately, he got me out of that mess only to lead me straight into another one. The soldiers decided they didn’t like getting tricked and sent a whole troop after us. I was injured during the attack. Spent the rest of the winter recovering in Kaggawa’s main encampment. Rat bastards let me out at the start of the season. Dai Kaggawa himself ordered my release, apparently. Thought he was trying to make amends, show the region he isn’t just some warlord hell-bent on taking over for his own good. Good luck with that—he’s getting off on the wrong foot.”

  “Must be getting too big for his breeches, thinking he’s winning his little war,” the old man commented. “They’ll be in for a surprise once the Dragonthrone decides to put an end to things.”

  “That won’t happen any time soon,” I said.

  “You’ve little faith in the system.”

  “I’m surprised you do.”

  He grinned. “Girl, I’ve survived enough wars to know it works out in the end. For merchants like me, anyway. Always remember, it’s vultures who outlive them all.”

  “What happened to your friend?” I asked Geor. “The one who tried to help?”

  “He wanted to speak with Kaggawa himself. Said he knew him, said he treated his daughter’s leg the last time he was there. Last I saw of the poor bastard. The soldiers weren’t happy. Whatever they did to him, I hope it was fast.”

  My mind must’ve blanked for a space of time, because the shop owner was suddenly beside me, his face a mask of concern. I took Sayu’s package from the counter and handed him his coin. “Thank you,” I managed without getting tongue-tied. I walked out of the store, the contents of the box jingling.

  Khine. The man in Geor’s story… it had to be Khine. Why did I assume he would run back to the empire as soon as he was free from me? There was nothing in the Sougen for him, and so he could have only gone there to rescue Thanh.

  My thoughts throbbed like an aching tooth. I made a wrong turn and found myself in a narrow street that smelled of urine and excrement. A dog ran past me, barking.

  I started to retrace my steps and paused when I saw the shadow of a woman in the distance. Her rags were almost falling off her emaciated frame and her eyes were swollen shut. But she must’ve heard me, because she banged her cane on the wall and held out an empty cup, asking for alms.

  I took a coin from my pocket. Two steps towards her, I stopped as a white flash overwhelmed our surroundings. The now-familiar prickle of the agan drifted over my body, and I realized the rift’s effects had finally arrived all the way south. I dropped the coin.

  When the light disappeared, the woman’s face changed. Sharp fangs filled her mouth and veins crawled down her face, turning her skin the colour of granite.

  Without a sword to protect me, I shielded myself with the package as she lunged. Her claws sank into the wood. She flung the box aside before rearing to tear my right arm clean off its socket.

  She fell before I could even blink.

  The old man from the shop stood over the withered body, bloodied sword in hand. “So,” he grumbled. “It’s happening all the way here, too.” He turned to me, as if just remembering I was there. “This region has been growing unstable over the past few decades, and it’s only getting worse.” He flicked the blood off his sword—a wave-patterned blade only slightly longer than his arm—before sheathing it.

  “You know about all of this.” I couldn’t take my eyes off the corpse. Half of it was crumbling into dust, but enough was left behind that you could see what the woman looked like in life.

  He uttered a sigh that verged between exasperated and amused. “I’m a merchant. It’s my business to know. I’m certain a few cities will soon be eradicated from the maps—filled with nothing but monsters and corpses. Cairntown is already gone, and Ni’in will be next.”

  “I’ve been to Ni’in,” I replied.

  “It’s despicable, isn’t it?” He pushed the body aside, almost gently. He removed the cloak from around his shoulders to cover it before he retrieved Sayu’s package from the ground. “Despicable that such places can fall into disarray, and worse when others take advantage of the downtrodden.”

  “People like you?”

  “Like me,” he admitted freely. “Cheap prices, and war and desperate souls who will pay anything for necessities… you’d be a fool merchant not to snap at the opportunity. But still, I was talking about the corrupted souls seeking hosts. You must understand—it is difficult for another soul to take over a body. They need permission from the host. It’s a fool’s transaction, a pact of the damned. So only the damned and the desperate would think to make it.”

  “The more destitute a region, the more likely these corrupted souls will find a way to convince a host to accept a rider.”

  “A rider. You have an interesting choice of words here in Jin-Sayeng. But you have it right. It’s like a disease that only spreads when the weather is warm and humid.”

  “There are no supplies headed for the Sougen. With famine on the horizon…”

  The smile faded from his face. “Famine. Always a great wartime tool, but maybe not the wisest to use in this region at this moment in time. The famine would create a horde of these things in the Sougen, deep inside the very city the warlord is trying to hold. That foolish boy, indeed.” The old man sighed. “I’ll walk you back. Where do you live?”

  “I can manage it.”

  “N
ot trusting me is smart. On the other hand, you know the smell of blood draws them out, don’t you? There’ll be others.”

  With a slight frown, I bade him to follow me to the right street.

  “That’s strange,” he said, when I pointed out the building. He shook his head at my confused look. “Nothing. It’s just funny how fate has a habit of bringing us back. These streets are dirtier than I remember.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Too long. I was a young man then. I’ve been around since.” He nodded towards the street. “There’s another.”

  The creature was drinking from behind a thick clump of tangled roots hanging over a gutter. Its back arched, the veins showing beneath its nearly translucent skin, which covered a brittle-looking skeleton. This one was so far gone I couldn’t even tell it had once been human. Black hair, grey skin, a thing you couldn’t even call animal. A shapeless bag of bones would have been more accurate.

  The old man drew his sword and held the handle out to me. “If you will do the honour, my lady? I’m afraid my back is starting to hurt.”

  “You just don’t want to get your shoes dirty.”

  He glanced down at his boots, which were meticulously shined. “Among other things.”

  I took the sword from him and approached the creature. It turned at the sound of my footsteps. I lifted the blade, bracing myself for an attack.

  It looked at me with a face that was both human and beast. “Help me,” it gasped.

  I stopped, sword in mid-air.

  “Please,” it said, holding one clawed hand out. “It hurts.”

  “It’s not the first time one of you has tried tricks on me,” I replied. “I’m afraid this is it for you.”

  It looked confused. “Please,” it said again. “Rip it out.”

  “Rip what out?”

  “My heart,” it croaked.

  “You want to die?”

  It nodded, a movement so forced that it looked like it was being jerked up and down with strings. “It hurts so much,” it said, its voice so low now that it sounded like the hissing from a kettle. “I tried to fight. I’m still fighting. But it was too strong. It took over.”