“Oh, that is foul,” Blaise said from behind her. Reyna groaned.
The cesspit spread out before them in a large, lumpy pool that guttered downward into a tunnel. The dying sun aimed its rays on the flies that hovered above the pit in a great teeming mass. Reyna had been too hasty, rounding the corner and plowing past the gate that would normally have been closed, keeping all but the gong farmer, the sewage master, at a safe distance.
Reyna glanced over her shoulder. Blaise looked away quickly, lips trembling. Yes, very funny. Her slippers were safe. As for Hama-si, she was nowhere in sight. But on the opposite side of a wall came the sound of footsteps in rapid retreat, and the high, tinkling sound of laughter.
* * *
“You’re smiling,” Reyna said.
“No,” Levi said, smiling. “I’m sorry about your shoes.”
It was the following morning. They walked along a tiered garden, shallow steps ripe with staked tomatoes and bushy herbs. The gardens had been extensive once. Now, only half the plots were used. Benjamin and Samuel waited at the top, along with two burly Miranese guards.
“It’s a good thing I packed an extra pair.” She kicked at some pebbles. “Smart girl. I could have sworn she hadn’t seen us.”
Levi walked with his hands clasped behind his back. “I’ve seen her with Jian-so, many times. You think she knows where Mei is?”
“I’m not sure of anything. But I’ve noticed . . .” Feeling foolish, she told him about the second plate Hama-si always made up before leaving the hall. “Yesterday, she didn’t bother with the vegetables or the boar’s head.” She glanced at him. “Did you like boar’s head when you were a boy?”
“I still don’t like it.”
“Neither do I,” she admitted. “And the other day, she left out the peas and onions. It was just ham and cake. So much cake.”
Levi turned her words over in his mind. “She’s guarding Mei, but she feels sorry for her. The sweets are a kindness.”
“It’s thin, isn’t it? It sounds ridiculous.” And it was all she had. They were doomed.
“Oh I don’t know. I think it sounds like a hunch,” Levi said with a smile. “I know someone who swears by them.” Whatever else he would have said was interrupted by a sharp whistle piercing the air. Jian-so stood at the top of the terrace, hand raised in greeting. He beckoned. Ana-si was with him.
Reyna said, “Did he just whistle at you?”
“He can whistle all he wants.” Levi waved to say he understood, smiled. “He’s a means to an end, that’s all. Still, I’m going to be glad to leave this place.”
They retraced their steps.
“Where are you going today?” Reyna asked.
“Back to the ship. The clay still needs to be unloaded and sent to the tomb. I said I’d see to it, but Jian-so wanted to join me. You’ll have to come with us after today. Otherwise, it will start to look odd.” The men had gone on hunts these last two days. Levi had merely explained that Lunesian women were not allowed to attend them. Samuel had taken over her duties on these outings.
Blaise would be on the Truthsayer. Seth had burned his hand at the cookstove, and she had left early this morning, not trusting anyone else to treat him. Hamish and Benjamin had accompanied her.
Frustration seeped into Levi’s voice. “I’d rather stay here, Reyna. Help you search. Botan-so won’t last much longer. Days maybe.”
If that. But what did Botan-so have to do with them? “What is it?”
Jian-so, impatient with the wait, descended the steps toward them.
Levi said, “The Miranese don’t hold wakes. Not like we do. Their dead must be buried the same day.”
Reyna stopped. “But if they seal the tomb . . .”
“It can’t be opened again,” he finished. Their eyes met, Reyna’s stomach churned with renewed panic. “I’ll see what else I can learn,” Levi added. “You’ll be careful?” He reached up to touch her face, then dropped his hand, remembering who was watching.
“I will.”
Reyna was determined not to lose Hama-si today. She needed to find out who the girl was feeding.
* * *
Reyna went about it differently this time. Instead of following Hama-si after the midday meal, she skipped the meal altogether. She retraced her steps from the day before until she came to a smaller hall with a staircase tucked into a corner. No one was about. Reyna climbed halfway up, then sat in the shadows and waited.
It felt like forever. Several people passed through. An old woman carrying a basket full of clothing. A bald man with a falcon on his shoulder. Reyna glanced over the banister each time before sinking back in disappointment.
Just when she had started to nod off, she heard footsteps. Light and quick and lively. Hama-si. Reyna followed; she kept farther back than she had the day before. At an open gate, the girl did not turn right, toward the cesspit. She kept straight on a path that led to the palace’s outer walls. Stone covered in trailing ivy. Hama-si nudged aside the vines with a shoulder and disappeared from view.
Moments later, Reyna peeked through the vines to see Hama-si entering a house at the edge of the woods. It stood at least a hundred feet away. White stone and a black slanting roof, strawberry plants wilting in boxes at the windows. From its remote location, she thought it might have been built for a palace woodcutter or gamekeeper.
No conveniently planted trees offered cover. Anyone who glanced out the window would see her approach. And then where would she be? Best not to think about it. Holding her breath, she dashed to the side of the house. No one yelled, no one charged. She tiptoed back and peered around. The first thing she saw was Hama-si scowling at her; the second, a spiked club swinging toward her face. Reyna ducked, heard the lethal whisper of wood and metal above her head. A loud crack sounded . . . but it was Hama-si who slumped to the ground, her eyes closed.
Standing behind Hama-si was an even younger girl. No more than eight or nine. She wore a shift that reached to her knees. Her feet were bare. Dark hair lay tangled around her shoulders, and her eyes were big and frightened. Clutched in both hands was the stone pitcher she had used on Hama-si’s head.
Slowly, Reyna rose. The girl’s hands tightened on the pitcher.
“Mei?” Reyna said, her voice a little strained. Small wings peeked above Mei’s shift. Three inches above her shoulders, feathered in red.
The only answer was a flicker of awareness in the girl’s eyes.
“Mei, my name is Reyna. Ana sent me.”
The pitcher lowered. “Ana?”
Reyna managed a smile. “Your sister will be so pleased to see you. She’s been very worried.”
“Where is she?” The pitcher tumbled to the ground. Tears fell from Mei’s eyes. “She said she would come. I thought you were her.”
“I’m here to bring you to her.” Hama-si remained unconscious, but Reyna could see the rise and fall of her chest. Relief filled her. Still alive, then. “Ana said you had guards. Women. Is that true?”
“They are different some days,” Mei said. “Today is Hama-si and the other. She went to the well to fetch water.” Mei pointed toward the deeper woods. “She’ll be back soon.”
That galvanized Reyna. She grabbed Hama-si’s arms. “Then we must hurry. Take her legs.”
Together, they carried Hama-si inside. The house had one chamber, separated into different areas: a bed, a kitchen with a table and two chairs. A tall ladder led up to a sleeping loft. Reyna took care when lowering Hama-si’s arms and head. Mei dropped the girl’s legs, and they hit the floor with a thump. Reyna ran outside and fetched the club and the pitcher. Leaving them inside the door, she said, “Where are your clothes . . . ?” She trailed off in dismay.
Mei was at the table, devouring the food Hama-si had left there. She ate like she had not eaten in days, shoveling food into her mouth with her hands, barely taking the time to chew.
Quietly, Reyna approached. Beside Mei was a cup half full of water. “Mei.”
When Mei l
ooked up, Reyna offered the cup. “Not too fast or you’ll be ill. Drink this.”
“You said hurry.” But Mei took the cup.
“We have a little time.” A horrible suspicion filled Reyna. She looked at the girl’s arms. Painfully thin, like twigs. “Don’t they feed you?”
“Sometimes.” The girl set the empty cup on the table and eyed the plate with longing. “Hama-si brings food and eats while I watch. It makes them laugh when I ask for a little bit.”
Careful to keep the anger from her voice, Reyna pulled out a chair. “Sit. We won’t leave until you’re done.”
Mei first, Ana had said.
When the girl began to eat, more slowly this time, Reyna freed her dagger from its ankle strap and went to stand by the door.
* * *
Eventually, the guard returned from the well. She was whistling. Reyna listened to her, rigid with wrath. What sort of person starved a child, kept her prisoner, and still felt like whistling?
Mei heard it too. She jumped to her feet, terror in her eyes. Reyna held up a hand. It will be fine. Stay there. Mei nodded, trusting in a stranger even after all she had been through. When the door opened and a woman—older, stern-faced—stepped in, Reyna was not gentle. She smashed the hilt of her dagger directly between the guard’s eyes. Just as Mercedes had taught her. The guard collapsed onto Hama-si with a grunt. The bucket she had been carrying overturned, spilling water everywhere.
Reyna returned the dagger to its sheath. “Where are your clothes?”
* * *
Mei had one dress, one cloak, and one pair of shoes. She was only allowed to wear them once a month, on the day she saw her sister. The rest of the time she wore her shift and went hungry. The cloak was not for cold, but to disguise her wings. They appeared undamaged, though they were, like the rest of Mei, in need of a wash.
Reyna helped her into her clothes and braided her hair quickly.
“We’re going to see Ana?”
“We are,” Reyna promised. “First I need to find a safe place for you.”
“Which safe place?”
“My ship.”
This was not the original plan. She and Levi had discussed this. Reyna was only supposed to learn where Mei was being kept and then they would decide how best to rescue her. The plan must change. Mei needed help now. Reyna would hide her on the Truthsayer, find Ana and Levi, wake the men, and escape. Somehow. The details of how all this was to be accomplished were a little hazy. Levi would help.
They stepped over the unconscious guard and Hama-si. When Mei stepped on Hama-si’s hand, Reyna ignored it. But when the girl picked up the spiked club, Reyna took it from her.
“You’re not like them.” Reyna tossed the club aside. She took Mei’s hand in hers and they ran.
Twenty-Six
THEIR LUCK FALTERED at the main gates. By some miracle they had managed to skirt the palace grounds without being stopped. A light rain, warm and pleasant, fell from the sky. Mei and Reyna were able to conceal their faces with hoods without looking suspicious.
Reyna had thought the gates the best possible route for escape. Enough people coming and going that they could simply sidle up to a group departing and pretend they were traveling with them. They kept their hoods up and their gazes straight. They walked with a purpose, Mei’s hand in Reyna’s.
“Stop.”
The guard clearly recognized Reyna as a member of the Lunesian cortege, because he relayed the order in Caffeesh. She tightened her grip on Mei, whispered, “Keep walking,” and pretended not to hear.
“You there! Stop!” This time there was the unmistakable sound of swords sliding from their scabbards. Reyna looked at the guards: two large men scowling their way. Everyone else had frozen in place. A bearded man on a cart. Three older men on foot, wearing straw hats.
“Where are you going?” the guard demanded.
“To the harbor,” Reyna answered. “I have a message for my prince.”
The guard turned to Mei, still hooded, pressed against Reyna’s side. “Who is this?”
“My apprentice.” An answer she instantly wished back. One did not hold an apprentice’s hand, as she did. She should have said sister. No, that would not have done either. She should have said—
“Take off her hood,” the guard ordered.
“My message is urgent. My prince will be angry—”
His sword twitched. “Now.”
Mei’s hand slipped from hers. From beneath her hood came a song, light and sweet and sad-sounding. A different melody from Ana’s. Though Reyna could not understand the words, their effect was immediate. The guard had started toward them. He stopped in his tracks, eyes rounding, sword falling to the ground. He burst into tears. The first one to do so but not the last. As Reyna stood rooted in place, the second guard, the man on the cart, the three travelers wept, their expressions filled with sorrow and grief. One man dropped to his knees and pulled at his hair. Reyna and Mei had been lucky after all. No other female was present.
Reyna’s hand trembled only slightly as Mei’s hand slipped back into hers. “Good girl,” she said. They walked on and did not look back.
They stayed on the main road, the one that led directly to the harbor. She had considered using a side road, but Miramar was unfamiliar to her, and she did not want to risk becoming lost. Three women on mules rode ahead, too huddled against the damp to notice the foreigners in their midst. Reyna pulled her hood lower and did her best to look uninteresting.
“Almost there, Mei.”
“We’ll see Ana soon?”
“Soon,” Reyna promised. She glanced behind them to make sure they were not being followed. A flash of white in the dirt caught her eye. “This is yours, isn’t it?” She picked up a necklace. The pendant was not made of stone or metal. It was a seashell, an inch around, with a tiny hole at the top to fit a leather string. The edge of the string had frayed, which was likely why it had fallen. Mei saw the necklace and gasped. Her hand flew to her throat.
“Here, I’ll keep it for you until we can get it fixed. Come on.” Reyna tucked the necklace away and took Mei’s hand. They were nearing the harbor when they heard the horses. Quite a number of them, approaching from behind.
“Hama-si,” Mei breathed.
“Don’t be afraid,” Reyna said quietly. Their hands were clammy from fear and rain. There was nowhere to go. A few inches to the right, the road dropped into a ditch, a sharp, twelve-foot fall.
The riders were not for them. The horses galloped by. Reyna counted ten men wearing the chrysanthemum tunics. Every one of them carried a black banner high above his head. Solid black, no crest. As the riders disappeared around the bend, the women on their mules began to wail.
Mei pressed close to Reyna’s side. “What’s wrong? Why are they crying?”
Reyna listened to the Miranese weeping—on horses, on carts, standing desolate in the road—and felt the hairs rise along her neck. “The king is dead, dearest. We must hurry.”
* * *
The sounds of mourning followed them the rest of the way to the river. Reyna wiped the mist from her face and scanned the ships anchored at the docks. Quickly at first, and when she did not immediately see the Truthsayer, she made a slower, more thorough perusal.
“Which ship?” Mei asked.
It could not be. The harbor was small enough, and the Truthsayer large enough, that Reyna should have been able to see it right away among the other carracks, caravels, and junks. It should have been here.
It was not.
“Where is Ana?” Mei tugged on Reyna’s hand. Her eyes were large and trusting beneath her hood. A reminder that Reyna could not let her panic show.
“Soon, Mei,” Reyna assured her absently, and patted her hand. Her mind worked fast. Where could the Truthsayer have gone? Peering through the drizzle and mist, she saw the great iron chain looped across the river. The chain could have been removed long enough for the ship to sail through. But Levi would not have left without her. Not if he�
�d had a choice.
Another possibility: the Truthsayer could have sailed east, to the tombs. Levi had come here to unload the barrels of clay. He could have decided, or Jian-so might have informed him, that it would be easier to sail the ship down the river as near to the royal tombs as possible. A simple explanation. Why did she always imagine the worst?
A hand came down on her shoulder. Reyna whirled, shoving Mei behind her. She saw a hooded figure and a dear, familiar face.
“Blaise!” Reyna flung her arms around her friend.
Blaise held on tight. When she stepped back, still gripping Reyna’s shoulders, she said, “I am so glad to see you!” Tori-si was with her, the bandage on her neck concealed by a high collar.
“What’s happened?” Reyna asked. “Where’s the ship?”
“I’ll tell you later.” Blaise’s tone was urgent. “We have to get away from the docks. I don’t think we’re welcome here any longer.” Even so, she managed a smile for Reyna’s companion. “Hello. You must be Mei.”
“Come with me,” Tori-si said. “I know where you can speak.”
* * *
Tori-si led them away from the harbor to a beautiful spice market, an indoor bazaar with vaulted ceilings made of sparkling jewel-toned glass. On a prettier afternoon, sun rays would have drawn prisms and rainbows across the marble floor. Today the colors were muted, softer, as rain fell onto the roof.
Merchants packed the bazaar in untidy rows. Many wore flowing robes of white. Reyna walked past spices of every sort. Mounds of cardamom and sumac in clay pots. Burlap sacks full of cinnamon. Baskets of turmeric and star anise. Some spices were ground finer than sand and sculpted into miniature pyramids, bushels of gnarled ginger looked like the fingers of a crone. Reyna inhaled the scent of cloves and the sharp, bitter tang of newly crushed peppers. In other markets, the persistent cries of the spice sellers were a constant, each determined to be heard above the rest. Here the cries were of a different sort. The news of the king’s death had traveled fast.
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