“Over here,” Tori-si said. “This is my grandfather’s booth.”
They approached a man with a gray beard that tapered off at his navel. In addition to spices, he sold sweets and tea. He was the only merchant who did not look distraught by news of Botan-so’s passing. While others gathered in the aisles, united in their grief, he remained behind his bushels and baskets, a faint smile on his face, polishing a glass with a cloth. His smile widened when he spotted Tori-si, who kissed his hand and introduced him as Sen-so.
Sen-so was most interested in Blaise, whom he thanked for helping his granddaughter. He spoke in halting Caffeesh and offered them crumbly, raisin-filled delicacies, along with tea that smelled strongly of mint. Reyna saw Mei lick her lips. The coins they offered were refused. Sen-so merely pointed across the aisle, where brightly colored floor cushions were strewn about a table, and said, “Sit there. Bring back cups.” Tori-si remained with him, allowing them privacy.
No one noticed them. As soon as they settled, Blaise switched to Lunesian so as not to alarm Mei.
“I’d just left the ship,” Blaise said. “Hamish wanted to go back with me, but I told him I was supposed to meet Tori-si at the spice market. She wanted to introduce me to her grandfather. It wasn’t far. I was on my way here when I saw them.”
Reyna’s pastry remained untouched. “Levi?”
Blaise nodded. “With Samuel and Benjamin, all on horseback with their hands bound. Surrounded by soldiers.”
Reyna’s heart dropped to the floor. “Were they hurt?”
“It didn’t look like it. They were angry, though.”
Reyna cast a look at Mei, who had eaten every bite of her pastry and was now licking her fingers with delight. “What happened? Did you hear anything?”
“A little. I wasn’t close enough. Jian-so said something like, ‘I’m sorry, my friend. This was not my wish.’”
“Not his—What does that mean? Whose wish was it?”
“I don’t know! He did look unhappy, but that could just be his face. After that, the captain said something very rude in Caffeesh, and then Jian-so just looked mad. I couldn’t hear the rest.”
Reyna said, “What about the Truthsayer?”
“Master Caleb could do nothing. The soldiers aimed fire arrows at the ship. A favorite trick of theirs,” Blaise added bitterly. “After, everyone boarded the Truthsayer and those two black ships and they sailed off.”
“Did Jian-so go with them?”
“No,” Blaise answered. “But Ana-si did.”
Mei looked up. “Ana?”
“Yes.” Reyna smiled and offered Mei her pastry. The distraction worked. “Which way did they go?”
“East. Toward the tombs.”
Reyna downed the contents of her tea cup. “Then that’s where we’re going.”
“On foot?” Blaise said, askance. “It will take forever.”
“We’ll have to. Now. Before the funeral procession gets—”
Reyna looked past Blaise and down the long market aisle. Soldiers. Stopping at each seller. Looking for something. She pushed her cup aside. “We have to go.”
Her companions followed her gaze, saw the soldiers. They scrambled off the cushions to their feet.
“Wait,” Reyna said, for there were also soldiers in the opposite direction, blocking the market entrance.
“Where do we go?” Blaise whispered.
“There,” Reyna said.
Across the aisle, Tori-si gestured—Come! Her grandfather held back a curtain that separated his booth from the room behind it. They did not hurry, only gathered their teacups and plates, crossed the aisle without looking right or left, and walked straight through to Sen-so’s back room.
“Thank you,” Reyna whispered as she passed them.
“No noise,” Tori-si said.
The curtain snapped shut behind them.
* * *
It was a confining space, large enough for them to sit on the floor with their knees drawn up to their chests. They rested their backs against crates and listened as the soldiers came and went. Mei passed the time by watching the rain fall onto the glass ceiling. After a long while, Tori-si and her grandfather reappeared. They squeezed together even more to make room.
Tori-si spoke. “The soldiers are looking for the girl scribe from Lunes. They say she stole something.” Her gaze rested briefly on Mei.
“She was stolen already.” Reyna put an arm around Mei. “I’m taking her back to her family.”
Tori-si and her grandfather exchanged a glance. Sen-so said, “The market is closing early. It will be safe to leave when everyone has gone.”
“You’re going to the tombs?” Reyna asked.
“Everyone, yes.” Sen-so flicked the curtain aside, looked out, then shut the curtain again. “How may we help you? Do you need money?”
“We don’t want to put you in danger,” Blaise said.
“You helped my Tori-si when she was hurting,” Sen-so told her. “No one else would. You made her smile again. We are not all like the king’s son. These soldiers are many. You”—he looked at each of them in turn—“are three children. So. You need money?”
“No, sir.” Reyna blinked back tears. After Jian-so and even Hama-si, she had forgotten that such a thing existed—the simple kindness of a stranger. “We need to get to the tombs. As quickly as possible.”
Another look shared between the tea seller and his granddaughter. Neither asked why they needed to go to the tombs, and for that Reyna was grateful. How could any of this possibly be explained?
Sen-so looked thoughtful. “Wait here. No noise.”
And they left.
Mei said, “They’re nice.”
“Yes,” Reyna whispered, and held a finger to her lips. Wide-eyed, Mei clapped a hand over her mouth and nodded.
The market grew quieter as the spice sellers departed. Reyna taught Mei to play the game stone-parchment-shears. While the girl was distracted, Blaise managed a quick inspection. Looking in her ears and her mouth, checking her skin for bruises and sores. She tried not to gawk too much at the feathers and wings. Blaise mouthed to Reyna, Fine—just needs food, and rubbed her stomach for emphasis. Relieved, Reyna mouthed in turn, Thank you. Before long, they heard only faint voices, and eventually those too faded.
The tea seller appeared. “I have a cart.”
Twenty-Seven
REYNA PEEKED THROUGH a gap in their covered cart. The rain had stopped. Above, the sun settled alongside an early moon, neither willing to cede its place in the sky. The road leading to the canal was slow-moving, full of mourners making the trek to Botan-so’s tomb. She was dismayed at the sight. At this pace, who knew when they would arrive?
She scooted closer to the front of the cart and peppered their Miranese companions with questions. “Where is His Imperial Majesty now? Still at the palace? When will he be interred? After everyone arrives? Where I’m from, everyone may see the king before he is buried. To pay our respects. There’s a long queue. Is this your custom as well?”
Better if Botan-so was on some conveyance behind them. She would have time to find Levi, find Ana-si, and put everything to rights before he even arrived.
Tori-si dashed her hopes. “The king does not travel this road. He goes by river. He is already there.”
Reyna stared in consternation at the people—so many people—who stood in their way.
“The people do not see His Imperial Majesty.” Sen-so spoke in that calm, quiet way he had. “We pray outside until the sun rises again. Then we go home.”
“You don’t enter the tombs at all?” Blaise asked.
Sen-so flicked the reins lightly. “The nobles only. The guards make sure.” He glanced at Reyna. “They look for your face.”
Reyna had not realized she was drumming her fingers along the cart floor until Blaise covered her hand with her own and squeezed.
“I can hear the wheels turning inside that head of yours,” Blaise said.
“There are whee
ls in her head?” Mei whispered, full of wonder, which made everyone smile.
Blaise said, “It means she’s thinking very hard.”
Reyna looked through the gap again. “What about the road there? It’s clear.”
Their cart was at a standstill, along with everyone else’s. But on the far side of the road, a path remained open, wide enough for carriages and horses to ride through unimpeded.
“It is for lords and ladies only,” Sen-so said. “Anyone else who tries . . .”
“What happens to them?” Blaise asked.
Sen-so waggled the fingers on one hand. “They lose a finger. Sometimes two. But only the tips.”
Mei shrank back against Blaise. Reyna instinctively curled her hands at the image his words had conjured. A carriage drawn by six horses came to a stop in the lords-and-ladies-only lane. It was well guarded. Soldiers came around to one side, where the driver knelt by a horse’s front hoof. The curtain was whisked aside and a familiar face appeared. Prince Ken-so . . . no, no longer a prince: His Imperial Majesty Ken-so. Impatient as he exchanged words with a soldier. Though most of the words were lost to her, she guessed that the horse had a stone in its shoe. The carriage would be going nowhere until it was removed.
Painful for the horse, but a chance for her.
Reyna shot to her feet. “I’m going ahead.”
“What!” Blaise said. “Why?”
“I have an idea. Sort of,” she amended. “I’ll meet you outside the tombs at the foot of the steps. I don’t know when. As soon as I can.”
Mei said, “With—”
“Ana.” Reyna had to hurry. There wasn’t much time. She turned to Sen-so. “Sir—”
“Go,” Sen-so said. “Do not worry. Your friends will be there, at the foot of the steps.”
Blaise grabbed Reyna’s arm. “Be careful.”
“I will.” Reyna pulled her hood low and hopped off the back of the cart.
Weaving her way through the mourners took some time. With every passing second, she was afraid Ken-so’s carriage would simply roll away before her plan—her dangerous, uncertain plan—could even begin. But when she reached the carriage, the driver was still crouched by the horse, muttering under his breath. The soldiers, distracted, irritable, were pushing him to work faster. Reyna went around to the opposite side, opened the door, and slipped inside.
Ken-so and his wife wore black, the lady’s veil lifted off her face and spread about her hair and shoulders. They had expected to see one of their soldiers. Reyna saw it on their faces: their impatience turned to surprise and then to complete bafflement when recognition settled. It gave Reyna enough time to sit beside the new queen, fold her hands in her lap, and say, “Your Grace. Your Grace. Greetings.”
The queen reached for the curtain, exclaimed, “How dare—”
Her husband stayed her hand. He regarded Reyna with a frown. “There are many people looking for you, scribe.”
“So I understand. I’m told I stole something. What exactly?”
“You would know better than I,” Ken-so said.
“Would I? Surely Prince Levi has spoken in my defense?”
The queen’s eyes flicked back and forth during the exchange, a silent observer.
Ken-so sat back, folded his arms. “Prince Levi left Miramar this afternoon,” he said. “His business was done. Or so I’m told.”
“Without saying his farewells? Didn’t you find that strange?”
“I don’t pretend to know what he will or will not do.”
“But you wondered,” Reyna said. “At his discourtesy. And then there’s me. Does he strike you as someone who would leave behind a member of his cortege?”
Ken-so’s eyes narrowed. “What are you trying to tell me?”
He would either believe her, or he would not. Reyna said, “The clay soldiers in the tombs are real, living men.”
In the silence that followed, husband and wife looked at each other. They looked at her.
“She’s mad,” the queen announced, and reached for the curtain once again. This time her husband stopped her by leaning forward and placing a hand on her knee.
He watched Reyna with an odd light in his eyes. “She doesn’t look mad, my love, though I don’t know many Lunesians. Explain yourself. Now.”
“You knew something was wrong the moment you saw them,” Reyna said. “Miramar doesn’t have the sculptors needed to create so many so quickly. And they would have to be master sculptors, Your Grace. Not apprentices, not journeymen, to create such . . . lifelike images.”
Lord Ken-so straightened, his hand falling from his wife’s knee.
Reyna said, “You’re isolationists. Curious, then, that there’s not a single Miranese statue in that tomb. Those men look like Lunesians and del Marians and Bushidos. Why would your sculptors, whoever they are, not make statues in their own likeness?”
Ken-so said, “There are a few—”
“They’re Coronads,” Reyna said, her tone flat. “Coronad shipmen who disappeared from the Sea of Magdalen three months ago.”
Another silence fell.
“You’re not a scribe,” the queen said at last.
Reyna’s smile was faint. “No, Your Grace. I’m not even a Lunesian.” The carriage dipped as the driver climbed back onto his perch. They were on their way. Reyna said, “Please, this is important. I would like to tell you a story.”
* * *
The queen’s veil was difficult to see through. The black lace made navigating the steps to the tomb a tricky business. Holding on to Ken-so’s arm helped. At least the dress fit Reyna reasonably well and the shoes did not pinch. The queen had remained behind in the carriage, wearing Reyna’s dress and cloak. Reyna had wondered how she was going to get past the guards. Switching clothing had been the queen’s idea.
They shared the steps with other members of the nobility. Murmured greetings were exchanged, but the grave occasion, thankfully, discouraged any more than that. Reyna kept her mouth closed and let Ken-so speak for them both. The veil hid her completely.
Behind them, the mourners spread out in all directions, along the riverbank and the roads. Torches and candles chased the dusk. There was no sign of the Truthsayer. Only Miranese ships, which Reyna assumed had escorted the king to his final resting place.
“It’s the most preposterous story I’ve ever heard,” the queen had said when Reyna finished telling her tale in the carriage. She turned to her husband. “I’m sorry to say I believe her.”
“I do too,” Ken-so said, his expression grim. “I wish I did not.”
Reyna said, “We didn’t come here alone. Others are near. If there is no word, they will come looking for us.”
“Why didn’t they come to begin with?” Ken-so challenged.
“Because no one wants a war,” Reyna said. “My king least of all. He demanded proof before he would sail here and burn your kingdom to the ground. Now there is proof.” She saw Ken-so’s nostril’s flare. “You’ll need someone to speak for you.”
A silent exchange between husband and wife.
Ken-so asked, “You can do this?”
“I give you my word,” Reyna said.
Ken-so flicked aside the curtain, deep in thought. “Very well, I am listening. What do you propose?”
Reyna told him, and now they were here, passing through iron-spoked doors and descending into the heart of the tomb. They were among the last to arrive. The floor surrounding the pit was crowded, noblemen and noblewomen looking down at the statues in wonderment. Botan-so’s coffin had been placed inside the palace replica on the pedestal. Jian-so stood at the edge of the pit beside a priest. Ana-si, as pale as Reyna had ever seen her, stood beside him. She was going to allow these men to die in order to remain in Jian-so’s good graces. To keep Mei safe. She thought Reyna had failed her.
Reyna and Ken-so made their way to the front of the gathering, where they could better see into the pit, then maneuvered closer to Jian-so. Just before they reached him, Ken-so sto
pped. He said, quietly, “I am placing my family in your hands. My wife, my son. If you are wrong—”
She tightened her hand on his arm and said, her voice trembling, “Look.”
The clay soldiers directly below Jian-so were different from the others, the red-brown clay darker. Not quite dry. One soldier stood with his legs braced wide. Both hands gripped a sword that pointed to the ground. He wore no helmet, and his head was lowered, following the line of his sword and making it difficult to see his face. Reyna did not need to see it. What she saw was enough.
Levi.
And surrounding him were Samuel and Caleb and the rest of the crew. Even Benjamin, with a bow and arrow notched and pointed straight at the mourners. A startled oath from Ken-so. He had looked closer, recognized Levi.
Jian-so turned to look at him. His lips pressed thin in displeasure. “You are the last one here, Cousin. I was beginning to worry.”
Ken-so said, evenly, “I regret the hour. Your men attacked us in our chambers. It caused considerable delay.”
Murmurs rose from those close enough to hear. Reyna had been practicing her Miranese with the women of the palace. Every chance she could find. Still, she had to concentrate to understand the words spoken here.
“My men?” Jian-so said lightly. “You’re mistaken. My men are all here.” He turned to Reyna and bowed. “My dear, you must have been very frightened.”
Ken-so had had enough. He raised his voice. “My lords, my ladies. Your Holiness. Prince Jian-so has placed our kingdom in grave danger.”
“Silence him,” Jian-so ordered. There was the clank of metal, the whisper of steel, as the soldiers loyal to Jian-so prepared to do his bidding. But Ken-so was not without protection of his own. Behind him, more soldiers stepped forward.
“Stop!” The priest jumped in front of Jian-so and threw his arms out to shield him. “This is a holy site. You cannot shed blood here!”
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