by Resa Nelson
* * *
Frayka felt safe sitting within the circle she had drawn inside her quarters at the Hall of Concubines. Staying inside it gave her a lot of time to think.
Realizing she’d been confused since arriving in the Far East, Frayka blamed much of her uncertainty on the fact that everyone she encountered looked like her. All of her life, she’d been surrounded by pale, blonde Northlanders. Although Frayka didn’t look like a Northlander, every time she looked at one, she saw her own spirit reflected in his or her eyes.
And that’s what got me into trouble.
Thinking about the past few days, Frayka realized GranGran had tried to help her from the moment they met by encouraging Frayka to be mindful about being in the Far East. GranGran had told Frayka to learn the language and to show respect.
That must be how women survive in this country. They put on a show of respect and then figure out how to manage.
Is that all respect is in this country? Just a show?
But if I had taken GranGran’s advice to heart, maybe none of this would have happened. If I’d put on a show of respect to that awful man who captured me instead of running away or kicking him in the face, maybe it would have given GranGran a chance to reason with him. People got riled up because I failed to put on a show of respect, and that made it impossible for them to listen to GranGran—they were too busy being mad at me.
Frayka missed being among people who were straightforward and direct.
She missed being among people who valued sensible laws. No Northlander would ever take the laws in the Far East seriously. Northlanders sometimes arranged marriages, but any Northlander woman could dissolve her marriage for any reason simply by announcing it to her family and friends. Northlander men respected their wives.
More than ever, Frayka missed her husband.
What happened to Njall?
Frayka’s heart ached for him. Although they had known each other all their lives, they’d been married for only a short time. Because of Frayka’s portents, she had known for a long time that Njall was fated to be her husband, even though they’d never been friends and at one time he seemed to hold her in disdain. But Njall’s feelings had changed, and Frayka had been caught by surprise when she found herself growing to love him. Now, thanks to the horrible court decision made by the emperor, Frayka and Njall had been torn apart, which left Frayka wracked with worry.
Is Njall still alive? Is anyone hurting him? How can I find him?
It occurred to Frayka that it would be impossible to find him as long as she sat safely inside the circle she had drawn around herself.
When did I decide it was better to be safe than to fight for what I want?
Frayka stood up and paced inside the circle. She reminded herself of what she had realized just moments ago from her mistakes.
I’m not in the Land of Ice. I’m not among reasonable Northlanders. I’m among unreasonable Far Easterners. If I fail to put on a show of respect, then people get hurt. It’s because I decided to fight that Njall has gone missing. It’s why I’m stuck inside this circle.
The door to her small quarters stood ajar so that Frayka could peek at whoever came and went in the outside hallway. Distant chatter made her look up in interest.
A small cluster of concubines hurried past Frayka’s quarters. She caught a glimpse of them in their best finery. Maybe they planned to go to some event today. It seemed as if some formal event took place every day in the royal complex. Sometimes the concubines were formally included. At events where they didn’t appear welcome, they found a hiding place to watch from a distance.
A new thought startled Frayka.
If they’re going to an event, I don’t want to be left alone. The circle might be protecting me, but what happens if men sneak in when no one else is here?
Maybe I’d be better off sticking with the concubines.
Frayka stepped outside of the protective circle and followed the concubines running down the hallway. She slowed her pace when the concubines ran outside.
Through the open entrance to the Hall of Concubines, Frayka saw a storm gathering above the royal complex. Outside, the cluster of women that Frayka had followed shrieked in surprise when the wind buffeted against them. They shielded their faces against the dirt and debris flying through the air.
When they cover their faces, it’s impossible to tell them apart.
If I cover my face, I can hide among them. I can hide in plain sight! All I have to do is wait for my chance.
When the concubines gathered around a cart laden with huge rolls of fabric drawn by a pair of fidgeting horses, Frayka hid near the entrance and watched. She saw TeaTree smile and welcome the women. He showed the fabrics to them.
TeaTree must be here as a merchant. He’s offering fabric to the concubines so they can have new outfits made. At the emperor’s expense, I imagine.
An angry burst of wind whipped against the concubines near TeaTree, and the women shrieked again.
Seizing the opportunity, Frayka shielded her face and darted to join them.
A handful of royal guardsmen on horseback rode up to the group and shouted at the concubines.
Wind roared all around them, causing the guards’ horses to rear up on their hind legs and turn in circles while the guards struggled to regain control of the animals. The concubines huddled together, keeping their faces turned toward each other and away from the wind.
TeaTree took hold of Frayka’s arm and dragged her toward the back of the cart. Gesturing toward a rolled-up carpet underneath the rolls of fabric, he shoved her toward it.
I can hide inside the roll of carpet!
Frayka scrambled into the narrow space and crawled the length of the carpet so that no one would be able to see her. She heard TeaTree shouting and the concubines screaming. Horses whinnied in terror. The cart trembled so hard from the strength of the wind that Frayka worried it would overturn.
“TeaTree,” she whispered to herself. “Get us out of here!”
CHAPTER 30
Madam Po believed they reached Zangcheen when the power of the cloud funnel that carried them became erratic. Instead of flying smoothly through the skies, Madam Po and Kikita were tossed violently from side to side in the air.
Kikita wrapped her arms around Madam Po and shouted about the din. “This is the strange force I sensed. It must be dark magic. Its strength is greater than mine.”
Moments later, Madam Po felt solid ground beneath her feet, and Kikita let go of her. Madam Po saw nothing but thick white clouds spinning around her.
“If I stay, it will harm me,” Kikita shouted. “Do what you must and then return to the Gate.”
The white clouds rocketed skyward, and Madam Po saw she stood by the entrance to the royal palace. She watched a shadow fall across the clouds, and a ghostly outline of Kikita’s body spirited away like a bird desperate to escape. Within moments, Kikita’s presence disappeared toward the horizon where the fingerling mountain stood.
The shadow penetrated the clouds until they turned dark and stormy. They rolled like boiling water.
“Madam Po!” Ti called out.
The old woman turned to see the Imperial Daughter holding the front door to the palace open. She hurried to join the girl’s side. “I must find your father immediately,” Madam Po said. “The matter is most urgent.”
“You can’t,” Ti said. “He’s already at a ceremony where no royal family is allowed.”
“Aiy yah!” Madam Po said. “I must see him. He is expecting me.”
“It’s impossible. He’s at the opening ceremony for the Kite Festival.” Ti’s expression softened. “Can I help?”
Madam Po’s heart sank.
The Imperial Daughter spoke the truth. The ceremony was intended for the emperor, his advisors, and his concubines. If Madam Po tried to impose her presence at the ceremony, it could destroy all chances of rescuing Frayka and finding Njall alive.
Something about the Imperial Daughter gave Madam
Po pause, but she’d lost the luxury of time to think about such things. “Yes,” Madam Po said. “I have something that might save your step-sister’s life.”
Ti held the door open wider and gestured for Madam Po to enter the royal palace.
“I need to see your step-sister at once,” Madam Po said.
Ti released a sigh. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, too. She’s in her sick room. Only magicians, physicians, and her closest family members may enter.” Ti brightened. “That means I can enter her sick room. Tell me what to do and I will take care of it.”
A peculiar feeling ran through Madam Po’s veins. Were the situation not so dire, she would have reconsidered.
There is no time to waste. We must rescue Frayka now. And I must remain on the best side of the Imperial Family to have any hope of finding Njall.
Madam Po reached into her large sleeve to remove the bottle.
She handed the bottle to Ti. “This is water from the Fountain of Immortality. Make sure your step-sister drinks it right now. If anything can save her life, it is this water.”
Ti accepted the bottle and then gave Madam Po a sharp look. “The Fountain of Immortality? That’s nothing but a children’s story.”
“Give her the water,” Madam Po said. “It is by order of the Emperor Po.” She then bowed, indicating her presence was no longer required.
“I see,” Ti said. “I’ll take this to her now.” The girl’s demeanor shifted, and she showed gratitude and warmth. “Thank you, Madam Po.”
Madam Po waited just long enough to watch Ti walk in the direction of the royal bedrooms. Now Madam Po had to find TeaTree to help him retrieve Frayka from the Hall of Concubines and then return to the Gate of Air.
* * *
Ti considered the bottle of water in her hands as she hurried down the hallway, anxious to get away from Madam Po and her prying eyes.
Throughout her childhood, Ti had heard stories about the Gate of Air and the Fountain of Immortality. But they were merely tales of gods and fanciful creatures and magical things. None of the stories could be true.
Then why would Father request water from the Fountain of Immortality? Did he think Madam Po would know where to find such a place? Did he become so desperate that he lost his senses?
Ti slowed her pace after she rounded the hallway corner, knowing Madam Po could no longer see her. She looked down the long corridor toward the royal bedrooms. All bedroom doors were closed, including that of her ailing step-sister. No one else stood in the corridor, giving Ti privacy.
She wiggled the cork out of the bottle’s neck and then looked inside. It appeared to be normal water. She saw nothing special about it. Ti held the bottle to her nose and sniffed, detecting no odor.
Father became frantic. Maybe Madam Po convinced him the stories are real. Maybe she claimed she knew where to find the Fountain of Immortality. Then she simply poured water from a Zangcheen well into this bottle and brought it here.
Ti frowned. Why would Madam Po be willing to do such a dangerous thing? Did she think belief in the impossible would be enough to heal? Surely, she understood that if Ti’s step-sister died after drinking this water that Father would condemn Madam Po to a horrible death.
Curious, Ti dipped a fingertip into the water.
It made her skin tingle in a delightful way.
Ti lifted her fingertip, now carrying a single drop from the bottle, and placed it on her tongue.
Warmth spread across Ti’s tongue, and she felt wonderful. Immediately, she sensed the strength of her muscles and a robust sense of well being.
What if the stories are true?
Ti looked down the long corridor toward her youngest step-sister’s bedroom. If Ti delivered the water to her now, it might save her life. Everyone would be grateful to Ti for making the right decisions in her father’s absence. She would be held in high regard.
It would also mean that her youngest step-sister, a royal nuisance, might live forever. As of now, Ti stood as first in line to become the next emperor. But as soon as Ti and her other step-sisters died, her youngest would be the final emperor of Po and would rule for all time.
How did that make her youngest step-sister any less dangerous than all the men who had wanted to capture Ti as their bride so they could stand in line to become the next emperor? Wouldn’t her youngest step-sister yearn for power? Wouldn’t that place all of the other step-sisters in danger of being murdered by her?
Terror engulfed Ti. She felt cornered and frightened. All she could think of was saving herself.
Ti raised the bottle to her own lips and drank. As soon as she drained the bottle, she took it to a room near the kitchen where other bottles and cups were stored.
CHAPTER 31
Emperor Po considered cancelling the opening ceremony of the Kite Festival. He preferred to stay by the side of his youngest daughter’s bed, believing that his hope for her recovery would keep her alive until Madam Po arrived with water from the Fountain of Immortality.
But ceremonies and festivals were important to the city of Zangcheen, the Wulong Province, and all reaches of the Far East.
The Kite Festival offered all people the opportunity to write their deepest wishes upon the face of a kite and fly it high so the gods could read that wish and answer it. Of course, anyone could do such a thing at any time of year, but how could the gods notice a single kite in the vast reaches of the sky? Such a small thing wasn’t noticeable.
But when an entire city flew kites to fill the skies, those kites were bound to draw the attention of the divine.
Cancelling the opening ceremony would make the citizens of Zangcheen worry and lose heart. Even though the ceremony took place within the royal complex where no commoners were allowed, the event centered on the emperor’s kite being launched high enough for everyone in Zangcheen to see it. And once the emperor’s kite took flight, it acted as an invitation for all other kites to fly.
If the citizens of Zangcheen didn’t see the emperor’s kite flying above the royal complex, they would assume something had gone terribly wrong.
Emperor Po also considered giving the responsibility of launching his kite to one of his advisors or even his most trusted guard, but that was unseemly. Only the hands of royalty should launch the emperor’s kite. He might have taken a bold step in changing the laws to allow his eldest daughter to become emperor, but that made it even more important to keep other traditions in place.
Otherwise, people would lose trust. They might even try to declare the emperor mad and try to dethrone him.
So, Emperor Po reluctantly left his youngest daughter’s side for the good of all. After donning his bright yellow ceremonial robes, the emperor left the palace.
Now standing with a large red kite in hand, Emperor Po appreciated being surrounded by his guards, advisors, and several of his favorite concubines who represented the emperor’s pleasure. He had spent so much of the past two days worrying that it lightened his spirits to see faces other than those of his daughter’s physicians.
He noticed the absence of his distant relative, Frayka. She must have stayed behind in the Hall of Concubines for her own safety.
Emperor Po had already used black ink to write his wish on the emperor’s kite. He wished for his daughter to live and thrive and have a happy, long life. Following tradition, he kept that message facing toward his chest so no one else could read it.
To all those surrounding him, Emperor Po said, “I declare the opening of the Kite Festival.” He held the edges of his kite with his fingertips while a guard ran away to stretch the long length of the string attached to the kite.
Before the kite could be launched, a terrible wind burst through the courtyard and ripped the kite out of the emperor’s hands. However, the guard holding the string held on tight while the kite wrenched erratically in the air just above everyone’s head.
Dark storm clouds rushed to gather directly above.
The wind whipped the emperor’s robes around him like
constraints, making it impossible for him to move. It battered his face, making it difficult to draw a breath.
This isn’t natural. It must be magic.
But when Emperor Po looked to the court magician standing by his side, the magician looked as surprised as the emperor felt. “What is this?” Emperor Po shouted to him.
“It might be tableau magic,” the magician shouted. “Or it might just be a storm.”
“Who would do this?”
The magician shook his head, perplexed. “I don’t know.”
While the wind continued wreaking havoc, the emperor considered his advisors, all of them doubled over and struggling to breathe. Could any of them be responsible?
A brilliant flash of lightning struck Ming Shen, and the sound of sizzling skin filled the air. The wind stilled as if pausing to watch. Ming Shen’s eyes widened in pain, and his body stiffened before he collapsed to the ground.
Before the emperor could take a step, the wind became frenzied again.
The emperor’s kite plummeted toward him, and the string wrapped around his neck.
The guard still holding onto the string cried out in terror and let go of it. He dashed toward the emperor.
Emperor Po’s immediate instinct was to grab at the string and pull it away so he could breathe.
His most trusted guard appeared. Normally not allowed to touch the emperor unless invited, the guard ignored decorum and clutched at the string. He tried to dig his fingertips under the string, but it clenched the emperor’s neck too tightly.
The guard withdrew a dagger from his side and tried to wedge it between the emperor’s skin and the string, but he only succeeded in cutting Emperor Po and drawing his blood.
The wind whisked the kite and Emperor Po up high in the air above the royal complex. Before Emperor Po died, his last thought was one of relief that he had protected his daughter Ti by changing the law to make her empress.
CHAPTER 32
Frayka stayed hidden inside the rolled-up carpet beneath sheathes of fabric on TeaTree’s cart. After bumping down cobblestone streets, the cart landed on a smooth stone road and picked up speed. But it came to an abrupt stop, and Frayka heard GranGran shouting.