by CK Dawn
The handmaiden averted her gaze, then soon shuffled and tugged at her gown. Her fidgeting increased as uncertainty clouded her expression.
Could it be the effect of the song? An excited shiver coursed through me.
The lute disappeared into thin air, taking its song with it. My heart leaped into my throat. Meiling gasped. The guards all drew their dao.
“An interesting choice of instrument.” Lord Xu stood there, my lute in his hand. The slight rise of an eyebrow and the tone of his voice asked for an explanation.
“I was told to practice.”
He lifted a hand in a swift motion. All sound around us silenced, leaving only his voice. “I told you to practice your listening.”
Mouths agape, my guards charged forward, only to hit an unseen barrier. Their palms circled against it, looking much like the Estomari mime who once entertained the court.
They might not have even been there for all the mind Lord Xu paid them. “You were responsible for the song at the Temple of Heaven. Even there, this lute could not make that music.”
He knew! I shook my head. “I…no, it wasn’t this instrument, but rather one made from a dragon scale.”
Xu’s eyes narrowed. “How did you acquire it?”
“It was in Foreign Minister Song’s possession. My understanding is that he received it during a trade mission to Vyara City.”
The elf lord’s face betrayed nothing. “Where is it now?”
As if I knew. Maybe Hardeep had stolen it, but there was only risk in telling Xu about the foreign prince at all. I shook my head. “I don’t know. When I awoke, it was gone.”
“I see.” His gaze bored into me. “I am glad you revealed this to me. In any case, listen first. In order to project your sound farther, you need to hear and borrow the energy around you. To have the greatest effect, you must listen for the most opportune moment.”
I shook my head. “I can’t learn that by myself, I—”
He placed his index finger over my heart. “Most importantly, you must trust what you hear, to know if using the skill warrants the dangers of using it.”
I stared at his finger for a few seconds, and then looked up. “Dangers?”
“Magic ripples out from its source, its strength greatest at the time and place of invocation. However, its echo spreads throughout the world and diminishes through the ages. Even the song Yanyan sang to Avarax a thousand years ago persists, hidden among all the other sounds of the world. In any case, magic serves as a beacon to those who know what it is. Not all of those people—and I use that term loosely—are as benign as I.”
A shiver went down my spine. “Avarax.”
He nodded. “Yes. He now knows there is again someone with the potential to affect him with her song.”
“Will he seek me out?”
The elf shrugged. “Who understands the heart of a dragon? Perhaps he will entice you to seek him out, instead. I could not tell you whether he would kill you or twist your skill to his own benefit.”
I shuddered. Perhaps the revival of lost skills was no longer worth the cost. “I will forget about music.”
“You might forget about it, but he won’t. If he has not already felt last night’s song, he will soon.” He tossed the lute back.
Maybe letting it smash against the pavestones would be better. I caught it nonetheless. “What can I do?” To think I had considered being devoured by a dragon favorable to marriage.
“Listen.” He swept his hand down; the sounds of spring resumed and my guards tumbled forward. Without even looking, Lord Xu caught Chen Xin with one hand and supported Zhao Yue with the other. Letting go, he then pointed far out into the lake.
The two guards dropped to their knees and started to raise their swords above their heads.
Waving them off before they offered their lives in penance yet again, I followed the elf’s gesture. In the distance, lumber herders guided felled trunks of eldarwood trees through Sun-Moon Lake’s placid waters. Laboring during the early spring melt, they had already begun their annual transport from the forests of the empire’s inner valley to the shipyards on the coast. Since commoners were prohibited from coming too close to the palace, the workers kept their distance. They seemed like children’s balls bobbing on the waters.
“Can you play loudly enough for them to hear?”
Forgetting all sense of propriety, I gaped at the preposterous challenge. The castle parapet wasn’t the Hall of Pure Melody, let alone the Temple of Heaven. “That’s…that’s impossible.”
The elf shrugged. “Not for Yanyan.”
I shook my head. As though my paltry skill could compare to the legendary slave girl. Nonetheless, I plucked a string as hard as I could, emitting a loud, disjointed note.
Lord Xu burst out laughing.
Chagrin and anger washed over me. No telling what shade of red my face was.
After stifling a chuckle, Lord Xu deftly swiped the lute from my hands and strummed.
The series of notes sang in jubilation, tangible in its clarity. It was as if all the heroes of Cathay’s past had marched into the present, urging me forward with their battle cries. My uncertainties and embarrassment melted away. My spirits rose, and even Chen Xin and Zhao Yue squared their shoulders and smiled. Out in the lake, the herders looked in our direction.
The elf turned back, face inscrutable. He returned the lute to me. “It is not the strength of the pluck that matters, but the intensity of your emotion. Only the power of your intent can compel the sound beyond its physical limitations. Hear the waves of Sun-Moon Lake and allow them to lend you their strength. Now try again.”
My focus shifted from Lord Xu to the lute. My musical talents were renowned throughout Cathay. Yet neither my own performances, nor any other I’d heard from famous musicians, could compare to the elf lord’s improvisation.
I took a deep breath, aligned my posture, and listened. Waves sloshing against the walls below seemed to set a rhythm for the wind rustling through the ripening buds on tree branches. Birds joined in, their melody harmonizing with the song of spring.
Without conscious thought, my fingers danced over the lute strings, melding with the symphony of natural sounds. Perhaps my hands created the music, or maybe the music moved my hands. Clear and resonant, the melody filled the garden and blossomed out across the lake and palace grounds. The lumber herders looked back at me.
A hollow pop startled me, bringing my song to an abrupt halt. The elf was gone. Only my guards and handmaidens remained, all shaking their heads and blinking as if waking from a trance.
“Keep listening,” Xu’s voice whispered on the wind.
Still staring at the lute in my hands, I turned as footsteps approached along the parapet. I looked up.
Flanked by two men from his native Nanling province, Peng Kai-Long dropped to a knee, fist to the ground. “Your Highness.”
“Kaiya,” I corrected.
He nodded. “Yes, Kaiya.” His voice…did it wobble? It sounded abnormally somber, maybe something I wouldn’t have picked up just a day before.
“What’s wrong?” I motioned the handmaidens and guards to step back.
His lips tightened into a tight line. “How did you know something was amiss? I thought I hid it well.”
I shrugged. “Something in your voice.” Or was it his short breaths? They sounded loud in my ears, even if he showed no sign of labored breathing.
His shoulders slumped, so unlike his usual dashing demeanor, his pulse pattering like a tentative rabbit. “I have come to the palace to swear my loyalty to the Emperor.”
For harboring Prince Hardeep? My palms felt cold and clammy. “I am sure my father trusts you implicitly.” Kai-Long was his favorite nephew, after all.
He shook his head. “No, formal vows. I have been elevated to Tai-Ming lord of Nanling Province.”
“I don’t understand.” My brow furrowed. Kai-Long’s father was the ruler of Nanling. Something must’ve happened to him. But Kai-Long’s brothe
r would have inherited. And Kai-Long was supposed to lead an army to take Wailian Castle.
“My father and brother were on their way here to attend your brother’s wedding.” Kai-Long’s voice cracked, his shoulders slumped. “They had just docked at Jiangkou when they were…were murdered.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. Poor Kai-Long, he must be in shock. He’d never been groomed to lead a province, never wanted to be anything more than a trade official, and now… How was that even possible? A Tai-Ming lord, undoubtedly travelling with a full entourage of unquestioningly loyal armed guards, would make for an intimidating sight. “I…I am so sorry.”
A tear formed in his eye, which he wiped away. “It’s so sudden.”
“What happened?”
“We don’t know yet. The Emperor’s agents are sorting through conflicting eyewitness accounts and uncovering evidence. They think Lord Tong and his band of traitors are behind it. But I know.” His fist tightened. “The Madurans knew of my friendship with Prince Hardeep. I am sure they have a spy in our villa in the capital, and knew he was staying with me. They are behind this, even if they don’t dare to get their own hands dirty.”
I placed a hand on his shoulder. “I am so sorry.”
His eyes met mine. “Be careful. They slaughtered a dozen Ankiran refugees in a ghetto last night. They must surely know about your meeting with him.”
Blood drained from my head. My legs wobbled. I reached out to keep from falling, and he caught me. All those poor people, killed. Maybe because of me. To think that just two days ago, my main concern was having to meet potential suitors. Now, it looked like I’d made enemies in Madura. And maybe even a dragon.
Kai-Long had turned to leave when Secretary Hong appeared at the entrance to the garden. He bowed low. “Your Highness, the Emperor has requested your presence in the Hall of Supreme Harmony.”
I was technically confined to the inner castle, but the Emperor did not make requests. Of course, the unprecedented assassination of a Tai-Ming lord and the massacre of foreigners in the capital changed the circumstances.
Bowing my head, I passed the lute to Han Meiling. With a nod to my imperial guards, I stumbled over to Secretary Hong. He guided us through the castle bailey, past the courtyard where I’d embarrassed General Lu.
I walked in a shocked haze as we continued across the moat and into the central palace grounds. The alleys between the buildings and walls had seemed like a maze in my rice-wine-induced haze the night before, and it was no easier to keep track of the directions today. The faces of all those innocent Ankirans haunted me. They’d been living, breathing, laughing. Treated me like an honored guest. Now, they were gone.
At last, we arrived in the central plaza, the scene of too many misadventures yesterday morning. Up the one hundred and sixty-eight steps to the Hall of Supreme of Harmony. I fought to breathe evenly.
Inside, the rows of kneeling officials and hereditary lords nearly filled the floor. It was rare to see the hall so full. As I walked down the central aisle, toward where my father sat on the Jade Throne, many murmured among themselves. Behind me, Kai-Long’s booted footsteps clopped across the marble floors.
At the front, I turned and walked to a space on the other side of my brothers. Kai-Guo’s fists were clenched tight, while Kai-Wu barely kept his posture straight. Kai-Long’s footsteps stopped in place just behind me.
Father looked somber, even more so than usual. How could he not be, with the murders of his brother-in-law and nephew on Cathay soil? And then in two days, he’d have to dispense punishment on me. He seemed to have aged since yesterday. If his health were failing, I might be to blame.
From his place a step behind the Emperor, Chief Minister Tan cleared his throat. “Tai-Ming Lord Peng Kai-Long, step forward.”
I tilted my head a fraction to find Kai-Long in the corner of my eye. He cast a somber smile toward me and rose. Striding to the place just before the dais, he sank to his knees and pressed his forehead to the ground.
“Rise.” Father’s voice shook with fatigue. When Kai-Long straightened, he continued. “Nephew, as pleased as I am to see you elevated to Tai-Ming, I convey my regrets for the loss of your father and brother.”
“Thank you, Your Exaltedness.” Kai-Long bowed his head again.
“Swear your loyalty to the Emperor,” the Chief Minister said. He placed the jade seal of state in Father’s left hand.
General Zheng strode forward. With both hands, he placed the Broken Sword into Father’s right.
Kai-Long’s swordbearer shuffled down the central aisle and presented a ceremonial dao to his lord. Imperial guards stepped in closer to Father, their hands resting on their own swords. There was little need: by custom, only imperial guards were allowed to carry weapons in the hall, and the ceremonial dao was only a hilt and scabbard.
Bowing his head, Kai-Long held the blade up in two hands. “Under Heaven, I swear eternal loyalty to the Jade Throne. I serve at your pleasure. My sword is your sword.”
He set the sword down on the floor before him, while another page came forth, bearing a seal on a silken cushion. Usually, the jade provincial seal would be used, though the immediacy had required a replica.
Again, Kai-Long bowed his head and lifted the seal in two hands. “Your command is my command.”
Father beckoned him out of the bow. “You have trained as a diplomat and served magnificently in that capacity for the last few years. However, ruling a province will prove challenging. I will send advisors with you on your return to Nanling.”
“Thank you, Your Exaltedness.” Kai-Long pressed his forehead to the floor. He straightened. “Your Exaltedness, if I may, I am certain that agents of Madura perpetrated this act.”
The assembled men broke into a chorus of murmurs. My belly clenched. Kai-Long would undoubtedly bring Prince Hardeep into the conversation, which would in turn remind Father of my own transgressions from the previous day.
Father silenced them all with a twitch of his mustaches. “After you informed me of your suspicions, I sent my own agents to investigate.” He faced the Chief Minister.
Tan cleared his throat again. “The Maduran trade mission vehemently denies involvement. They convey their regrets.”
“Lies.” Kai-Long’s voice carried an edge of anger.
The Chief Minister gestured to an old man in the first row, on the other side of the central aisle. “Deputy Yan, please report.”
I tried to find Deputy Yan in the corner of my eye. He only very rarely appeared at the palace, the last time being when my childhood friend Tian had been banished. Then, as now, his face moved whenever I tried to study his features. All I could say was that his face was plain. If foreigners had paintings of Cathayi faces in their encyclopedias, surely his would be the one.
The official bowed his head and stood. “Your Exaltedness, my agents scoured the scene and followed up with eyewitnesses and the Jiangkou city watch. We recovered two of these.” He held up two bloodstained crossbow bolts.
I looked at Kai-Long’s fists, so tight the knuckles blanched. He must have known the Madurans had not used crossbows in nearly thirty years. They had our muskets, after all.
Deputy Yan continued, “The first penetrated Lord Peng through the throat. The second punctured his son’s lung. Also, several eyewitnesses claim seeing five large Cathayi men fleeing the scene.”
Just like the large men who had attacked me with crossbows. They might be the ones responsible for murdering the Ankirans, as well. I fiddled with one of my sleeves. All Kai-Long had to do was mention Prince Hardeep to give the Madurans a motive.
He glanced back at her, his eyes begging like the small court dogs. He then looked back to Father. “Thank you for devoting resources to the investigation, Your Exaltedness.”
I let out my breath. Kai-Long had spared me the embarrassment, at least for now. Still, that expression of his…
Father nodded a fraction. “We will keep you apprised, Little Peng. Now…” He turned to the
Chief Minister.
No, poor Kai-Long had lost his father and brother. He could have exposed my secret to give the potential killers a motive. He’d protected me, to his own detriment. Summoning resolve from the firmness of Tian’s pebble beneath my sash, I rose. “Your Exaltedness.” My voice came out as a mouse’s squeak.
The collective sucking in of breaths might have rid the room of half its air. The lords and ministers, already surprised by a girl even being present in this meeting, must have been shocked that I dared speak.
Chief Minister Tan gaped at me, his lips moving but no sound coming out.
Father’s face showed no surprise. “Speak, Princess.”
I glanced back at all the hostile scowls. Swallowing my nervousness, I straightened. “Your Exaltedness, I believe Lord Peng’s suspicions—”
“Believe?” The anger in Chief Minister Tan’s voice almost silenced me.
“—because I was attacked last night, too.”
A second collective gasp would certainly rob the room of air, or maybe it was just my head spinning with apprehension. The ensuing jumble of sudden conversations was disorienting.
The Emperor showed not even the least amount of surprise at my revelation. Did he already know? He raised his hand and the room once again fell into silence.
I peeked over my shoulder. Behind me, the lords all gawped. Kai-Long, sitting at my side, nodded with a smile.
“On my way to the Temple of Heaven—”
Murmurs rumbled again. Tai-Ming Lord Liang of Yutou’s voice sputtered above the rest. “The Temple of Heaven? Was she blessed by the priests before entering the grounds? If not, it is punishable by death.”
Apparently, my visit to the Temple of Heaven had been kept secret, and I’d just revealed it. My belly tightened.
Kai-Guo jumped to his feet. “It was that eerie music, drawing her like a moth to a flame. It was not her fault.”
I shifted on my knees. This lie, too, would one day be exposed. Probably today. Right now.
Eyes raking over the assembled men, silencing them again, Father fixed his gaze on me. “Continue.”
I bowed my head. “Several large Cathayi men attacked me. Six the first time, two the second.”