by Jeff Wheeler
“What did you tell him?” Bingmei asked Marenqo in a low tone.
“That we are an ensign from the east come to offer useful information to King Zhumu. I told him that we fought at Wangfujing and Sajinau and knew of the enemy coming to invade Sihui. I think it roused his interest. Don’t you?”
“It seems so,” Bingmei replied. She glanced back at the others, her hope beginning to grow.
After several moments, the leader returned and spoke to Marenqo in quick, curt language. He gestured to the river and pointed a few times.
Marenqo bowed respectfully and nodded. “He said that they will send word of our arrival to the palace. We must wait here by the edge of the river. If we are allowed to enter, then they will send boats up the river to bring us to the palace. Do we think this is acceptable?”
Bingmei looked at Rowen, and he nodded briefly. She didn’t need his approval, but like Kunmia, she preferred not to make important decisions without counsel from her people.
“It’s agreeable. See if they have any food they can spare.”
“Are you sure about that?” Marenqo asked, his eyebrows lifting.
It seemed an odd question, especially for one so obsessed with food, but she just shrugged. “I’m sure even you are a little weary of fish by now.”
“One can never have too much fish,” Marenqo said. But he posed the question to the other man, who nodded in agreement. They mounted their horses and rode back to the bridge. Marenqo led the others to the river’s edge, where they found a man-made stone embankment half hidden in the scrub. It was long enough for all of them to sit down, and the water was well beneath their feet.
“They asked us to wait here,” he said.
Bingmei shrugged off her pack, easing the ache in her shoulders, and set the rune staff down near it.
“You’ve mentioned before that King Zhumu is shrewd.” She glanced at Marenqo, then looked around the guards. “Have any of you met him before?”
Only Marenqo had traveled this far before, but he had never met the king in person, it turned out, only by reputation. No one could say what he looked like or anything other than a vague sense of his qualities. Jiaohua said that the Jingcha spies had reported he was cautious and cunning but not vengeful.
After they were settled, some sentries from the bridge approached them with a few baskets. Marenqo thanked them and took the baskets, and everyone sat in the long grass to eat the feast. Some of the bowls held noodles with little strips of meat. Others contained strange bits of meat that had a nice, smoky smell.
“What is that?”
“Tongue,” Marenqo replied, grinning. “Or lung. Hard to tell. It’s a delicacy here. They gave us the best parts. We must be honored guests.”
There were also a few steamed buns, and Bingmei grabbed one of those first. Even though it wasn’t warm, she bit into it and found the middle full of dark meat and dripping juices. Others reached as well, and they began devouring the food while Marenqo withdrew his knife to cut the tongue into smaller strips.
Bingmei started chewing the bite of bun, so grateful to be eating something different, when it felt like her mouth exploded in fire. Her tongue was burning. Had they doused the food in acid? Although she had thought she enjoyed spicy fare, this was much different from the scorpion sticks she enjoyed in Wangfujing.
Tears came to her eyes, and she looked up to see the others looked—and smelled—as aghast as she felt.
Bingmei reached for her water flask and started to gulp down some of the precious water, while Marenqo began howling with laughter.
“What’s wrong?” he said, grinning. “You wanted some food. Enjoy!”
“You knew it would be this spicy?” Damanhur said in outrage. “And you didn’t warn us? My tongue is going to blister!”
“Perhaps I should have mentioned that small detail,” Marenqo said, still chuckling. “In Sihui, they have more refined palates. Or perhaps they’ve lost the ability to taste their food because it’s so hot. Everything is spicy here. And I mean . . . everything.”
Bingmei would not have been surprised if blisters truly did sprout in her mouth. While the water had soothed the worst of the burn, she revolted against the idea of eating more of the bun.
“Even the noodles?” she asked, staring at them hungrily.
“Even the noodles,” Marenqo replied with a sigh. “But they are delicious. If you can stand it.” He picked up a noodle and slurped it up.
She heard laughter coming from the bridge, and a quick glance confirmed the sentries were having fun watching their suffering.
“That’s why you asked me why I wanted some of their food,” Bingmei said, giving Marenqo a withering look.
He shrugged. “I haven’t been this entertained in a long time. And yes, the same thing happened to me when I first came. No one told me either. But if you could see your faces!”
Three boats came for them. They were made of bamboo, strapped together in thick flat bundles. A small pagoda was built atop each, supported by columns made of bamboo shafts. Three boatmen with long bamboo poles pushed the boats up the river. She saw a soldier wearing the uniform of Sajinau on one of them.
“Do you recognize him?” she asked Rowen, her stomach twisting with surprise. “I know I’ve seen him before.”
“He was an officer for General Tzu,” he said. His gaze was full of wonder . . . and she thought she smelled a new tinge of hope, like the sweet smell of honey. Like her, he must have assumed the general’s men were all dead.
Bingmei pulled on her pack and lifted the staff as the boats eased their way up to the stone wharf.
The man smiled at them in recognition. “Bao Damanhur, Prince Rowen.” His gaze shifted to her. “Bingmei. Welcome to Sihui.”
“What is your name?” Bingmei asked him. “I know we’ve met.”
“Pangxie,” he responded, bowing. He looked at her. “You bear the staff of Kunmia Suun. I’d wondered what became of it.”
“Is General Tzu here as well?” Rowen asked, and she could smell his eagerness.
“Yes,” said Pangxie. “He sent me to greet you, to be sure you were not imposters. Greetings, Jiaohua. Many members of the Jingcha still serve us here. Come with us back to the palace. You are most welcome.”
His words were truthful and earnest. Bingmei nodded at the others, and the sweet smell of relief filled the air.
Quion inspected the lashings of the ropes used to hold the bamboo shafts in place and nodded in appreciation. But then he turned to Bingmei and said, “Can I stay behind and camp out here by the woods? I don’t think the leopard would do well in the city, and it probably isn’t used to this kind of terrain. It may even wander off.”
“Not likely,” said Marenqo. “It follows you relentlessly because you keep feeding it.”
“I don’t know,” Quion said, giving Bingmei a pleading look. “I need to ease it into the situation.”
Bingmei understood his concern. The snow leopard was too savage to bring into Sihui, but it had been a good friend and helper to them all. It would feel wrong to abandon it now. “All right,” she said. “But I will come check on you myself. Where will you camp?”
He smiled in relief and put his hands on his hips, looking at the edge of the woods. “Somewhere over there,” he said, pointing.
“Very well. But you’ll be missed, Quion.”
He smiled in pleasure at her compliment. They waved goodbye to him, and the rest of the ensign boarded the boats to enter Sihui by river. Soon they’d pushed off and glided away, passing beneath the massive stone bridge.
Prince Rowen’s feelings grew more and more peaceful as they approached the city. She felt the same way. Relief and hope had been in short supply. At last they would find out what was going on. And the fact that General Tzu was here, safe, indicated the news wasn’t all bad.
Once they passed beneath the bridge, their view of the city opened, some of the mist clearing. The layout was similar to that of Wangfujing, with crowded buildings on both
sides of the river, but the river itself was much broader. There were lily pads everywhere, lotus flowers growing on them, and peasants stood in the mud on the sheltered sides of the river, farming some strange kind of plants. They wore wide-brimmed hats, their pants hiked up to their knees as they worked.
Sihui was not as vast as Sajinau. She could see the fringe of trees surrounding it, the hills hemming it in. As the mist continued to clear, she saw another huge bridge under construction on the far side of the city. It appeared they were making the bridge even wider. Several boats were positioned beneath the arch, and ropes were fed up and down, supplying stone for the project. Hundreds of workers massed around it.
It didn’t take her long to realize what they were doing. General Tzu was here in Sihui, so they knew how Echion’s fleet had attacked Sajinau. They were building a wall within the river to make it impossible for his ships to pass through.
King Zhumu was shrewd.
The palace rose above a towering stone wall. It was situated in the midst of a market street, but she could see the huge stone gate protecting it. The bamboo boats parked at the river’s edge by the front of the market.
When she exited the boat, the smell of people struck her nose.
She’d been away from humanity for so long, she had almost forgotten what it was like to smell a huge crowd of people. This was not a greedy city like Wangfujing. The people buying and selling by the wharf weren’t out to rob each other, but they were immediately wary of the newcomers. She smelled it. Felt it. No one called to them, trying to persuade them to come and buy their wares.
Pangxie and the other soldiers who’d escorted them took them down the main street toward the palace.
As they came closer, her nerves grew taut. Echion could transform his appearance. Although she didn’t understand how he did it, that ability had allowed him to depose King Budai in Wangfujing. What if Echion had already infiltrated Sihui?
Were they truly safe at last? Or was safety always just an illusion?
“Are you all right?” Rowen asked her.
She glanced at him and nodded as they followed Pangxie beneath the thick stone arch leading to the palace. The walls were very impressive, with carved blocks at the top, providing shelter for the warriors stationed atop them. Sihui was preparing for war.
General Tzu awaited them in the sunlit courtyard. His features were impassive—he looked neither concerned nor relieved. But Bingmei did not have to depend on appearances—she could sense his relief.
Jiaohua, who had also been part of Juexin’s council, approached him first. “General, it is good to find you here.”
“You’ve come a long distance, I can see,” said the general. He glanced at Rowen, nodding at him. “Welcome, Your Highness. I did not know you were coming, or I would have sent you assistance. How did you escape Sajinau?”
“I was used by Echion in his hunt to find Bingmei,” he answered. “She freed me.”
General Tzu looked at her, his eyes still unconcerned. “Are you still opposed to the destiny that Jidi Majia foresaw for you?” he asked her.
“We came here to help King Zhumu fight Echion,” she answered, dodging his question.
General Tzu studied her for a moment before nodding. “All help is needed. This is truly a fortunate moment. We’re expecting to be attacked and have been preparing all winter to defend Sihui. But your arrival, Prince Rowen, is a double blessing. King Zhumu has only one child, a daughter. He had long considered your brother as a possible husband for her. Now that you are here, I see an opportunity to unite our kingdoms.”
Rowen’s face was impassive, neutral. But she smelled the sudden fear inside him, the resistance to any such scheme.
“Tell me more, General,” he said, falling alongside him.
She had the strong suspicion that he would refuse. It distressed her to realize that she wanted him to refuse. The thought had no place in her life, and so she shoved it aside.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Eagle Palace
As the entourage crossed the courtyard, Jiaohua walked alongside General Tzu, his expression greedy for information.
“How many survivors from Sajinau are here?” he wheedled. “Pangxie said that some Jingcha came with you. Have you been contacted by the others who were already here?”
“There are several thousand refugees,” the general answered curtly. “I haven’t had time to keep track of all your underlings. Our people have been my greatest concern. Some fled to the other kingdoms. Before his execution, Prince Juexin commanded me to instigate a rebellion and defy Echion.”
“I will help you do that,” Jiaohua said eagerly.
“King Zhumu has his own security force,” said General Tzu. “Your order was to protect Bingmei. That was what the prince charged you to do.”
Jiaohua snorted. “But we are here now, Tzu. I can be of service in many ways.”
Bingmei could smell his disappointment. He liked being within the circle of power, always, but the balance had shifted now that they’d arrived in Sihui.
“When can we see the king?” she asked, if only to remind the others that it was her ensign.
“Presently, of course,” the general replied, nodding to her.
“Has there been any word from King Shulian?” she asked.
The general shook his head. “Rumor has it that he was captured, but we’ve lost all word from Sajinau because Echion controls the shipping routes to the east. Anyone who betrays information is sent to labor for years at the Death Wall. For all I know, he may still be in hiding. We do have one advantage. We took a prisoner with us from Sajinau. He’s confined in the dungeon here at the palace, but his information has been accurate and useful.”
“Who?” Jiaohua asked.
“He was a leader of Qiangdao and one of Echion’s supporters at first. But he failed in his assignment and fled for fear of being executed.”
“His name?” Bingmei asked, her stomach twisting in anticipation of his answer.
“Muxidi,” General Tzu said.
The name struck her like a fist to her stomach, even though she’d tried to prepare herself for it. He was the man who had murdered her parents and her grandfather. She’d left him alive—and now he was here in Sihui.
“He’s here?” Damanhur said in shock. He’d been trailing behind them, close enough to hear their conversation.
Muxidi had cut off Damanhur’s arm in their last battle in Sajinau. The smell of revenge and fury became overpowering, like snapping cinders in a fire.
General Tzu stopped walking and turned to face Damanhur. She clearly wasn’t the only one who’d noticed his rage. “He has provided valuable information, Bao Damanhur. We’ve learned much about Fusang and its defenses from him. If we are ever going to defeat Echion and his minions, we need to learn as much as we can about him and his Summer Palace.” His eyes narrowed coldly. “Muxidi is guarded by loyal men. No one can see him without permission. I hope that is clear.”
It was clear, but the knowledge that he was close made Bingmei queasy. She’d hoped to find some peace reaching Sihui. Instead, she felt more unsettled than ever.
“He won’t do anything foolish,” Rowen said, putting his hand on the general’s shoulder and shooting Damanhur a warning look.
“I trust he will not,” said General Tzu. He gave Damanhur a final glance before continuing toward the main entrance, which was flanked by armored warriors. “Now, you need to understand that making an alliance with Sihui, in my opinion, would be the wise course of action. We are refugees from around the rim. The influx has strained their food stores. Our people have labored not to be a burden, but we are still considered a lower caste among these people. If you were to agree to marry the princess, it could change the situation overnight.”
“I can see that,” Rowen said, his voice neutral. But she felt the roiling emotions inside him threatening to burst free. He dreaded the thought.
The guards opened the doors as they approached, and they entered a di
mly lit corridor with aged stone walls. A design of birds was carved into the stone. At first Bingmei thought they were phoenixes, but the bald heads and hooked beaks and talons were very different from the carvings she’d seen on her sword and in other places. The corridor smelled faintly of cooking spices, which stirred her hunger—until she remembered the spicy bun she’d eaten by the shore.
This palace was much smaller than the one in Sajinau. They reached the inner sanctum more quickly than Bingmei had expected and approached the meiwood throne of King Zhumu. An elegant young woman stood by his side, hands clasped together. Her hair was held up by different jeweled pins and combs, and the multiple silk layers of her emerald-colored gown spoke of her status. Her eyes fixed immediately on Rowen.
This had to be the princess.
Her father, King Zhumu, had a short beard and mustache that had been fastidiously trimmed and a full head of dark hair with a few streaks of gray in it. He wore a topknot bound with a golden clamp, and a jeweled collar piece adorned his dark plum robes. His hair was elegantly combed, not a strand out of place, and he looked at them with wariness and a cunning intensity. Behind him, she saw a huge bald eagle tethered to a golden stand, its eyes shielded with a hood.
As they approached the throne, Bingmei breathed in deeply, trying to get a measure of the man. Thankfully, there was no deception in him. This was no imposter. That brought a feeling of relief, but the man’s scrutiny was intense. He looked at each of their party in turn, taking their measure with his vigilant gaze, one hand clamping an armrest, the other grazing his beard.
An immaculately dressed servant approached them from near the foot of the throne. “Greetings!” he said in a booming voice, speaking their language fluently. “And welcome to the Eagle Palace, the court of King Zhumu, lord of Sihui! I am Kexin, His Majesty’s advisor.”
Bingmei and her ensign bowed in respect.
“Is it true that you have come to offer information?” Kexin continued. “Who leads this ensign? King Zhumu and his daughter, Cuifen, are prepared to take you into service.”