Julia Defiant

by Catherine Egan

  “Why trapped?” I ask.

  “Because no matter what we choose, we’re within these rooms for the duration of our human lives,” he says, and then flicks the book in Ling’s hand. “Or within this book.”

  “So what’s outside it?” I ask, and Dek translates this to Ling.

  She looks at me, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed with the drink now. She licks her lips and says, in harshly accented Fraynish: “The beasts.”

  I can’t explain it—I’ve not touched the shijiu myself—but a cold fear uncoils in my gut when she says this. I think of those things in Kahge pointing at me, shouting at me, emerging from the shadows. I think of how I am changed in that place.

  “What beasts?” I whisper. Her lips part again as if she’s about to speak, but suddenly she breaks out into peals of laughter instead. She says something scornful about witches.

  “Ask the philosopher-witches,” Dek translates, and then he says to her, “Take it easy on the drink or you’ll get sick.”

  She gives him a look so coquettish I almost blush to see it, and she pours herself another cup. Mei mutters something under her breath.

  “Roll,” says Ling to me, so I roll the dice.

  She examines the characters, flips madly through the book again, running her finger down the lines. Then she reads aloud.

  Dek translates it, clearly amused: “Who dares defy his ruler has no honor.”

  I grin. “That’s my fortune? Dishonor and defiance? Not bad.”

  Imperious now, Ling scoops up the dice and hands them to Wyn, demanding his birth date, flipping through the book when he rolls.

  Dek translates again: “In the sight of the gods, a peasant and a king are the same.”

  Mei shakes her head like a disapproving mama from the Twist.

  “Julia’s and mine seem contradictory,” says Wyn. “Hers is about not defying the ruler, and mine makes it sound like there ought not to be a ruler at all.”

  Mei explains this one, via Dek: “We have to abide by the rules of the world and submit properly to our role on earth. The gods don’t view us according to our role but according to our submission. Our place in the world is only a costume we have to wear in order to become what we are, but we must wear it humbly.”

  Wyn shrugs. Mei cracks a rare smile and says something.

  “She called you an idiot,” says Dek cheerfully. A sharp exchange between Mei and Dek follows, and he amends it: “An affectionate word for an idiot, then. Someone who doesn’t think deeply.”

  “Well, not about junk like this,” grumbles Wyn.

  Ling offers the dice to Mei, who shakes her head, scowling again. Ling laughs, jiggles the dice in her hand, and then rolls for herself. She finds the page and reads it in a high, mocking voice.

  “Ambition is a mountain with no summit,” translates Dek.

  Ling shoves the dice at him, almost angrily. He rolls, and she finds the right page.

  “The thirsty man in the desert must learn to drink sand.” Dek laughs a bit ruefully. “That works as a summary of the past, but I’d hoped it wouldn’t be my future. I’ve drunk enough sand.”

  He pushes the book closed. Ling leans against his shoulder, the angry light in her eyes going out all at once. She looks almost wan.

  I think Mei is scoffing that Ling cannot hold her liquor, but Dek doesn’t translate, so I’m not sure. I’m thinking about Dek drinking sand. Suppose I’d been the one to get Scourge, left crippled and an outcast? I can’t help thinking that Dek would have found another kind of life for me, even if it meant crossing the world, leaving our home behind. I’m thinking ten thousand rooms are not nearly enough, if every room requires submission.

  “I don’t believe in destiny,” says Wyn, taking out a pack of cards and winking at me. I can’t help my smile—it gives itself to him, whether I will it or not. “Chance rules the day, in the end. You play the hand you’re dealt as best you can and that’s the end of it. Isn’t that right, Brown Eyes?”

  “To chance, then,” says Dek, raising his cup.

  “To dishonor and defiance,” I laugh.

  “But no more sand,” says Dek.

  I meet his eyes and say: “No more sand.”

  Wyn shuffles and deals out.

  The following evening I am vanished near the entrance to a posh dining hall not far from the monastery, in Xishui’s first tier. The dining area is arranged in a square around a pond full of water lilies so that those eating can look over the water. At the center of the pond, seated on a little stone island, one musician plucks at a stringed instrument and another plays on something like a flute. Huge rafters crisscross the ceiling, and the wood floors are polished to a deep shine.

  Jun wasn’t there when I spoke with Count Fournier earlier in the day. I asked after him, and the count told me he was quite recovered from the dart Dek shot into him. I didn’t dare ask how angry he was. Now, at Count Fournier’s request, I am waiting to see who is having dinner with the Fraynish ambassador tonight.

  The hall is packed with the elegantly dressed members of Tianshi’s elite, eating and drinking and listening to the music. Only one table by the water remains empty. When I see the two Fraynish men being escorted to it by the serving girl, my heart gives a sickening lurch in my chest.

  I recognize the taller of the two men. He is unforgettable. The last time I saw him, I was crammed inside a cupboard in Mrs. Och’s reading room and he stood next to Agoston Horthy, saying nothing while the prime minister sparred with Mrs. Och. I do not know what name he goes by, but I know that Bianka has met him too, and that he had an interest in Theo. He has a sweep of thick gray hair and a swarthy face that would be handsome except that his fine features are less noticeable than his one yellow eye and the patch he wears over the other eye.

  The Fraynish ambassador is a heavyset man with thinning hair and a sunburnt face like an undercooked meatball. His waistcoat is adorned with medals of rank. The two men arrange themselves at the table, the fellow I recognize with his back to the water.

  He wants a view of the place, I suppose. Here in the open, it would be impossible for anyone to lurk near enough to overhear a soft-spoken conversation. Unless, of course, that somebody happened to be invisible and standing right at the speaker’s elbow.

  The serving girl brings them rice wine and tray after tray of Tianshi’s finest delicacies. The ambassador eats very fast, his eating sticks clacking against the ceramic dishes. He jams the food into his mouth, gives it a couple of chomps with those big jaws, and then gulps it down like some bulky but efficient eating machine.

  “I’m afraid you will find that they are going to make us wait, Lord Skaal,” says the ambassador nervously between enormous mouthfuls. “Si Tan likes to show foreign petitioners that they are of no importance, even when they are very important men like yourself. There is nothing to be done about it.”

  Lord Skaal is one of a rare type of man who has no tics or mannerisms. When he speaks, I am not expecting it because he does not lean forward or clear his throat or shift in any of the ways that most people do before they speak up. He has a pleasant voice, the tone of a friendly cabriolet driver meshing oddly with his upper-crust accent.

  “We shall see how long we have to wait,” he says. “I rather thought the grand librarian might be curious to meet me.”

  “Well, perhaps, perhaps,” says the ambassador. “But you see, it’s all about status here. They like to make you feel your lack of power.”

  “I did not come here to feel powerful,” says Lord Skaal.

  “Of course not,” says the ambassador. “I only mean, it is a game, you see. He sometimes refuses to see me at all. It is most embarrassing.”

  “He will see me,” says Lord Skaal, quite serenely. He glances over his shoulder at me—no, through me, though my heart leaps into my throat for a moment—and then he begins to ask the ambassador about Tianshi and the sights worth seeing. They talk for half an hour, no more, and leave together. I follow them back to the ambassador’s
house in the embassy section of the Beijin Triangle. Then I hop on a trolley to Dongshui.

  Jun meets me at the door this time, his expression stony.

  “Hullo,” I say, heart sinking at the look on his face. “I’ve got news for your boss.”

  He nods and lets me in, leading me through the outer courtyard to the main house.

  “Are you all right?” I ask, my voice stupidly bright. “I feel badly about yesterday. I never meant for any of that to happen.”

  “If your friends come here again, I shoot them,” he says. “I ask Count Fournier to buy me a gun and he say yes. Look.”

  He shows me a sleek little pistol that fits in his palm. I’m rather sorry that meeting me and my crew has made him feel he needs more than his sharp stick and clever tricks.

  “I’ll pass that along,” I say.

  Count Fournier is asleep at his desk, and it takes a good few minutes for Jun to rouse him, but he livens up as I tell him what I’ve seen and heard tonight. He fixes himself a drink, not bothering to offer me one this time. When I’m done talking, he looks at Jun and asks: “Is that right?”

  Jun nods.

  I stare, uncomprehending for a moment, and then give a snort of exasperation. “Well, why’d you ask me to do the job if he was going to follow me anyway?”

  “Not follow you,” says Jun. “I cannot see you. I follow ambassador, check if you tell us the truth about what you see.”

  “What a waste of my evening.” I am irritated, but my irritation gives way to curiosity. “Hang on—where were you in the restaurant, then? They had a view of the whole place.”

  The dimples come out in his cheeks and something flutters behind my rib cage.

  “Ambassador is stupid to choose that place,” he says, bouncing on his toes a bit in that restless way he has, like he might start turning cartwheels any moment. “There are big rafters on ceiling. I was on rafter, right over them.”

  I can’t help laughing at that, and for a moment he seems to forget his grudge, and we just grin at each other—two spies appreciating a clever bit of spying.

  I pull my eyes away and say to Count Fournier, “Have you heard of Lord Skaal before?”

  “No,” says the count. “But my contacts tell me that he is important, very close to Agoston Horthy.”

  “I saw them together once in Spira City,” I say. “But why is he trying to meet with Si Tan? If he wants to get into the monastery, isn’t it Gangzi he ought to be petitioning?”

  “Si Tan is likely more open to negotiation,” says the count. “And if there is anyone who holds some sway over Gangzi, it is Si Tan. In any case, it is bad news. I need to get the princess to safety as soon as possible. Will your people help us?”

  He says your people with an avid sort of gleam in his eyes.

  “That depends,” I say. “Are you going to help us find Ko Dan, or do I have to jump through some more hoops?”

  “No hoops, my dear,” he says. “I’ve already put the word out. But I’m going to need money. For bribes, you understand.”

  “I’ll bring you some,” I say.

  Count Fournier shoots Jun a pleased look, but Jun’s gaze is snagging on mine again, another smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

  “Well,” says Count Fournier, clearing his throat. “What I do know about Ko Dan is that he is a man-witch. Male witches are exceedingly rare, as I’m sure you know, and there was a lot of resistance, back in the day, regarding his joining the Shou-shu sect in the first place. Of course, they work a kind of magic with those bells, but the magic is in the bells, inscribed by witches a thousand years ago or more. He is the only one who can write magic himself. He was not born in Yongguo. He is from the Muyriki Islands, in the southern sea, but he came to Tianshi alone as a boy, bearing only a letter of recommendation from the Muyriki high holy, asking to apprentice with Gangzi. Gangzi made quite a pet of him. I don’t know how or why he left the monastery. There are various stories. Some say he went mad, some say he was executed, and others say he became a secret advisor to the emperor. I never paid the rumors any mind, but I found him a curious fellow when I met him.”

  “What does he look like?”

  “He is a young man, small, a gentle expression. He had a scar under his eye, shaped like a little star. Marked by magic, they said, or touched by the spirits. Who knows the truth of it?”

  “D’you think they might have executed him?” I ask. I’d hate to think we came all this way looking for a dead man.

  “It’s possible, but I think Si Tan, in particular, would consider it a waste. They would want to make use of him somehow, I suspect. Still, if they considered him too dangerous or impossible to control, then yes, they would kill him. I do not know the nature of his crime. The penalty for misuse of magic that harms no one is ten years in prison.”

  “What are the penalties if someone is harmed?”

  “It depends on who and how. Witches are drowned here too, you know.”

  “Witches who hurt people or use magic for their own gain,” I say.

  “Witches who are accused of that,” he says, and then laughs at my expression. “I’ve been here too long, and I am a cynic. Witches may be useful to the empire or they may pose a threat. The empire keeps them close not because it loves witches but because it seeks to control them in the most efficient way. In Frayne, Horthy and the king drown witches indiscriminately, which is clumsy and brutal and stupid. There is more art to the managing of witches here, but don’t imagine they are not managed. The penalty for not revealing yourself as a witch—by which I mean for being a witch without a license, even if you do not practice witchcraft—is death.”

  I am a little shaken by this. I suppose I’d imagined Yongguo as some kind of idyll for witches.

  “A ruler cannot afford to ignore the fact that some small number of the population can alter nature itself merely by writing something down,” he says.

  “And what does your aunt, Lady Laroche, think about that?” I ask.

  He smiles slyly. “Why, she believes witches cannot be ruled. It follows, then, that witches ought to rule. Now don’t look so shocked, my dear! You’ve done very well. My contacts know everybody in this city. If you have money, I will find you Ko Dan.”

  I am hoping to find Dek at home, but he isn’t there. Wyn is asleep on a mat on the floor with Mei at his side, her arm flung back. An aching, dark space opens up inside me as I look down at them. I used to love to fall asleep in his arms, to wake up next to him.

  But he’s not mine anymore, never really was, and I have other things to do besides wallow in self-pity. I give him a sharp nudge with my foot.

  “Ow,” he mutters into the pillow. I nudge harder. He sits up and stares at me.

  “Brown Eyes,” he says blurrily, and then looks at Mei and back at me, uncertain.

  “I need money,” I say. “Where’s Dek?”

  “I don’t bleeding know where he is,” he grumbles. “It’s the middle of the night. What do you need money for?”

  “Dek said Mrs. Och gave you money for bribes. I need some.”

  “So she’d give some to you as well. Why d’you need to come waking me up?”

  He gets up off the mat, careful not to disturb Mei. He is completely naked, all beautiful long limbs and…well. I look away.

  “Aren’t you precious,” he scoffs, snatching his trousers from the floor and pulling them on. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

  “I’d rather not wake Mrs. Och in the middle of the night,” I say. “And I was hoping to see Dek.”

  The truth is, I want as little to do with Mrs. Och as possible. I want to find Ko Dan and get out of here. I follow Wyn into the other room, where he pulls up a floor plank and takes out a jar full of coins on strings and wads of paper money.

  “How much?” he asks.

  I help myself to most of the paper money, filling my pockets.

  He gives a low whistle and asks, “D’you want me to come with you?”

  “No.”<
br />
  “You’re sure? It’s not dangerous?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  He sighs and rubs a sleepy hand over his face. “If you say so. You know if you ever need me…well, just say the word.”

  “You’d leave your poor girl alone in the bed?” There’s more bite to my words than I really intended.

  “Yes,” he says.

  We look at each other. He is all shadow, his bare chest a darkness I know so well. My loneliness opens wider and wider until I feel I am a small thing within it. I shake it off. I’m used to climbing out of this particular pit of regret and desire by now.

  “Look, I’m sorry I woke you. I’ll come by tomorrow if I get a chance. Tell Dek to stick around.”

  I can’t really see his expression in the dark, and I am already turning away when he says, “I still love you, Julia.”

  He never told me that he loved me until I left him.

  “I love you too,” I say lightly, without turning around. Because I do, I always have, in a thousand different ways. I go out and close the door on him.

  I don’t go straight back to Count Fournier’s with the money. I am restless, and my legs carry me, almost of their own volition, to the other side of the Imperial Gardens and the empty road outside the Hundred Lantern Hotel. My heart tightens in my chest as I look up at the lit windows. It is one of the few establishments still open this late. I should be keeping an eye on Pia. I could disappear and get into her room, if I knew which one, without her seeing me. But when I think about it, my breath catches in my throat and I am, quite simply, too frightened. Like a child closing their eyes and pretending the scary thing doesn’t exist—if I don’t see her, I don’t have to think of her in Tianshi, hunting me, hunting Theo.

  “What is here?”

  I spin around, and there is Jun, just a few feet away.

  “Are you following me?” I try to sound annoyed, in spite of a startling rush of gladness.