7
I could hardly breathe. The blade felt cold against my skin. “I…I was summoned.”
“An ill-mannered servant!” The man sheathed the sword with a clang and headed to a stool near the oversize bed. He had a large frame: his shoulders were broad and his head was round like a festival lantern. His face was mercifully masked by the darkness.
Emperor Taizong. Who else would speak in such a manner, as if he were discontent with my behavior even though I had done nothing? He did not possess a lion’s roar. His voice was grim and somehow raspy. He did not walk like a powerful lord. He shuffled, his shoulder tilting to one side, and he looked like he was having trouble holding his back straight. He also groaned as though his bones ached.
That man was the mighty conqueror everyone talked about? The most formidable man of the kingdom, the one who was above everyone else? He had just celebrated forty years of mortality, I remembered, but he looked old, irritated, and morose, as though he resented the world and held grudges against everyone.
With a loud grunt, he sat down on the stool facing the bed. He did not ask me about the riddle—perhaps he had forgotten it, or perhaps he was no longer interested—nor did he question me about my fight with the other Selects.
I stayed where I was, remembering the code, which dictated I must not do anything until I was told. Certainly I could not sit. The superior sat while the subordinate stood. But what should I do? A drop of water slid from my hair to my earlobe, dropped on to my shoulder, and slithered down to my stomach. I shivered.
A splutter came from the brazier, startling me. I glanced at the Emperor. He did not move.
Was he going to sit there forever?
Suddenly, he stretched out his arms. “Now.”
It looked as though he wished me to disrobe him. I tied the corners of the cover sideways at my chest and scurried toward the stool.
Carefully, I held the collar of his robe, pulled back the fabric from his shoulder, slid it down his arms, and took it off. Then I knelt on the floor to reach for the drawstrings of his loose underpants.
I thought of what would come next. My hands trembled.
“What are you waiting for?” He slapped my hand.
I shrank back. Did he wish me to take off my cover? My nerves tightening into a ball, I dug my fingers into the knot and loosened it. The cover slipped from my shoulders and dropped on the floor. Goose bumps spread on my arms, and I stood, unprotected like a plucked hen.
He did not move.
Cold seeped into my skin. I hugged my chest and crossed my legs, but immediately I realized that was a mistake. I dropped my hands to my sides.
“What are you doing?” he said sharply. “Here.” He pointed to his back.
I looked behind him. Nothing. Hesitating, I then walked there.
“Never stand at my back,” he barked.
I quickly stepped aside. Something poked my leg—the sword, its hilt inlaid with jade and gold. It was strange he would keep a sword in his bedchamber, but perhaps he wished me to give it to him. I stooped to pick it up.
“Never, ever touch my sword.” His voice was louder, and the sword slid aside, out of my reach.
I straightened. It was so humiliating. There I was, naked, standing, trying to please him. But he shouted at me as if I were nobody.
“Put these on.” A pair of leather gloves dropped at my feet.
I picked them up, not knowing what to do at first. Then I understood. Of course. I must not touch his skin directly.
He wiggled impatiently, his finger pointing at his right shoulder. “Here!”
Suddenly, everything was clear to me. He did not wish me to strip, nor did he desire me to pleasure him. He only needed my fingers to scratch his back.
I tapped the skin beneath his shoulder blades. He let out a loud grunt. “Harder!”
I increased my pressure.
“Harder!”
I scratched with all the strength I could muster. He sighed in relief, and then he lifted his feet. “Foot bath.”
I searched for containers. There were two basins filled with water near the brazier. I wanted to cover myself first and then fetch the water, but I was afraid to keep him waiting. So I went to one basin, carried it above my chest, and left it before him at the stool.
He thrust his feet into the water. They made squeaky noises as he rubbed, and then he leaned against the wall, staring at the ceiling. For a moment he seemed to be soaked in a stream of thoughts, and then he closed his eyes. Soon, soft snores rose into the air.
A strand of damp hair fell over my eyes. I tucked it behind my ear. It seemed ironic to me that the Emperor, who conquered the vast land for the kingdom, would sleep on a stool.
I found the cover and tied it around me. I was glad he was asleep so I could study him. He had long, curled whiskers, which shook gently as he breathed. His skin was dark, leathery, and wrinkled, and there were some dark specks around his cheekbones, like smeared flies. He did not have much hair on his head, and a deep scar snaked from his neck to his chest where his underrobe failed to cover. Still, judging from his square face and straight nose, I could tell he had been handsome once, and with his broad shoulders, he must have been a fierce figure on the battlefield, a frightening presence when he commanded an attack.
He was a powerful ruler, the first emperor who had conquered the troublesome Eastern Turks, forcing their neighbors, the Western Turks, to flee to the farthest northern border, and expanded the edge of our kingdom to the snowy mountains near Tarim Basin. He was also known as a cunning strategist. When he faced the undefeated elephant armies of the Champa kingdoms in the south, he had trapped them in pits and shot the elephants with crossbows, causing them to trample their own soldiers in fear.
But he was old now, so withered and unattractive. If I passed him on a street, I would not look at him twice. And to want to please him? Forget about it. But he was the Emperor, whose words could change my family’s fate. I must do whatever I could to make him love me.
Suddenly, he gazed at me, his eyes bright like a wolf’s eyes sparkling in the darkness.
My knees grew weak. He could order my death for staring at him.
But his eyes rolled and then snapped shut, and as though he had not noticed me, his head lolled to one side and his snores filled up the chamber again.
Perhaps the Emperor was testing me. Or perhaps he was indeed sleeping? For a long time, I stood rigidly, not daring to move. But he did not wake again.
Flames burst in the brazier and danced in the air. The fire cast my shadow on the wall scroll and covered the couplets. Slowly, I walked to a mat near the brazier and sat down, my head resting on my knees.
Something was wrong.
Yes, I had been late for the summons. But where were the servants and the bookkeeper who was supposed to record my night with the Emperor? And why did he treat me like I was a servant?
I looked around, searching every corner of the chamber. The incense sticks had burned halfway down, the fire in the brazier was burning bright, and the cushions on the floor were stacked against the wall. Everything appeared neat, and no one else was around.
The door squeaked. A woman stepped over the threshold.
I could not believe my eyes.
“Mei?” She was shocked to see me too, her hand frozen on the cover she wore, a cover similar to mine.
My hands turned cold.
Jewel had stolen my summons. She had come in my place to meet the Emperor, who had mistaken me for a maidservant. The bookkeeper and servants were absent because the bedroom affair was already over, or perhaps the Emperor had sent them away.
So that was the secret she had shared with Eunuch Ming. She had bribed him to bring her to the Emperor’s quarters. No one would know it was not me, since she was wrapped in the cover. But the deaf eunuch, unaware of their scheme, had carried me to
the Emperor’s chamber.
And she had drugged me.
“What are you doing here? Go to your chamber.” Jewel stepped forth and held my shoulders. “I will explain later.”
“There’s nothing to explain.” I shook her hands off. A fire burned inside me. Pretending to be my friend. Bathing with me. Deceiving me. Jewel was worse than the Xu Girl.
“He’s here. Don’t be foolish.” She glanced at the Emperor on his stool.
I did not care. I shoved her with all my might. A loud thump. She crashed onto the foot of the bed, and the screens toppled to the floor. Water splashed. The basin, spinning, flew to my feet.
“What is it?” the Emperor roared, standing up. “What’s going on?”
I kept my eyes on Jewel. When she rose, I would slap her and make her suffer. And I did not care that the Emperor was watching.
She did not rise. Instead, she slipped down the bed, her head drooping, her arms sprawling.
“What’s this?” The Emperor walked to her. “Rise now.”
No response.
I blinked. Did I hurt her? Did she…?
The Emperor shook Jewel’s shoulder, but she wobbled like a lifeless doll. Frowning, he pulled her into his arms. Then he pinched her cheek and patted her face. Jewel made no movement.
He stood up and turned to me. “What did you do?” he bellowed. “Who are you?”
“I…I…” Blood rushed to my head, and the room swam before me. Jewel was dead? But I had not meant to harm her. I was angry. That was all. She had deceived me!
There was a groan like that of a small animal, coming from somewhere. Like that of a cat. I recognized the voice.
Jewel’s.
“Oh, I’m fine. Don’t worry. I was only getting a rest.” And there, one hand holding the bedpost and the other touching the back of her head, she rose, smiling, as if nothing had happened.
She had feigned it. She had made me believe she was dead. Never had I felt so angry. “Jewel!” I lunged for her. But somehow I ended up on the floor, and my head knocked against the hard wood. A stabbing pain hammered my head, and I could not hear or see. I was also soaked, my feet were cold, my hair was tangled, and water was everywhere.
“Get out.” The Emperor stood before me. “Get out now.”
My head spinning, I looked from him to Jewel.
“You should go.” Jewel stood next to the Emperor. Gently, she stroked his shoulder, her head leaning toward him, her slender, tapered fingers clinging to him like vines.
I scrambled to my feet.
“Wait. Perhaps you’ll mop up the water before you leave?” she said.
All I could do was take the rag from her hand and kneel. I wiped the area near the bed, behind the screens, under the drapery, and around the stool where the Emperor sat. When the rag was soaked with water, I straightened and wrung it above the basin. The bedchamber darkened momentarily before me. My kneecaps were tender, my back ached, my fingers were cold, and my head throbbed.
Jewel whispered to the Emperor while I cleaned. He smiled and nodded. He seemed to enjoy her company, and finally, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.
When I straightened again, Jewel came to me. “Now, you may leave,” she said, her catlike eyes as deep as a treacherous abyss. “And thank you for your riddle.”
I stumbled out of the chamber, and the door shut behind me.
For a long time, I stood in the corridor outside the bedchamber while a stout girl holding a broom watched me. I pulled the cover tighter and went down the stone stairs.
Beyond the courtyard, the lights had been extinguished. There was nothing but darkness ahead of me.
AD 640
the Fourteenth Year of Emperor Taizong’s Reign of Peaceful Prospect
WINTER
8
Winter refused to leave. Every day after the midday meal, I walked to the arboretum in the back of my bedchamber, where high walls divided the court from the forest in the Forbidden Park.
The air was chilly, and it pressed against my face like an icy veil. Above the tall poplars, clusters of gray smoke gathered and stood still like a pond of shadows. The wind came and the smoke drifted, stretching like a stream, and then it bent again, settling in the sky like a misty bridge I could not cross.
I had heard that Jewel had told the Emperor it was her riddle, and she had given my name because she was worried he would not receive her. But when she took my place and met him, he obviously remembered her. He also seemed interested in her again, and she had stayed with him that night.
Jewel had moved to the Inner Court. Rumors said the Emperor enjoyed her company so much that he took her to all the feasts and festivals. Some even said she had been summoned every week. She would soon be Most Adored. It sickened me to hear.
I tucked my hands into my sleeves and walked, my shadow dragging at my feet. I wanted to think everything through and sort out what I had done wrong. I had been too trusting, too eager to make friends. That was my undoing. As long as we all strove to win the Emperor’s heart, there would be no friends in the court.
Frost moistened the cloth soles of my shoes and sent a chill through my body. I wrapped my coat tightly around me. It had been over a year since I had left Mother. I remembered my last days with her. She had appeared fragile then, her steps slow, her hair gray, her eyes rimmed with worries.
Did her back still hurt? Mother would reach the age of Knowing Heaven’s Mission this year. What if something happened to her and she fell sick? What if she could not wait for me?
I shivered. I must do better. I must see the Emperor again.
I kept walking. I imagined Father watching me, his eyes sparkling with expectation. What would he say to me if he learned of my situation?
“The good fighters of old first put themselves beyond the possibility of defeat, and then waited for an opportunity of defeating the enemy,” Sun Tzu had said. Waiting for an opportunity… There was always next year’s birthday, was there not? I had no idea what I could do to attract the Emperor’s attention, but I had to think of something.
Meanwhile, I had to learn to read people’s faces as well as their words. I had to learn to perceive the dagger hidden behind a woman’s smile and know how to fend it off. And more importantly, I had to learn to deliver a dagger myself.
• • •
Spring finally came. Birds chirped in the Forbidden Park. Rabbits, foxes, and weasels dashed through the bushes, and trees swayed under a clear sky. I went to the arboretum again, pacing between the poplars and the wall. The other Selects gathered around the rocks in the sand garden. They covered their mouths, laughing.
The poplars grew green shoots with thick coats of hair. I snapped off a few, held them, and then let them fall through my fingers. The wispy white fuzz drifted to the ground like a string tugging at my memory, and those images, vivid but puzzling, rolled in my mind like a scroll blown by a gust. There was a pair of yellow, bulbous eyes, the sudden silence of the forest, a shower of leaves and red drops, and a desperate voice.
What did these visions mean? I wished I could understand them, but a thick blanket of fog seemed to shroud my head, and no matter how hard I tried to uncover it, it returned to coat my mind.
But it must have had something to do with Father—it had to—for I remembered clearly that on that same day, Father had died.
“What are you doing, Pheasant? Bring the horse back here. Now!” a man’s voice shouted from the Forbidden Park on the other side of the wall. His voice was deep, rich, and thick with a man’s valor.
I took a few steps back and raised my head. It was the first time since my arrival that I heard a male voice that was not the Emperor. All the eunuchs sounded like shrill, querulous housewives. Who was the man on the other side of the wall?
“I’m trying,” another male voice answered. “But horses are like girls. Y
ou can tell them what to do, but they still do whatever they like.”
A different voice. Youthful and joyous. Infused with spirit and good humor. The young fellow called Pheasant. He must have been good-looking. He had to be. Anyone who spoke with such liveliness had to be beautiful.
I stood on tiptoe. I wished to see who these two men were, but the high wall was impossible to climb. I took a few steps farther and looked again. Nothing but the flowing treetops. I listened intently. There was the rustling of leaves and a horse’s grunting. Then nothing.
Who were those men?
They must have lived or worked in the palace, or they would not have had permission to come to the park. Perhaps they were ministers, scribes, or guards. The first man with the deep voice sounded older; he was in command. The second man, Pheasant, seemed to be his groom.
Could the first man with the deep voice be the Emperor’s son? The Emperor had ten living sons, ranging from twenty years old to less than a year.
I waited a bit longer, listening intently, but no more movement came from the other side. Soon, I left the arboretum as well, but I could not stop thinking of the two men.
• • •
A few days later, I had almost fallen asleep when I heard the other Selects whispering on their pallets.
“I cannot wait,” someone said, beginning her nightly chorus with the others. “Only two more months!”
“Me neither,” another added. “How exciting! We will see all those people—the counselors, the ministers, the dukes, and the princes.”
I pricked up my ears. They were talking about the Adulthood Ceremony of our Taizi, the Crown Prince. To celebrate his coming of age, the Emperor would gather all the important ministers and the imperial family members to attend the ceremony in the Altar House. He had also given permission to his women, including us in the Yeting Court, to watch.
I would go to the ceremony! That meant I would see the Emperor again. I wanted to know the date the ceremony would be held, but the girls went on to discuss what to wear and how to shape their hair.
The Moon in the Palace (The Empress of Bright Moon Duology) Page 6