by JC Kang
Released from his gaze, her mind began to clear. “How were you able to make it through the Maduran lines?”
Prince Hardeep raised his head. Kaiya avoided those mesmerizing eyes, and instead focused on his chin as he spoke. “One of your lords, Peng Kai-Long, has long supported us. I came with him on a Cathayi trade ship.”
It made sense. Cousin Kai-Long served as a trade negotiator in Ayuri lands and knew many influential people in Tivaralan’s South. He had recently returned to the capital to attend the upcoming wedding of Second Brother.
“He is my father’s favorite nephew,” she said. “I am sure he could present a more convincing argument to the Son of Heaven than I.”
Prince Hardeep shook his head. “Search inside yourself and speak with your heart. A father cannot deny the compassionate voice of his beloved daughter. Please. Our riches have been plundered, our people enslaved.” His voice beckoned her head up. “Widows must sell their bodies, while orphans starve in the streets.”
His dejected gaze twisted into her. Her heart, suddenly hot, sank into her belly. Father must not have known the consequences of Hua’s trade agreement, since he ruled with the moral authority of Heaven. Here was a chance to show her understanding of statecraft, to prove she was worthy of her noble birth, while helping a downtrodden people.
“I will convey your message. Please make yourself comfortable until my return.” She paused for a moment to search his expression. All signs of his earlier frivolity were gone. He’d just been toying with her to get what he wanted.
It didn’t matter. It was the right thing to do. All the heroes from her favorite songs would’ve done the same. With an inward sigh, she turned and swept out of the hall, her guards marching behind her.
Outside, Kaiya took a deep breath of cool spring air to calm her thoughts and ease the hot constriction in her chest. Never before had a man made her pulse race like that. Then again, she had nothing but six fawning suitors with which to compare him.
No, this had nothing to do with Prince Hardeep’s charm. An entire nation suffered, with Hua’s complicity. Father had always preached morality, demanded her to always do the right thing. She turned to the official. “Where is the Tianzi now?”
The old man gawked. “I don’t think—”
She cast a silencing glare.
He bowed his head. “In the Hall of Supreme Harmony.”
As the palace’s central audience chamber, the Hall of Supreme Harmony was just a few minutes away, up one hundred sixty-eight arduous steps. Father rode an ornate golden palanquin to the top, but Kaiya, like anyone else who wasn’t the Tianzi, had to climb.
Each step planted a seed of doubt in her head. A princess had no business in politics, besides solidifying loyalties through marriage. Remonstrating the Tianzi in front of all the lords and ministers would embarrass Father, so much that he would have no choice but to punish her.
CHAPTER 2
Treacherous Intents
Eighteen-year-old Zheng Tian knelt by the blockwood door, cursing under his breath. In his former life as Princess Kaiya’s childhood confidante, he would’ve never broken into a warehouse. Now a Moquan spy, whose clan served the Tianzi, he should’ve already picked the lock.
“Hurry up.” Cell leader Yan Jie’s whisper tickled his ear. “The guards are halfway to the corner.”
Tian glanced up to the south, where the alley between the warehouses provided a view of the smallest of the three moons, Caiyue.
Swirling with colors like a soap bubble, it waned to fourth gibbous—two hours before dawn. The guards were running ahead of schedule. He hadn’t heard them coming, but Jie’s half-elf blood gave her adorable pointed ears with exceptional hearing.
He motioned to the lock. “Shine the light there.”
The roll of her eyes carried in her hushed tone. “A blindfolded orc with three fingers missing would have broken in by now.”
Now, even his ears picked up the guards’ laughter. He twisted the pick in the narrow hole for the third time. With a soft click, the lock yielded. A little pressure on the door confirmed the hinges were well-oiled, and he pushed it open. Without a sound, he pulled Jie in and closed the door behind them.
In the silent darkness, Jie tapped her fingers on his forearm in their clan code. Two guards, now turning corner... Now passing door... All clear.
He blew out a breath. As risky as the work was, he fit in better among spies and assassins than with the realm’s ruling elite. Not like he could ever go back to that life. Not after what he’d done to Princess Kaiya.
A dim light from Jie’s magic bauble spilled from between her fingers, casting her childlike features in a shadowed hue. Though ten years, three months and two days his senior, she looked no older than twelve, thanks to her elf heritage.
He rotated the lock back into place with another quiet snick. “It’s a new device. Dwarf-made. Very expensive. I noticed it during the last harbormaster inspection.”
Jie’s large almond eyes narrowed to normal Hua size as she squinted at the door. That look…she was more interested than she let on, if only about the dwarven lock. “A nice lock doesn’t mean they are hiding anything.”
How could he even begin to explain the incremental increase in value on deliveries using specific ships in specific months, to this specific warehouse, when specific customs officials were on duty? The patterns, so clear to him, never made sense to anyone else. “Their manifests were suspicious. Come on.” He beckoned her toward the dozens of wooden crates.
Yawning, she padded after him. It was doubtless feigned boredom—if anyone ever supported him, it was Jie, the clan master’s adopted daughter.
He stopped at a crate with the word fragile painted around the lid. Its markings listed an origin of Wailian County in the unsettled North, with a destination of Yutou Province in the South.
He slid a finger over the rough edge of a crate and held it up. “Ground rice powder.”
“So, they want to keep something dry. That could be just about anything. Beef jerky and pearl powder aren’t going to lead to the realm’s downfall.” Shrugging, she produced a nail extractor from one of the twenty-seven hidden pockets in her utility suit.
“Wait.” Tian stayed her hand. If only he could explain things as quickly as the thoughts came to him. Customs forms declared the box’s contents to be sesame seeds, whose oils would be ruined by rice powder. Not to mention that Yutou Province was the largest supplier of sesame seeds in the realm. So unless Yutou’s Tai-Ming Lord Liang planned on cornering a low-margin market by buying up every seed in the nation and labelling them fragile, it wasn’t sesame seeds in that crate.
He picked up a nearby crowbar and gingerly wedged it under the lid, far from any of the nails. Wailian County’s chief resource was saltpeter, shipments of which were restricted to the capital. It wouldn’t do to send any sparks flying. Opening the lid sent a cloud of rice dust into the air.
Jie waved a hand in front of her eyes and peeled open the cloth lining inside, revealing… “Imagine that, a box marked sesame seeds having…sesame seeds.”
With a frown, Tian knifed his hand into the seeds. Half a chi in, his fingers, rough from ironpalm training, thunked against wood.
Her ears twitched. “How deep?”
“Seven cun.” He indicated a handlength, then eased a large box out with a rustling of sesame. This was why he was meant for spying. Even if it meant never seeing Princess Kaiya again.
He cast a triumphant glance at Jie. “There’s more in there. Several.”
“I could’ve told you that.” She blinked innocently as she ran a hand across the lid.
Of course. He swatted her hands away. Opening the box revealed a fine black powder. Tian had expected coarse white saltpeter. He exchanged glances with Jie. “What is it?”
She sucked on the right side of her bottom lip. “I don’t know.”
“Take a sample—”
Jie’s ears perked up and her head jerked toward the door. She stashed
the light bauble, drowning the room in darkness.
The door whispered open with a breeze, and light crept in from a light bauble lamp. Three cloaked men pushed their way in and closed the door behind them. None of them looked familiar; they were certainly none of the sixteen guards who rotated shifts around this building. Their clothes bore no identifying sigils.
Pulse racing, Tian eased the lid back on top of the incriminating crate as quietly as he could. His fingers worked the nails back into their holes. If the conspirators discovered the tampering, they would cover their tracks.
“There are twenty crates marked fragile,” said the smallest of the men, his enunciation thick with the North. He held up the lamp and opened its shutters. It illuminated the front third of the building, leaving Tian and Jie in the dark. “I’ll show you where they are spread throughout the warehouse.”
The largest man crossed his arms. “You could have put them all together, close to the front. The porters’ guild would charge you an extra ten percent.”
“Then it’s a good thing you aren’t with the guild.” Lamp Man’s lips drew into a tight frown.
The porter crossed his arms. “I’m sure the porters’ guild, harbormaster, and other authorities might take issue with, how shall I say…”
The third man, a fellow with a fat nose and the telltale bump of a short sword concealed beneath his cloak, exchanged glances with Lamp Man, then waved a hand. “My lord is more than willing to pay five percent.”
Tian’s ears perked up. Fat Nose’s lord was someone from the South, if he shared the same rough features and accent.
The porter grinned. “Plus a silver jiao for dragging me over here at this hour.”
“Two silver jiao for the inconvenience and discretion,” Fat Nose said.
The porter licked his lips. “The porter guild is scheduled to unload the Wild Orchid at first light. My other men will come to collect your shipment tonight.”
Tian tapped his chin. The Wild Orchid, belonging to Tai-Ming Lord Peng in Nanling Province, had been sighted at sea late this night. Yu-Ming Lord Tong of Wailian County had never before used it to transport the questionable shipments.
“Then we are agreed.” Fat Nose gestured toward the crates, inviting the men to follow him.
Tian’s muscles tensed. If the conspirators discovered them, someone would likely die. He backed deeper into the warehouse, with Jie pressing her back into his stomach as if he needed the prompting. Her fingers tapped on his forearm. Left two mine. If necessary. On my signal.
Of course she would leave the one with the sword to him. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that. What was the old proverb Princess Kaiya had first told him, four thousand, twenty-one days ago? Hold the dragonfly with care, for even their fleeting lives have value.
What was the value of a man’s life? Tian looked from face to face. As long as these new arrivals didn’t find evidence of tampering, they would live to see the morning.
There had to be a way to ensure that, if only because the porter had a family to go home to. At least, the carp marriage charm around his neck implied as much. He tapped on Jie’s forearm. I distract, you seal crate.
“That one.” Lamp Man led the way, pointing to several of the boxes marked fragile.
Treading quietly just outside the edge of the lamp’s light, Tian worked his way toward the entrance. If they moved the light over too much, they’d see him.
As the three men continued, the light shifted deeper into the warehouse. Once the darkness enveloped the front door, he eased it open and slipped out. On the other side, he closed the door and looked past the setting full Blue Moon to the Iridescent Moon. Never moving from its seat in the heavens, it now waned halfway between its fourth and fifth crescents. An hour and a half to dawn. He rapped on the door. “Harbormaster’s office here,” he yelled.
A brief commotion broke out, followed by silence. A set of footsteps approached the door. It opened, and Lamp Man peered out and scrutinized Tian up and down.
“Harbormaster’s office.” Tian flashed an apologetic grin. With a black utility suit instead of the blue robes marking him as a government official… “Two ships coming in. Before dawn. Anything to declare?”
Lamp Man’s forehead crinkled. “Who are you?”
“I’m from the Harbormaster’s office. On my way to work. I saw you three enter.” Tian memorized Lamp Man’s fine features and light complexion as he stalled… with the light at the door, Jie could work those nails back into place with her iron palms.
Lamp Man looked Tian over again. “You don’t look like an official.”
“Just a scribe, sir.” Tian wiped his hands over his clothes. Almost all people in Hua believed the Moquan to be nothing more than boogeymen who kidnapped unruly children. At least, that’s what mothers told children to keep them in line. “My robes are at work.”
Lamp Man reached into his cloak, sending Tian’s hand for his hidden knife. Then, Lamp Man proffered a copper fen. “What’s your name, boy?”
“Zheng.” Tian peered at the coin for a few seconds, then plucked it up and bobbed his head. Let Lamp Man believe a bribe went a long way, as it certainly did with many government officials, and it might be a means of finding out more information.
“Well, Little Zheng, I may need you in the future.”
Tian bobbed his head a few more times. “Happy to help. But soon. I will be transferred in a few weeks.”
Lamp Man nodded. “I will be visiting the harbormaster’s office this afternoon. I will need some help filing some documents.” A silver jiao appeared in his hand.
Filing, or perhaps forging. Tian feigned an avaricious grin and swiped it. There was a conspiracy of some sort, and he would soon find out its nature.
CHAPTER 3
Incendiary Rumors
As a half-elf raised among humans, Jie hated being treated like someone half her age. Especially by Tian. Now that they were safe in a nearby alley, she swatted his hand away as he tousled her hair. His impertinence would be annoying if he weren’t so handsome.
“You left me!” she said. And not for the first time in their lives as partners.
“My improvisation worked, right?” Tian’s grin begged to be slapped.
Jie snorted. When he improvised, it usually led to disaster. His plans, on the other hand, had a high rate of success, as long as she was the one executing them.
He tapped his chin. “Did you push the nails back in place?”
Jie made a show of examining her fingernails. “Yes, but with such calloused fingers, I won’t be sent to the Floating World to trawl for information anytime soon.”
“You wouldn’t belong there, anyway. The Night Blossoms of Floating World are beautiful beyond compare.” Tian reached for her hair again.
His tone carried no hint of malice, and it would be expected with his lack of social graces, but still. What a boor! With a swipe of her hand, she seized his and pushed up on his elbow to put him in a chicken-wing lock. Before she could finish the motion, he grasped her wrist and twisted. Not to be outdone, she snaked her arm out of his grasp. “Are you quite done?”
“Yes.” Tian pointed to the warehouse entrance, a block away. “I’ll keep an eye on Fat Nose until I report to work. You check out the Wild Orchid’s cargo.”
Jie sucked on her lower lip. Not only did he treat her like a little girl, he also gave orders–even though she was his senior, the clan master’s adopted daughter, and the cell leader. The things she tolerated, if only from Tian. “Fine.”
He didn’t even notice, so intent was he on crouching by a stack of kegs and peering at the warehouse. Harrumphing, Jie turned toward the docks.
Night still hung over Jiangkou. Even if her no-good father had abandoned her as a baby, at least he had left her with exceptional elven senses. Now that the crescent White Moon Renyue and the Blue Moon Guanyin’s Eye had set, human eyes would strain in the darkness. However, the world appeared clearly in shades of green to her elven vision.
Pausing in an alley between warehouses, she uncovered the plain breeches and shirt she’d stashed just for this purpose. After slipping into them, Jie adjusted a thick headband to cover her ears. When the clan needed someone disguised as a kid, she was the one who invariably got stuck playing the part.
She peered out onto the long stretch of wharfs along the harbor front. An enormous sablewood vessel towered over the already large Hua trading ships. A handful of likely non-guild longshoremen milled about, scrounging for a piece of Hua’s wealth. With its ships and trade routes dominating the western seas, the nation was like a golden pig, fattened to the point that the lords swam in riches and even the poor wanted for little. If only the citizens knew what the Black Lotus Clan did: that a rebellion brewed in the North. Fueled by greed, it was kept in check only by the delicate systems of interdependence set up by the dynasty’s founder.
Out in the water, the Wild Orchid made its way toward a pier. Sails lowered, its oarsmen rowed to the beat of a drum. Jie headed in the same direction, slipping between the growing crowds of workers. With dawn stretching tendrils of red and pink through the morning clouds, her vision shifted to color. Her attention was drawn from the Wild Orchid to a huge black ship, already docked. Its green flag, emblazoned with a silver sun with nine points, marked it as Tarkothi. With treaties demarcating trade spheres between the world’s great naval powers, it was strange to see them this far west.
By the time she reached the Wild Orchid, dockworkers were already tying down the moorings. Jie sighed as she mixed in with the queue of child laborers. With the possibility of insurrection, there were a dozen more interesting places to be than here. All on Tian’s hunch. The sailors’ banter, laced with language that could make a Night Blossom fake a blush, provided the only entertainment during the wait.
At last, the gangplank lowered. Twenty-one black-haired, bronze-skinned people wobbled down. The men wore threadbare kurta shirts, while faded sari hung from the women’s shoulders. Ayuri folk, but from which nation, and why would they come to Hua?