by JC Kang
Though the sound didn’t carry the same emotions as her masters’ playing, it resonated through rice wine-fueled conversation among the hereditary lords and ladies. Dressed in their finest gowns and robes, they all sat on the imported sablewood floors around low tables, enjoying delicacies prepared by the finest chefs in the realm.
Each place was set with some of her favorite dishes, though Cousin Kai-Long’s embarrassing plan had killed her appetite: a bowl of royal red rice, a low-rimmed bowl with jade asparagus and immortal mushrooms sautéed with royal-ox butter, a small saucer of soy sauce-braised golden pork belly cubes, a small plate of fried finger-length whitefish, a medium-sized plate of chopped crispy quail, and a lacquer bowl of shark fin soup. A small cup for rice wine sat on the right side, next to a pair of chopsticks. The Imperial Family’s symbol of a blue five-clawed dragon decorated each white porcelain dish.
Insides twisting, Kaiya looked through the sliding doors. Painted with dark golden dragons flying among the clouds, they stood open to the garden beyond, thankfully allowing cool air off Sun-Moon Lake to percolate in and alleviate the stifling air. Facing north, they did not provide a view of the Iridescent Moon, so she would have to rely on Kai-Long to keep time. Going along with his potentially humiliating plan might tarnish the hard-to-maintain façade of Perfect Princess.
And she had been far from perfect today. Surprisingly enough, the Minister of Household Affairs hadn’t approached her about her transgressions, nor had Father summoned her regarding the betrothal to General Lu. She shifted in her seat. Certainly, one of the witnesses would have reported everything by now.
Or perhaps they’d been too busy preparing for this reception to deal with a naughty sixteen-year-old. Tomorrow might be another story, but for now, Second Brother Kai-Wu and his soon-to-be bride took center stage.
Everyone took turns approaching the dais where the Imperial Family ate from small individual tables. Second Brother, never one for ceremony, slouched beside his bride-to-be. Wu Yanli, the daughter of Tai-Ming Lord Wu of Zhenjing Province, might have been a porcelain doll with her cold elegance. She almost rivaled Xiulan in beauty, and rumor had it she had enchanted Kai-Wu with the magic of her tea ceremony.
Young Lord Chen Qing, a Yu-Ming heir to a county in Jiangzhou Province, approached with a dumb smile on his face and a wine saucer in hand. He dropped to his knee. “Dian-xia, congratulations on your new sister-in-law. Let us toast.” His eyes swept to the porcelain decanter at her side.
The one filled with water, part of Cousin Kai-Long’s plan. She nodded. She filled Young Lord Chen’s saucer and set the decanter down. He then took it and filled her saucer.
She took a dainty sip and her eyes widened. Hot and spicy, it stung her throat. She covered her cough. That was not water! There must have been a mistake. And now, an unprecedented line of young lords had formed up behind Chen Qing, all with feral grins.
Oh no. She craned her neck. Hopefully, Kai-Long was out there somewhere. Or a servant, who could swap out the decanter…but for what? Nobody knew it was supposed to be water. The next young man, Young Lord Fen of Fenggu Province, already knelt before her, filling her saucer with rice wine.
The alcohol burned her mouth, and showed no signs of abating even after several more young lords toasted her. She was to have feigned drunkenness and retired early, but now, it looked like her poor acting skills might not be needed.
Her stomach heaved. Head spinning, she covered her mouth, and luckily, nothing came up. Eyes rounding like the wine saucer, Young Lord Zi, the seventh to serve her, scuttled back several steps. Humiliating for sure, made worse by actually being drunk.
Still, no one could blame her. It would appear just as Kai-Long had planned: a bunch of potential young suitors trying to make an impression on her, but gone too far. At a reception like this, even a prince or princess was fair game, and Father could forgive a sixteen-year-old for not holding her wine.
Kai-Long appeared at her side, hand on her elbow. “Easy, Dian-xia. Come, let me help you.” Releasing her, he walked through the crowd gathering in front of Eldest Brother Kai-Guo and Xiulan and bowed before Father at the center of the dais.
Father was engaged in discussion with a middle-aged minister, his brow furrowed in an uncommon show of public emotion. The minister shook his head and held up two fingers. Father actually frowned, but then held up a hand to the minister and turned to Kai-Long. Kai-Long leaned in and whispered into Father’s ear.
Turning and meeting her gaze, Father nodded. Permission to leave, with Cousin Kai-Long, his favorite nephew. Subtle enough to save face. With a bow of apology to the waiting young men, she rose.
And wobbled. Her head spun. Again, a firm hand grasped her arm.
Kai-Long leaned in and whispered, “You are doing great.”
Great? If only he knew it was no act. Placing each foot in front of the other felt like a toddler’s first steps. “Who is that speaking with the Tianzi?”
“Deputy Yan. One of his most trusted advisors.”
She looked back to where Father still conferred with this Deputy Yan. “What were they talking about?”
Kai-Long shrugged. “I’m not sure. They quieted as soon as I came over. Now come along.”
With his support, they made it to the garden, all under the watchful eye of imperial guards. Guanyin’s Eye hung low in the night sky. At its largest this year, it seemed to scrutinize her foolishness.
Cold air filled her lungs, clearing her head, if only a little. “That wasn’t water!” She spun and shoved him with two hands, and would have knocked herself over if he hadn’t caught her.
“No!” He shook his head. “The servant must have made a mistake. It’s okay though, the plan will still work.”
Plan? Right. To see gorgeous Prince Hardeep and try the Dragon Scale Lute. It would certainly improve what had become a mortifying evening.
He draped a silken shawl over her shoulders, and then beckoned a servant. “Bring us some hot tea.” He then guided her along the courtyard paths, their feet crunching in the white pebbles. Where were they? No matter how familiar the inner castle was, everything appeared the same through her bleary vision and spinning head. Up ahead, a small octagonal pagoda overlooked the moat between the inner castle and the main palace.
Holding her hand, he helped her up the steps. Inside she plopped into a seat, the marble cold on her behind. She scanned the far end of the path, where two imperial guards kept a respectful distance.
“Are you all right?” Kai-Long asked.
“I think so.” No. With heat flaring in her cheeks, Kaiya fanned her face with a hand.
He leaned back and stretched his arms over the pagoda’s half-wall. “I want you to bend over, so the guards can’t see you, take off the shawl, and pretend to dry heave. Loudly. Stay down, then give the shawl and your outer robe to her.” His head tilted down, to the side.
Kaiya jerked her head in the direction he indicated, the sudden motion making her brain twist and flip.
A palace maid was hunched over there, below the line of sight of anyone outside the pagoda. The dark partially shrouded her face, but she bore an uncanny resemblance to Kaiya. Probably from the illusion bauble.
Taking off her outer robe in front of a man, cousin or not, wasn’t part of the plan. Dry heaves weren’t either, and the way Kaiya’s stomach twisted, things might not be particularly dry. “Who is she?”
“Someone who owes me a favor.” Kai-Long chuckled. “I know a lot about many of the handmaidens and palace servants.”
Curse the buzzing in her head. Why did this feel wrong?
“Hurry,” Kai-Long said. “When the servant comes with the tea, you will swap places.”
“How did you come up with this plan?”
Kai-Long grinned. “I’ve snuck a few ladies out this way in the past. More than a few. And it will work even better than ever this time with the magic.” He held out his palm. Cradled in a silk kerchief was a marble, similar to the magical light baubles that l
it the palace and probably every other house in the world. “Don’t touch it directly. Not yet.”
It must be another illusion bauble. Kaiya took up the kerchief, nearly knocking it out of his hand. “What will this one make me look like?”
“Just a plain girl. Trust me, everything will be all right. Nobody is going to get in trouble.”
There’d been a little too much magic for one day already. Kaiya took a deep breath. The cool air did little to clear the alcohol-induced haze. She glanced toward the imperial guards, just shadows in the distance. The servant approached, holding a tray with a teacup and kettle in trembling hands. No, it would be okay. Kai-Long had done this many times.
“All right.” She motioned for Kai-Long to turn his back. When he did, she gritted her teeth, leaned over, and did her best approximation of dry heaves. She ripped off the shawl and shrugged out of the robe, then passed them to the girl, who stood up, hand over her mouth, coughing.
“Good,” Kai-Long whispered, patting the girl on the back. “Cough a little.”
As the girl complied, the other servant, now cloaked against the chill, stepped into the pagoda with tea. She poured it into a cup and set the cup and kettle on the table. How wonderful tea would be right now! Kai-Long placed himself in the guards’ line of sight and motioned Kaiya to her feet.
When she stood, the second servant dropped to all fours. Kai-Long pulled the cloak off and draped it over Kaiya’s shoulders. The girl who now resembled her reached for the tea and took a sip. It happened so fast, a blur to Kaiya’s addled head.
“Now,” Kai-Long whispered to her, “Thank me and tell me to take my leave while you rest here.”
Kaiya fought the urge to bow her head, lest the guards see the switch. “Thank you, Cousin Kai-Long. I am feeling a little better now. I am just going to sit for a while. You may take your leave.”
“It has been my honor.” Kai-Long bowed, then pulled the hood over her head and placed a hand on her shoulder. He whispered again, “I am going to report to your imperial guards. In about ten minutes, meet me on the other side of the bridge. Remember, the bauble must touch your bare skin at all times. Try to walk in a straight line, with the body language of a servant.”
Whatever that meant. She watched as he left and walked up the path to where her guards waited.
“Princess Kaiya is feeling better,” he told them. “The cool air is doing her well, and I think after sitting for a while with several cups of tea, she will be fine.” With a nod of his head, he disappeared around a hedge.
Kaiya looked down at the girl pretending to be her. Who was she beneath the illusion? And had they crossed paths in the palace before? She must be new. Not to mention, her posture appeared much too stiff, the motions too jerky as she reached for the teacup. The tea smelled good, and it probably would help allay the throbbing in her head. Still, a servant would never dare drink after a princess. With the guards watching, thinking Kaiya to be the servant, it would ruin the illusion to drink the tea.
“Now, Dian-xia,” the girl whispered, lips trembling.
Kaiya stood. With deliberate care, she took one step after another. As she approached the bridge over the moat, she glanced in the direction of the guards. Their dark shapes didn’t move. Heavens, this plan was actually working.
On the other side, Kai-Long waited.
They hurried through the palace grounds, his pull on her hand forcing a quick pace. The twists and turns along the corridors between the buildings would have all been familiar with a clear head, but they might as well have been a maze tonight. Light from the three moons made it even more disorienting.
At last, they came to the central plaza formed by the Hall of Supreme Harmony, the Hall of Pure Melody, and the imperial archives. Aksumi light baubles hung in strings from the dozens of espaliered fruit trees, casting hypnotic shadows in all directions. Despite the particularly large crowd of palanquin bearers, palace guards, and provincial soldiers and staff, the courtyard still seemed vast. Hundreds of eyes fell on them as they neared Kai-Long’s Nanling provincial contingent, congregated near the main gates.
“Young Lord Peng,” someone cried out. Soldiers snapped to attention.
Stopping in place, Kaiya peered back at Kai-Long. Even through her muddled head, everything was now clear: this wasn’t right. If it was just her escaping the palace with no help, the risks barely outweighed the rewards. Now, it involved several people, many likely blackmailed. If this plan failed, any accessory to this ill-advised adventure would face severe punishment. She gripped Kai-Long’s sleeve. “No, we can’t do this.”
“It’s too late. If we head back now, it will draw too much attention. Don’t worry.”
She looked at his entourage. The porters prepared the two-person palanquin.
A palanquin, no…the narrow confines, the stuffiness… She skidded to a halt and nearly tripped over her gown. Her head spun and chest tightened. She squeezed Kai-Long’s elbow. “We can walk.”
He faced her, the light baubles casting webby shadows over his grinning face. “You won’t be spotted this way.”
She fixated on the palanquin…just one. Come to think of it, “Where is your family? I didn’t see them at the reception.”
“The horse relay messengers said their ship was delayed. They are expected in Jiangkou harbor tomorrow morning.”
His villa chamberlain shuffled over and bowed. “Leaving so soon, Young Lord? With a…friend, I see.”
Kai-Long nodded. “Yes. I already paid my respects to Prince Kai-Wu, and my…friend…wished to depart early.”
“To the Floating World, then?”
Kaiya’s heart jumped into her throat. The Floating World, where men’s dreams took flight, was so far away, it would take half the night to get there. And though it boasted a variety of entertainments from exotic music to theater, the most common diversion was…that. It certainly wasn’t a place for a woman of high standing. She clutched Kai-Long’s arm and shook her head.
He leaned over. “Don’t worry. We are headed in that direction, but we won’t go in. Come, lower your head.” He stood by the palanquin door, blocking the chamberlain’s sight of her.
With a sigh, she ducked in. The walls closed in. Head in a fog, her pulse raced. This was such a bad idea. Cousin Kai-Long dipped in to the palanquin and settled across from her. She sucked in a last breath of the outside air and the coolness filled her lungs. The door snapped shut.
She pressed Tian’s pebble, firm and resolute beneath her sash. It would be all right. Handsome Hardeep’s guidance would help her learn a long-lost art, and with it, she could save a beleaguered people. It would benefit Hua as well. Father would understand. Someday. Maybe.
The palanquin pitched upward, threatening to send her stomach into rebellion. She wouldn’t be saving anyone tonight. As the men fell into a rhythm, the ride smoothed. From the sounds, the palace’s front gates opened and a throng of guards marched out. For the first time in her life, she was outside of the palace, unscripted, with no imperial guard protection.
Kai-Long smiled at her. “Is everything okay now?”
She gulped. “I think so.”
“We will have you back before anyone knows you are gone.” He reached across and clasped her hand.
And when would that be? It wasn’t like the decoy could sit and drink tea until dawn. She squirmed. “Heavens, this is a horrible idea. What do the girls who wait in the pagodas usually do?”
“Not to worry. Eventually, when no one is watching, they just head back to their own quarters.”
“Someone is always watching me!” Everything was so clear now, even if alcohol burned in her veins. “She might look like me, but the poor girl doesn’t know the secret imperial language or the codes that will get her into the Imperial Family’s sleeping quarters.” How hadn’t she seen it before?
And Kai-Long was supposed to be smart. His face paled now. “What? You need to use the imperial tongue to get in? This is a terrible idea. If we are caught…oh, Heav
ens. We have to turn back now.” He slid open the palanquin window. “Men, stop. I forgot something at the palace.”
The palanquin lurched to a stop, sending Kaiya’s stomach into a flop. Only with supreme effort did she keep everything down. Still, any hope of meeting Hardeep was now dashed. Her shoulders slumped.
Outside, swords rasped from sheaths.
“Identify yourself,” someone said.
CHAPTER 16
Conspiracy Theories
Jie slipped out of the ridiculous pink dress in a side room of the clan safehouse in Jiangkou. It had been tempting to intentionally stain the satin in one or five places during the hasty clean-up, but maybe she’d return it to the Tarkothi instead of burning it.
First, the possible rebellion in the North took precedence, and in their rush to organize information, they hadn’t been able to completely scour the warehouse. If a conspirator with a trained eye came looking for the now-deceased Sha, they’d know their treachery had been compromised. Maybe they’d move their plans for rebellion up, before the Tianzi could preempt it. Tugging on her utility suit, Jie slid the door open and went into the main room.
As always, Tian was working on his convoluted mess of strings and paper notes and evidence, crisscrossing the room like a web spun by a spider addicted to gooseweed. He’d probably devised this visual method for organizing information not so much for himself, but for the sake of others: a glimpse into all the disjointed goings-on in his head.
His lips drew a tight line as he furiously scribbled more notes. Knowing him, the deaths of five men weighed heavily on his gentle soul. So smart, so skilled, yet so hesitant to use those skills. It’s what made him so attrac—endearing.
He looked up from his scraps of paper and presented Sha’s shoe. “The dry mud on the sole is greyish.”
Jie nodded. The only place around here with that color mud was along the Jade River, which emptied into Jiangkou Harbor. “Unless he was fishing in the Jade River shallows with those, I would bet he recently visited the quays near the river.”