by JC Kang
Tian looked past the lighthouse, where officials, the local watch, and imperial soldiers swarmed over the river docks like ants. His own doing, in an effort to impound the supplies bound for Wailian County and its allies. There, arguing with the harbormaster, was Fat Nose Jiang, looking much worse for the wear. Jie’s intoxicant would have left him with an awful hangover and only vague recollections based on the suggestions Tian planted in his addled head.
He cast a sidelong glance at Jie. She’d gone beyond the call of duty, grinding her nether regions up against Jiang’s lap when a simple kiss on the neck would have sufficed. Surely she hadn’t needed to debase herself like that.
Grasping the prince’s sleeve, she pointed at the chaos. “It looks like they are seizing rice and whatever is in those kegs.”
Now she was blathering on. He’d said he wanted to see the river docks, not get a blow-by-blow account of cargo impoundment procedures. The lack of sleep must have really dulled her edge. Thankfully, Prince Aryn showed little interest. Tian interposed himself. “It might be dangerous to go down there. I advise waiting here.”
Prince Aryn yawned at Peris. “Satisfied?”
So it was the large aide who actually wanted to see the docks. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, Your Highness.”
The prince waved a dismissive hand. “Your emperor’s representatives should be arriving soon to escort us to the capital. Let’s head back.”
Tian studied Peris. What was this man’s interest in the docks? Tapping his chin, he followed the Tarkothi entourage back toward their ship, the Indomitable.
Jie’s ears twitched. She pulled him down. “Get down, get down!”
Prince Aryn’s guards formed up around him, cutlasses drawn and crossbows leveled. Screams and crashes erupted nearby.
Tian followed her eyes to the source: the wharf to their side, berth twenty-eight, where the Saint Gong was docked. Tai-Ming Lord Peng Xian’s honor guard of sixty-two men broke ranks. Two palanquins lay on their sides, a man clutching his neck in front of one. From behind the second, a set of legs sprawled out. Soldiers drew weapons while dockworkers and longshoremen cowered or fled.
“Repeater crossbows.” Her eyes roved over the surroundings. “Same sound frequency as the ones used last night. Fired twice from two different locations.”
On the dock, soldiers formed up around the palanquins.
“Lord Peng Xian is dead!” someone yelled.
“Young Lord Kai-Zhi is hit!”
“Call a doctor!”
Tian’s gut knotted as he scanned all elevated points. The attackers would need to have sightlines high enough to shoot above the guards. Not only that, but they would have needed to know Lord Peng and his firstborn had arrived on the Saint Gong today.
“There.” Jie pointed toward the Tarkothi Indomitable.
Tian squinted. A large man strolled down the gangplank, no visible weapons. “He’s unarmed. Why him?”
“He’s big. He’s calm. Get him. I can’t run in this stupid dress.”
Tian hiked up his own robes and sprinted, undoubtedly blowing his cover in the process. Dockworkers, sailors, and longshoremen ran about yelling. Jie was right; whoever it was, now on the dock, he didn’t seem to be in any hurry. Until their eyes met. He was a Hua boy, perhaps only fourteen despite his larger size.
Just ten chi away to start, the suspect’s long stride gained distance faster than Tian could take it away. For someone so large, he effortlessly weaved through all the panicked people. And now he’d disappeared.
A fist caught Tian in the side of the head, but he ducked under the second and swept his leg out. The boy jumped over the leg and shot out a side-kick which Tian had to lie back to avoid. Popping back to his feet, he exchanged several strikes with his opponent, none of the blows landing. It was as if they each knew what the other was planning. The boy leapt away, grabbed a dockworker, and shoved him into Tian.
Tian spun away, but his quarry broke into the open and ran south. With his long legs, there was no hope of catching up. He looked back at Tian, grinning. But maybe…up ahead, ten Serikothi cavaliers were already mounted. Three imperial officials bowed before Prince Koryn, who stood with Captain Damaryn at his side.
“Assassin!” Tian yelled.
Prince Koryn swung up into a saddle and drew his sword. In what could only be described as poetry, the Serikothi men unslung their bows, notched arrows and maneuvered their horses in a precise curve around the officials and their liege. They loosed three volleys in quick succession, even as their horses advanced and circled the assassin.
All thirty arrows found their mark. There would be no questioning the boy.
Jie sidled up to Tian, a repeating crossbow looking huge in her hands. “Next time, maybe use the word pickpocket instead of assassin.”
Not like he knew that Arkothi word until just then. Hua words were hard enough. Because of that, the assassin was dead, and the audacious plot of murdering a Tai-Ming lord in broad daylight became that much harder to unravel. There was yet another crime scene to process, on the eve of Prince Kai-Wu’s wedding, with a rebellion brewing in the North.
CHAPTER 25
Father Figures
Kaiya sat atop the castle parapet, dangling her stick legs over the edge despite the silent protests of her imperial guards. Long shadows cast by the setting sun yawned out over Sun-Moon Lake, whose gentle waves lapped up against the base of the stone walls. The lake stretched to the horizon, its placid surface broken only by a few small islands.
A day remained until Kai-Wu’s wedding, two until her judgment for wandering the palace with Hardeep. She turned Tian’s pebble over in her fingers, its smooth coolness comforting. She knew every imperfection by touch; cherished it as a talisman of a more carefree time. Eight years had passed since she last saw her childhood playmate, the one with whom she could always share her deepest secrets.
If only she could share the secret of Hardeep! And her dreams of reviving lost magic. Tian would understand. But no. Although he might be the son of a first rank Tai-Ming lord, her father had banished him long ago for a stupid prank. Who knew where he was now?
“Dian-xia,” her handmaiden Han Meiling said from behind her. “Here is the lute you requested.”
Kaiya closed her hand around the pebble and turned.
Her handmaiden knelt, with Hardeep’s lute nestled in her arms.
Stowing the pebble into her sash, Kaiya received the instrument with both hands. She flipped it around and straightened her back. Her toes gripped the stone ground. Taking a deep breath, she strummed. The vibration of the strings flitted through her arms. Each note came together in technical perfection, yet her uncertainties and doubts wavered through the melody.
Xiulan had thought of her when writing calligraphy, which apparently guided the magic in the character to her; Kaiya looked to Han Meiling.
The handmaiden averted her gaze, then soon shuffled and tugged at her gown. Her fidgeting increased as uncertainty clouded her expression.
Could it be the effect of the song? An excited shiver coursed through her.
The lute disappeared into thin air, taking its song with it. Kaiya’s heart leaped into her throat. Meiling gasped. Her guards all drew their dao.
“An interesting choice of instrument.” Lord Xu stood there, her lute in his hand. The slight rise of an eyebrow and the tone of his voice asked for an explanation.
“I was told to practice.”
He lifted a hand in a swift motion. All sound around them silenced, leaving only his voice. “I told you to practice your listening.”
Mouths agape, her guards charged forward, only to hit an unseen barrier. Their palms circled against it, looking much like the Estomari mime who once entertained the court.
They might not have even been there for all the mind Lord Xu paid them. “You were responsible for the song at the Temple of Heaven. Even there, this lute could not make that music.”
He knew! Kaiya shook her head. “I…no, i
t wasn’t this instrument, but rather one made from a dragon scale.”
Xu’s eyes narrowed. “How did you acquire it?”
“It was in Foreign Minister Song’s possession. My understanding is that he received it during a trade mission to Vyara City.”
The elf lord’s face betrayed nothing. “Where is it now?”
As if she knew. Maybe Hardeep had stolen it, but there was only risk in telling Xu about the foreign prince at all. She shook her head. “I don’t know. When I awoke, it was gone.”
“I see.” His gaze bored into her. “I am glad you revealed this to me. In any case, listen first. In order to project your sound farther, you need to hear and borrow the energy around you. To have the greatest effect, you must listen for the most opportune moment.”
She shook her head. “I can’t learn that by myself, I—”
He placed his index finger over her heart. “Most importantly, you must trust what you hear, to know if using the skill warrants the dangers of using it.”
She stared at his finger for a few seconds, and then looked up. “Dangers?”
“Magic ripples out from its source, its strength greatest at the time and place of invocation. However, its echo spreads throughout the world and diminishes through the ages. Even the song Yanyan sang to Avarax a thousand years ago persists, hidden among all the other sounds of the world. In any case, magic serves as a beacon to those who know what it is. Not all of those people—and I use that term loosely—are as benign as I.”
A shiver went down her spine. “Avarax.”
He nodded. “Yes. He now knows there is again someone with the potential to affect him with her song.”
“Will he seek me out?”
The elf shrugged. “Who understands the heart of a dragon? Perhaps he will entice you to seek him out, instead. I could not tell you whether he would kill you or twist your skill to his own benefit.”
Kaiya shuddered. Perhaps the revival of lost skills was no longer worth the cost. “I will forget about music.”
“You might forget about it, but he won’t. If he has not already felt last night’s song, he will soon.” He tossed the lute back.
Maybe letting it smash against the pavestones would be better. Kaiya caught it nonetheless. “What can I do?” To think she had considered being devoured by a dragon favorable to marriage.
“Listen.” He swept his hand down; the sounds of spring resumed and her guards tumbled forward. Without even looking, Lord Xu caught Chen Xin with one hand and supported Zhao Yue with the other. Letting go, he then pointed far out into the lake.
The two guards dropped to their knees and started to raise their swords above their heads.
Waving them off before they offered their lives in penance yet again, Kaiya followed the elf’s gesture. In the distance, lumber herders guided felled trunks of eldarwood trees through Sun-Moon Lake’s placid waters. Laboring during the early spring melt, they had already begun their annual transport from the forests of the empire’s inner valley to the shipyards on the coast. Since commoners were prohibited from coming too close to the palace, the workers kept their distance. They seemed like children’s balls bobbing on the waters.
“Can you play loudly enough for them to hear?”
Forgetting all sense of propriety, Kaiya gaped at the preposterous challenge. The castle parapet wasn’t the Hall of Pure Melody, let alone the Temple of Heaven. “That’s…that’s impossible.”
The elf shrugged. “Not for Yanyan.”
Kaiya shook her head. As though her paltry skill could compare to the legendary slave girl. Nonetheless, she plucked a string as hard as she could, emitting a loud, disjointed note.
Lord Xu burst out laughing.
Chagrin and anger washed over her. No telling what shade of red her face was.
After stifling a chuckle, Lord Xu deftly swiped the lute from her hands and strummed.
The series of notes sang in jubilation, tangible in its clarity. It was as if all the heroes of Hua’s past had marched into the present, urging her forward with their battle cries. Kaiya’s uncertainties and embarrassment melted away. Her spirits rose, and even Chen Xin and Zhao Yue squared their shoulders and smiled. Out in the lake, the herders looked in their direction.
The elf turned back, face inscrutable. He returned the lute to her. “It is not the strength of the pluck that matters, but the intensity of your emotion. Only the power of your intent can compel the sound beyond its physical limitations. Hear the waves of Sun-Moon Lake and allow them to lend you their strength. Now try again.”
Kaiya’s focus shifted from Lord Xu to the lute. Her musical talents were renowned throughout Hua. Yet neither her own performances, nor any other she’d heard from famous musicians, could compare to the elf lord’s improvisation.
She took a deep breath, aligned her posture, and listened. Waves sloshing against the walls below seemed to set a rhythm for the wind rustling through the ripening buds on tree branches. Birds joined in, their melody harmonizing with the song of spring.
Without conscious thought, her fingers danced over the lute strings, melding with the symphony of natural sounds. Perhaps her hands created the music, or maybe the music moved her hands. Clear and resonant, the melody filled the garden and blossomed out across the lake and palace grounds. The lumber herders looked back at her.
A hollow pop startled her, bringing her song to an abrupt halt. The elf was gone. Only her guards and handmaidens remained, all shaking their heads and blinking as if waking from a trance.
“Keep listening,” Xu’s voice whispered on the wind.
Still staring at the lute in her hands, Kaiya turned as footsteps approached along the parapet. She looked up.
Flanked by two men from his native Nanling province, Peng Kai-Long dropped to a knee, fist to the ground. “Dian-xia.”
“Kaiya,” she corrected.
He nodded. “Yes, Kaiya.” His voice…did it wobble? It sounded abnormally somber, maybe something she wouldn’t have picked up just a day before.
“What’s wrong?” She motioned the handmaidens and guards to step back.
His lips tightened into a tight line. “How did you know something was amiss? I thought I hid it well.”
She shrugged. “Something in your voice.” Or was it his short breaths? They sounded loud in her ears, even if he showed no sign of labored breathing.
His shoulders slumped, so unlike his usual dashing demeanor, his pulse pattering like a tentative rabbit. “I have come to the palace to swear my loyalty to the Tianzi.”
For harboring Prince Hardeep? Kaiya’s palms felt cold and clammy. “I am sure my father trusts you implicitly.” Kai-Long was his favorite nephew, after all.
He shook his head. “No, formal vows. I have been elevated to Tai-Ming lord of Nanling Province.”
“I don’t understand.” Kaiya’s brow furrowed. Kai-Long’s father was the ruler of Nanling. Something must have happened to him. But Kai-Long’s brother would have inherited. And Kai-Long was supposed to lead an army to take Wailian Castle.
“My father and brother were on their way here to attend your brother’s wedding.” Kai-Long’s voice cracked, his shoulders slumped. “They had just docked at Jiangkou when they were…were murdered.”
Kaiya sucked in a sharp breath. Poor Kai-Long, he must be in shock. He’d never been groomed to lead a province, never wanted to be anything more than a trade official, and now… How was that even possible? A Tai-Ming lord, undoubtedly travelling with a full entourage of unquestioningly loyal armed guards, would make for an intimidating sight. “I…I am so sorry.”
A tear formed in his eye, which he wiped away. “It’s so sudden.”
“What happened?”
“We don’t know yet. The Tianzi’s agents are sorting through conflicting eyewitness accounts and uncovering evidence. They think Lord Tong and his band of traitors are behind it. But I know.” His fist tightened. “The Madurans knew of my friendship with Prince Hardeep. I am sure they have
a spy in our villa in the capital, and knew he was staying with me. They are behind this, even if they don’t dare to get their own hands dirty.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I am so sorry.”
His eyes met mine. “Be careful. They slaughtered a dozen Ankiran refugees in a ghetto last night. They must surely know about your meeting with him.”
Blood drained from her head. Her legs wobbled. Kaiya reached out to keep from falling, and he caught her. All those poor people, killed. Maybe because of her. To think that just two days ago, her main concern was having to meet potential suitors. Now, it looked like she’d made enemies in Madura. And maybe even a dragon.
Kai-Long had turned to leave when Secretary Hong appeared at the entrance to the garden. He bowed low. “Dian-xia, the Tianzi has requested your presence in the Hall of Supreme Harmony.”
She was technically confined to the inner castle, but the Tianzi did not make requests. Of course, the unprecedented assassination of a Tai-Ming lord and the massacre of foreigners in the capital changed the circumstances.
Bowing her head, she passed the lute to Han Meiling. With a nod to her imperial guards, she stumbled over to Secretary Hong. He guided them through the castle bailey, past the courtyard where she’d embarrassed General Lu.
She walked in a haze as they continued across the moat and into the central palace grounds. The alleys between the buildings and walls had seemed like a maze to her rice-wine-induced haze the night before, and it was no easier to keep track of the directions today. The faces of all the innocent Ankirans haunted her. They’d been living, breathing, laughing. Treated her like an honored guest. Now, they were gone.
At last, they arrived in the central plaza, the scene of too many misadventures yesterday morning. Up the one hundred and sixty-eight steps to the Hall of Supreme Harmony. She fought to breathe evenly.
Inside, the rows of kneeling officials and hereditary lords nearly filled the floor. It was so rare to see the hall so full. As she walked down the central aisle, toward where her father sat on the Jade Throne, many murmured among themselves. Behind her, Kai-Long’s booted footsteps clopped across the marble floors.