The Dragon Songs Saga: The Complete Quartet: Songs of Insurrection, Orchestra of Treacheries, Dances of Deception, and Symphony of Fates

by JC Kang

  The streets bustled with people rushing home for their own holiday feasts. With his dao tucked in his sash, most recognized him as a lord and made way. He ground to a halt just before he reached the stable where he’d left his horse.

  A dozen members of the city watch were questioning the stable boy. A couple of other men milled among them, nodding and pointing.

  Just when Ming was about to approach, a plainly-dressed man with a walking stick barreled right into him, nearly knocking him to the ground.

  Ming growled. “Hey! Are you blind? Watch where you’re going!”

  The boor just snickered and kept walking. The gall!

  The horse and commotion could wait. Ming spun around and jogged to catch up with the man. “I’m talking to you! Do you know who I am?”

  The man’s shoulders shook as his pace quickened. The bastard was laughing!

  Indignation rising, Ming followed the man around a corner.

  He found himself dumped onto the ground. A knife pushed against his throat. Ming’s eyes darted around to get his bearings. He’d turned into an alley, never suspecting a trap. After all, who would attempt such an audacious attack in broad daylight, in a fairly busy part of the city?

  “Young Lord Zheng Ming,” the man whispered. “That should answer your question, I do know who you are. I am going to let you get up, and I want you to follow me. Swear to me now you will not call for the watch.”

  “I swear,” Ming whispered his answer, now more intrigued than angry or frightened.

  His assailant had long black hair with streaks of silver, and worn features that bore evidence of a hard life. Besides that, he was incredibly plain. He offered a hand, and Ming took it.

  Pulled to his feet, Ming followed the stranger deeper into the alley. Who was this guy? And what did he want? With the man’s back turned, it would be easy to run away, call out—though not for the watch, since he’d sworn—or even attack—

  “You will be dead before your sword leaves its scabbard.”

  Ming’s hand had unconsciously strayed toward the hilt of his dao. He thrust his hands behind his back.

  The man chuckled. “Do you know with whom you have been sharing a bed?”

  Heat burned in his cheeks. “Have you been following me?”

  The man looked over his shoulder at Ming. “I am watching you for your own sake. You, my friend, are being set up. What do you suppose will happen if your pretty princess finds out you are spreading your seed while actively courting her?”

  Ming shrugged. Years of smooth talking yielded a lie he almost believed himself. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over between us.”

  The man grinned. “Good. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, don’t you wonder why you were set up? Or did you just assume your handsome face was enough to get any girl into bed?”

  Ming had, in fact, assumed that. He bit his lip. “Why?”

  “If you knew who, then the why might be easier to guess.”

  “Would you stop talking in riddles?” Ming glared at the man.

  The man’s smirk deepened. “My problem is I know who, but not why. Maybe you can help me.”

  Ming threw his hands up. “Just say it!”

  “Minister Hong Jianbin. The girl is his pawn. Or maybe even his lover.”

  Ming winced. Had he just slept with… “Hong’s lover?”

  Another chuckle. “I can only surmise. If I were in your boots, I’d be more concerned that Hong was setting you up.”

  Ming’s mind swam. “Whatever for?”

  “And we circle back to the first question. I would think he is either trying to ruin any chances you might have with the princess—”

  “He wanted me to court her.” Ming scratched his head. Maybe there was more to that.

  “—or use it as leverage against you,” the man continued.

  “What kind of leverage?” Ming asked.

  “Almost certainly not the same I am going to use on you.”

  Ming reached for his sword, but found the walking stick pressed against the guard, preventing him from drawing it.

  “Young Lord Zheng, you have much to live for. Don’t throw your life away in this alley. I can make your death look very embarrassing.”

  Ming hid his cringe. The idea of death did not seem particularly appealing. Dying with everyone thinking him a coward, or worse, even less so. He spoke through gritted teeth. “What do you want?”

  The man raised a silencing hand. He then reached and plucked a red envelope from the folds of Ming’s robe.

  “Hey!” Ming swiped for the packet, but the man shifted just out of his reach. It was only a poem he’d written for the princess before the tournament, a gift for the New Year’s procession tomorrow. Hadn’t he given it to one of his men to take back to the compound? Now some stranger had his dirty paws on it.

  The man withdrew the folded paper and snapped the letter open. His eyes darted over the script before he looked up. “Love letters—to the Crown Princess, no less.”

  Crown Princess Xiulan? That would be a capital offense. Ming snatched the letter from the man’s willing grasp and read. “This isn’t even my handwriting.” Not to mention… “The poetry is horrible.”

  The man shrugged. “Has the princess ever seen your script?”

  No. Ming clenched his jaw. “Why would Hong do this?”

  “Scuttle your budding relationship with the princess? Have you branded as a traitor? Undermine the Crown Prince and Princess?”

  “Hong is going to pay for this.”

  The man held up a hand again. “Young Lord Zheng, let the Founder’s words guide you. Knowledge is power. Perhaps Hong is up to something more insidious. If it were me, I would make Hong think you have fallen into his trap and see how he reacts. You might very well dig up more than you imagined.”

  Ming closed his slack jaw. “So you want me to give this to the princess?”

  “No, just don’t meet with her at tomorrow’s procession. Hong will think she spurned you.”

  Ming’s heart sank, even if he kept his face impassive. Standing the princess up would destroy any chance of winning her back from Prince Aelward. “No, I have to go.”

  The man grinned. “Well, let’s not forget about my leverage. I have means of reaching the princess. I will expose your infidelity myself. I know where you went and who you were with.”

  This man was some mousey commoner. How did he have access to the princess? Perhaps it would be better to risk exposure of his dalliances. After all, young lords were expected to have an occasional tryst or three.

  The man shook his head. “If that’s not enough persuasion, let me give you another reason to heed my advice. I can make you a hero.”

  Liang Yu sat quietly at the Jade Teahouse, his new meeting place in the Floating World in southeast Huajing, close to where he’d ambushed Zheng Ming.

  Stealing the poem from the young lord’s messenger outside the amphitheater had been easy. Planting and then revealing the fake letter was even easier, like pulling a coin from a child’s ear. Liang Yu took only mild offense at Zheng’s insult of his poetry and handwriting.

  He leaned back from the table and chuckled. The provincial lord’s naïveté was amusing. Even an initiate Moquan could have seen through Zheng Ming’s pathetic attempts to hide his emotions. His affection for the princess and his own vanity made him simple to manipulate. Promised with the chance of again being the hero, he’d willingly embarked on a trail which would—with Liang Yu’s help over a few weeks— expose his former employer.

  Of course, it meant keeping Zheng Ming in Hua until the betrayer pushed the war with Madura to inevitability.

  The only uncertainty was whether or not Young Lord Zheng’s servant would confess to losing the poem. A betting man would gamble that the man would not come forward with his guilt, and the naïve young lord would assume Hong’s woman had swapped the letters.

  Gambles only won wars half the time. The messenger would be yet another necessary casualty fo
r Hua’s greatness.

  The door to the teahouse opened. His special pupil stood there, back from spying on Minister Hong.

  Minister Hong Jianbin looked at his naked form in the full-length mirror, not really liking what he saw. It had little to do with the sagging leathery skin, sallow complexion or thin whitening hair that came with his advancing age. Rather, he wondered when and where he had become obsessed with power, willing to do almost anything to obtain it.

  He was not ambitious by nature, but his family had sacrificed much to get him into the civil service and on the path to rapid social mobility. He had been a good government bureaucrat at every level, quickly rising through the ranks and gaining the trust and friendship of the man who would become Chief Minister.

  Hong turned around and studied his back, all covered in splotches. When had his inside become as horrible as the outside?

  Chief Minister Tan had brought Hong up with him. At each level, from dutiful provincial clerk to trade official, and now to Household Minister, he had tasted new heights of wealth, power, and privilege. He might have been satisfied, had the opportunity to progress even higher not serendipitously tumbled into his hands.

  “My Lord,” a sweet voice sang from outside at the sliding door.

  Hong smiled, gathering his robe around him and forgetting his misgivings. One of wealth’s perks was the keeping of a concubine. “Come in, come in.”

  The doors slid open, revealing Leina, his half-Hua, half-Ayuri beauty, now wearing a translucent vermillion inner robe. The hot bath they’d shared together left a pink flush on her walnut cheeks. With no family in the capital, he would spend New Year’s Eve with her. She closed the doors behind her and swept across the room to a low table where she kneeled again. Her every movement reminded him of the graceful fluttering streamers of the ribbon dance. Tonight, she practically sparkled with bliss.

  Leina poured some tea for him. “My Lord, are you ready to play chess?”

  Minister Hong tottered over to the table. He eased himself down into a cross-legged position, his old knees protesting. “I have never beaten you, have I?”

  “No, my Lord, neither in Northern nor Hua chess. But there is always a first time.” Leina beckoned him with an enticing lift of her eyebrow. “You look particularly naughty this evening. Perhaps you should take the black pieces while I take the white.”

  As always, her sense of humor made him forget his own troubles and uncertainties. He admired her delicate elegance as she glided her pieces across the board in response to his own moves. Her intelligence and charm just added to her exotic beauty, and Hong often wondered if he should just give up his plans, forget about Princess Kaiya, and take Leina as his official wife. Of course, she continually pressed him to pursue the princess, claiming it would make her the second most important woman in Hua.

  Leina shifted her chariot into a defensive position. “Sending the princess to meet with the Madurans will be disastrous to your prospects of becoming Chief Minister. She’ll learn they had nothing to do with the insurgency. The Expansionists won’t get their war.”

  Hong tried to concentrate on the implications of her move. Although Leina rarely used the same strategy twice, or any strategy for that matter, the one constant was her lulling voice. “I had to send her away,” he said, “or Lord Peng would kill her.”

  “You will never have her if you cannot become Chief Minister in the first place.”

  Hong sighed. He realized the limits of his ambition when he placed the princess’ life ahead of his own plans. “I gambled that I could push the Chief Minister issue before the princess meets with the Madurans. The Expansionists would still support me because I have done everything they asked. The attack on the foreign prince all but guarantees the war they want. I also have the backing of the Royalists, who want the princess as a bride for their sons.”

  The rise of Leina’s thin eyebrow prompted him to continue.

  Hong grinned back. If she had to think it out herself, she would be less focused on her game. His first victory was close at hand.

  At last, she shrugged.

  Hong laughed. He could always outwit her in conspiracies, even if he could not beat her at chess. However, that string of defeats looked to change in a few minutes. “It won’t be long before the Tianzi’s agents learn about Xie Shimin’s immense debts from paying for his sick mother’s treatment.”

  Tears glassed over her eyes; the sentimental weakness of women. “Oh, the poor thing.”

  “Yes, the honorable Xie Shimin, duped into believing there was patriotism in assassinating a foreign dignitary under the Tianzi’s protection, and exploited by his financial needs. The trail will lead back to the mastermind, and I control the timing.”

  “What a stroke of genius!” Smiling, Leina clapped her hands together. Then her perfect brow crinkled. “But by sending the princess to Vyara City, you are putting your prospect of marrying her into jeopardy. No telling what the treacherous Madurans will do, especially if they are unjustly accused of meddling.”

  “Dear Leina, you mustn’t let your own biases cloud your judgment.” Hong used the distraction to put pressure on one of her advisors, which would open up a line of attack for his elephant. “I know your mother was Ankiran—”

  “But my father was from Hua, the trade official to Ankira,” she interjected, a wounded look in her dark eyes.

  Hong looked up from the board to contemplate her exotic features. He knew her history well: her father had been posted in Ankira for many years, arranging official sales of outdated, first-generation muskets to Ankira; her mother an Ankiran dancer whom he had taken as a lover despite his family back home. Leina had grown up in Ankira. When Hua ultimately closed its trade office after Madura’s occupation ten years before, she had been left behind and her mother killed. How horrible life must have been for her before escaping to Hua two years ago in search of her father. “Would you rather marry me instead?” he ventured.

  She threw her head back in laughter, such a refreshing show of emotion compared to reserved Hua ladies.

  Heat rose to Hong’s face, maybe enough that the redness showed through his thick, tough skin. “I…I would be honored to take you as my wife.”

  “And give up on your ambitions?” Her amusement carried an underlying tone of rebuke. “I would be selfish to have you do that. After all, you are just one move from becoming Chief Minister, two moves from marrying the princess.”

  “And three moves from finally beating you!” Hong smacked his cannon down in direct line to her general. “Jiangjun!” Check.

  “No, just one move from losing,” Leina said, moving her rider back between his cannon and her general. It opened up a line for her chariot toward his general, where his own cannon had just vacated. “Checkmate,” she exclaimed with girlish excitement. She had unwittingly disguised her offense and defense, and he had stumbled into the trap.

  Again.

  He reached across the table and placed his hand on hers. “Let us celebrate your victory, the New Year, and my imminent appointment as Chief Minister.”

  If Hong Jianbin weren’t already so dismissive of her, Leina would feign stupidity and play strategy games to lose. As it was, beating him time and time again provided small consolation for having to tolerate his patronizing.

  She now peered through the darkness at him, fast asleep from their long and vigorous lovemaking. His always surprising virility had allowed her to close her eyes and imagine it was Young Lord Zheng again.

  Maybe in Zheng’s mind, she was just another conquest. Still, he could dissemble convincingly enough with his pillow talk to stir a rush of excitement. And she’d sacrificed him. A lump formed in her throat.

  Hiding out as they were in the Floating World, news of Zheng Ming’s arrest wouldn’t reach old Hong’s ears until the next morning. She’d hidden a letter in the young man’s scabbard, implicating him in the insurgency. The city watch, tipped off by her informants, would find it when he went to get his horse.

&nb
sp; She rolled over to face the window, away from Hong. He would never know of her involvement, and yet he would benefit: with Zheng out of the picture, the princess would remain unwed just a little longer, and Hong would stay motivated.

  At the same time, Leina would move closer toward completing her assignment of weakening Cathay from the inside. All the easier with Princess Kaiya about to leave. Without her soothing voice balancing out rivalries, the hereditary lords would be at each other’s throats.

  She sighed, considering Hong again. For so long, she’d stoked his ambition, helping him overcome his natural lack of motivation and tenacity. She’d manipulated him, making him believe her scheming was his own. Though he showed remarkable adaptability to Peng’s change in plans, his lack of foresight validated her choice of him as a tool.

  Just as in chess, when playing a long game, forward thinking and planning overcame reaction and countermeasure. As Chief Minister, Hong would never foresee the long-term implications of the decisions she made for him. With two and a half years left in her assignment, his actions would leave Cathay weak, ripe for invasion.

  In the meantime, sharing the old man’s bed was the price she would pay. It was far preferable than staying in Ankira, to be used by countless foreign soldiers. She could only hope that when everything was said and done, her employer would hold up his end of the bargain and free her mother.

  CHAPTER 19:

  It Will Be a Good Year

  For Kaiya, the staccato bursts of firecrackers in the distance punctuated the most somber New Year’s Day she could remember. The Tianzi’s annual procession to the Temple of Heaven was her favorite ritual and usually a lively affair. In previous years, crowds had lined the streets to watch and perhaps catch a glimpse of the Imperial Family among all of the lords and ministers.

  Given the current security concerns, the city watch and national army kept the citizenry blocks away. Storefronts, while bedecked in celebratory red, remained shuttered and idle. Strings of lanterns and banners hung limp and lifeless. Without cheering crowds, the procession seemed like a wedding banquet with no guests.