by JC Kang
Ming let out a sigh. “You!”
“Why did you bring Li Feng back here? You deserve the princess’ scorn for your stupidity.”
Ming’s jaw clenched at the insult. “I will explain everything to her tomorrow.”
The man shook his head. “No, you won’t.”
“I made a promise to accompany her to Vyara City.” Ming could not believe the desperation in his voice.
“If you want her to live,” the man said, “you will have to break that promise.”
“Are you threatening her to secure my obedience?”
The man chuckled. “I already have your obedience. No, you will break your promise because in doing so, you will protect her and also come closer to exposing the perpetrator of the insurgency.”
CHAPTER 20:
Mirrors and Warnings
Twenty-year old Wang Kai-Hua looked across the table at Kaiya, Yanli, and Xiulan, all gathered for a special New Year’s game of mahjong. They played several times a month, as a pretext for sharing the latest gossip among the hereditary lords. Unlike in the opium-filled gambling dens of the city’s seedier parts, where family fortunes could be lost in a drug-induced stupor, the noble ladies typically bet favorite pieces of jewelry or clothing.
Kai-Hua sighed. She missed her father the most around the New Year. The younger brother of the Tianzi would have been fifty this year, had he not died from the sudden onset of asthma two years before. Not long after, her two brothers also perished from respiratory illnesses which even the renowned Doctor Wu couldn’t treat.
Her mother, the sister of Tai-Ming Lord Liang of Yutou Province, returned home in grief, not wanting to stay in Huajing with all the memories of her family. She’d only come to the capital once since, for Kai-Hua’s wedding to the Tai-Ming heir to Jiangzhou Province.
The Liu family, into which she’d married two years before, was full of obedient but narrow-minded men. Though she hoped her own husband Dezhen, the heir, would spend more time in his province learning how to rule better than his father, Kai-Hua was also happy he resided in the capital. It allowed her to frequently visit Sun-Moon Castle, where she’d grown up with Kaiya.
The atmosphere of the game room in Sun-Moon Castle felt more like a funeral than the New Year. As expected. Although she hadn’t lived in the palace for two years, she knew her cousins’ rhythms well—everyone had synced up with Yanli when she moved in two years prior. Without a doubt, another month had passed without the conception of an heir to the Dragon Throne.
Xiulan and Yanli were somber as usual. More surprising was that Kaiya, who usually helped comfort the others, seemed the most downcast. Never looking up from the square bloodwood table, she didn’t speak a word through her pursed lips. Perhaps she’d forgotten to take Doctor Wu’s herbs that month.
Kai-Hua rubbed her belly, still flat two months into her pregnancy. Even if her friends knew nothing of it, it felt wrong to try to comfort them when the Heavens had blessed her while denying the others.
Through two hours of silence, broken only by clicking mahjong tiles, Yanli won most of the games in ruthless fashion. That was not out of the ordinary, but on any other night, she would teasingly gloat after each victory.
At last, Kai-Hua pushed the tiles in. “It’s late, and Kaiya should get some rest before her journey tomorrow. Do we even need to calculate the winners and losers tonight?”
Xiulan wordlessly tossed a jade bracelet into the tiles. Kaiya added an embroidered silk kerchief.
Kai-Hua sucked in her breath. “Isn’t that a gift from Young Lord Zheng?”
Without meeting her eyes, Kaiya nodded.
“Is that why you’ve been so quiet tonight? Did he say something during the procession this morning?”
“He didn’t show.” Yanli hadn’t spoken for so long, Kai-Hua had almost forgotten what her voice sounded like.
Kaiya glared at Yanli before focusing on Kai-Hua. “He lied to me. He was with a woman.”
“Are you sure?” Kai-Hua raised an eyebrow.
“I saw them riding together.”
Xiulan let out a long sigh. “Oh, Kaiya. Men will do that. Even the Crown Prince. The Floating World wouldn’t exist otherwise.”
Kai-Hua nodded. Though the Founder’s consort had broken with the traditions of previous dynasties by outlawing polygamy and disbanding the imperial harem, laws failed to change male nature. Kai-Hua allowed her husband an occasional dalliance, just so long as he remembered who his wife was. Especially now, while she was pregnant. Even so, her spy kept careful tabs on just how many times Dezhen visited the half-Ayuri beauty in the Floating World.
Kaiya frowned. “I had hoped he would at least control himself while we courted.”
“You’re right, Kaiya.” Yanli snorted. “I don’t know how you two tolerate it. Our husbands should be saving their seed for making heirs.”
Heat burned in Kai-Hua’s cheeks. Xiulan shot Yanli a scowl.
Yanli threw her hands up. “What? It’s true. The Tianzi would rest easier knowing there was an heir after our husbands.”
“Which is why,” Xiulan said with a nod toward Kaiya, “you should give Young Lord Zheng a chance to explain himself. The Tianzi’s health deteriorates quickly. It would set his heart at ease to see you married before…”
Nobody wanted to finish her sentence, least of all Kai-Hua, who had lost most of her family already. After a brief silence, she spoke up. “Did Young Lord Zheng say anything?”
“He said he would explain himself tomorrow. I don’t think I will allow him inside the gates.”
“Hear him out.” Xiulan turned the kerchief over in her hands before pressing it down in front of Kaiya.
“But make him grovel first,” Yanli added.
Kai-Hua chuckled. Despite their shared sadness, Xiulan and Yanli had resumed their roles in Kaiya’s love life. Xiulan, the enabler who encouraged her to follow her whims; and Yanli, the practical voice of reason. Kai-Hua imagined them as mirror images of Kaiya’s psyche.
Kaiya stared at the kerchief before tentatively retrieving it and sliding it into a fold in her robe.
Silk gowns rustled as handmaidens folded the dresses and wrapped the jewelry Kaiya had chosen to take on her mission to Vyara City. They stacked lacquer boxes near the doors to her dressing room. Porters would take them to the Golden Phoenix, even if she herself would travel on the Tarkothi ship Invincible. Worried that Jie might make inadvertent alterations to her wardrobe, Kaiya had ordered the half-elf to stand back and take inventory.
Still dwelling on Zheng Ming’s betrayal, Kaiya glanced at the brocade box on her make-up table. It sat apart from her cosmetics, next to the table’s oval mirror. Holding her breath, she opened it, revealing Prince Hardeep’s lotus jewel and Tian’s river pebble.
She lifted the lotus jewel and held it up to the lamplight. It seemed to vibrate in her hands, slow and sluggish. So swept up with Zheng Ming’s wit, she’d all but forgotten Prince Hardeep in the past few weeks. Cousin Peng had said the prince was in Vyara City. Perhaps she would see him there, and she could apologize for the sudden end to their correspondence. She tucked the jewel into her sash. Though it had always seemed like part of her, it now felt oddly foreign after a long absence from its familiar spot.
With a sigh, she grasped Tian’s pebble, the cool smoothness reminding her of his sweet, genuine affection. His had been a childhood love. He never used her as a tool, like Prince Hardeep had; nor as a conquest, like his older brother Ming.
Perhaps conquest was too harsh. She played the scene back in her mind yet again, for the hundredth time that day. The girl, cute in her own way, looking up through her lashes at him; Ming, flashing that infuriatingly charming grin. Kaiya couldn’t have misjudged the situation. Or had she?
She turned to see Jie, attention fixed on the pebble. Kaiya closed her hand around it. “Jie, what did you think of the girl riding with Young Lord Zheng?”
The half-elf sucked on her lower lip. “Desperate, Dian-xia.”
&n
bsp; It wasn’t the word Kaiya would’ve used. “How so?”
“She was not particularly adept at riding, and she was quite nervous.”
“But she was smiling.”
“Contrived. Her eyes darted back and forth, and her brow glistened with sweat on a cold day.”
Kaiya kept her jaw from dropping. Her Insolent Retainer’s ability to notice details and draw connections was amazing. Perhaps it would be worth giving Zheng Ming a chance to explain himself tomorrow.
A male voice said, “You should be less concerned with philandering lords and more focused on important things.”
Kaiya jerked her head around.
The elf Xu leaned against a wall, fiddling with a hand-sized rectangular mirror.
One handmaiden gasped, while another dropped a jewelry box. Trinkets jingled on the floor. Others stared wide-eyed at the intruder. Jie’s lips tightened, even as her hand, tucked in the fold of her gown, strayed behind her back.
Kaiya glared at him. “Must you always make such dramatic appearances?”
“I am impulsive.” Lord Xu yawned. “Here, a sending-off gift.” He tossed the mirror at her.
Kaiya caught it in both hands. It was light, lighter than it should be based on its size. It displayed a perfect image of her face, instead of a mirror image. It was rather disconcerting. Curious, she tilted it side to side, and then over. “Thank you.”
“You do not seem impressed. It’s magic.”
She turned it over in her hands. “I assumed so. What does it do, besides reversing my reflection?”
“Brush your finger across it.” He pantomimed the motion.
Kaiya raised an eyebrow. “Won’t that smudge it?”
“I said it was magic, didn’t I?”
Kaiya glanced sideways at Jie. Maybe impertinence was inherited among elves, like their pointed ears. Nonetheless, she did as she was told. Her reflection disappeared, replaced by text written in a skilled hand. She sucked in breath. “What is this?”
“A gift. Rather, part of the bet I lost with Doctor Wu. She bade me to give this to you: a book of songs and music theory. It may entertain you during your voyage.”
“A book?”
“Keep brushing it, back and forth, and it will turn the pages. It is a copy of a tome Doctor Wu, with the help of myself and your music teachers, used to treat one of your father’s maladies, thirty-two years ago. Unfortunately, it is missing four important pages, lost when three of his best agents retrieved the original.” The elf’s eyes gleamed through his otherwise inscrutable expression.
Kaiya stared at the book…mirror. “Thank you.”
“It does one more thing: If you need me, call my name into it. I will try my best to respond. And as long as you hold it, I can transport you through the ethers if you need to escape danger.”
A sudden hope swelled in her. Perhaps she could avoid seasickness in the tight confines of a ship cabin. “Could you just send me to Vyara City?”
“I could.” He grinned again. “But that would rob you of the chance to reconcile with Young Lord Zheng.”
Heat rose to her cheeks.
Lord Xu’s face hardened. “A warning, before I go. Limit using the power of your voice while in Vyara City. Just as I warned you about that power two years ago, the mirror interacts with all the sounds of the universe, rippling out from you. It would be like a beacon to those who can detect it.”
In the past, he’d warned her about Avarax sensing the effect of her music from afar. However, the Last Dragon’s treasure hoard was rumored to be enormous, so he probably wouldn’t care for a little mirror. “Who would be listen—”
The air popped, filling the space where the elf had just stood.
CHAPTER 21:
Bait and Switch
Waiting in the pre-dawn darkness, Zheng Ming finished his mental countdown. It gave his men time to cover the dimly lit inn’s side and rear doors. Several others gathered with him at the front. According to his mysterious informant, insurgent leaders converged there, preparing to attack Princess Kaiya’s procession to Jiangkou. Their assault would commence once they saw Ming marching in the procession, so as to finally kill both him and her.
He would surprise them with an early appearance. He whipped his dao out. “Attack!”
A sheet of paper fluttered away from where it had been wrapped around the base of his blade. He skidded to a halt and retrieved it, leaving thirty of his men to surge across the street toward the building’s front entrance.
His eyes widened as he scanned the letter, which implicated him as a traitor. The informant must’ve set him up! Had he not drawn his sword now, he would’ve sauntered into the inn, possibly to square off against government troops. But why would the man do this to him? How had he gotten ahold of his sword?
And who was really in the inn? Ming started to call off the attack, but his men had already stormed in. Sounds of struggle broke out.
Letter revealed or not, his own men had just attacked imperial troops. Who else could it be? He took his time slogging toward the main door, savoring his last minutes of freedom. How humiliating it would be, striding into the building in full dress uniform, only to be escorted out in chains.
Inside the common room, his soldiers stood with bared blades. A dozen men knelt with hands on their bowed heads. Ming studied each, scanning for some identifier.
As long as the planted letter remained secret, he could pretend his intentions were legitimate. He turned to his aide-de-camp. “Did they have weapons?”
“Yes, Xiao-Ye.” His man pointed to a table where broadswords, crossbows, and daggers formed a heap.
Ming stifled a cringe. Maybe those weapons had government marks. He picked up a dagger, checking for any tell-tale sigils. None. He pointed it at the captives. “We have foiled your attack on Princess Kaiya.”
They looked among each other, confusion scrawled across their expressions. One murmured under his breath, while another shook his head in response.
If they were government soldiers, they would surely be protesting now. Putting on his best gambling face, Ming stepped forward and glared at one of the men, who looked more like a sailor than a warrior. “I know you are part of the insurgency. Who do you work for?”
Heads drooped in silence. Perhaps they were insurgents after all. He thought back to his encounter with the informant. At no time had he taken Ming’s sword. But if he hadn’t planted the letter, someone else was plotting against him. Perhaps one of the jealous young lords who resented Ming’s success with women.
In the distance, a bell tolled six times. Princess Kaiya’s procession would depart the palace very soon. The foiling of this attack on her had taken too much time. There was no way he could keep his promise to meet her at the main gate.
There was still a chance to redeem himself. He turned to his aide-de-camp. “Call the city watch to take these men into custody.”
On horseback, Ming might still make it to the palace in time.
Jie looked from the princess to the fog-shrouded Iridescent Moon and back again. Even if she could barely make out the moon, she knew valuable time slipped away. Horns at the main gate blared again, echoing through the early morning quiet and into the palace garden where they waited.
The drums and horns marked the departure of the princess’ palanquin, flanked by a hundred imperial guards and followed by her baggage train. It would take the main road to the port city of Jiangkou, where the princess’ decoy, Meiling, would board the Golden Phoenix.
Jie touched the princess’ hand. “Dian-xia, we must make haste.”
Her focus fixed on the veranda, Kaiya shook her head. “A few more minutes. He will be here. He promised.”
Jie exchanged glances with Chen Xin, the senior-most of the five heavily cloaked imperial guards.
With a nod, he spoke: “Dian-xia, we have arranged for a cargo boat to take us downriver. They have a tight schedule to keep and will not wait for us.”
The princess turned around, jaw set. I
n her hands, she squeezed the kerchief. “Zhao Yue. Go to the main gate and leave word with the guards there. When Young Lord Zheng arrives, send him to the Songyuan quays.”
Standing behind the princess, Jie waved her hand to countermand the order. Zheng Ming’s flamboyance would certainly attract attention to their clandestine trip.
Zhao’s gaze met hers, and he tilted his chin a fraction before dropping to a knee. “As the princess commands.” He rose and jogged toward the veranda.
“We shall depart.” The princess waved a hand toward a spot on the garden wall.
Chen Xin’s fingers probed the wall. He glanced back at the rest of them and then used his body to conceal which stone he pressed. It wasn’t too hard for her Moquan eyes to see past his efforts.
A slab of stones slid back without a sound, a testament to dwarven engineering. Chen Xin disappeared into the opening, followed by Ma Jun and then the princess. Jie went next, trailed by Xu Zhan and Li Wei.
Steep stairs, illuminated by Chen Xin’s light bauble lamp, descended into the musty bowels of the castle. Jie counted eighty-eight steps, which placed them about sixty feet below ground.
Ahead of her, the princess walked stiffly, her shoulders hunched as if she were hugging herself. Jie sighed. Unrequited affection was a heavy burden, but one which should never interfere with duty. She should know.
The four imperial guards—five, once Zhao Yue caught up to them—clopped over the passageway’s stone floors. Luckily, they were far enough underground that no one would hear them. In any case, anyone who considered foiling their diplomatic mission was probably preoccupied with the public procession.
After ten minutes, they emerged from the passage into a building in the secluded Tiantai Shrine, just outside the palace walls in the city’s northwest quadrant. The princess let out a monumental sigh, as if she’d somehow held her breath the whole time underground.
Hooded cloaks concealed their faces and the men’s short swords. The brittle light of dawn filtered through the cool morning mist, further obscuring their identities. Trailed by a dozen Moquan brothers and sisters, they set off on a brisk, ten-minute walk to a freight dock not far from where the Jade River emerged from Sun-Moon Lake. Despite the secrecy of their departure, Jie maintained careful vigilance.