by JC Kang
Count Du bowed. “It would be my honor.”
Kaiya beckoned the captain of the imperial soldiers. “Leave eight of your best men to protect me. The rest of you, escort the palanquin down the highway toward Huajing.”
Fang Weiyong startled from a dream and sat up straight on the thick blanket. Sweat clung to his neck and head, making the chill air of the guest room seem colder. Yes, he was near the great waterfall of Hua, not back in his recurring nightmare.
He rubbed his neck, where then-First Consul Geros had held him aloft in Iksuvius Heights. To think the giant Bovyan and his cohorts gathered outside the walls, just half a day away. The more distance between them, the better.
Weiyong clambered out from beneath his covers and padded over to the carved wooden bed where Princess Kaiya slept. Her chest gently rose and fell, even as her brow furrowed and she hugged herself.
He pulled the covers over her, and her body relaxed. At least the stubborn young woman had listened to his suggestion, to rest at Count Du’s pavilion until early morning. Much to the count’s and his own chagrin, she insisted he stay in the room with her.
Now if only she would stop calling him by name. Weiyong might be a priest, her doctor, her Maki tribe brother, and her friend, but he was still a man. A man who had no business wondering what it might be like to feel her lips against his.
Such a fool! He shook his head and stalked off to the window. Throwing open the shutters, he pushed his face out into the night air.
“Weiyong, is it already time to go?”
He turned around to find the princess sitting up on the bed. He dropped to his knees and bowed. “No, Dian-xia. We still have another hour before we set off for the docks. Please go back to sleep.”
“You, too.” She flashed a demure smile and eased herself back down.
His heart pounded in his chest, and he stared out the window. Once they returned to the capital, he could put more distance between her, too. But where to?
“That is my command.”
He turned back and bowed, then shuffled back to his bedroll. Sleep did not come easily, and he spent the rest of the time staring at the ceiling tiles, trying not to think about beautiful princesses.
Hurried footsteps across wood floors jolted Kaiya out of sleep. Even so, she stayed buried beneath the covers, protected from the dark and cold.
“Dian-xia,” an imperial soldier called from outside of the door. “We must reach the docks in an hour. Please get ready.”
Groaning, she kicked off her blanket and sat up. Surprisingly, rest had done her good. Weiyong’s herbal medicine probably helped, too. She tightened her gown around her shoulders. “Any news of the Teleri?”
“No, Dian-xia.”
“Very well. I will be ready in ten minutes.” Kaiya dangled her feet over the edge of the bed and set a foot down. The wood was cold. Poor Weiyong. He must’ve been freezing.
She pushed her feet into slippers and glided over. Kneeling by his side, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Wake—”
He bolted upright, nearly crashing his forehead into hers. His gaze met hers before staring at the floor.
Kaiya giggled. It seemed appropriate for his faux-pas. “We leave in ten minutes.”
“Yes, Dian-xia.” He pushed himself to his feet, avoiding eye contact. Was he that embarrassed?
Kaiya returned to the bed and picked up the hooded travelling cloak hanging over the footboard. Draping it over her shoulders and pulling up the hood, she walked to the door. “Come, Weiyong.”
Though he responded immediately, hesitancy weighed down his words. “As you command, Dian-xia.”
Why was he so tentative? A walk to the quay should be nothing compared to their harrowing escape from Iksuvius. She flashed him a reassuring smile. “We will be all right.”
He simply nodded, still avoiding eye contact.
In the courtyard, her eight new guards waited with Count Du. They all knelt as she emerged.
She nodded to her host. “Count Du, I thank you for your hospitality. My handmaiden Yan Jie will come here searching for me. When she does, tell her that I have taken a river boat to the Huajing. Do not tell anyone else.”
He bowed. “As the princess commands. I wish you safe travels.”
They set off. The waxing gibbous of the white moon Renyue and the almost-open blue moon Guanyin’s Eye shone bright, providing little cover. They both hung close to the iridescent moon, also nearly full. Before long, all three would join in the Godseye Conjunction, a rare omen of great change. At this moment, that change didn’t look good.
The windows of homes were all shuttered, and they encountered no one in the streets. Only the roaring of the waterfall and the owl calls accompanied them. If Count Du planned on betraying them, he had yet to make a move.
They arrived at the lakeside docks in short time, where sailors worked at preparing a riverboat for departure. A fresh-faced young man with broad shoulders approached and bowed. “I am Captain Su. I understand we are to take you to take your unit back to the capital?”
“Yes.” The highest-ranking solider dropped a purse in the captain’s hands.
Captain Su hefted the bag and then stepped aside. “We are almost ready to embark. Go ahead and board.”
Not wanting to reveal her identity, Kaiya prodded Weiyong with a poke in his arm.
He flinched at her touch. “Captain Su, is there any news about the Teleri army?”
Captain Su sighed. “Yes. Lord Zheng will surrender the East Gate to them today, at first light.”
CHAPTER 14:
Misinformation
Liang Yu looked past his tea cup at Chief Minister Hong Jianbin’s cinnamon-skinned lover, Leina. The light blue gown emphasized her striking blend of Hua and Ayuri blood, and every movement spoke of grace—like the Beauty from his Black Lotus team, three decades before.
The pleasantly nostalgic feeling floating in his chest disappeared. To think the hideous old man had this exotic beauty warming his bed. Or rather, her bed, since he always met with her in this house he’d bought in the Floating World.
Ah, the perks of wealth and influence. Though if Hong knew Leina also entertained Young Lord Liu of Jiangzhou from time to time…
Smiling, Liang Yu set the cup down and placed his white weiqi piece on the board. Since helping Hong become Chief Minister, the old man had avoided him. Not as if it would be that hard to pay an unannounced visit; but sometimes a predator let his prey believe he had given up.
Especially if there was another way to get information. If Hong knew how loose Leina’s lips were, he might not share state secrets with her. Secrets that Liang Yu could coax out. “The Night Blossoms tell me that fewer officers are coming to the high end of the Floating World.”
“Oh, Golden Fu, I can’t tell you how hard it is on everyone.” Her accent flitted. With a dainty motion and tilt of her head, she played her black piece, setting a subtle trap. Clever; but with his eye for conspiracy, easy to see. “So many provincial and imperial troops went south to put down that rebel Peng. Many of the Night Blossoms are spending their nights alone.”
So he’d heard. Now, only the most untested armies defended the North. Luckily their northern neighbor was preoccupied with a regional conflict and couldn’t pose a threat. If only he’d succeeded in tracking down Peng, Liang Yu’s knife could have prevented the civil war. Thirty years ago, his team wouldn’t have failed. His own planning, the Beauty’s wiles, and the Surgeon’s scalpel would’ve vivisected the insurgency before it could spread.
What had she said? Something about Night Blossoms? He pretended not to see her trap, and placed his piece to make it seem he was attacking. “Well, there are still the ministers and officials.”
“Fewer of them, too.” She lowered her voice. “The new Tianzi does not inspire confidence. Many of the hereditary lords are concerned about their own domains and have gone home. Almost the entire Linshan provincial legation is gone.”
This last piece of information he kne
w. His pupil, Lin Ziqiu, was the daughter of Linshan’s Tai-Ming lord and had told him as much. He swirled the tea around in his cup. “Once the imperial armies crush Peng, things will come back to normal. Hopefully, it won’t be too long.”
The wistfulness of her sigh could have inspired poets. “Tonight wouldn’t be soon enough. Maybe all the revelry when Princess Kaiya returns will help—”
Liang Yu almost spit his tea out, but choked it down. “Princess Kaiya?”
She placed a hand on her chest and sucked a breath in. With a conspiratorial look in her eyes, she leaned in and whispered, “Yes, she left Dongmen by river barge two days ago, in secret, with only a light guard.”
That couldn’t be true. Princess Kaiya’s half-elf bodyguard would have sent word to her Moquan superiors, and Liang Yu had been intercepting their correspondence. There was no way Hong could find out about the princess’ imminent arrival before the Moquan. If he did, however, Leina’s slip was a good lead. He shifted in his seat. “Yes, the citizenry will be happy to have their princess back.”
He, on the other hand, needed her to stay away from the palace. If her past gave any clues, the princess would likely try to find a peaceful resolution to the South’s rebellion. She might even beg for clemency for Peng, despite his many attempts to manipulate and kill her.
It was time to pay a visit to the funerary shop to confirm this rumor.
Leina held a low bow as Golden Fu departed, his gold-threaded robes swishing out her side door. As much money as the avaricious spice merchant lavished in the Floating World on prostitutes, he probably spent even more funding the anti-imperial insurgency.
To what end, she could only surmise. He was just one of a dozen horrible men she had to deal with. Conflict and uncertainty increased demand for his other import: weapons. Like so many of the rich and powerful in Cathay, he profited on suffering and broken dreams.
Collecting up the tea set, she gave herself a mental pat on the back. The information she’d fed him would embolden the insurgents, and hopefully wreak havoc in the capital.
She lifted one of her cups to the light bauble lamp. A barely perceptible crack stretched across the surface. It would split it in two if mishandled. Cathay’s cracks and fissures were far more evident, and deservingly so. Yutou Province had aligned itself with Peng’s Nanling Province in rebellion. Linshan Province stood at the side, waiting to see where the pieces would fall.
With a cursory glance at the weiqi board, their game unfinished, she sighed. Golden Fu was good, much better than Old Hong at strategy games. Still, he was too concerned with surrounding her pieces; he didn’t notice the weakness in his inside lines. In Cathay, that weakness was the semblance of unity among the Royalists. Jiangzhou Province’s soldiers marched with the imperial army, but nobody else knew their Tai-ming lord had plans of his own.
Golden Fu would learn that, and the other information she’d withheld, soon enough. The armies of evil Madura, at Lord Peng’s behest, already trampled on Cathay’s soil. Lord Zheng in Dongmen Province had surrendered to the Teleri. Soon, Rotuvi would attack Cathay’s source of firepowder in Wailian, and from there, maybe even storm the now lightly defended North Gate of the Great Wall. With armies in motion across three fronts, there was nothing keeping the capital from falling.
Except Princess Kaiya. That woman had proved resourceful, and if anyone could rally Cathay, it would be her. Hopefully, Golden Fu’s insurgents would act on the information of her imminent—and more importantly, unprotected—arrival.
The plans of ambitious men were coming together in a perfect symphony of chaos. Now it was time for the climax to the opera she’d written. Leina opened a drawer in her altar table and withdrew a silk brocade box. The silver brooch inside, engraved by a master craftsman to evoke magic, ostensibly protected her against hooligans. To think a piece of Cathay’s unique Artistic Magic would be used against its own people.
Even if Old Hong had outlived his use in sowing seeds of havoc and pushing the imperial court into disarray, he still served one last purpose. He had the Tianzi’s trust, and she had his.
She sighed. Poor man. He wasn’t that bad, really. Kind, even. But she was so close to getting her mother freed. Geros would surely keep his word, as Bovyans did, and it was going to happen years earlier than she could’ve ever hoped.
The secret entrance from the Jade Teahouse into her house whispered open. Old Hong had arrived.
Peng Kai-Long stood on the hill, flanked by his secret Water Snake bodyguard and several officers. In the stretch of farmland below, the Maduran invaders, thirty-thousand strong, braced against the onslaught of the imperial army.
No doubt the Maduran Prince Dhananad would be infuriated. The original plan had called for Kai-Long’s own army of ten thousand musketmen to draw in the imperial vanguard of fifty thousand, and then for the Madurans to fall on their right flank.
Kai-Long grinned. He had sent one of his men, disguised as an imperial scout, to feed misinformation. Now, the Madurans would bear the brunt of the imperial army attack, while his own men, held in reserve, would attack the imperials’ left flank. Well, once both sides had weakened each other.
Muskets roared in staccato, and firepowder smoke drifted across the plain. An hour in, and the Tianzi’s troops seemed satisfied to keep out of range of Maduran archers. At this rate the Madurans would be too sapped to face the bulk of the imperial army, now marching through Hua’s central valley.
He turned to his aide-de-camp. “Form up the musketmen on this hill in ranks of three.”
“But Jue-Ye,” the aide said, “that would reveal our position.”
If only there were another way. In the corner of his eye, a young officer edged forward. Peng snapped his fan shut and pointed with it. “The Madurans are pinned down. At this rate—”
“Look!” The officer pointed.
Kai-Long followed the gesture. Below, a dozen Madurans broke from their entrenched positions and zigzagged through the barrage of musket balls.
Not a single one fell.
Kai-Long tried not to gape. These were undoubtedly the vaunted Maduran Scorpions. Real ones. Not the boogiemen from the stories he’d manufactured over the last few years to instigate war. In seconds, they crashed into the imperial army’s orderly ranks, breaking the long line in at least ten places. A couple of the Scorpions fell as hundreds of imperial spearmen surged in to relieve the musketmen.
“Hurry! Deploy!” Peng waved his fan emphatically. They had to make a show of attacking, lest even the dimwitted Dhananad suspected—
“Jue-ye!” The aide yelled.
Kai-Long turned, just in time to see a man chopping at him with a broadsword.
“A message from Prince Dhananad!” the assassin shouted. No time—
The weapon clashed against another sword, wielded by Kai-Long’s bodyguard. The instrument of his death stopped just a finger-length from his neck.
“Take him alive!” Kai-Long fell back as his other men swept in to surround the would-be assassin. Blades flashed in the sun.
A few more swords clashed against the assassin’s. With a quick jerk, the man raked the blade over his own throat. Blood sprayed out as he collapsed.
Dhananad had sent him? Kai-Long rubbed his neck. Perhaps the prince wasn’t so stupid after all.
His bodyguard, from the Water Snake Clan, dropped to a knee. “Jue-Ye, the assassin was Black Lotus Moquan. You can tell by his technique.”
To everyone else, Moquan were only rumors, tools for mothers to keep unruly children in line. No more real than the Guardian Dragon of Hua. Still, Kai-Long had to keep up pretenses in front of his officers. He favored the man with a raised eyebrow. “There is no such thing.”
The bodyguard bowed. “Of course, Jue-ye.”
Kai-Long nodded. The slip could be forgiven, especially now that the Water Snake Clan had saved him from one of Cousin Kai-Wu’s agents. “You will be rewarded.”
The man bowed again. “Protecting my lord is my honor.”
>
His honor, as long as Kai-Long kept paying the clan. They’d turned on Lord Tong during his rebellion three years ago, only recently resurfacing. Perhaps even after he gained the Jade Throne, he would keep them around.
He looked back at the battle, which his own men now joined, firing at the imperials’ flank. The Madurans had suffered significant casualties and would need reinforcements if they were to face the brunt of the punitive expedition.
He motioned to his bodyguard. “Inform your superiors to keep the South Gate open. We can’t blow it yet. Not until the Madurans weaken the imperial army more.”
Soon. If the battles all worked out like today, the Madurans and Imperials would devastate each other, leaving the road back to the capital open and the North relatively undefended.
Hong Jianbin waited at the arching stone bridge between the castle and the rest of the palace grounds, clasping the jewelry box Leina had given him. A present for the Tianzi, one which would ensure Hong stayed in good graces despite the failed policies he suggested. The girl had exquisite taste, and undoubtedly it was a work of art. His hands tingled in excitement.
The rhythmic beat of a dozen footsteps approached. He looked up to see a contingent of imperial guards, surrounding the Tianzi’s golden palanquin. Sunlight reflected off its dragon and phoenix carvings.
When the first guards reached him, Hong sank to his knees and pressed his forehead to the ground. “Huang-Shang, might I have a word?”
“Halt,” the Tianzi’s voice called from within.
The porters came to a precise stop and set the palanquin down. One slid the door open. Inside, the Tianzi leaned back on the cushions, his eyes soft and friendly.
He waved an open hand. “Chief Minister Hong, rise. Are we not finished with official duties for the day?”
“Yes, Huang-Shang.” Hong looked up and presented the box. “I would like to present a token of my appreciation for your benevolent rule.”