by JC Kang
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.”
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 two more things: 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. The
ir 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. In 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.
Princess Kaiya seemed detached, staring down at her feet while they walked through the warehouse-lined streets. When they arrived at the quay, she craned her neck, looking among the dozens of sailors and workers bustling along the wooden docks, loading and preparing cargo boats. There was little doubt whom she searched for.
Jie didn’t have the heart to say Young Lord Zheng would not be joining them. It was for the better. Whether she admitted it to herself or not, the princess repeatedly fell prey to his charm. Given a week at sea with his forked tongue beguiling her, it might be more than the waves rocking the ship.
Chen Xin flagged down a middle-aged pilot, who’d been contracted through anonymous intermediaries. His river boat, laden with cargo, would take them through the wide but shallow waters of the lower Jade River to the sea docks in Jiangkou. Two dozen brawny rowers looked over their group with little interest, while the quartermaster kept peering through the mist at the iridescent moon.
The princess didn’t accommodate him, raising a hand. She spoke in an unmistakably regal tone, which might unwittingly blow their cover. “Wait a moment.” Her eyes swept across the docks several times, and then focused on the road.
Jie followed her gaze. Maybe Zheng Ming had somehow found them. No, the philandering lord didn’t seem to be among the dockworkers and sailors. She tugged on the princess’ sleeve. “We must get underway. Our hosts in Jiangkou are following an unforgiving schedule.”
The princess glared at her from underneath her hood, but after a few seconds, turned on her heel and motioned for her entourage to board. With Li Wei’s help, she climbed onto to the boat.
Jie held her sigh of relief until the boat pushed off. They would be on time, and she wouldn’t have to suffer through Zheng Ming’s presence.
Kaiya listened t
o the oars swishing through the water, following the cadence of the drum situated at the long river boat's aft. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to order a full stop and head back. What if Ming had been attacked by the insurgents again? And hurt, unable to meet her in the palace? He’d better be hurt, to not show up.
Forget Zheng Ming. She stared at the lazy waters of the Jade River. Melting winter snows first filled up Sun-Moon Lake before emptying into the wide channel that flowed out to sea. With the river being too shallow for ocean-going vessels, swift row boats and slower pole barges plied the waters, transporting goods and people from Hua’s largest port to its capital.
Since the transformation of Huajing from a muddy fishing village to the national capital, other villages along the river banks had blossomed into towns, catering to the barges as they pushed their way upstream.
For the first time, Kaiya saw these towns from the meandering river. Normally, she bypassed them on the main highway. Merchants sold wares directly from docked barges, while fishermen took small craft out for the day. Women washed clothes in the shallows, sharing gossip with broad smiles and laughter.
Even though she frequently traveled through the country, it was always meticulously choreographed. It was rare for her ever to see the common folk going about their daily lives. How relaxed their lifestyles were compared to the rigid routines of court life! Her hand strayed to Tian’s pebble.
The boat arrived at Jiangkou’s docks in the early afternoon, and the party disembarked. Ma Jun went to search for the Invincible while the rest of the group waited by one of the many large warehouses near the busy docks.
On previous trips, Kaiya had gone directly to a wharf just outside of the city and a little further upstream in a private cove, where the Golden Phoenix moored. Now in a public area, she could hardly hear herself think over the buzz of activity as sailors, dockworkers, and merchants all played their respective roles in Hua’s vibrant international trade.
The smell of fish and sweat mingled with brackish water to assault her nose. Her stomach turned at the sight of huge crates writhing with live shellfish, on their way to the sprawling Jiangkou fish market. Perhaps the open sea wouldn’t be so bad compared to this.