by Julie C. Dao
Jade turned away, unable to bear her own features leering out at her from the signs.
Koichi shook his head slowly. “Look at the reward at the bottom. That’s enough to feed this town for a year. I’ll wager many would be desperate enough to kill for it.”
Even Wren had seen the signs from where she had been waiting in line. “Your face is everywhere,” she told Jade, handing her a small sack of the doughy sweets as she swung up behind her. “We’d better go. Your hair is short, but someone might still recognize you.”
“And I am attracting entirely too much attention,” Koichi muttered as two boys pointed at him. Their mother stared at him before hurrying them along.
They urged their horses on. As relieved as Jade had been to see the crowded town earlier, now it felt as though countless people watched them. She wondered if the soldiers they had seen had put up the signs, or whether Xifeng had sent men in all four directions or had somehow known Jade would pass through here. Jade had been foolish to think they had a head start because the Empress did not know of their quest. She has sorcery, and the Serpent God . . .
“Oh, no,” Wren groaned.
A large crowd stood ahead, blocking their path. A thin and tremulous female voice rose above the din of harsh male tones.
“You’re wrong. How could I be?” she pleaded. “You can’t say such things.”
“You have the hair,” a man sneered. “You have the nose, the skin.”
Koichi led them around the periphery of the crowd. The onlookers didn’t even spare them a glance, so engrossed were they in whatever drama was playing out.
“You don’t understand! You’re making empty accusations so you can win that reward!”
“Better be nicer to us,” another man said slyly, making Jade’s skin crawl. “Or we’ll turn you in to Her Majesty’s soldiers and have them confirm your identity. They’re not far from here.”
“Take her! It couldn’t hurt!” someone in the crowd shouted.
“Will you split the reward with everyone?” another person joked.
“The Empress is already taking our goods and money, and now you want to give her more of our people, too?” jeered a hard-faced old woman in the garb of a servant. “What are you, her newest lackeys? Let’s see you slither and hiss, then.”
The crowd broke into uneasy titters at her comment.
The sly man hurled a crude, disgusting curse word at the woman. “We’ll see who’s sneering when I bring home that money. Now move so I can escort Her Highness to the guards.”
A lump formed in Jade’s throat. “They think that girl is me,” she said to Wren, who shook her head fiercely. “I can save her. If we don’t do anything . . .”
“Then Xifeng will execute those men for bringing her the wrong girl.”
“And you really think she’ll spare the girl?”
“We do nothing,” Wren said firmly.
“Please, please!” The girl’s words were high pitched with fear. The crowd parted and Jade saw two men gripping her arms. She couldn’t be older than thirteen or fourteen, but even Jade had to admit there was a slight resemblance between them: wide eyes under thick brows, broad cheekbones, and a flat nose. The girl might have passed for another daughter of Lihua’s. The men steered her directly to where Koichi’s and Wren’s horses were passing.
One of them, who was about thirty with a cruel, sharp profile, glanced up at Jade. His surprise sent a stab of cold through her. “Another one,” he exclaimed, and Jade felt Wren stiffen as he looked between Jade and the sobbing girl in his grasp. “You could be sisters.”
Koichi, who had made it to the other side of the crowd, stared back in horror.
“Let her go,” Jade said, taking care to speak with a servant’s accent.
“Why?” the man’s sly friend asked, examining Jade as though she were wares put out for sale. “So you can take her place instead?”
“This new one’s skin is too sun-browned,” the sharp-faced man told him. “None of those fancy palace ladies ever spend much time outdoors. It’s not her.”
Wren spoke suddenly in a loud, pompous voice, imitating a court accent. It didn’t sound in the least authentic, but it got their attention. “You’re correct. She’s just an impertinent servant girl. How dare you speak to these men like equals?” she demanded of Jade.
“I’m sorry, Mistress.” Jade slouched. “I only wanted them to get out of your way.”
Wren let out a snort that would have made Amah proud.
“And I also wanted to save these men’s lives,” Jade added.
“How’s that?” the sharp-faced man asked.
“That girl you have there,” Jade said, pointing. “She has rough hands and feet, hardened by work like no princess’s would be. Imagine bringing the wrong girl before Her Majesty. Do you think the Empress will forgive you for wasting her time?”
The girl looked up tearfully at Jade. The men exchanged glances again, uncertain now, as their grips loosened. The girl scuttled away, her long braid flying behind her.
Wren smacked Jade’s head lightly. “Enough chatter, servant! My husband is waiting.”
“Husband, eh?” the sly man leered, coming forward to wrap his hand around Wren’s leg. “Perhaps he won’t mind if you and your little maid have tea with me and . . .”
He didn’t have a chance to finish his invitation, because within seconds of Wren realizing that he had touched her, he was sprawled on the ground with three fewer teeth. He covered his bleeding mouth with one hand, stunned, as the onlookers murmured in amusement.
“Touch me again and you’ll lose the rest of your teeth,” Wren spat. The other man leapt toward her, but in the flash of an eye, she whipped out her dagger and positioned it at the base of his throat, right below the large vein. “Yes? You had something to add?”
He backed away, his palms up, as his friend on the ground spat out bloodied spittle.
“Ride on,” Wren snapped, and Jade urged the pony forward.
Koichi nudged his stallion into a gallop and the girls followed, ignoring the jeers of the crowd behind them. They didn’t dare turn back to see whether they were being pursued.
The buildings grew sparser and the road led them back into grassy fields once more. They rode on for a quarter of an hour, stopping at last when they felt certain no one was chasing them.
Koichi grinned back at them. “Well done, both of you. Jade’s quick thinking saved that girl’s life, and Wren, that kick . . .” He imitated her movement with his own leg, knocking out an imaginary man’s teeth with fierce concentration, and the girls couldn’t help giggling.
“You did well to separate yourself from us,” Jade told him. “I’m afraid I drew too much attention to myself and Wren already.”
“You did, but I’m glad you saved her,” Wren admitted. “I suspect those bullies wouldn’t have turned her in, but would have kept her for their own entertainment. I hope she runs far and hides well.”
Koichi spotted a place to settle down for the night: a cluster of bushes some distance from the road, on the opposite side of the river. They tied up the horses and arranged their bedding, and Wren pulled out the sweets she had bought. The doughy, bean-filled pastries were slightly flattened but no less delicious or welcome after weeks of nothing but berries and dried meats.
Through some unspoken agreement each night, they always placed their bedding side by side, with Jade in the middle. Neither Wren nor Koichi would hear of any other arrangement. Tonight she curled up to see Koichi nestled on his side, facing her, his eyelids heavy.
He yawned. “What do you think we’ll find at Red Lotus Lake? The crane wife?”
“Perhaps her farmer husband and the cloak he stole from her.”
“Maybe the crane feather will be waiting there, ready for us to take. As easy as that.” His eyes crinkled at her. “Don’t worry. Wren a
nd I will be right there with you.”
“I know,” Jade said, and he laid his warm hand on hers for a brief moment before closing his eyes and drifting off. He looked calm and gentle in sleep, his dimples prominent even at rest. She realized, watching him, that she had grown used to hearing his quiet breathing each night.
And after this journey, what then?
If there is an after.
Jade gazed up at the sky, thinking of the daunting immensity of everything that lay ahead. If they somehow united the Dragon Lords’ relics, if they called down the heavenly army to defeat Xifeng—what then? Jade would take the throne, but she and Wren and Koichi would have to part and live their respective lives. They would only be strangers who had once shared a journey together, long ago. The thought of it made her ache with loneliness.
Jade turned to her other side and saw that Wren was still awake, too. “Are you ever afraid of anything?” she asked the older girl.
Wren raised her eyebrows and thinned her lips, and it made her resemble Amah so much that Jade felt an involuntary tug at her heart. “Sometimes. Why?”
“I wish it was easier for me to be brave. I’ve always had to work hard at it.” Jade pulled her blanket up to her chin. “Sitting up every night for weeks to train myself not to be scared of the dark. Learning to swim with Auntie Tan because I was afraid of water.”
“It’s not just you. We all have to work to be brave.”
Jade laughed. “I don’t think you’ve ever not been courageous. You inspire me.”
“How?” Wren asked, bewildered.
“What you did today,” Jade said, searching for the words to explain. “What you do every day. I left the palace with so much doubt, and it didn’t go away even after I talked to my mother. How can I defeat Xifeng? How can I bring the treasures together, summon the Dragon Guard, and be this hero everyone keeps talking about? I kept thinking, I’m just a girl.”
Wren folded her arm beneath her head, listening.
“There are so many expectations for women and girls,” Jade went on. “How to be proper, how to behave. But you push against them. Always. And who said heroes have to be men? Why can’t just a girl summon the army of the gods? Why can’t just a girl save an empire?”
“I just want to be myself,” Wren said. “I want to live life on my own terms, and I’m tired of people assuming all women are the same, or that we’re weak and helpless.”
“Can you imagine anyone calling Amah weak and helpless?”
They giggled, remembering the old woman’s snorts, sarcastic quips, and warm embraces full of endless, unconditional love.
“Sometimes I think Xifeng’s the only one who knows what women are capable of, and that’s why she’s on that throne. I don’t agree with anything she’s done,” Jade added. “But she believed in herself, and that’s what’s missing in me. If I don’t believe in myself, why should you? Why should my people?”
Wren shrugged. “It takes time. No matter what you think, I’ve had to work hard to be what you call brave, and I’m still learning about myself all the time. For instance,” she added, with a spark of mischief, “I now know that I can pluck feathers off a chicken, which they never let me do in the palace kitchens.”
“An honorable skill,” Jade said, grinning.
Days ago, Koichi had managed to catch a lost chicken wandering in the grasslands. After much moral struggle, he had agreed to let Wren cook it rather than find its owner, and though the bird had been mostly bones, that supper had been extraordinarily delicious.
“I’ve learned that I can tell the difference between a berry that will make me vomit and a berry that will make me dead.” Wren grinned at her. “And as it turns out, I’m rather skilled at tooth removal, as you saw today.”
Jade lifted her hand. “Well, there we are, then: consider this quest halfway done.”
The following afternoon, the grass grew tall and took on a browner tinge. The soil beneath the horses’ hooves turned to fine gold sand, and a raw freshness filled the air, with traces of salt and storm. Close to sunset, a ribbon of aquamarine water appeared, waves crashing against the shore. Jade had never heard anything more beautiful or more lonely than the hollow roaring sound of enough water to hide the world’s secrets . . . or consume them entirely.
“We’ve come to the coast,” she said, awed. “That’s the Dragon’s Shadow Sea.”
The road was packed with travelers from all over Feng Lu and lands far beyond. Most had black hair and brown eyes, like Jade and her companions, with skin ranging from golden to russet. But she also saw ebony-skinned merchants and officials and a family of women wrapped in silk scarves, their beautiful dark hair framing rich copper-hued skin.
“I wish I had learned more languages,” Jade said wistfully, listening to the women laugh uproariously as they held an animated conversation.
“Father’s irritated that I speak the language of the Great Forest better than I do our own. And that it’s called the ‘common tongue,’ ” Koichi said. “I suppose that’s what happens when one nation conquers the others and expands an empire, so everyone may understand one another.”
“It’s neither fair nor right, forcing a language upon other kingdoms.”
“What will you do when you take the throne, then?”
She hesitated, wondering if he would think her answer silly. “I would give the other kingdoms independence and maintain their alliance through trade and mutual respect. I have no desire to dictate other people’s languages, laws, and resources.”
“You would dismantle the empire.”
“I’m not completely naïve. I know this empire was built on blood and slavery and lives stolen by my ancestors. An empire is about power, and I don’t want it. I want prosperity and security for all people.” She glanced at him. “The village elder used to tell me it was a fanciful, unrealistic view. But I’m only telling you what is in my heart.”
“I think it’s about time the Great Forest had a ruler with a heart,” Koichi said gravely.
As the sun set and the sky deepened, the crowds began to thin out until there was nothing but miles upon miles of sand and sea surrounding them.
“We should have found Red Lotus Lake by now, don’t you think?” Wren asked uneasily. “That’s what the map showed this morning. And the road emptied almost too fast.”
“I noticed that, too.” Jade shivered. The wind off the water was cold without the sun, and she remembered it was winter, though there was no snow along the coast. A caravan passed them going in the opposite direction, and the driver looked at their party curiously when Jade called out to him. “Could you tell us if there are any lakes nearby, sir?”
“There’s only one, but you won’t find any fish or good water to drink, if that’s what you’re hoping for. Nothing lives there, not even birds.”
Jade and Koichi exchanged glances. “Why is that?” she asked.
“Folks believe the water is poisonous. But I can tell you how to get there if you’d like to see for yourself.” He gave them some quick directions, then continued on his way.
“It doesn’t sound promising,” Wren said skeptically. “If no birds live at this lake, then why are we searching for a crane feather there?”
“We’ve come this far. We might as well try,” Jade decided.
They veered off the road and marched their horses through the tall grass, away from the ocean. Clouds drifted over the moon, blanketing them in darkness, and Jade couldn’t help looking around nervously. On flat land, without any trees or shrubs, they would be hard-pressed to find a hiding place if they needed one.
The lake appeared in half an hour’s time—a sprawling blackness that smelled of reeds and marsh and soil. An air of death and decay hung over the stagnant water.
“This can’t be Red Lotus Lake,” Koichi said.
Jade dismounted and draped the brocade cloak over som
e dry grass. Just as she began to scan Amah’s map, the clouds moved again and the moon came out. The moment its light touched the water, the place was transformed. Knee-high grass swept downward to a vast and magnificent lake like a shimmering silver mirror, like a shard of sky torn from the heavens and pressed into the earth. It was calm and quiet and dotted with bright crimson lotus flowers. Eleven cranes floated in the heart of the lake, so bright they illuminated the water like lanterns.
Koichi and Wren followed Jade to the water’s edge, where the birds fluttered their wings and arched their necks. In the moonlight, slim arms and heads with long, jet-black hair emerged from their pearlescent bodies.
“The sky-maidens,” Jade gasped, looking at Koichi with mounting excitement.
He furrowed his brow. “But shouldn’t there be twelve of them?”
“The twelfth might be with her husband who broke his promise,” Wren suggested, and they both turned to her, delighted. She shrugged. “I’m not one for stories, but I do have ears.”
Jade laughed, and the women heard her. They danced over the water toward her, bringing a breeze that smelled of fragrant tea and warm grass and sunshine as they drew near. Everything about their forms and figures was reminiscent of the cranes they were: the long, white-feathered cloaks they wore, the graceful movements of their arms, their inquisitive gazes.
“Jade of the Great Forest,” one of the maidens said, glancing at the brocade map. “I recognize the mark of the Dragon King on that rich fabric. And I know why you have come: to retrieve our youngest sister’s cloak and free her at last.”
“Yes,” Jade said with a respectful bow, “and I have come to find the relic of the Sacred Grasslands. One of your sister’s crane feathers, I think?”
“What good would one feather do, Princess?” asked the sky-maiden, amused. “No, the god of the Sacred Grasslands asked us to weave him one of our famous cloaks.” She and the others twirled gracefully in the air, the folds of their feather garments rippling. “It was a great honor, and so we twelve sisters each gave twelve feathers to create his treasure for him.”