by Cindy Pon
“It was the last time I spoke with her, when she came to tell me about your accident. Rose went to Zhen Ni this morning to find her quarters empty, her bed not slept in.” Lady Yuan straightened. She was impeccably dressed as always, the stiff collar of her emerald tunic beaded with pearls. But no amount of cosmetics could disguise the blotchiness of her skin. “It was my fault,” Lady Yuan continued with a trembling voice. “I was too harsh with her when I discovered her deception.” She pressed the handkerchief against her face.
Skybright shifted her feet, not knowing what to do. As close as she was to Zhen Ni, she had never been close with Lady Yuan.
“I knew she was hurting after I sent Lan away. I read her suffering so clearly in her eyes. But I didn’t go to her, didn’t comfort her. She cared for Lan beyond just friendship, and there’s no future in that. I believed she needed to be taught a lesson. She’s a woman now, not to be coddled. I was only trying to make up for my lax ways.” The tears came freely, and Lady Yuan didn’t even bother to dry her cheeks. “Do you know what it feels like to be a mother? It feels like I carved a piece of my heart for every precious child that I conceived. I hurt when they hurt. And like any mother, I only want the best for them. Now she’s gone.”
“Why didn’t you call me earlier?” Skybright asked. The question was both bold and rude, but she was trying to control her panic over Zhen Ni’s disappearance.
Lady Yuan’s response was unexpected. She half laughed, and picked up a piece of rice paper rolled up on the tea table. “Zhen Ni left a note. She asked, or rather instructed me, not to.”
“Was that all it said?” Skybright wanted to snatch the letter from Lady Yuan’s hand, but what use would it be when she couldn’t read?
Lady Yuan unfurled the short piece of paper and read it aloud: Do not worry for me. I will return home. Do not wake Skybright. She knows nothing and is ill. Lady Yuan sighed and put the letter back on the tea table. “My daughter didn’t even sign her name. I waited two hours after dawn, then sent Rose to fetch you. Thank the goddess Master Yuan will be away for another week at least tending to business. It’ll be a disaster if he returns and Zhen Ni is still gone.”
It was so like Zhen Ni to leave demands even in this terrible instance. And yet, she was still looking out for Skybright’s well being. Skybright was desperate to find out everything. “You have searched—”
“Since after dawn. In the forest, in the city, in the town. I’ve hired ten men I trust to help the manor staff. An artist has been drawing a likeness of Zhen Ni all morning to accompany the announcement of her disappearance. These have been distributed and pasted everywhere.” Lady Yuan drew her back even straighter, as if she could armor herself by stiffening her spine. “I care little for decorum now. My daughter is wandering out there alone and I just want her home safe again. The reward for finding her alive is one thousand gold coins.”
Skybright flinched at the word alive. “She’s probably on her way to Lan’s home.”
Lady Yuan nodded. “I’ve sent Golden Sparrow with an escort of eight men to the Fei manor. We’re hoping we’ll intercept her along the way.” She touched Skybright’s hand and she jumped in her seat. “Is your face all right? It looks painful.”
“Yes, Lady Yuan.”
“Skybright, I was harsh with you as well. I know how much Zhen Ni cares for you. You’ve been nothing but an exemplary handmaid and companion to her.”
Skybright recalled how despondent Zhen Ni appeared when she had left her bedchamber the previous day. It was her fault that her mistress had run away. She’d been a terrible handmaid to her in these last few weeks, and an even worse friend.
“I shouldn’t have beat you, Skybright,” Lady Yuan said, interrupting her thoughts.
Skybright inclined her head, so the woman could not glimpse her expression. “It was your right as the lady of the manor.”
“Even so—” Lady Yuan struggled for composure, to rein in the distress written so clearly on her face. “I know you’re as worried as I am. Please pray that Zhen Ni will return home to us safely.”
Skybright left Lady Yuan’s beautiful quarters in search of Nanny Bai. She was housed on the other side of the manor with a large front room filled with drawers of medicinal herbs. She didn’t visit often, as the sharp and bitter scent of the chamber would often linger in Skybright’s clothes for days.
She found the older woman at her square blackwood table, grinding something with mortar and pestle. The chamber was infused with the pungent scent of sage. Nanny Bai glanced up when Skybright pulled another wooden stool to the table.
“You’ve heard,” Nanny Bai said in her grating voice.
“I just came from Lady Yuan’s.”
“They did not get you sooner?”
Skybright swallowed with guilt, and she had to wait a moment before replying, “Rose had been tending to Zhen Ni.”
“Zhen Ni was very concerned about your face. She came yesterday to give me specific instructions on taking care of you.” Nanny Bai snorted. “As if I needed guidance. Now I know why. She was planning to leave even then.”
“When did she come see you?”
“Midday. She had just come from your bedchamber.”
It was as Skybright thought. Her refusal to speak truthfully to her mistress was the last aggrievement Zhen Ni could endure. “I have to find her.”
Nanny Bai sighed. “Lady Yuan has taken care of that. The reward is so generous I think the entire province is in search of our mistress.”
“I’ll have better luck. Zhen Ni had always said it, and she was right. We are like sisters. And I’ve failed her in these last weeks.”
“Lady Yuan would worry.” Nanny Bai had not ceased in her rhythmic motions of pounding pestle against mortar.
“She would understand. I’m useless here without Zhen Ni. A handmaid goes where her mistress goes. Will you tell her tomorrow, after I’m gone?”
Nanny Bai set the pestle down and rested her gnarled hands on the table. “It’s dangerous out there in the world, Skybright. Especially now.”
“I can take care of myself, Nanny. But Zhen Ni can’t. She’s smart and brave, but she’s never left the manor on her own before.” The more she spoke, the more terrified Skybright became for her mistress’s fate. Demons had escaped from hell, and there’s no knowing what Zhen Ni might encounter. “She needs me.”
“I can’t argue with you. Lady Yuan will be upset with me. But I’ll tell her tomorrow that you’ve gone, and the reason why.” She stood and fetched a jar from one of the low shelves. “I made this ointment for you just this morning. It should be enough to see that the cut heals.”
The jar felt cool and heavy, and she had to hold it with both hands. “Thank you, Nanny Bai.”
The older woman patted Skybright’s hair, scrutinizing her wound. “It still breaks my heart to see that cut on your lovely face.”
“No matter. The pain has eased.”
Nanny Bai gave a low chuckle. “You’ve always been practical to a fault.”
Skybright kissed Nanny on the cheek before she left, wondering how practicality could ever be a fault.
Skybright packed a knapsack with a few changes of clothing, a light blanket, and food that would keep for the journey. She retrieved a satin pouch filled with coins from her dresser, a savings of her allowance from Zhen Ni. But she had rare occasion to spend the coin, as the Yuans provided everything that she needed.
It was evening when she sneaked out the side entrance of the manor, making her way down the main road. Zhen Ni had left in the dead of night, and Skybright wagered that she took this more direct path the previous evening to travel as quickly as she could, before moving into the trees when daylight broke, to avoid searchers once her disappearance had been discovered.
Skybright had taken a map from Nanny Bai with detailed drawings of their province, Shi Lin, named for the dense forest that covered most of the region. Lan’s home was in a town three days aw
ay by carriage. But it would take much longer on foot. The roads took a more direct path from their town of Chang He in the Tian Kuan mountain down to Lan’s town of Hong Yu near its base. Skybright knew that there were no clear trails within the actual forest, and it was especially dangerous now with the breach in the underworld. She wished again that she had emphasized the danger to Zhen Ni, even though it probably wouldn’t have deterred her. Once her mistress set her mind to something, she’d follow through no matter what.
The forest beckoned, and Skybright couldn’t resist. Although it was a less direct path through the trees than on the main road, she’d travel much faster as a serpent. She ran into the thickets and undressed, carefully folding her clothes and placing them in her knapsack. Reaching for that searing heat within, she felt it meet her mind with a powerful surge. She shifted in an instant, and the world expanded through her serpentine senses. Skybright picked up the knapsack and slung it over her shoulder; it felt bulky and odd, like something that didn’t belong to her. But she kept it, knowing she needed it to survive while in human form.
Slithering beneath the massive trees, she caught the low buzzing of bees high above, their drone prickling her scales like a caress. It brought to mind a particular day, early this summer, when she and Zhen Ni had snuck away for a picnic in the forest. It was during that outing when her mistress had first suggested they could spy beyond the tall walls of the monastery to see what went on behind its grand facade, to find out what the monks did hidden inside each day.
To prepare, Skybright would only need to practice climbing trees.
At first, she had refused, but Zhen Ni wheedled her into it, as she always did. Skybright had been quite high off the ground on her third attempt when she heard the low hum of the beehive and let out a cry. She had scrambled down as fast as she could, even while Zhen Ni asked her to try and get some fresh honey.
Skybright had glared at her mistress when she set foot back on the ground. And Zhen Ni had sniffed, indicating her disappointment. Suppressing a smile at the memory, Skybright blinked, tasting the tears that did not reach her eyes.
She paused after dawn to gauge her progress. She had a very clear sense of direction as a serpent, and hadn’t taken a drink of water since she was in human form. These mortal concerns obviously didn’t touch her as a demon.
A creek wound its way in front of her, maybe the same one that was near the Yuan manor. She glided past a grove of sandstone pillars, stretching high enough into the sky to block the sunlight, standing like silent sentinels. They were marked on the map with a few oblong shapes drawn in a circle, but not named. She ran a hand down the rough, tan rock, wondering how they got there and at their significance. Stone suddenly sprang into her mind, the mysterious immortal with the powerful presence. The man who claimed to have known her mother, Opal.
Skybright left the grove, trying to sense Zhen Ni or others. But no humans were near. She veered toward the next town before midday, hoping to gather some news there. Thirst and hunger struck her like physical blows when she shifted back into a girl. Her muscles ached as if she had been running non-stop for leagues. Skybright smiled wryly and ate two cabbage buns and an apple. Her stomach growled in reprimand as she gulped down mouthfuls of water from her flask. She patted her hair, still wound in tight buns at her nape, and smoothed the tunic and trousers she had pulled on. Her face throbbed again. She cautiously applied the ointment Nanny Bai had made for her, wincing as she dabbed it over the stitches. It was another hour before she walked through the open gates of a small town called Chun Hua. The main street was quiet. Merchants fanned themselves by their bamboo stands or perched outside their stores on stools, eyelids drooping.
The midday sun was hot and blinding. Skybright paused near an announcement pasted outside a restaurant’s wall. She couldn’t read it, but recognized the portrait of Zhen Ni drawn by the brush artist. It was a good likeness, capturing her spirit with a few strokes. Her chest tightened to see the slight upturn at the corners of Zhen Ni’s wide mouth, as if she were about to burst into laughter.
She pushed through the swinging wooden doors and stepped inside the restaurant. It was almost empty. A few patrons sat in the far corners, enjoying small dishes with rice wine or tea. Skybright approached the server girl, who didn’t look more than thirteen years, leaning lazily against the back wall, keeping cool with a paper fan. “Have you any news about that missing girl?” Skybright asked.
“Some men came through yesterday looking for her.” The girl stared at Skybright’s wound, not bothering to hide her grimace. At least she didn’t ask how she had gotten it.
“And what did you tell them?”
“Nothing. Except an hour after they left, a girl did come in.” She stopped and puckered her lips. “Might’ve been her.”
Skybright fished a gold coin from her pouch and held it in front of the girl, pinched between two fingers. “What did she look like?”
“Tall. Thin. Wore her hair exactly like yours. Her clothes and face were dirty. Her hands too. But she spoke educated, like you.”
Skybright lifted her eyebrows at that.
“She asked about the poster too. I told her about the men who had come in earlier and pasted it on our wall.”
“What time of the day was it?”
“Early evening yesterday. She bought some food, and gave me two gold coins, she did.” The girl snapped the gold coin from between Skybright’s fingertips and slipped it into a pocket. “I offered her our washroom so she could clean up a little, since she had been so kind with her coin, but she said no and left.”
It had to have been Zhen Ni. Here less than a day before!
“Did she say anything about where she was going?”
The girl shot her lips out again and shook her head. “She was nervous. Fidgety. She left the moment she got her food.”
“Can you tell me what she was wearing?”
“Sky blue tunic and trousers. I could see it was good quality.” The girl paused, considering Skybright. “Another gold coin and I’ll give you what she left behind.”
Skybright lifted her chin, trying not to betray her racing pulse. What could Zhen Ni have left? Certainly not a note? She held out another gold piece for the server, but did not let go of it at once. “It better be worth the coin,” Skybright said.
Although they were the same height, the girl shrank back a little, and drew something from her pocket. “I would have kept it, but it’s not very well done.” She held out a pale gold handkerchief.
Skybright recognized it immediately, and took it from the server, smiling. “I made this.” She ran her thumb over the emerald dragonfly stitched in the corner.
“Your embroidering is awful,” the girl said.
“I know.” Skybright ignored the sting behind her eyes. “It was a birthday gift.”
“Your friend dropped it. By the time I picked it up, she was long gone.”
“Thank you,” Skybright said.
Skybright left the restaurant and spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the town, hoping to gather more information, but had no luck. Finally, in the late afternoon, Skybright left the small town and walked back into the mountainous forest of Shi Lin. She fought the urge to change into serpent form the moment she was deep enough within, surrounded by towering cypresses. Retrieving a small wash cloth, she sat beside the creek she had passed earlier that morning and wiped her face and neck. She remembered Kai Sen leaping over the water, his figure limned in sunlight, as if he were flying. Remembered how he twisted and jumped before he plunged his saber into the giant demon with the vulture’s head. She shivered as the forest darkened around her. Zhen Ni wouldn’t be traveling tonight—she was almost certain, felt it in her core. Skybright needed to gather her thoughts.
She lit the small travel lantern she had brought and perched it on a smooth rock, setting the light by her feet. Her mind flew over everything that had happened to her in these last weeks. Who was she? What was she turnin
g into? Only one person could answer these questions for her.
She spoke his name aloud before she could stop to reconsider. “Stone.”
Skybright kept still, and waited. She heard nothing but the soft stir of the forest. And then, everything went silent, as if she had suddenly been robbed of hearing. The dirt near the creek began to whorl, caught in a tight twister, spinning and rising in a funnel. The twister gathered more earth, pebbles, and rocks, even larger stones around it, until it solidified into the shape of a tall man.
Stone.
He materialized a lifeless dark gray at first, a statue. Then in a moment, he was flesh, armored in magnificent silver and gold. She could recall the taste of his scent on her tongue, even now, the memory sharp and potent.
“I did not think you would ever speak my name.” He strode forward so the faint halo of lantern light touched his boots. But she needed no light to see him. He glowed. “I have been waiting,” he said.
She had never encountered him while in her mortal form, but his presence provoked the same emotions, awe and an indefinable sense of longing. He drew one step closer, and all the hairs on her arms stood on end.
“Your cheek,” he said in that deep voice and dropped to one knee, the movement so swift she was unable to follow it. One moment he was towering over her, and the next, he was crouched before her. “He did this to you. That boy, the false monk.”
Her mouth went dry, and her throat worked before she could speak. “It was an accident.”
Stone’s fingers touched her right cheek—the uninjured one—and his black eyes swept over her face. She held still, resisting the urge to jerk back from him, knowing she couldn’t escape even if she wanted to. His fingertips traced her jaw line, and she could feel the heat in his touch, tamped down because he willed it. His fingers brushed to the other cheek, and he cupped his hand over her wound.
She gasped, as a tremor convulsed through her, and her cut tingled, feeling of fire and ice.