by CK Dawn
My knees burned from the strain, yet I almost forgot about them as I mulled over doctor’s perplexing words. The power of Dragon Songs didn’t seem at all related to medicine.
Then again, Prince Hardeep, a non-Cathayi who shouldn’t be able to channel magic through artistic endeavor, had told me to straighten my body and put my feet on the ground. If it came from just his love of music, then maybe my music teachers had left something out of their instruction. With no sign of the prince, I might never find out. He was probably on the first ship bound for his besieged Ankira, Dragon Scale Lute in hand.
“Focus.” Doctor Wu pressed my back, straightening my spine. “Remember to root yourself next time you decide to play with things you don’t understand.”
I might have cowered had I not been concentrating on the stance.
The doctor harrumphed. “In fact, maybe you shouldn’t play these songs of power at all. That music last night…a frightening energy coursed through it, one that did not belong to Mother Earth. Lose control of such power in such a place, and it might have dire consequences. For you. For the world.”
For the world? One song having dire consequences for the entire world…the very idea of it was overwhelming.
Doctor Wu came around and shot me an imperious look. “If you ask me, you should find a real instructor.”
“There are none,” I said. My voice came out as a squeak, probably from not having spoken for the last few hours. I straightened out of my stance. “At least not for music.”
Doctor Wu shrugged. “I don’t know much about magic, but at its core, artistic endeavor is all the same: the expression of intention.”
“I don’t know…” Not that I had any reason to learn anymore. The whole idea of using a Dragon Song to change the minds of the lords and Father, which felt so right last night, was clearly treason. And Hardeep’s other hope, expelling an invading army with fear, apparently involved powers that might be too terrible to invoke.
“You have always had the potential. I have long felt it in your pulse. You must make a choice.”
Such revelations; why now? And if it was always there, maybe this was a chance to rediscover my people’s lost art.
“You are prettier when you smile,” Doctor Wu said.
I covered my mouth. “If I wanted to learn, what would you recommend?”
Doctor Wu tilted her head like a cobra. “Observe others who can evoke magic through their art.”
“I can’t go out into the palace grounds for two days.” I sighed.
“There is always the Crown Princess.”
Right. Xiulan could manifest magic through her calligraphy, and appeared even more radiant when doing it. After rescuing her from the uncomfortable discussion of unconceived heirs, she owed me a favor.
“Start there. Small steps,” Doctor Wu said.
I caught myself before I sighed and earned another rebuke. “If only Lord Xu would teach me more.”
“More?” Doctor Wu’s lips twitched. “I would be wary of that rascal. Wherever he is in the world right now, I would wager that Lord Xu heard the song last night. It would not surprise me if he makes an appearance soon.”
I knelt on a silk cushion on the veranda in the Gardenia Courtyard, listening to the smooth swoosh of Xiulan’s brush across rice paper.
My sister-in-law sat at the bloodwood table with her back straight, soles flat on the ground. She held her hanging sleeve with her left hand as the brush danced across the page. The posture looked similar to the way Hardeep had suggested I sit when playing the pipa.
The slow, graceful motions and steadfast whirr of the brush were lulling, hypnotic. I almost forgot how my legs still ached from the low stance hours before.
Several handmaidens stood at the edge of the veranda, all craning their necks to see the Crown Princess write. Four imperial guards flanked the doors, including my own Chen Xin and Xu Zhan, so still they might have been statues themselves.
Xiulan set the brush down and held up her paper. The handmaidens clapped.
Kai. Victorious, just like the first character in my name, shared by my brothers, as well as cousins Kai-Long and Kai-Hua.
My chest swelled with pride, and a smile tugged at my lips. For all my mistakes, I’d already accomplished more with music than any human had in two hundred years. “I feel it,” I said. “How did you do it?”
“My master emphasizes getting in the right mood by sitting straight and grinding the inkstone. I held a sense of pride and satisfaction in my heart and wrote.”
Once you have seized the song’s emotion and made it your own, the music book from the Hall of Pure Melody had said, you must project it. Rooted to the ground, your spine aligned, let your heart impel your voice. I glanced back at the beaming handmaidens and stoic guards. None seemed as affected as me. “Why did it affect only me?”
Xiulan bowed her head. “I remembered the gratitude I felt when you saved me from embarrassment yesterday.”
I nodded. While not exactly a lesson from a master, at least it was a small step in understanding. If only Prince Hardeep were there. When I was near him, it felt like I could do anything.
Appearing at the door, Secretary Hong creaked into a low bow. “Young Lord Peng Kai-Long has come to meet with Princess Kaiya.”
Cousin Kai-Long stepped past the secretary and sank to his knee, fist to the ground. A large embroidered silk bag slipped from his shoulder. Could it be? He looked up to the Crown Princess. “If you would excuse me, Your Highness, I would like to walk with Princess Kaiya.”
“As you wish, Young Lord Peng.” Xiulan gestured toward the garden.
“Thank you, Eldest Sister.” Peering at his silk bag, I rose and nodded toward Kai-Long to take the lead.
White pebbles crunched beneath our feet as we wound along a path lined with glossy green gardenias. I lowered my voice. “Thank you for your help last night.”
Kai-Long nodded. “I took full responsibility, even offered to cut my own throat. The Emperor will withhold judgment for two days, and until then, I am confined to either the palace or my family villa.”
“I am sorry.” I bowed my head.
“It’s all right. My role has been kept secret so as not to influence the opinions of the hereditary lords. I will prove my loyalty and worth to the Emperor by leading the vanguard in an assault of Wailian Castle if we need to put down Lord Tong.”
I gasped. The impregnable fortress, if what General Lu said was true. And Kai-Long was confirming that the insurgency had indeed intensified.
He took my hand and patted it. Casting a glance back at the two imperial guards following several steps behind, he leaned in and whispered, “I managed to get Prince Hardeep to safety.”
Hardeep! Alive and safe. My pulse skipped a beat and I almost stopped in my tracks. I turned away from Cousin Kai-Long and looked forward. “Where is he now?”
“Hiding at my pavilion. He apologizes for disappearing so quickly, but his life is in danger.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “The Emperor must already know the entire story; not just about the morning, but the night, too. He would have Hardeep killed, wouldn’t he?”
This time, it was Kai-Long’s turn to stop and face me. “No—or at least, I do not think so. I have already spoken on Prince Hardeep’s behalf.”
“Then why is his life in danger?”
Cousin Kai-Long resumed his walk. “The Madurans received word that he is meddling with their trade agreement. My father’s province shares a border with Ankira, and we have witnessed the refugees from Madura’s brutal occupation. Madura is a warlike nation, and when they act, they rarely do so in moderation.”
My chest constricted. No doubt they were behind the massacre last night. And to think Cathay sold these violent people firepowder. “Wouldn’t Hardeep be safer in the palace?”
“I am working with palace officials to allow it. In the meantime, he asked me to give you this.” He unslung the bag and presented it to me in two hands.
Th
e Dragon Scale Lute? I stared at it for a few seconds before receiving it. I loosened the drawstrings and peeked inside. A lute. Though not the one made from dragon scale. I cinched the drawstrings and bowed. “Thank you.”
He flashed a conspiratorial grin. “I would be happy to pass messages for you.”
A smile came unbidden to my lips. “Thank you, Cousin. Please tell him that I want to help him.”
“Be wary,” Kai-Long said. “If the Madurans think you are meddling in their affairs, they won’t hesitate to snuff out your young life.”
Prince Hardeep had said as much. And they had already snuffed out so many. My breath hitched. How awful, to be murdered for doing the right thing. And to think the Madurans acted with impunity on Cathay’s soil. I straightened my carriage, not wanting to show fear. “The prince and I were ambushed last night, twice.”
Kai-Long stopped, spun, and faced me. His eyes could not open any wider. “Did you tell the Emperor?”
She shook my head. “Everyone believes I was lured out of the palace by the music.”
Kai-Long blew out a long exhalation. “At least you won’t get Hardeep in trouble for that. Still, the Emperor must know, so he can increase your guard.”
“Don’t worry. He assigned a Moquan to watch me.” I rolled my eyes.
“A what?” Kai-Long’s gawk, combined with his wide eyes, made him look like a caricature I’d once seen.
“Silly, right?” As though an imaginary boogeyman could do anything against Madura’s very real hired knives.
Kai-Long offered a nervous laugh. “If I didn’t know how much the Emperor treasured you, I would say he is being lax with your protection.”
“I always have at least two imperial guards whenever I am out of the residence.”
Kai-Long glanced back at the two men, and then leaned in again. “Have you heard of the Golden Scorpions?”
Of course I’d heard of the evil warriors with expressionless masks, though mostly as scary bedtime stories. Cast-offs and deserters from the Order of Ayuri Paladins, the Golden Scorpions used their martial magic in the service of Madura’s aggression—including assassinations. Fear crawled up my spine like a spider. I tried to keep my voice confident. “The Emperor forbids them from entering Cathay. It’s grounds for terminating the trade agreement.”
“They don’t always wear masks. Just be careful.”
Fifteen
Father Figures
I sat atop the castle parapet, dangling my stick legs over the edge despite the silent protests of my imperial guards. Long shadows cast by the setting sun yawned out over Sun-Moon Lake, whose gentle waves lapped up against the base of the stone walls. The lake stretched to the horizon, its placid surface broken only by a few small islands.
A day remained until Kai-Wu’s wedding, two until my judgment for wandering the palace with Hardeep. I turned Tian’s pebble over in my fingers, its smooth coolness comforting. I knew every imperfection by touch; cherished it as a talisman of a more carefree time. Eight years had passed since I last saw my childhood playmate, the one with whom I could always share my deepest secrets.
If only I could share the secret of Hardeep! And my dreams of reviving lost magic. Tian would understand. But no. Although he might be the son of a first rank Tai-Ming lord, Father had banished him long ago for a stupid prank. Who knew where he was now?
“Your Highness,” my handmaiden Han Meiling said from behind me. “Here is the lute you requested.”
I closed my hand around the pebble and turned.
Meiling knelt, with Hardeep’s lute nestled in her arms.
Stowing the pebble into my sash, I received the instrument with both hands. I flipped it around and straightened my back. My toes gripped the stone ground. Taking a deep breath, I strummed. The vibration of the strings flitted through my arms. Each note came together in technical perfection, yet my uncertainties and doubts wavered through the melody.
Xiulan had thought of me when writing calligraphy, which apparently guided the magic in the character to me; I looked to Han Meiling.
The handmaiden averted her gaze, then soon shuffled and tugged at her gown. Her fidgeting increased as uncertainty clouded her expression.
Could it be the effect of the song? An excited shiver coursed through me.
The lute disappeared into thin air, taking its song with it. My heart leaped into my throat. Meiling gasped. The guards all drew their dao.
“An interesting choice of instrument.” Lord Xu stood there, my lute in his hand. The slight rise of an eyebrow and the tone of his voice asked for an explanation.
“I was told to practice.”
He lifted a hand in a swift motion. All sound around us silenced, leaving only his voice. “I told you to practice your listening.”
Mouths agape, my guards charged forward, only to hit an unseen barrier. Their palms circled against it, looking much like the Estomari mime who once entertained the court.
They might not have even been there for all the mind Lord Xu paid them. “You were responsible for the song at the Temple of Heaven. Even there, this lute could not make that music.”
He knew! I shook my head. “I…no, it wasn’t this instrument, but rather one made from a dragon scale.”
Xu’s eyes narrowed. “How did you acquire it?”
“It was in Foreign Minister Song’s possession. My understanding is that he received it during a trade mission to Vyara City.”
The elf lord’s face betrayed nothing. “Where is it now?”
As if I knew. Maybe Hardeep had stolen it, but there was only risk in telling Xu about the foreign prince at all. I shook my head. “I don’t know. When I awoke, it was gone.”
“I see.” His gaze bored into me. “I am glad you revealed this to me. In any case, listen first. In order to project your sound farther, you need to hear and borrow the energy around you. To have the greatest effect, you must listen for the most opportune moment.”
I shook my head. “I can’t learn that by myself, I—”
He placed his index finger over my heart. “Most importantly, you must trust what you hear, to know if using the skill warrants the dangers of using it.”
I stared at his finger for a few seconds, and then looked up. “Dangers?”
“Magic ripples out from its source, its strength greatest at the time and place of invocation. However, its echo spreads throughout the world and diminishes through the ages. Even the song Yanyan sang to Avarax a thousand years ago persists, hidden among all the other sounds of the world. In any case, magic serves as a beacon to those who know what it is. Not all of those people—and I use that term loosely—are as benign as I.”
A shiver went down my spine. “Avarax.”
He nodded. “Yes. He now knows there is again someone with the potential to affect him with her song.”
“Will he seek me out?”
The elf shrugged. “Who understands the heart of a dragon? Perhaps he will entice you to seek him out, instead. I could not tell you whether he would kill you or twist your skill to his own benefit.”
I shuddered. Perhaps the revival of lost skills was no longer worth the cost. “I will forget about music.”
“You might forget about it, but he won’t. If he has not already felt last night’s song, he will soon.” He tossed the lute back.
Maybe letting it smash against the pavestones would be better. I caught it nonetheless. “What can I do?” To think I had considered being devoured by a dragon favorable to marriage.
“Listen.” He swept his hand down; the sounds of spring resumed and my guards tumbled forward. Without even looking, Lord Xu caught Chen Xin with one hand and supported Zhao Yue with the other. Letting go, he then pointed far out into the lake.
The two guards dropped to their knees and started to raise their swords above their heads.
Waving them off before they offered their lives in penance yet again, I followed the elf’s gesture. In the distance, lumber herders guided felled trunks of eldarwood
trees through Sun-Moon Lake’s placid waters. Laboring during the early spring melt, they had already begun their annual transport from the forests of the empire’s inner valley to the shipyards on the coast. Since commoners were prohibited from coming too close to the palace, the workers kept their distance. They seemed like children’s balls bobbing on the waters.
“Can you play loudly enough for them to hear?”
Forgetting all sense of propriety, I gaped at the preposterous challenge. The castle parapet wasn’t the Hall of Pure Melody, let alone the Temple of Heaven. “That’s…that’s impossible.”
The elf shrugged. “Not for Yanyan.”
I shook my head. As though my paltry skill could compare to the legendary slave girl. Nonetheless, I plucked a string as hard as I could, emitting a loud, disjointed note.
Lord Xu burst out laughing.
Chagrin and anger washed over me. No telling what shade of red my face was.
After stifling a chuckle, Lord Xu deftly swiped the lute from my hands and strummed.
The series of notes sang in jubilation, tangible in its clarity. It was as if all the heroes of Cathay’s past had marched into the present, urging me forward with their battle cries. My uncertainties and embarrassment melted away. My spirits rose, and even Chen Xin and Zhao Yue squared their shoulders and smiled. Out in the lake, the herders looked in our direction.
The elf turned back, face inscrutable. He returned the lute to me. “It is not the strength of the pluck that matters, but the intensity of your emotion. Only the power of your intent can compel the sound beyond its physical limitations. Hear the waves of Sun-Moon Lake and allow them to lend you their strength. Now try again.”
My focus shifted from Lord Xu to the lute. My musical talents were renowned throughout Cathay. Yet neither my own performances, nor any other I’d heard from famous musicians, could compare to the elf lord’s improvisation.