by JC Kang
There, she’d admitted it to herself. She was putting her own need to know ahead of the clan’s mission. Worse, she was using cell assets. She hadn’t even told them. And the guilt was pricking at her.
With a sigh, she turned the corner into the warren of courtyard homes. The paved streets were wide enough for ten people to walk abreast, though now, only a couple of people remained outside. All the houses were nice, but not extravagant, probably belonging to mid-level government officials or very minor lords. Really, it was well below the level of wealth expected for the hereditary ruler of a county.
Then again, the North was the poorest region in the realm, which might’ve been why Lord Ting had resorted to selling illegal yue, and why the Triads in the Trench had gotten Lilian to kill him.
With fewer hiding places, Jie’s stalker fell back, occasionally poking his head out from beyond a corner in the distance. He probably didn’t realize how elf vision could pick out his shape in the dark.
Up ahead, at the front gate of a house, metal whispered across stone as a knife sharpener worked behind a pushcart. A light bauble hanging from its frame formed a bubble of illumination around him, and also shined on a male servant at the threshold. The craftsman handed a cleaver back, and received a few coins, which he slipped into a pouch. The servant disappeared back behind the gates.
Black Lotus training taught to maintain distance from sharp objects, so Jie gave the sharpener a wide berth.
He turned to her and held out a small package wrapped in grey cloth. She froze, and he grunted and extended it again.
“What is it?” No doubt, it was a gift from Fixer Zhang.
“I don’t know,” he said in a gruff voice, throwing up his hands. “I was just told to give it to a girl in a grey dress.”
So the mule had seen her departure from the Peony Garden, or at least heard it from her tail. She took it, the weight light in her hands. Paper crinkled inside. “Who told you? When did it happen?”
“The time it takes to sharpen a knife. It was some street kid. It was too dark, and he was too dirty to make out any features.”
So about five minutes or so prior. It likely wasn’t her tail, because they would’ve made contact and just given it to her; but the tail would’ve had time to pass it on to someone else. Whatever else could be said about Fixer Zhang, he enjoyed his anonymity. Most likely, neither the woman nor big man she’d met at the fountain were him, but they might be an asset, like the cell used Old Feng.
Jie bobbed her head, and continued on her way. Two turns later, she arrived near Lord Shi’s corner home. The road was empty, though the din of muted conversations carried over from the courtyards all up and down the block. She ducked into an alley between two, where there was just enough light from the full White Moon to read.
Unwrapping the cloth, she found a dwarf key. What? Had Fixer Zhang already acquired one? She unfolded the paper and read.
Top key here. Steward has other. No need to go to Lord Wu’s reception.
So Fixer Zhang now knew about the reception, but hadn’t when they’d met this morning. Though by the time Wen was stalling Shi Han, who had the second key, Lord Shi had already decided to go. Tian had spotted Lord Shi here at the time. Somewhere in between, Fixer Zhang had acquired the second key from Shi Han, and also learned about the change in plans. Of course, this also meant that Wen, Meisha, and Yangyang wouldn’t find the key on the boat, and Tian would be waiting at the quays, and wouldn’t be able to be used as a distraction for Steward Zhu.
Jie hefted the key. She was on her own, but with one in hand, and the other not hard to acquire with a little violence, all she needed was to be able to hear the clicks in the combination lock, and know the time the safe would open.
✽ ✽ ✽
Tian jogged through the streets of the capital, keeping his head low in case someone who knew him from his previous life as a noble’s son saw him. To think, in that previous life, he’d be heaving for air after this much running.
At last he arrived at the Northwest Promenade. An open-air market, it was located on the north bank of the reservoir, directly across from the Floating World. With the onset of dusk, shoppers filed out from between the rows of stalls. Most vendors were packing up their wares, while many tables were already closed. Aksumi baubles on tables or being wrapped up created a dance of light and shadows.
Somewhere, there had to be one of these fake dwarf keys to swap out with Young Lord Shi Han’s.
But first, he needed money. As naughty as it was, he swiped a few purses as he scanned the merchants closing down shop. Five minutes and six purses later, he ducked into an abandoned stall, to combine his ill-gotten wealth into a single purse. In all, two gold yuan, eleven silver jiao, and twenty-three copper fen.
Was it enough? Never having bargained, or even shopped for anything before, it was impossible to tell.
Up ahead, a merchant specializing in timepieces was haggling with a military officer. The metal rings, with twelve curved grills though the middle, allowed time to be measured by looking through them at the Iridescent Moon. Some included magnifying glasses and more grills, likely to measure time more accurately. Maybe it could be used to…
This would be awful, but with no telling how expensive a dwarf key would be, there was no other alternative. Tian whisked by and snapped up one of the timepieces. He held his breath as he maintained the same pace. Hopefully, neither the customer nor the vendor had noticed. He’d return it when he was done with it.
Sixteen steps later, he blew out that breath.
And skidded to a halt.
Right beside him, an elderly merchant was wrapping up silver bracelets in red cloth. Wrinkles streaked along his papery skin as he reached for what looked to be a dwarf key. He’d been so focused on getting away from the timepiece stall, he’d almost missed it.
He hopped over. “I want that key.”
“This one?” Scooping it up, the old man squinted at him. “It’s a rarity. Will make a Dragonweaver’s—”
“It will make a Dragonweaver’s magic stronger.” Tian reached out for it.
The man pulled it back. “Then you know how valuable it is. I’ll part with it for ten yuan.”
Hiring Old Feng for an acting job had cost two gold coins. It sounded reasonable enough. However… “I don’t have that much.”
“Ah, I was waiting for the bargaining to begin!” A long smile caused more wrinkles to erupt across his face.
Tian emptied the contents of the purse on the table. “This is all I have.”
The old man leaned in, eyes searching among the coins, then looked up. “You’re either trying to cheat me, or you’re really poor and bad at bargaining.”
“Please, I really need that key.”
“Are you a Dragonweaver? Weave me something to make me young, and it’s yours.”
Could Dragonweavers even do such a thing? Tian wasn’t one, and apparently, two yuan, eleven jiao, and twenty-three fen wouldn’t be enough. Maybe there would be another key somewhere in the market, but its owner might demand even more. He didn’t need to use his new timepiece to see time was running out.
Heavens, forgive him for what he was about to do. He reached out, seized the old man’s hand, and twisted it.
The merchant let out a yelp, but his fingers loosened on the key, and Tian plucked it away.
“Thief!” the merchant yelled.
Tian raked his gaze across the market. Everyone had frozen, and all eyes were locked on him. Including those of two of the city watch.
Oh, baba. He broke into a run.
A chorus of “Thief!” erupted around him.
It didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the reprimanding voice in his head, which sounded suspiciously like Father’s.
The things he would do for the Black Lotus.
The two city watch ran, their longer legs gaining ground.
Chapter 11
Wen hadn’t been paying attention to the distance they’d covered, or the number of streets
the palanquin had turned down, but now they’d come to a stop.
She signed to the others, Where are we?
Lips pursing, Meisha shook her head.
Near the clothier’s district, Yangyang gestured.
At least someone hadn’t forgotten their training. This was strictly a commercial district, which meant the back alleys would be nearly deserted. Wen slid the palanquin window open enough to make the voices less muffled.
“Well,” said the front left bearer, “We’re all tired of jogging, and if she just needs to be delayed, we don’t have to go all the way.”
“If we’re going to be out of breath,” added one of the guards, in a rich voice, “I know what I’d rather be doing. When else would you, or any of us, have a chance to fuck a Blossom?”
Weapons? Wen signed. Of course, they all had bladed hairpins, and she’d strapped three throwing stars to one leg, and a knife to her wrist.
Meisha patted her thigh. Knife. Hairpin.
I expected to lose my skirt tonight, Yangyang signed. Hairpin only. And a flashpowder packet.
“It’s wrong,” the courier said.
“They’re whores,” said Rich Voice.
The sentiment echoed all around them.
If there was anything reliable about males, it was that they were governed by base desires. Wen’s heart squeezed.
Meisha and Yangyang exchanged knowing, nervous glances.
Hiking up her skirts, Wen acquired her knife with a flick of her wrist. She retrieved the throwing stars with her other hand, and passed them to Yangyang.
At her side, Meisha squirmed and drew her own knife.
The palanquin lowered to the ground.
“Why are we stopping?” Wen slid the window all the way open. Not much larger than two hands, the field of vision provided wasn’t wide enough to see the bearers. Two of the guards moved around either side, entering the blind spots.
On the other side, Meisha opened her window and pressed her face up against it. Then jerked back.
The doors slid open, revealing several of the men, crowding together, bending over. All their faces were now covered, save for the courier, who stood to the side with his arms crossed.
Nothing good would come of this.
“Get out,” said Rich Voice. One of the soldiers, he was standing at the middle, in front of the others. Though only of medium build, he was larger than any of them. He patted his broadsword hilt.
“We’re here already?” Wen crawled over Meisha and put herself in the middle of the opening. All thirteen men were now in her field of vision, deployed in an arc that cut off any lines of escape.
She and her friends were outnumbered by larger, stronger men, four with weapons. Behind her back, she flashed hand signals. Two soldiers left, one center, one right. If we fight, we can’t leave witnesses.
“We’re taking a break. We figured you’d want to…stretch your legs.” He looked over either of his shoulders, and the men broke out into laughs.
Yangyang made a show of clutching Wen’s arm, but ran her finger in swirls and taps. I have line of sight on the two to the left. If we let them use us, we’ll be late for the reception. And, to remind you, I’m menstruating.
Heaven forbid we’re late. On the other side, Meisha sidled up and rested her chin on Wen’s shoulder. With one hand, she took Wen’s third throwing star; with the other, she signed on her back, I have the one on the right.
I have no intention of being used like a public bathhouse, Wen signed behind her back. Deserted area.
Thirteen less rapists, Yangyang tapped. The world won’t miss them.
Wen gave a slight nod, and signed behind her back, Deadly force. Neutralize armed men first. I have leader. She feigned fear, recoiling back. “You don’t understand, we don’t just…just do that. In the Floating World—”
“We aren’t in the Floating World.” Rich Voice stepped forward and grabbed for Wen’s wrist.
She let him seize it and yank her out of the palanquin. Stumbling into his arms, she buried her knife in his gut. She pushed herself off him before his blood could splash on her gown, drawing his sword in the same motion.
Three whirling stars crossed behind her in quick succession. Eyes widening, the two soldiers on the left and the one on the right clutched their throats and sank to their knees. The courier and remaining bearers gawked.
Knife flashing, Meisha darted out to the left, Yangyang to the right, hair now out of place since she’d pulled her hairpin. Wen flung her knife at the courier with the bauble lantern, it hit him in the gut, and he dropped the light.
The bauble shattered. The alley blinked into darkness. With the advantage of weapons and Seeing Ears, against eight unarmed men, the question was not if they would win, but how quickly and quietly. The sisters were in and among the palanquin bearers, and men’s muffled cries rang out.
By the time Wen’s eyes adjusted to the moonlight, only she, Meisha, and Yangyang were standing.
“Clear,” she whispered.
“Clear,” the others said in unison.
“Check your clothes for blood.” Wen crept over to the bearer, whose breaths came out staggered. She knelt down to inspect his injuries.
His gut wound wouldn’t kill him tonight, but he wouldn’t last much longer than that. The poor man hadn’t condoned the attempted gang rape.
Then again, he hadn’t done anything to try and stop it. Wen drew the sword over his fingertip. He flinched, and would’ve brushed her with his bloody finger had she not redirected his hand to the side.
“Who…who are you?” he said through gritted teeth.
“You are going to die from that stomach wound,” she said. “I can make your remaining time in this world very painful, or I can end it quickly. Who hired you?”
“Fixer Zhang.”
How had Fixer Zhang known they were planning on going to the reception? And if he was trying to stop them, did he know about their clan mission to crack Lord Shi’s safe? She cut another one of his fingers. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not!”
“Then you work for him?”
He shook his head. “We do jobs for him, and other people, too.”
Maybe he was part of a gang. “So it wasn’t really Lord Peng behind this?”
He shook his head. “Fixer Zhang provided the uniforms and the palanquin.”
“They have tattoos,” Meisha said.
Typical of gangsters. Wen pulled the man’s high collar to the side, revealing snake tattoos on his neck. “Which gang do you belong to?”
“The Fangs.”
“From the Trench?” Wen looked over her shoulder at the others. The Fangs had been involved in the illegal yue trade, and had the backing of Lord Ting, who Lilian had killed.
He nodded.
“What was your job tonight?”
“We were just supposed to make you late for the moons-viewing party.”
“If we don’t hurry,” Yangyang said, “they’ll accomplish that goal.”
Wen hushed her. “Why did he want us to be late?”
“He didn’t say. We just did the job.”
Wen brushed the man’s matted hair out of his face. “I’m sorry this had to happen. It wouldn’t have, if your brothers had just done their job. Are you ready?”
He gave a nod.
She ran the blade across his throat, careful to avoid the spray. She turned to the others. “We need a Cleaner. Where’s our closest safehouse?”
“The one near the Floating World, probably.” Yangyang said.
Meisha shook her head. “No time, and most of clan assets are in and around the palace because of the threat on the Emperor.”
Wen nodded to Yangyang. “You said you have a flashpowder packet. Will it light the palanquin’s cushions?”
“We can try.”
Wen checked herself for blood. “Do it.” And quickly scan to see if Fixer Zhang had someone following us.
With no sign of a tail, they retrieved their weapons,
lit the palanquin, and were off in search of a rickshaw.
Chapter 12
As if stealing wasn’t bad enough, now Tian was a fugitive from the law two times over. He ran, the sound of his pursuer’s footsteps getting closer. He looked over his shoulder.
Two of the city watch sprinted in pursuit, their strides long in comparison to his. The first would catch him in seventy-two feet, and the second in seventy-four. If he were lucky, they’d give him a beating; but if they took him to a magistrate’s office, and they identified him, it would mean death.
“Sorry!” he yelled as he yanked a tablecloth of trinkets into the path behind him. The vendor shook a fist and screamed expletives.
“Regrets!” He upturned a table as he passed. Amid the dance of light and shadows, he ducked under the next one to cut over to the parallel row.
Other passersby startled at his sudden appearance, but continued on their way.
Perhaps this kind of resourcefulness would make him a good member of the clan; but then, an operative wouldn’t have gotten caught in the first place.
“Where did he go?” one of the guards yelled from two rows over.
Tian slowed his pace to a quick walk and took the closest lane out of the promenade. Based on the number of paces and turns, he was on the avenue that ran along the east side of the market. For now, he was safe.
Moving one block to the east into the warrens of courtyard homes, he jogged north, then turned back west. A few people were trickling out of their homes, headed toward the great park on the northwest edge of the city, their chatter suggesting they wanted a better view of the moons.
The rest of the trip was uneventful, save for a few times he ducked his head as members of the city watch strolled by. Soon, he was catching up to the parade of palanquins and armed entourages. From the sigils on the banners and livery, they were likely many of the great lords on their way to Lord Wu’s moons-viewing party.
Citizens all moved to the side of the road, though up ahead, as they neared the city gates, many bowed low. Dressed in commoners’ garb, he’d mix in with everyone else. Still, he kept behind the first line of spectators, staying low as he reached the bowing people, just in case one of the nobles recognized—