by Ino Lee
“Hey, that’s not fair.”
“Yes. It is.”
“Are you sure it was Ting?”
“I’m sure. Ting’s from Hanai so that’s technically still taking care of Hanai’s needs and keeping your promise to Grandmaster. Plus, you also promised to be there when I thrashed the Koon Gee. We can get back at them just like you said. You know Shian and Riyon won’t let you do anything risky.”
“True.”
“So are you coming?”
Hojin thought about all they had talked about earlier. Defiance welled up within—their mission a logical outlet for his maniacal training and angst.
“We’re going to be in so much trouble. This will definitely be the worst thing we’ve done.”
“We’ll probably be peeling potatoes for a whole year as punishment.”
11
TING TOOK IN the pulse of the city as it came to life in the early morning. The foreign sights and sounds were fresh and captivating, the unease over the invasion fading away. She thought about all the long, humdrum days on the farm and how she could have spent them wandering the bustling streets instead, examining the curious pedestrians and perusing the infinite shops. Though the residents spent another uneasy night under the veil of Koon Gee activity, it was quieter than the first, and the people seemed less hesitant to return to normal life.
She walked the streets attentively, surprised at how much news could be picked up just by listening; she heard about the Koon Gee attack of a city guard station nearby and another in central Hanai, but by far the most jarring was the murder of a garrison along the eastern wall as they lay sleeping in their barracks. The puzzling thing was that unlike the day before, the invaders were nowhere to be found come morning. They had simply vanished into the night. Other news included rampant crime and looting, with one mention of thieving street children—which made her feel somewhat guilty—and another of clandestine ninja clans—human ones, not Koon Gee—which were often problematic for the residents of Hanai. City life was fascinating, but much more complicated than life on the farm.
She stopped at a bench overlooking South Gate. The acrid scent of burnt wood still lingered in the air and tickled her nose, jarring into memory the first night of the attack. Why hadn’t they listened to her? She examined the empty space and charred remains of the gatehouse, remembering the bustling office with its desks and papers and wooden walls—all perfect kindling. What happened to all those people? What did they do with Yao’s body?
The area surrounding the gates was blocked off and troops formed a perimeter. Ting guessed the entryway was permanently closed, her theory tested when merchants rode up to the barricade with wagons destined for commerce in the towns beyond and were halted. One of the merchants dismounted and met with a soldier. Serious discussion led to animated debate, but in the end, the merchant was turned away—until further notice, South Gate was closed. The soldiers would not let anyone pass until they could adequately secure Hanai from any new potential invaders and elevate the gates from their current state of disrepair. They also warned that traveling the southern roads was too dangerous since they had not yet secured the area outside of Hanai and straggling pockets of Koon Gee might be found.
The merchants looked dejected. Ting felt sorry for them since they were just trying to make a living, and she wondered what her parents would have done in such a situation.
This also put a crimp in her own plans. She had thought to return back to the farm that day to see if there were any signs of her dad, and leave a note if she couldn’t find him. A change of clothes, money, and food would have been nice, as well. But since traveling back was not an option, she would have to manage in the city for a while longer and check back in a few days.
“Move along,” a city guard walking nearby said, interrupting her train of thought.
Ting shot him an annoyed look, but didn’t bother to argue. It was surprising to see how paranoid the guards were of loitering children, but then again, she couldn’t blame them. Her own crew of orphans had set out to pillage the city that morning, which is why she had ventured off on her own and decided to return back to the farm.
The orphans were an interesting lot. They weren’t especially bad or villainous, they just did what was needed in order to survive and shared values that ultimately conflicted with her own. She enjoyed spending time with them the day before and playing games, but felt strangely distant from them at the same time. She felt alone. Shadow was sisterly, yet aloof, and treated her annoyingly like a new plaything. The Monk seemed nice enough and was strangely intellectual, but knew little of what being a Shaolin monk truly meant. Frog and Tooth were friendly, but crass and unruly; they often checked in on the other kids to make sure they were okay, but riled and roughhoused them just the same. For everything that bonded them and made her feel at home, there was something equally different that set them apart. Maybe she was afraid that if she stayed too long, she would become like them.
Ahead, she saw what appeared to be two kids casing the streets. They were older and didn’t look as ragged as the children who begged, but were obvious in the way they hung around and watched the passersby. Normally, she wouldn’t have suspected them being thieves because of the way they dressed, but meeting Shadow had changed that. She was surprised how blind she had been to the reality of the streets in days past, having been sheltered by life on the farm. She passed by and thought she could probably do a better job pickpocketing if she wanted to. A somber thought then followed: Was she already becoming like them?
Her thoughts shifted to her new home in the rickety house down the alley. She had enjoyed the shelter of the orphans for a night, but would soon be expected to contribute. How would she come up with food or money? Stealing was out of the question and begging seemed almost as unappealing. Had it come to that? She could always give them her knife, but it wouldn’t last forever, and what if she needed to barter it in order to get to Shaolin?
She considered her other options. None of her relatives lived in the city, and though there were a few family friends that did, she had no idea of how to find them. The only person she could think of was her farm’s longtime business associate, Chong, who often bought their produce for his market on the south side of the city. She squinted and turned down the street, trying to recall the directions to the market. It was further from the gates, perhaps four or five blocks into the city, making her wonder if it was worth the effort. She didn’t know him well, but she had nothing else to do and there was always the chance he knew something about her dad.
Loud commotion signified her arrival at the market. She was surprised to see so many people shopping, but figured it made sense since everyone needed food and didn’t have a chance to stock up before the invasion. The effects of warfare could be seen in the half-empty stands stocked with wilted vegetables and paltry cuts of fish and meat. The shoppers looked equally unhappy with the prices.
“This is terrible,” an old lady said, shaking a sorry-looking gourd.
Two others fought over the last bundle of string beans.
Ting spotted Chong in the middle of all the activity. He was tall, bald except for a few hairs, and plump from his unlimited supply of food. She pressed past the crowd to where he stood directing the workers.
“Excuse me, Chong,” she said. “Do you know me?”
“What?” He looked down, then shook his head. “Sorry, I am very busy.”
“I’m from the lotus farm.”
“Oh yes. That’s right. What do you need?”
“Have you seen my father?”
“No. Where is he? I need more produce. It’s a mess here. South Gate is closed and all the farmers are gone. There’s no food coming in. I have to get it second-hand from the other markets, but the quality is bad. Everybody is complaining, but what can I do?”
“I don’t know where he is. I ran from the farm because of the Koon Gee.”
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“Oh my, I see.” The owner turned more serious and thought uncomfortably for a while, unsure of what to do. “Let me bring you to the city guards. They might be able to help.”
He motioned to a worker.
“No,” Ting said. “No city guards.”
“Why?”
“I don’t need them.”
“Do you have any place to go?”
“I found a place. If you see my father, can you tell him I’m down an alley on Jang Street, in a white house.”
Chong was distracted by commotion nearby. “Sorry, what?”
“Tell my father I’m down an alley on Jang Street, in a white house.”
He knew the area. “Yes. Jang Street.”
A worker got his attention by waving. He could tell it had to do with a customer arguing nearby.
He took a deep breath.
“I have to work now. I’ll tell your father if I see him. I’m sure he’s okay.” He patted her on the head. “Go, take a snack before you leave.”
He rushed off, holding his arms up while barking at the irate customer.
Ting wondered if she should have asked for money, but was too proud and Chong didn’t seem especially generous. At least he had offered a snack. She grabbed a thick handful of dried squid from one stand, two plums, and three figs from another, then quickly left, tempted to take more, but chased away by the stingy stares of the produce workers. Her bounty was a blessing, but barely enough for a person to get through the day and only a meager contribution to the house. How would she pay for tomorrow? Chong wouldn’t be so generous and the others probably had little issue with swiping something similar from the food stands.
Life on the street was difficult.
Ting got a warm feeling from the sight of a candle down the alley, flickering through the wooden latticework of the windows, which was worn and broken off in numerous places, yet charming, aged, and full of character. Inside, she pictured the candlelight casting shadows on a lively game of marbles.
It was dark now. She had wandered the city the entire day, memorizing the names and layouts of the streets, absorbing every aspect of the metropolis like a favorite new book. If she were to survive it, she had to understand it. She searched everywhere for a respectable scrap of discarded food after visiting Chong’s market, coming up short in every restaurant and market nearby. There were too many orphans and vagrants about, and it wasn’t until late in the day that she found a part of town in the Biyan District with noticeably less competition. She got the feeling the neighborhood was exclusive, however, and her presence wasn’t welcome. The shopkeepers all watched her contemptuously, and while it probably drove away others, less competition meant more opportunity, which finally presented itself in the form of a bakery discarding buns for the day. When the owner saw Ting loitering nearby, she gave her one, but told her to run home and never come back. Ting did as she was told and would probably abide by her rules; the neighborhood gave her a bad feeling and the tone of the shopkeeper’s voice was unsettling.
She reached the front door of her new home and thought to knock, but just turned the knob, which easily gave way. Frog stood by the entrance and made a hushed sign over the top of his mouth. Deep voices could be heard within.
She entered cautiously and could tell the others were on notice, though it didn’t seem like they were in any danger. Shadow waved her over to a nearby chair.
In the back of the house, she could hear Panyin talking.
“What’s happening?” she whispered.
“Monk is lining up a job. He’s talking to ninjas from the Eternal Moon clan.”
“Ninjas?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“We don’t know yet. They just showed up.”
Ting listened carefully. She had never met ninjas. A female voice could be heard in addition to two men.
Whatever they were discussing didn’t last long. Soon, Panyin walked past them with a lantern and the ninjas following. They were fully masked. Ting examined their clothes—a dark navy blue, with crescent moon insignias on their shoulders, and katanas on their backs. The glint of shiny metal caught the light from other random places, signifying more weaponry on hand. One of the ninjas caught her staring and winked.
Ting wasn’t sure what to think. She had heard many different things about ninjas, but the most common theme was that, unlike Shaolin warriors, they couldn’t be trusted.
The Moon Ninjas left through the front door, but instead of exiting through the alley to the street, they climbed up the side of the neighboring building and disappeared above the rooftops. Panyin closed the door behind them and locked it.
“So what did they want?” Shadow asked.
The fake monk looked pensive.
“They want information. They want us to track the Poisoned Blood.”
“The Blood Ninjas? No way,” Frog said.
“They’d kill us if they knew we were working for the Eternal Moon,” Shadow said. “All of us.”
“I know. But we’ve done jobs for the Moon before.”
“Nothing like this.”
“They’re paying.”
“How much?”
Panyin looked from Shadow to Ting, a serious expression on his face. “A lot.”
12
TENGFEI DRIFTED IN and out of consciousness. There were no dreams. Only a deep, senseless void and then an aching pain. He opened his eyes and found it hard to move, as if an elephant had trampled over his body.
“Welcome back, Tengfei.”
He knew the Shoukui’s voice immediately. Xiong sat by the head of his bed, just beyond his range of vision, so he did not bother to look over; shifting his head took too much energy.
“Where am . . .” He stopped. His throat was parched.
Xiong helped him drink from a cup of chi water. The energy refreshed and clarified his thoughts.
He tried again. “Where—”
“We are in Fox Nest. Try not to exert yourself. You’ve been through a lot.”
“What happened?”
“As far as we can tell, you fell from the primary tower. You have broken bones and head trauma. You also have a stab wound.”
The feeling of falling suddenly jarred into the injured monk’s memory. He recalled dropping through the trees, staring back up at the ninja that knocked him off the platform—a tonkaija, an elite ninja wearing a metal face mask that took on the vague form of a skull with mesh eyes. The eerie image stuck with him.
He shook the thought from mind. “How long was . . .”
“You’ve been out three days.”
Tengfei groaned.
“You are alive,” Xiong said. “That is something to celebrate. The chi water will heal your head and bones, but there was unan tar in your stab wound. It will take a while before it works its way out of your system and you are on your feet again.”
“Tiger Nest?”
“Tiger Nest was overrun. You were one of the lucky survivors. We’ve reinforced Fox Nest with soldiers from the Wall. The Koon Gee control almost a third of Jini now.”
Tengfei looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped.
Xiong tried to guess what he wanted to say.
“We are secure. The Koon Gee did not advance after taking the first garrison. Usually they advance or retreat, but this time they stayed back to secure their gains on the island. Perhaps they will press again, but we will be prepared. I arrived only this afternoon, but rest assured, we will strike back with renewed strength.”
He gave Tengfei more water and let him rest to take in the news. He wondered if he should also share information about Hanai, but decided not to burden him. Rest and peace of mind were needed to recover.
“Thank you,” Tengfei whispered.
Xiong rose from his bedside and looked out the w
indow of their treehouse stationed in Fox Nest, their secondary stronghold in Tanjin, and studied their defenses. Night was almost upon them and the light of numerous torches and lanterns speckled the canopy. Fox Nest didn’t have a primary tower as large as Tiger Nest’s, but it was surrounded by a web of secondary platforms that was almost as expansive. Archers huddled in their defensive treetop cradles and looked poised to shoot, while soldiers on the ground scampered about.
The advanced fortifications of the secondary stronghold were not put in place by chance. Tanjin had been breached one too many times for them to have relied on a single point of failure, with even more fortifications scattered beyond Fox Nest. They were surrounded on all sides by water: the mighty Yangtzhu River on the border facing the Koon Kagi, a distributary that broke off of it, and the ocean. The isolation made it possible to defend against the Koon Gee without the use of great walls, though at present, enemies occupied the island. One might say that they were trapped together.
A large beetle buzzed by and unnerved him. The night had him on edge. Would the Koon Gee attack again? Was Fox Nest strong enough to withstand them? He preferred to be standing atop the Great Wall staring down at an army of demons rather than looking into the night forest and not knowing where or when an attack would come. The trees felt vulnerable.
He tried to combat his anxiety by going over the sequence of events leading up to the fall of their primary tower over and over again in his mind, but only had loose pockets of information. Important details were missing since Tengfei was one of the few survivors from the main tower, and understanding all points of failure was paramount. Perhaps his friend knew more details and was up for the challenge.
He offered the monk more chi water. “Tell me, Tengfei. Do you think you will be able to talk more?”
Tengfei nodded.
“How was it that the Koon Gee came to overtake Tiger Nest?” He thought to narrow his question so Tengfei wouldn’t have to talk as much. “I know they struck early in the night, after a storm had dampened the forest, and clouds blocked the moon and stars, but how did they break through? And with what forces?”