The Twelve

by Cindy Lin

  He led them down a broad avenue, the white marble paving stones reflecting the purpling sky. As the sun sank behind city walls, workers lit oiled paper lanterns hanging from lampposts and buildings, illuminating the streets.

  Inu sniffed the air. “I smell the night market!” he exclaimed.

  “You mean paradise,” said Nezu, smacking his lips. “Gods’ guts, leaving the Pearl Garden without tasting their Peddler’s Noodles was torture.”

  Tupa gave Nezu a little shake. “Focus. We aren’t going on an eating tour of Snake Alley—we’re only going to cut through.”

  Nezu rolled his eyes but nodded, while Inu took a deep whiff and sighed. In the distance, Usagi caught the calls of market vendors hawking their wares.

  “Cabbage pancake! Onion pancake!”

  “Puffed rice, puffed rice—light and crispy! Sweet or savory, take your pick!”

  “Grilled chicken hearts! Grilled duck livers! Five to a skewer!”

  As the calls grew louder, the scent of smoky charcoal and hot griddles grew stronger, filling the air with delicious smells. In spite of herself, Usagi walked faster, as did the others. Even the Tiger Warrior’s shuffling pace quickened.

  They rounded a corner and Usagi stopped short. Stretched before her was a covered maze of crooked alleys, crammed with stall after stall. The profusion was dizzying. In Goldentusk you could count food vendors on one hand.

  “Stay together,” Tupa reminded. “The river’s on the other side.”

  Customers squatting on low stools nibbled at delicate fried fish cakes, picked at glistening cubes of stewed pork on rice, or gingerly unwrapped steamed triangles of sticky rice from bamboo leaves to get at fillings of sweet bean paste or savory mincemeat. Stall workers stood beside roaring cookfires, assembling dumplings, frying long rashers of dough, and noisily chopping heads of cabbage. Usagi’s mouth watered with sudden craving, and she gulped.

  Not even the New Year’s feast at the Shrine of the Twelve compared to this. What bounty! How many times had she and Tora risked capture and beatings as they scrounged for fallen grains in the fields back home? How often had she given Uma her own share, then lay awake all night from hunger? Now Usagi saw where all the crops of the Western Plains were going. Her stomach groaned loudly in protest.

  They passed by a noodle stand, where a few customers hunched over steaming bowls of soup. A Hulagan woman with her hair tied back in a white cloth folded and pulled strands of dough until they were thin as pine needles, while vats of fragrant broth bubbled. Licking her lips, Usagi took a whiff.

  The woman caught her gawking. “Bowl for a copper. A copper more to add meat.”

  Usagi shook her head and kept after the others. A few stalls down, a small crowd gathered around a Wayani man making elaborate candy sculptures, his movements swift and sure. Eyes wide, Usagi slowed. Pulling and twisting at a glob of heated sugar syrup on a wooden stick, the man used scissors and metal feedsticks to poke, clip, and mold the hot taffy before it hardened into the shape of a crane, feathered wings stretched in flight. He held it up and the spectators applauded.

  “Nezu, do you think you could do that?” Usagi asked, enchanted. He didn’t answer. “Nezu?” She turned and the bottom dropped out of her stomach. He and the others were nowhere to be seen. Usagi looked up and down the row of stalls, buffeted by a stream of people squeezing past. She was alone. Fighting a spasm of panic, she waded through the crowded market, searching for Nezu’s excited squeak, Tupa’s deep voice, or the Tigress’s croak over the shouts of vendors.

  At times she caught someone calling her name, and headed in the direction of the voice, only to come up empty. Heart pounding, she wandered down one lane, then another, getting hopelessly lost in the twisting maze of stalls.

  She shouldn’t have stopped to watch that candymaker. Why did she let herself get distracted? Would the others go on without her? How was she to get to the palace? Usagi commanded herself to stay calm. Think. They had gone into the market to . . . of course! They’d been headed for the riverwalk. If you ever get lost, just look for the Phoenix River, Tupa had said. She’d be sure to find the others there.

  “Excuse me,” she said to a woman crisping turnip cakes on a smoking griddle. “Which way is the river?”

  The turnip cake vendor wiped a hand on her apron and pointed. “Down five stalls, turn left at the fishmonger, then right at the custard apple stand—the one by the fan and parasol repair. Make another right at the Snake shrine. You’ll see the river from there.”

  Usagi thanked her and hurried through the night market, following the vendor’s directions. Exiting Snake Alley, she found herself on a wide path edged by a low wall, from which came a dull, watery roar. Peering over, she saw the Phoenix River, a wide, rippling ribbon that glimmered from the rising moon and the lanterns of the city. Flowering trees lined its banks and perfumed the air. The murmuring river seemed to wash away the cacophony and pungent smells of the capital.

  But where were Horangi and the Heirs? Usagi walked further from the frenetic shouts and activity of the night market, listening for their voices and scanning the riverbanks. The streets were emptying as the night wore on, and Usagi’s dread grew. Tupa had said they’d be following the river. Had something happened to them? Her hand strayed to her rabbit pendant and she worried it between her fingers.

  “Tupa? Saru?” she called, leaning over the river wall. “Inu? Nezu?” A couple of young women in pale silks and embroidered coats strolled by. They gave her strange looks, then exchanged glances and giggled. Usagi scowled and slinked along, smoothing her hair self-consciously. Was there something on her face? If she had a mirror . . . Usagi stopped with a gasp. How could she forget? She had the Mirror of Elsewhere.

  Fumbling for it, Usagi moved under a street lantern. She held up the mirror and thought of the Heirs. It grew cloudy, fogging over for a moment, then cleared to show Inu, Saru, and Nezu walking along a busy alleyway, the three of them looking in all directions. They were searching for her! She peered at the mirror, disoriented, trying to make out exactly where they were. The Heirs stopped before a little street shrine bedecked with garlands of rice straw and flowers. That looked familiar—she’d passed it exiting the market. Inu sniffed the air, then pointed.

  Usagi pocketed the disk and hurried back toward Snake Alley. As she drew closer, she could hear Nezu’s voice, then Inu’s. “She’s this way!” They burst out of the night market entrance just as she was about to go in.

  Saru hugged her, hard. “Oh, Usagi, we were looking everywhere for you!” She put her hands on Usagi’s shoulders and gave her a tiny shake. “Where did you go?”

  “I got distracted watching the candymaker,” Usagi said in a small voice.

  Nezu gave a knowing nod. “You’re not the first to fall under that sugar magician’s spell.”

  “Come on,” said Inu. “Tupa and Teacher are waiting.”

  They followed the path overlooking the river until they reached a break in the wall where a set of stone steps led down to the riverbank. There, in a grove of blooming cherry trees, stood the Tigress with Tupa. “Here she is,” said the old warrior with a grunt of relief.

  “Thank the gods,” Tupa said. “What happened?”

  “Candy!” said Nezu cheerfully. A sheepish Usagi started to explain, but Inu interrupted, pointing to the moon.

  “It will be the hour of the Rat soon,” he observed. “We’ve got to get to the palace by dawn.”

  They set off along the riverbank, keeping hidden beneath the flowering trees, avoiding the use of spirit speed. Tupa hung back to walk with her. “Everything okay, Rabbit Girl?”

  “Now it is,” said Usagi. “I stopped to watch a candymaker and the next thing I knew, you all were gone. I was so lost, but then I remembered the Mirror of Elsewhere. Thank the gods I had it!”

  “Didn’t I tell you it would come in handy?” Tupa exclaimed.

  Usagi smiled. “You were right.”

  He slowed so that they lagged even farther behind
the others, and lowered his voice. “While we’re at the palace, it would be helpful if I had the Mirror to help us keep track of the Dragonlord’s whereabouts.”

  Nodding, Usagi reached for the mirror and sneaked it into his palm. “Here.”

  “Thanks, Rabbit Girl. Just stick closer next time,” the Ram Heir said with his broad smile. “Shall I keep the Coppice Comb for you as well?”

  She placed a protective hand on her belt. “Er . . . that’s okay,” Usagi said. “I can handle it.”

  “As you wish,” said Tupa, and winked.

  As the sky lightened, birds above them began to sing. Ducks and other waterfowl roused themselves, their quacks and calls echoing along the riverbank. The Phoenix took a gentle turn, and as they followed the curve of the river, a sprawling complex of ornate, brightly colored buildings came into view. In the dawn light, the palace nestled in the misty hills overlooking the city, as if hovering on a bed of clouds.

  Usagi’s jaw dropped. Though she’d seen paintings of the Palace of the Clouds in the shrine’s library, the view took her breath away. Even from afar, the elegant lines and swooping tiled rooftops of the palace made the grand towers around the capital seem like brutish giants. The buildings were covered in elaborate carvings painted in riotous colors and gilded trim. A high white marble wall encircled the compound. This was once the seat of wise leadership and gracious governance. Generations of Midagian kings had ruled there, advised by the Council of the Twelve.

  Now the Dragonlord had installed himself in that citadel. Somewhere behind its walls were her sister and Tora, and little Jago. She was closer to them than she’d been in months. What would they think when they saw her?

  The sun was over the horizon by the time they arrived in the palace district, burning off the mist enveloping the hills around the Dragonlord’s lair. The narrow, winding streets around the palace came to life as residents emerged from their homes, beating bedrolls from windows, sweeping doorways and sluicing their front steps with buckets of water. Tradesmen opened their shutters. Carts of firewood, rice, and other supplies rattled up the hilly cobblestoned lanes toward the palace gates. The great wooden doors swung open with a groan and creak, their bronze fittings glinting in the morning light.

  “As planned, we’re going to walk right through the main gate like we belong here,” Tupa muttered. He straightened his monk’s robes. “I’ll tell the Guards that I’m taking you to the palace temple to perform for the spring festival.”

  Inu gave a curt nod. “Teacher, your cover is that you’re a fortune-teller who reads tea leaves.”

  “If only I actually had such foresight,” said the Tigress dryly. She gazed at the palace, her green eyes almost black, then pulled her hood over her head with a sigh.

  Usagi’s grip tightened on her broomstick and she lifted her chin, striding after the others toward the palace wall. Built of the same white marble that lined the streets, the wall encircled the hilltop and dwarfed the enormous doors of the main gate.

  They passed the line of delivery carts waiting to be inspected. One of the Guards on duty eyed them as they approached the gatehouse. He had tremendously bushy brows and a firecannon slung against his shoulder.

  “Oi, monk,” said the bushy-browed Guard. “What’s your business here with the rubbish folk?”

  “I’ve fetched them for the festival tonight,” Tupa said smoothly. “They’ll be performing at the Temple of the Immortals, by the request of Head Priest Chantangu.”

  The Guard’s bushy brows worked like two hairy caterpillars boxing. He looked them over. “Why haven’t I heard about this?”

  Tupa cocked his head. “Does the head priest tell you everything?” He chuckled. “All I know are my orders.”

  “Well, my orders . . .” began Bushy Brows, but the Guard inspecting the carts looked over and waved.

  “Well, if it isn’t the wanderer! Haven’t seen you in a while!”

  The Ram Heir waved back. “I was on an errand,” he boomed, then looked at Bushy Brows triumphantly.

  “Fine,” the Guard said at last, and waved them through.

  Usagi let out her breath and followed Tupa onto the grounds. Tupa had told them the palace compound was divided into three sections: the Outer Court, which housed the palace temple, guard barracks, the royal mint, and an armory; the Central Court, with all its grand ceremonial halls; and the Inner Court, where the royal family’s residences were once located. Bright murals of richly glazed tiles adorned walls everywhere, and dozens of sumptuously embellished figurines lined the sloping ridges of gleaming roofs. Just as depicted in the scroll paintings, there stood the Court of the Wisdoms, the Gallery of Song and Beauty, the Hall of the Golden Throne, the Royal Library, and countless smaller buildings, courtyards, and gardens. It was like nothing Usagi had ever seen. But there was only one thing she really wanted to see.

  Holding tight to her rabbit charm, she listened, hearing the activity all through the compound. From the cookery came the sound of sizzling oil and rapid chopping. There was a chiming clang of metal on metal from a blacksmith. The rattling clack of Dragonstriker armor. A cracking whip in the distance, and a shriek—whether animal or man, it was hard to tell. Usagi gave an involuntary shudder at the piercing cry.

  They approached the eastern side of the Outer Court, anchored by the Temple of the Immortals, which vibrated with the low chants of temple monks. The temple’s garishly colored facade seemed to scream danger. Here was where the Blue Dragon planned to execute innocent younglings—and her sister could be among them. Usagi’s stomach roiled at the thought.

  She turned her head and caught her breath at the sound of younglings’ voices. They were coming from somewhere in the Central Court. It had to be the Dragon Academy.

  Chapter 21

  Dragon Academy

  THE TEMPLE COMPLEX LOOMED BEFORE them, thrumming with the droning chants of monks praying. In his monk’s robes, Tupa led them toward a hiding place he knew from his time there. Yet Usagi’s feet were rooted to the spot, unable to follow the Heirs and the Tigress. She couldn’t, not when she could hear the laughter of younglings coming from somewhere else on the palace grounds. Tears came to her eyes. After all these months, her sister was near.

  “Tupa, wait,” she croaked. But he and the others didn’t turn. Usagi cleared her throat and tried again, afraid to call too loudly. “Teacher? Saru? The Dragon Academy is this way!”

  No one heard her. Usagi watched the others slip behind the Temple of the Immortals. None of them really understood. They didn’t have family in danger like she did. Usagi wanted—no, needed—to see her sister, now.

  She glanced around. No one was about. This was her chance. Usagi dashed toward a garden grove of flowering plum trees and paused, checking for the sound of younglings’ voices. Darting behind a wall, she scurried along until she came across a stately building with dozens of windows opened to the morning air. She ducked into a crouch and scuttled past.

  With her ears leading her, Usagi ran from building to courtyard, past stables and a laundry, till she arrived in the Central Court at a cluster of squat structures. Large stone dragons guarded their entrances. She hid behind the rough flank of one of the dragons and peered through its legs. Usagi caught a glimpse of several younglings dressed in indigo, but they disappeared around a corner. She hurried after them then halted at a lilting whinny of a laugh—just like her sister’s when she was excited during a game. It had to be Uma. Usagi’s heart began to gallop and she clutched her broomstick with sweating palms. A stampede of running feet ended in a flurry of shouts, ringing out from a nearby courtyard.

  “I won, I won! The extra bowl of rice is mine! Fire Horses rule!”

  A lump formed in Usagi’s throat at the sweetness of the sound. She glanced about then moved toward the laughter, squeezing into the blooming forsythia bushes that lined the walls of the surrounding buildings. She parted the bright yellow flowers and peeked in.

  Her heart tripped at the sight. Uma was in the flesh,
dressed in a tidy blue tunic and pants, her hair in a long, neat braid. Her sister stood with a knot of other uniform-clad younglings, teasing and bantering. She was smiling and her pink cheeks were surprisingly round. It had been years since Usagi had seen her so well fed. She felt a spark of hope. Perhaps her sister wouldn’t be sacrificed after all.

  The sound of marching feet caught her attention, and soon a line of younglings paraded into the courtyard. Usagi stifled a gasp at the sight of a girl with amber eyes and slashing scars on her arm. Tora. Her unruly hair was cropped short and slicked back, but she moved with the same stealthy grace she had in the forest, slinking at the end of the line behind everyone else. Uma stopped talking, suddenly serious, and stood at attention as several dozen younglings formed into rows alongside her. She turned every now and again to glare at someone until they inched into place.

  Before long an elderly man in gray robes joined them. Bald but sporting a flowing white beard that reminded Usagi of the waterfall on Mount Jade, he was even more wrinkled and stooped than Horangi. He faced the rows of boys and girls of varying ages, sizes, and shapes, identically clad in dark blue.

  “All hail Master Douzen!” said Uma in her clear, high voice, and led the younglings in a bow.

  Master Douzen bowed back. “Hail to the Chosen,” he said in a Hulagan accent, voice quavery with age. “I bring good tidings. The Striker captain has arrived for spring festivities. Later today he will review your progress, and more importantly, Lord Druk will be accompanying him.”

  “The Dragonlord is coming!” Excited murmurs rippled through the rows.

  The students quieted as Uma held up a hand. “It’s rare to be graced with his Lordship’s presence, so we must be at the top of our form!”

  “Yes, Cadet Uma!”

  “All hail the Dragonlord!” said Master Douzen.

  The students shouted back with fervor. “Long live the Dragonlord!” Usagi gaped in astonishment. They seemed to adore the Blue Dragon—Uma and Tora included.