Jun coaxed Ren out of the ruined guest room and back down to the inn’s courtyard. The other guests and the staff of the Golden Gate Inn backed away and avoided eye contact with them, possibly out of awkward pity, and more likely because no one wanted to be seen associating with the compatriots of a man who’d been publicly dragged away by soldiers. Criminal status could be a contagious disease, and no one wanted General Cobu’s soldiers to make an encore appearance.
The innkeeper, who must’ve felt some obligation and sympathy toward them considering that Chang and Ren’s popular stage performances had kept his guests entertained all week, had blankets and cups of warm wine brought out before reluctantly informing them that unfortunately, he had no other room for them at the inn and they would have to leave as soon as they were able.
Ren’s hands shook so badly that she sloshed wine over the rim of the cup before she drained it and set it down. Jun didn’t dare pick up his own cup; he sat down hard, his legs folding as if they were made of bean curd. His father had died only hours earlier, and now this … He couldn’t string thoughts together at all; his head was filled with helpless howling silence.
Yin Yue burst through the inn’s gates. “Ren!” he shouted, voice strained with panic. “Ren, where are you?” Spotting her and Jun sitting hunched together on a bench, he ran over and gripped Ren’s hands, dropping to his knees in front of her and shaking with worry as he looked into her face. “Are you all right? Did Cobu’s soldiers…” Rage and terror raced across his face.
Yin Yue’s arrival pierced the fog of Jun’s shock. In all the years they’d known each other, Jun had rarely seen Yin’s poise crack, and never had he seen the older student as agitated as he was now. Yin didn’t look so good either; he hadn’t emerged from his quarterfinal win unscathed. One side of his face was bruised and puffy, the left eye black and swollen.
Ren pulled her hands out of Yin’s grasp. “I’m fine,” she snapped. “I got here too late.”
Because of me. The one thought bubbled up through Jun’s mind. Ren had been with him for hours, trying to help him and his father. That was why she hadn’t been with Chang.
“The news is all over the city.” Yin barely glanced at Jun. “Cobu’s soldiers have put up notices in all the plazas and markets. The famous flutist, Blindman Chang, a leader of the Silent Flute Society, arrested for spreading subversive political propaganda with his performances and inciting treason against the emperor. I came as soon as I heard.”
“Cobu was clever.” She took Jun’s wine cup and drank it in a few swallows. “He did this while everyone was on the Island watching the matches, so fewer people would notice him sending soldiers into the entertainment quarter. All the Guardian candidates are under the emperor’s protection for the duration of the tournament”—she pointed to the red leather band on Yin’s wrist—“so he couldn’t publicly arrest or kill Ghostface. But he found another way to strike at the Silent Flute Society. Between the arrests last night and Sifu being taken, this is pure intimidation against anyone who dares to stand up to him.”
Yin glanced around nervously, noticing the innkeeper and hotel guests still staring at them suspiciously from a distance. “We shouldn’t be talking here,” he said. “We need to leave. If Cobu’s soldiers come back, anyone here could point you two out as Chang’s associates.”
“Where can we go?” Ren asked. “Every other nearby inn is full.”
Yin stood. “Come with me.”
YIN Yue was staying twenty minutes away at an inn called the Fragrant Spring. It was as full as the others, but thanks to Iron Core school funds, Yin’s room was large enough for all three of them to stay, albeit in close quarters. Yin gave up his bed to Ren and had the innkeeper bring up sleeping rolls for him and Jun, along with a folding screen to partition the room for Ren’s privacy.
“What do we do now?” Yin asked, as if there was anything they could do at the moment, standing in the middle of Yin’s room with the few belongings they’d brought with them. Jun and Ren gave him blank, exhausted looks. “We can’t allow Cobu to get away with imprisoning Ren’s father and silencing all dissent to this power grab,” Yin insisted, his jaw set with determination.
Jun couldn’t believe that only twelve hours ago, he’d been warming up for his match with Dauntless Wan, still focused only on his goal of winning the Guardian’s Tournament. For so many years, his life had revolved around his personal ambition to be the best possible martial artist. All of it had been upended in a single day. His father was dead, Sifu Chang captured. Winning the Guardian’s Tournament seemed distant, meaningless, the fanciful dream of a selfish boy.
Ren closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at Yin. “You have a semifinal match in the morning. You need to eat something and go to sleep so you can fight well tomorrow.”
Yin Yue smacked a fist into his palm. “That’s not as important as stopping Cobu.”
“Winning the tournament is the way to stop Cobu,” Ren reminded him. “Otherwise, Leopard becomes the Guardian, which means that the Scroll of Heaven falls into the hands of the military, and General Cobu has no one to stand in his way. The emperor is a child being manipulated by his advisors. The Guardian has his own power, independent of the Imperial Court or the military. He has a household staff, disciples who train with him, the ear of the emperor, and the tacit support of the martial arts community throughout the country. Most importantly, he possesses the Scroll of Heaven, and no one, not even Cobu, can rule without the Scroll.” Ren gently touched Yin’s bruised face. “The best thing you can do for all of us is to win.”
Yin rested against Ren’s touch and nodded slowly, then turned to Jun. “That goes for you as well. We don’t know who’ll have to face Leopard first, but between the two of us, we can defeat him.”
Jun wanted to look away from his former schoolmate’s resolute expression, but he forced himself not to. His words came out as if dragged from his throat. “I’m not fighting tomorrow, Yin. I’m … dropping out and going back to Cheon.”
Yin Yue blinked at Jun with the startled anger of someone who’d been slapped in the face. “You’re what? After all your pigheaded arrogance, coming here and entering the tournament without any blessing or sponsorship, betraying the Iron Core system, and getting this far—”
“It’s not his choice.” Ren cut Yin off. “His father died this afternoon.”
Her words hit the room like the thud of a falling boulder. Jun wanted to smash his head against a wall. He wanted to sink into the ground and disappear. Grief and shame rose like a tide sweeping in, mingled with worry and rage. He looked away as Ren explained for him, not wanting to see any of Yin Yue’s astonishment, disappointment, or sympathy.
“I’m leaving first thing in the morning to take my father back to Cheon.” Jun could barely recognize his own muted voice. “It’s up to you now, Yin.”
Yin Yue stared at him. For once, Jun wished for the older student’s lecturing scorn, for Yin to tell him what he already knew, that he shouldn’t have disobeyed his father and Master Song to begin with, that if he hadn’t been so stubborn and impulsive, the tragedy wouldn’t have happened.
“I’m sorry, Jun,” his schoolmate said. “Your father seemed like a good man. A caring father.” Yin closed his eyes for a moment, and his voice roughened. “I … I know what it’s like to lose a parent. It’s the worst feeling in the world.”
It was all too much. He couldn’t bear kindness and understanding, not from Yin Yue, of all people. Jun put his back against the nearest wall and slid down to sit on the ground, burying his face in his hands. “My father deserved a better son.” His words were muffled. “I’m not upset that I’m giving up my chance to be the Guardian. You’d think I would be, but I’m not. Not anymore. You always stood a better chance of winning the tournament than I did, anyway. And you’d be a better Guardian than I would.”
Admitting this to his old rival felt like the final defeat. Or perhaps it was a small personal victory.
Judging by the gloomy expression on Yin’s face, Jun’s newfound humility brought the older student no satisfaction. He looked as if he wanted to say something else to Jun; instead, he turned back to Ren. “What about you? We can’t just leave you alone here. It’s not safe. Cobu’s men will be looking for anyone connected to your sifu and the Silent Flute Society.”
Ren went to the small single window and looked out into the street. Night had fallen completely and the drums had signaled the closing of the city gates hours ago, but there was still much noisy merriment outside. Torches burned in wall brackets and on poles in front of shops still doing brisk business. Sedan chairs and carriages passed one another, and the smell of street food wafted over from a nearby night market, reminding Jun that he hadn’t eaten much all day. Not that he had any appetite. He’d barely forced down a couple of meat buns from the kitchen of the Fragrant Spring Inn before it had closed.
On the evening before the final day of the Guardian’s Tournament, all of Xicheng was abuzz with festive anticipation. Most ordinary citizens weren’t ruminating on the danger posed to the country if Cobu controlled the Guardian and thus the Scroll. They were excited to find out who would emerge as the best warrior in the West. The fact that, this year, the fights were almost certain to be resolved with lethal bloodshed made it all the more exciting. In years to come, they could tell their friends and their children about having seen the Guardian win in the arena.
“Don’t worry about me,” Ren said quietly, still gazing out the window, perhaps wondering where her father was being held in the city, what was happening to him at the hands of Cobu’s soldiers. “Sifu has friends in the city, other members of the Silent Flute Society. He gave me instructions on how to contact them, in case something went wrong and we were separated. By now, they’ll know what’s happened, and they’ll be looking for me, too. I’ll go to them tomorrow.”
Yin looked uncertain, but there wasn’t much else he could say or do. He was as out of his depth as Jun was. They’d traveled from Cheon simply to compete, not knowing anything of the real danger or the true stakes.
Ren had known. She had information and connections they didn’t. Jun thought of the woman with long plaited hair he’d seen coming out of Chang’s room at the Golden Gate Inn the previous evening, the one who’d been watching his matches. Surely she was one of Chang’s Society friends, someone who would help keep Ren safe.
The thought made Jun feel a little better. But not much.
Ren drew the shutters and turned around. “We should all get some sleep,” she said. Jun and Yin both nodded in agreement, but no one made a move toward their beds. Despite being exhausted, none of them wanted to lie down and close their eyes first. In the morning, they would each go their separate ways toward awful tasks, and they might never see one another again.
A metal chain seemed to be wrapped around Jun’s heart, squeezing mercilessly.
“I’ll come back,” Jun said fiercely, climbing to his feet. “After I’ve done what I need to do, I’ll come back to Xicheng and find Yin Yue in the Guardian’s Residence. I’ll join as a disciple and whip Yin’s new school into shape.” Jun forced one of his arrogant old grins, pretending, just for a moment, that he was still the confident competitor he’d been only yesterday. “We’ll join up with Ren, free Sifu Chang, keep the Scroll away from Cobu, and restore the peace between East and West.”
Jun was used to people smirking a little at his boastfulness. Ren and Yin Yue merely nodded the way people did when they said “It’ll be all right” or “Dragon’s mercy,” or pretended that a wound or deformity didn’t look as bad as it did. It was easier on the mind to cling to hope than to give in to despair.
“For once,” Yin Yue said, “I hope you’re right.”