Chapter Thirteen

The Dragonlord in Distress

Sixteen days passed without incident. Sixteen long days in which I did nothing but eat and sleep and try not to get underfoot while the Lamang family went through their daily routine. It wasn’t easy. While my father had made sure I was sufficiently exposed to discomfort, cramped quarters, and plain food (most of it was delicious, but it lacked the variety I was used to in Oka Shto), the feeling of being useless did not sit well with me. I had not realized how truly busy my life had been until those quiet, lazy days.

Here, there were no early morning meetings with my advisers, no court appointments with the common folk, no lunches with the overseer, who kept me up to date with the conditions of Oka Shto and the general outlook of the staff. No afternoons with the council or my generals, or evenings going through palace security with my guards. No late-night reading in the study with Arro to find some detail of law I had missed or needed for the morning after.

Here, I was allowed some silence, time to stare at the falling rain through muslin curtains and contemplate. Thao and Inzali left early most days to work at a seamstress’ shop, sometimes even before sunrise. Inzali also worked part-time as a scribe and helper for a children’s tutor, so she was barely at home. Cho kept away for the most part—I only saw him a handful of times between his shifts at the docks, and he never stayed the night.

Khine didn’t have steady work as far as I could see. He mentioned another mark once, and came home with money in his pockets and a plate of peppered noodles with boiled eggs and strips of roasted chicken from a restaurant for everyone. But he wouldn’t talk about the job in front of his sisters, as if he was ashamed of being a con artist while they ran themselves ragged with honest work.

“They don’t know,” he had told me when I asked. “I think maybe they suspect, but they haven’t confronted me about it. Cho does, but only because he caught me at it once.”

“I can understand the secrecy,” I replied. “So why do it at all? It clearly bothers you.”

“It doesn’t… bother me,” he told me, rubbing his cheek. “Not that way. I told you that I pick marks carefully—they fall into the trap because of their own greed. That, I don’t mind.”

“Like stealing from the rich?”

“There are many rich people who wouldn’t bat an eye doing the same thing,” he said. “Power does that. It corrupts. Makes them think others are beneath them, so they can easily justify what they do to you. They may even convince you it’s for your own good.”

I paused, flooded with discomfort from his words. How would this man react to the knowledge of who I was? “I don’t think everyone in power is like that.”

He gave a wry smile. “Perhaps not. Painting humans with a broad brush… that would be foolish. But that sort of environment can render a person incapable of understanding the effect of their own actions. They’ve been given a hero’s narrative, you see? And they will do whatever it takes to see the world play out to this music, even if it means hurting others. So maybe… maybe this is my way of fighting that. Of fighting back. You’re Jinsein. You should know this better than anyone.”

“What do you mean?”

“What they do to your people out here—it’s like what they did to mine, way back when we had something to remember. Now I don’t know if we do. I can’t even call my name my own. We’re mutts, mongrels with no place to call home. Zarojo mongrels.” He snorted with disdain.

“And that’s why you’re so sympathetic to Jinseins?”

“You could say that.”

“And here I thought you just liked Jinsein women.”

He coughed and turned away.

“I suppose I still care about what my siblings think,” he said, to change the subject. “Even if I am the eldest and I know they’ll let me do whatever I see fit.” An expression of resolve crossed his face. “No, it doesn’t bother me—I make more money this way, and it gives us a chance to get out of this debt and maybe start working towards a life of our own.”

“And let you finish your studies, you mean?”

Khine mumbled something incomprehensible in response. He didn’t like it when I talked about his studies. Despite his sisters’ hopes, it sounded like a life he had clearly left behind.

And because I was still a guest, I didn’t want to push it. I told myself it didn’t matter, anyway. My leg was healing remarkably well; by the eighth day, I could walk without pain, with only an itchy scab where Khine had pulled out the stitches. By the sixteenth, only a faint pink line remained, and my recollection of the events surrounding it had softened, the fading tendrils of a nightmare.

On that sixteenth day, I was alone in the house, browsing through Khine’s books in an attempt to pick up more of that frustrating Zirano script. I realized that the one in my hands was a history book. There were detailed drawings of Anzhao City, the landmarks, even the cuisine. And then, tucked in the back of the book with such precision that it felt like a golden beam of light was shining down on it, there was a map.

I flipped it open. I could see the major roads outlined, including much of the western coast. I caught a marked road leading to a city above Anzhao and was starting to read it when I heard a commotion out on the street.

I closed the book, but not before taking the map and tucking it into my back pocket. I quickly went up the ladder into the loft and bolted the trapdoor shut before I peered through the window.

There were about twenty or so men gathered in the alley. They looked rough, with scraggly beards and swords in their belts. I saw one push at a stumbling figure and recognized Cho. He looked like a bristling pup who wanted to lash out and bite but knew better.

Someone began pounding on the front door. “We know you’re in there!” a man called out. I didn’t wait to hear his next words. I pushed the shutters back and slid out the narrow window and onto the first rooftop ledge. My heart sounded like a drum.

Rain crashed on the rooftops as I made my way down, each drop turning every step along the tiles slippery. I forced myself to slow down, to test every ledge—any faster and a patch of moss might be enough to spell my doom. At the end of the last ledge, I took a moment to look back and instantly regretted it. Lo Bahn was right behind me. How he had managed to squeeze through that window, I couldn’t tell, and I wasn’t about to stop and ask. I leaped onto the next rooftop and slid down to the alley.

As I landed on the street, a man looked up, startled. Realizing he was one of Lo Bahn’s guards, I struck him on the jaw before he could react. He staggered back, giving me time to steal the sword from his belt.

The man grabbed my wrist, as if he expected me to just give it back. He looked surprised when I drew it instead. The blade sank into his belly like butter. He stared with eyes wide open, blood gurgling from his mouth, like he wasn’t sure exactly what was happening. He grabbed the hilt with both hands; I pulled the sword out and pushed him to the side. He took a stumbling step before falling face down on the street, a pool of blood forming under his body

“Woman!”

I turned. Lo Bahn stood at the edge of the first rooftop. Confusion danced in his eyes, but also a hint of merriment, like somebody watching a play and not knowing where the story was headed.

“That’s not my name,” I told him.

He smirked.

I heard the rest of his men hurtling after me from the adjoining street. I tugged the dead man’s sword belt off and fled the other way.

“You can’t escape forever!” Lo Bahn called. His voice was like the first crack of thunder before a storm.

Having the map in my pocket gave me confidence. I turned into the first alley and then immediately into the next, and then again in an effort to lose the men. At the end of one street, I stumbled upon a tunnel. Despite the torrent of rain, the rush of water was only knee-deep, which was not enough to obscure the small footpath on the side. I took my chances with it.

The footpath led to a series of damp, narrow steps. If not for the small holes near the tunnel ceiling, the entire sewer would’ve been obliterated in darkness. But I could still see far enough to know I wasn’t walking over the edge.

It was a very long sewer. Of all the cities in Jin-Sayeng, only Sutan and Shirrokaru employed such structures, and both were of Zarojo make. Unlike the ones in Jin-Sayeng, this tunnel—from the smell of it—seemed purely for storm water. I had heard that flooding could be a problem along the western coast, which explained the separation from the sewers carrying human waste. I wondered if such a system could be applied to the bigger cities back home. Oren-yaro, in particular, needed better facilities.

Although part of me knew it was ridiculous, thinking about city infrastructure was a calming exercise. For a time, I even forgot that I was being chased at all. I smiled when I realized that; Rai would be so proud. I reached the end of the tunnel, which opened up to a part of the canal. The rush of clear water told me I wasn’t in Shang Azi anymore.

I took the first flight of stairs up to the street. It was broad daylight, and I hoped Lo Bahn’s men knew better than to try to nab me out here. I slowed to a walk and did my best to blend in with the crowd. As I lifted my eyes, I recognized the street and caught sight of Qun’s walled mansion amongst the array of smaller buildings. It stuck out like a blooded stallion in a farmer’s barn.

Something in me caved. I started walking towards it.

My intention was not to speak with Qun—far from it. But I needed to see the building, to ignite some spark of memory of the day before it all turned to shit. I think I needed to remember that I wasn’t always just this lost soul, fleeing from one thing after another. I was not Lo Bahn’s woman or that escaped whore… I was Talyien aren dar Orenar, queen of Jin-Sayeng, daughter of Warlord Yeshin, wife of Rayyel Ikessar, and mother of Thanh. I did not just dream these things—I had a life before all this. I wanted nothing more than to return to it.

I stopped. A girl was sweeping the street right outside the gate. It was Kora. My knees shook. I croaked her name, and she turned to me.

“My queen,” she gasped. One hand on the broom, she dropped to the ground, her forehead scraping the dust. I pulled her up.

“I’m glad to see you safe,” I said. It felt good to speak in Jinan.

There were tears in her eyes. “They told me what happened. The poor magister! I can’t imagine how his wife will take it. I saw his body myself. I was so terrified for you, to think the same thing could’ve happened…”

Even though I saw Arro die in front of me, the confirmation still stung. I think a part of me still clung to the hope that I had been mistaken. “Where did they take his body? I was told the city watch is denying all of this.”

“They had it carted off to… somewhere. They said they can’t keep it here. Said the Zarojo citizens would be offended.”

I placed my hands on her shoulders. “Do you know what happened to everyone else? Do you know where Captain Nor is?”

She shook her head. “Captain Nor—I don’t know. I haven’t seen her, or the rest of the guards, since that afternoon, when you all left to meet King Rayyel.”

I bit back the inclination to correct her. “What else did they tell you?”

“That somebody tried to kill you, that Magister Arro was killed. That they think your entire guard betrayed you. Governor Zheshan paid them off. He took the king as hostage.”

I watched her as she spoke. “Deputy Qun told you all of this?”

“His wife,” Kora blurted out. “She told me the next morning.”

“She seemed awfully sure,” I said.

Kora shook her head at the sound of my voice. “They’ve been looking for you since you disappeared. They’ve been nothing but kind to me, my queen. They told me—if I saw you, that is… please, come inside. They will help.” She tugged at my arm.

I looked down at her fingers and how they easily grasped my sleeve with such familiarity. You could’ve taken us for sisters, seeing us out there. Yet that same morning before the assassination attempt, she couldn’t even look at me when I spoke. I pulled away. “I have a place to stay,” I said. “I’ll be back.”

“My queen,” Kora said. “It’s not safe out there.”

“I’ve been out there for days. I think I’ll be fine.”

“My queen…”

“Do not tell them you saw me.” I watched her eyes flicker. Was that a bruise on her chin?

After a moment, she nodded. “I did not see you, my queen.” The Akkian accent was strong in her speech.

I stepped away from her and kept walking down the street.

Governor Zheshan… took the king as hostage.

I was not surprised to hear it. Rayyel was many things: intelligent, well-read, well-spoken—if somewhat absent-minded and straight to the point—but he was also gullible, and so awkward I had seen him bump into a wall trying to go through a doorway that could fit an elephant. He was the sort of man who couldn’t fight his way out of a wet paper bag, and to hear that he was alive was more than I had expected after days of uncertainty—the thought filled me with such relief that I could hardly breathe.

But the relief came hand in hand with dread. The surge of hope was nothing when I was still in the middle of Anzhao City, with no money and not a friend in sight. Rayyel was a hostage, no longer this Governor Zheshan’s guest, which meant he was being held captive. I could not allow such a blatant insult to Jin-Sayeng to go unpunished.

I found myself outside a scribe shop, wondering if someone would know of a way to send word to Jin-Sayeng. If I had a safe place to stay, I could maybe wait for the next ship heading for Jin-Sayeng and then scrape up enough to pay someone to bring a letter to Oka Shto. But the idea made me ill. The Singing Sainsa’s crew had betrayed me, and they were all Jinsein. How could I expect more from a Zarojo crew?

I stopped at the next corner, remembering the map. I pulled it out and found what I had been looking at before Lo Bahn’s men interrupted me: Zorheng City. It was northeast of Anzhao City, along a path marked as “the Golden Road.” I had tried to speak about it with Arro back at Deputy Qun’s, but he had deflected the conversation. I should’ve really asked him when…

I paused at the sudden flood of emotions and took a moment to regain my composure before heading for the marketplace. Zorheng City. I needed to find a way there.

The response was unexpected. No one would tell me why, but most of the wagon drivers blatantly refused as soon as I uttered the city’s name, even when I promised they would be well-compensated at the gates. One eventually agreed, but at four times the usual price. The glint in his eyes and the uneasy way he kept scratching his bare belly told me I would be found dead and naked at the roadside by the end of the day. I couldn’t walk away fast enough.

I paused between an outcrop of stalls to catch my breath and glanced out into the distance. The eastern gate wasn’t far from the marketplace. The road beckoned to me. Could I make it there on foot? Even if I did, I would arrive bedraggled and covered in dust, and then I would have the same problem as I did in Anzhao. Screaming that I was the queen of Jin-Sayeng wouldn’t do a damn thing for me—they’d throw out the madwoman before sundown. I needed a way to prove who I was.

Arro, of course, would know. I realized I had the answer right there.

“Hey.”

I drew my sword and whirled around. Khine jumped to the side just as the blade flashed past him. I stepped back. “I almost killed you!” I snapped.

“I didn’t know you were going to try!” Khine retorted. His face was red with exertion, as if he had been running.

“Why, by all the gods, do you keep following me?” I asked. “If you think I’m some helpless cat you can just drag back to your house, you’ve made a big mistake.”

“You’re not,” he said. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to keep his voice calm for my sake or his. “I know you’re not. But I feared for your safety. I heard what Cho did, and got to the house just as they arrived. They said you fled into the streets, so I went looking for you. I saw you go into the storm tunnel and followed.” He frowned and waved at the sword. “Can you put that thing away?”

After a moment, I sheathed the blade, but not without keeping my hand on the hilt. “Your brother betrayed me. Why should I trust you?”

“I should ask you the same thing,” he said. “I heard you killed one of Lo Bahn’s men. Anyone desperate enough would’ve, I guess, but when you just pulled that sword on me—you’re not a stranger to sword fighting, are you? You’ve been trained. You’re not just some housewife.”

I didn’t respond.

Khine took a deep breath. “I heard what the girl said. When she bowed to you out on the street.”

He was lying. He had to be. How could he have understood what we were saying? Was he a Jinsein spy? Asking him directly probably wouldn’t reveal any answers, and a part of me didn’t want to know. “You’ve been following me that long?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

He shrugged. “I wanted to see where you would go.”

“So you did,” I said. “And?”

“I…”

“You feared for my safety, so you kept quiet to see what I would do?”

“I suspected you were more than you let on.”

“And did you clear those doubts?”

“I’m not sure I believe it.” He swallowed. “Who are you, really?”

“You know my name.”

“Yes, but that’s not…” He scratched his cheek.

“Go home, Khine. I can take care of myself.”

He hesitated. “Come back with me. We can speak better indoors.”

“Why would I do that? Lo Bahn is waiting for me there.”

“We talked before I went after you. We have some time. He’ll want to talk again, but he promised he’ll listen. He promised he’ll give you a fair chance to earn back your debt. One that doesn’t involve…” He faltered, unsure of his own words. As if he hated himself for even considering it.

I braced myself. “I can’t do that, Khine. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you try to stop me.”

Khine swallowed. I wondered if he was taking the threat seriously. “Where are you planning to go?” he asked.

“I need to help my husband,” I said. “If you’re not going to leave me alone, then you might as well be of some use. Take me to Dar Aso.”

He looked startled at my request, but he recovered swiftly. I let him lead me to the immigrants’ quarter, making him walk in front of me. I kept my hands on the sheathed sword, ready to draw it at any moment.

Walking into Dar Aso felt like walking into a different world. It was an assault to the senses—the spices of so many different nations mingling together in the air, along with smoke, along with piss and excrement. I didn’t even know why it existed—the empire was already a mosaic of so many nations and cultures, many of which had been colonized and conquered over the centuries. But I suppose there was a difference between old immigrants and the new. The people of Dar Aso had fled their own nations for the comforts and privileges promised by the empire, whatever those may be. Looking at my surroundings didn’t really give me much of an insight.

“Where are… we going from here?” Khine asked.

“There must be a mortuary here somewhere.” I clicked my tongue. “You’d know where that is.”

“I would?”

“You studied as a physician.”

“Ah. You’re too perceptive.” He glanced back at me. “Are you thinking you’d find your husband there?”

“No,” I said, and left it at that.

He wasn’t in an argumentative mood. He led me past a bridge, and then to a wider road that fringed the edge of the city. I could see tall stone walls.

“Over here,” Khine said, pointing towards a low building right at the edge of the wall.

We ducked under a beaded curtain as we entered. The smell had grown worse, now—a rancid scent that mingled with the smoke and strong herbs. A small suntanned woman met us. “Khine,” she said, wiping her hands on a rag. She had a strong accent, one I couldn’t place. “I haven’t seen you in a while. What can I help you with?”

“Nothing this time, old friend,” Khine replied. “I’m just playing the… er, tour guide.” He glanced at me.

“Did you get men here?” I asked. “Two weeks ago. Jinseins.”

“We did,” the undertaker said. “They’ve been sitting there all this time, waiting for someone to claim them. Are you?”

“I’ll have to see them first.”

“It’s a hundred rean to claim them. Otherwise, off to the mass grave they go.”

“How many, exactly?”

“If you’re thinking about the same men I was,” she said, “there’s ten of them.”

I pretended not to be surprised. “Show me.”

She gave a small bow and led us past the rows of opened corpses laid out on cold stone slabs. We went down a short flight of stairs to a separate room, which was below ground—the only windows were tiny slits right below the ceiling. The undertaker gave me a lantern. “Over there,” she said, glancing at bodies that had been laid one on top of each other on a shelf, like loaves of bread in a bakery.

I swallowed and approached them. The first one I recognized was Arro. He looked… well. Nothing like he looked in life. Naked under a thin sheet, his eyes sewn shut, his face deformed by the preserving oil that had been rubbed all over his skin. The choking grief clung to me like a needy child, refusing to let go. This time, I let it envelop me.