CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

DANGEROUS BUSINESS

The next morning, Xinde found Jian while he was still cleaning the training grounds and told him to tidy himself up and pick up the gift basket from Auntie Li. Jian would be going with him instead of breakfast duty. He couldn’t believe his good luck. He quickly ran to his room to splash water on his face, and ran all the way back to the kitchen where Auntie Li was waiting for him with a large basket of food, wine, and negotiating favors, including a small golden statue of a luck cat. She hadn’t forgotten to have some buns ready for him and Xinde too. He made his way only slightly less slowly to Xinde, who was already waiting just outside the front gates, chewing as he jogged with the basket under one arm.

The streets weren’t too crowded as they began their walk east. “I asked you to come because I wanted to talk to you,” said Xinde once they were a few blocks away. “Is Cyyk still giving you problems?”

Jian shook his head, thinking of the previous day’s breakfast. “Things have improved between us.”

“And the other students?”

“Somewhat,” he admitted, “but not as much.”

“Who is still giving you problems? Give me names and I’ll take care of it.”

“I can take care of it. We don’t need management involved.”

The ends of Xinde’s lips curled up. “I’m glad you listened and learned. Tell me if things get bad. I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

“Yes, senior,” said Jian.

Xinde grinned and clapped Jian on the shoulder. “This is what it means to be part of the Longxian family. Bonds are often forged by the blade, especially during interschool rivalries. I heard you were the one who helped me to safety when Keiro slashed me. Thank you. That makes us brothers now.”

For Xinde to call him “brother” meant more than he cared to admit. Jian’s lips quivered, and he tried his best to hold back the tears brimming in his eyes. Fortunately, something distracted them both before anyone could realize.

That something was a small object about the size of a pebble. The first flew past his nose. The second flew over, and then a third went over as well. Jian frowned and picked it off the ground, rubbing it between his fingers. “Hmm, a piece of dried plum candy.”

Three more dried plum candies flew past him. He turned toward the source and took a dried plum candy on the bridge of his nose right between his eyes. He stumbled, nearly dropping the gift basket.

“Hey, cut it out,” he barked, rubbing his eyes.

“Hey yourself,” an angry voice yelled back, stomping toward them from the opposite direction, still lobbing candies. They continued to fly wide to either side of him. Jian caught one and popped it in his mouth.

Xinde waved. “Hi, Meehae.”

The apprentice acupuncturist continued to lob candies at Jian. “You’re supposed to be resting, Xinde.”

“If he’s the one disobeying doctor’s orders,” said Jian, “why are you throwing stuff at me?”

“Because he’s my patient and I don’t throw things at patients.”

“I’m your patient too.”

“Stop whining.” She turned to Xinde. “You march straight back to the infirmary right now. I need to change your bandages.”

“I have to run an errand for Master Guanshi,” he explained. “We can stop by your clinic on the way back to take care of that.”

Meehae did not look convinced. “How long will this errand take? I’m very busy.”

Xinde shrugged. “I’ll buy you both lunch afterward.”

Her schedule miraculously cleared up. “Deal.”

Meehae fell in on the other side of Xinde, fussing over the senior and making googly eyes. They continued through the Kati and Saffron Tenet districts and then past the entrance to the Onyx Flower District in the heart of the city. The crowds got denser through the center and then thinned back out the closer they got to the Painted Pots District, which housed the warehouses and grain silos.

Xinde took the gift basket and excused himself to meet the owner of Really Best Box while Jian and Meehae waited outside.

Once Xinde was out of earshot, she asked, “How has he been? Did he look sluggish or tired?”

Jian shook his head. “He looks fully recovered. He taught three classes yesterday and sparred with several students.” He frowned. “Why do you look like I just gave you bad news?”

Meehae clicked her tongue. “I’m not sure. It’s probably nothing, but there’s something unusual about his injury.”

“Is it infected? Does he need an herbalist?” Jian became worried. “Was he death-touched? I’ve never heard of a death touch with a weapon. Is that even possible? Sounds like overkill.”

“Nothing like that. Quite the opposite. If he was death-touched, he’d be dead.” Meehae paused. “His injury wasn’t severe at all. That’s why I wanted to check it again. Make sure it wasn’t poisoned or infected, but that doesn’t seem to be the case, since he’s up and about and acting like himself.”

Jian didn’t understand. “What do you mean not severe? He was bleeding everywhere. He was so badly wounded we had to carry him back to the school.”

Meehae did not look convinced. “I don’t know why he was incapacitated. Xinde has always been a bleeder, but that cut was shallow. Like really shallow. I didn’t even have to stitch him up. I’ve received worse cuts from my cat.”

The two stood in awkward silence. Jian didn’t know what to make of it. The senior was the most skilled war artist at Longxian, and possibly throughout all of Jiayi outside of the masters, and maybe even a few of those. How could a scratch incapacitate him for two days? He shook his head. Xinde was fine now; that was what mattered.

He nudged Meehae. “Do you have any more plum candies?”

She held out a small leather pouch, and then slapped his hand when he grabbed a handful. “Just one, greedy pig.”

“Why so stingy? Here, I’ll hands you for it.” Jian held up both hands, fingers splayed out. It was a popular drinking game. The object was to try to guess how many open fingers were being held between the entire group every round. In their case, the choices were between zero and twenty, with the winner who guessed right every round earning a piece of candy. To Jian’s dismay, Meehae had a good read on him and beat him the majority of the time. He didn’t overly mind because they were gambling with her candy. They managed to keep themselves amused the entire time they were waiting outside the warehouse, which was fortunate, since it appeared Xinde’s meeting was running long.

“What’s taking him so long?” she complained after they had run out of candies.

Jian spit out the remnants of a plum pit. “Xinde’s trying to earn the Really Best Box security contract. I assume that takes time, even with all his charms. Master Guanshi is trying to get Xinde more involved on the business side of the school.”

“That means he doesn’t think Sasha is coming back.” Meehae was referring to Master Guanshi’s elusive daughter. He’d heard her name, but had yet to discover why she wasn’t at the school alongside her father.

Jian shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Guanshi runs a very successful school.”

“That’s because you’ve never met Sasha,” she replied. “She could not wait to finish her training and adventure the world. She and Xinde were best friends growing up. Guanshi betrothed them when they were children and it became apparent that Xinde was the school’s heir.”

Guanshi’s oldest son had died in the war. If Sasha ever returned—which was quite in doubt—the school would be hers. The master had been grooming Xinde just in case. Jian knew the mysterious Sasha had left a year before he arrived and had not visited her family once.

Jian grinned and nudged Meehae. “I guess you’re glad she’s staying away.”

“Hardly.” Meehae blew a raspberry and stuck out her tongue. “What about you? Any novices catch your eye?”

Jian snickered, but his voice trailed off along with his thoughts. He realized then that no one had caught his eye. It was because he wasn’t sure what it meant to actually like a person. He had been so preoccupied wallowing in his bitterness lately he viewed everything with a sour lens. Looking back on his past behavior now made him blush.

A plum candy bounced off his cheek. “That wasn’t an invitation to daydream about her.”

“No, that’s not…” His voice trailed off when a group of four approached them. Jian immediately stood more upright. “Oh. We have company.”

Keiro led the way toward them, stopping just outside arm’s reach. He crossed his arms. “How are you, Meehae?” Jian was pretty used to being ignored.

She glowered. “I’m very cross with you, Keiro.”

“Oh, did I scar your pretty doll? Is he dying?” He put his hand to his heart. “I am terribly sorry.”

“What you did was unnecessary and mean.”

“I disagree. It was very necessary and just business, and business can be deadly. Xinde lost. It happens.”

Jian couldn’t contain himself. “You’re lying.”

The Southern Cross senior fixed Jian with a dismissive look. “Who’s this cracked egg? I’ve never seen him before. He must be fresh.” His tone with Jian was decidedly different than with Meehae.

“I was there,” Jian retorted. “You drew a weapon after you lost a fair fight.”

“Fair fight,” Keiro sneered. “This isn’t a tournament, you whiny hen.”

“You agreed on rules.”

The senior shrugged and gave Jian a light shove. “Penalize a point then, scoring judge.” He looked much larger and more intimidating up close. Jian’s eyes came up only to Keiro’s chin, offering him a close-up view of the man’s goatee, which made him deeply envious. Unfortunately, Meehae was right: The guy also had noticeably bad breath.

“Keiro’s right,” said a familiar voice. Xinde came out from the warehouse and approached the group. “Rules are only as effective as those who follow them. It was up to me to protect myself.”

“Oh please, golden boy,” Keiro snarled at his rival. “Could you be more condescending?”

Jian exclaimed, exasperated. “What’s the point of having rules if there’s no punishment for breaking them?”

Xinde positioned himself between the Jian and Keiro. “The reason we make rules, Hiro,” he said slowly, “is so war artists can follow agreed-upon parameters. You’re right that there is no punishment if someone breaks the rules. However, if you do, then all under the lunar court will know that you are a rule-breaker who cannot be trusted. Everyone will know that you have…no…honor. Isn’t that right, San Keiro of the Red Lion Southern Cross, first lineage senior of Master Ho Shiquan?”

“How dare you!”

The two men stood nearly nose-to-nose. Their eyes locked, daring each other to make the first move.

“Hey,” snapped Meehae. “Can you dumb oxen not do this right now? I was promised lunch.”

Keiro kept his eyes locked on Xinde. “Stay out of this, girl.”

“Who are you calling ‘girl,’ stink mouth?”

Xinde didn’t break his gaze either. “He’s right. This is strictly under the lunar court.”

Jian had been grateful for Xinde’s arrival, hoping to see him beat Keiro again. But then he noticed Xinde’s hands; they were shaking. Something was very wrong.

He tried to squeeze in between the two. “There’s been enough fighting. Why don’t we all just go our separate ways?”

Keiro must have noticed Xinde’s hands too. He chuckled derisively and shoved Jian, sending him tumbling to the ground. “What’s the matter, Xinde, still stewing on your loss?”

“Bastard,” snarled Xinde.

And just like that, it began again. This time, Xinde wasted no time using his jing, causing each strike of his hands and feet to echo, his movements blurring until Jian could barely see his shape. Keiro did the same, using his sticky hands to latch on to his foe to keep him close enough to throw short, hard punches. There was a difference between this fight and the last. The dynamic had changed. Jian had witnessed Xinde spar dozens of times; the man fighting now was not the same person. He was fighting without confidence, seeming almost timid.

Keiro, on the other hand, pressed on aggressively, forcing the Longxian senior to cede ground. Keiro’s lackeys cheered while Jian and Meehae looked on anxiously.

“Everything’s moving too fast. What’s happening?” she asked.

Jian’s apprehension grew. “He’s losing.”

“How? Xinde never loses. He wins all the tournaments.”

Jian had no answer. Keiro’s attacks appeared to overwhelm Xinde’s defenses easily. Jian was tempted to intervene, but what could he do? Hiro was only a novice. He would blow his cover. He wasn’t sure if he could make a difference even if he did get involved. These two were high-level.

One of Keiro’s blows eventually broke through Xinde’s guard, striking him in the gut, doubling him over. A knee to the face sent him flying backward. His eyes were unsteady; he looked dazed again. Keiro closed in to finish the job.

Jian couldn’t bear to stand by any longer. He thought about Taishi’s warnings, and then about Uncle Faaru sacrificing everything to save him. He couldn’t live with himself if he let this happen. Jian charged forward and tackled Keiro just as his foot was coming down on Xinde’s head.

The two tumbled onto the pavement, bashing Jian’s head on the ground. Keiro rolled to his feet gracefully. Jian was slower to rise. No sooner had he picked himself up than he ate a foot to the chest that sent him skidding along the hard pavement.

“You dare interrupt a duel?” Keiro hissed.

“Now you want to follow the rules?” he shot back.

The two circled. Keiro showboated, flowing through several stances and forms. The world slowed as a fist flew toward Jian’s face. Jian’s head was crowded with chatter from every single one of his former masters.

“Linear Jang side guard!” Luda’s voice was low and soft. “It’s the best.”

“Defense is for the weak. Just chop-punch harder,” Sinsin would say.

“Hack the attack! Hack the attack!” Sun would flap his arms like a bird when he said that.

The most prevalent voice in his head, however, was Taishi’s, warning him to not give away his identity. “Don’t be a fool. Take the hit. Don’t blow your cover.”

That meant another beating, this time from someone who could really hurt him, and his friends, for that matter. Jian couldn’t abide that. If Taishi were standing here in front of him right now, he would tell her to suck an egg.

Jian bobbed just as the punch arrived, leaving it to brush past his ear. He retaliated with two punches of his own. Keiro, and likely everyone else present, was so caught off guard by Jian’s crisp display of skill that it actually found its mark right on Keiro’s cheek. The element of surprise was fleeting. The Southern Cross senior quickly recovered and ducked the second punch. The exchange lasted a few more seconds before a blow to the stomach knocked the wind out of Jian, and he collapsed onto his knees, gasping for breath.

“Looks like we have a live fish here, brothers.” Keiro circled him, amused, rubbing his ear. “Where did you find this chickling, Xinde?”

Xinde just stared, mouth agape. The senior couldn’t have missed the fact that the stance and combinations Jian had just used were not taught at Longxian. Keiro tried to punt Jian in the ribs. At the very last second, Jian threw an uppercut into the Southern Cross senior’s groin.

Keiro screamed and hunched over, hobbling away a few steps before falling to his knees. His lackeys cringed, and Meehae gasped loudly. Jian picked himself up and hesitated. What should he do? Finish off his opponent? Run? He looked over at Xinde, who hadn’t moved from where he had fallen. Why was he still sitting there?

Those seconds of indecision proved costly. Keiro’s face was now a violent storm. “I’m going to beat you within an inch of your life, and maybe a little past that.”

“Or we can call it a draw—”

That was nearly the last thing he said. Keiro covered the distance between them in an instant. Jian barely had time to block a kick that almost broke both arms. He retreated, trying to shake off the pain. Keiro was really pissed.

Once again, every one of his former masters barked instructions in his head, Xinde and Guanshi’s voices joining in on the fun. Through all of them, Taishi’s coarse, sharp contralto came across most clearly. His reflexes responded: Gauge your distance, study your opponent’s eyes, react proactively. He had noticed that every punch combination Keiro used ended with a right hook.

For a moment, with Taishi yelling in his head, Jian managed to keep up with the Southern Cross senior. But like all other moments, it passed. Keiro feinted a punch and folded out his elbow to hit Jian so hard on the shoulder his entire left side went numb. After that, Jian’s defenses crumbled. The only reason he didn’t fall was because he was practically sprinting backward trying to get away. Unfortunately, there was only so much ground for retreat. He nearly knocked himself unconscious slamming his head into the wall of the warehouse. His legs buckling saved him from Keiro’s fist, which crumbled the brick behind where his head had been. Jian managed to scramble to the side, away from more heavy punches, which indented the brick wall in several places and shattered a windowpane.

The door to the warehouse slammed open a moment later and a wiry older man with a queue haircut, popular in the Gyian duchy, stormed out. “What are you doing? You’re destroying private property!” He turned to Xinde, who hadn’t moved. “Do something, Xinde! I just hired Longxian to protect my business. Why are you just watching?”

Jian really wanted to know why as well. However, it was all he could do to keep from getting his head smashed. It would be only a matter of time. The Southern Cross senior was faster and stronger. The only reason Jian wasn’t already defeated was because of muscle memory from Taishi’s training, and the fact Keiro had underestimated him.

“If you can’t help, then you’re fired, you useless hens.” The wiry man ran off down the street, his long tail of hair whipping behind him.

Keiro had just knocked Jian down and was towering over him when a loud, shrill whistle pierced the air. Three uniformed men with pointy green hats appeared at the end of the street.

“Big brother,” said one of the Southern Cross, “magistrates! The master is going to be furious if we get caught again.”

Keiro gave the magistrates a dismissive snarl and hammer-fisted down on Jian anyway. Fortunately, the distraction had bought Jian enough time to roll away. He scampered back to his feet and realized that he was alone. Keiro and the rest of the Southern Cross were fleeing while the magistrates closed in on him, Xinde, and Meehae.

Jian rushed to help Meehae pull Xinde to his feet. The senior’s legs were rubber, and his eyes wide and unfocused. His breath was shallow and quick, and the trembling in his hands had spread to his body.

“We have to go,” he urged. “What’s wrong with him?”

“I think he’s in shock,” she replied.

“Shock from what? He took one punch.”

“I don’t know,” she yelled. “Slap him!”

Jian recoiled at the idea. Averting his gaze, he swung his arm out and slapped Xinde on the shoulder. Nothing happened.

“What was that? Did you just pat him on the arm? Get out of the way, you soft ox.” She shoved Jian away and cupped Xinde’s chin. “Sorry, beautiful man. This will hurt me more than it’ll hurt you.” She slapped him hard across the face.

That finally got Xinde out of his stupor. He blinked several times, and his eyes focused. “What? I’m fine.”

Jian waved his hand in the direction of the magistrates.

Xinde nodded. “We have to get back to the school before they do.”

“Why bother?” said Meehae. “The warehouse boss knows it’s us. Even if he didn’t, every magistrate and war artist in Jiayi knows who you are.”

“If we get caught,” Xinde explained, “there will be at least one night in jail before anyone can bail us out.”

“Jail?” Meehae’s voice went up an octave. “What are you standing around for?” She shoved them both out of the way.

The three took off in the only direction available to them, sprinting along the warehouses, jumping bales of hay, and avoiding moving wagons. Jian glanced up at the nearby roofs as they ran. He began to imagine himself jumping onto them like a windwhisper. If only Taishi had accepted him as her disciple, things would be so different now. He’d be learning to fly instead of mopping floors, sparring with legendary masters instead of getting into street fights. He was so distracted he nearly bowled Meehae over when she and Xinde stopped at a dead end.

Xinde, looking uncertain, spun frantically. “I can’t find the way out of here.”

Meehae threw her arms in the air. “How did you manage to lead us into a corner? The Painted Pots District is an oval with fourteen gates.”

“I never come here,” he shot back.

“Stupid boys. This way.” Meehae pulled Xinde by the sleeve into one of the buildings. It was a factory with two rows of noodle looms. There was white powder everywhere and dozens of people in aprons. She paused to get her bearings and then led them to the far end.

“Where are we going?” Jian asked.

She ignored him as she approached a rough-looking man wearing a baker’s apron standing against the wall and made a quick sign with her hand. The man lazily pointed to his left. Meehae continued in that direction, out of the warehouse. They crossed a short field to the nearest district wall and then went down a set of stairs leading to a large iron gate. Another rough-looking man, this time wearing a cutoff shirt and short fisherman pants, was guarding it. Meehae flashed the same sign, and the man opened the door.

The three continued down a short tunnel that appeared to pass under the district walls. Meehae hugged the left side of the tunnel, carefully avoiding the small stinking stream that flowed down the middle. “Try not to get your feet wet. You’ll have to throw away your shoes.”

“What is this place?” asked Jian. “How did you know to come down here?”

“I know everything about this city,” she declared. “There’s a whole system of catacombs, sewers, and tunnels. This is how the underworld moves contraband from Painted Pots and out of the city.”

“And those hand gestures?”

“My ba taught me. He was a sub-boss, Iron Steel.” She pumped her fist in the air with pride.

Jian was puzzled. “Aren’t iron and steel just two different types of metals?”

“Shut your mouth, Hiro.”

“I thought your ba died in a botched robbery,” Xinde asked.

She fixed him a look. “Yes, botched.”

“Oh?” He looked confused. “Oh!”

They emerged from the sewage tunnel into the Sunset Market District on the other side of the wall. Jian had managed to keep one shoe dry but he was pretty sure the other was not salvageable.

“See,” Meehae said, beaming, “all we need to do now is make it two districts over to my clinic. We can wash up there. This way.”

Xinde patted her on the shoulder. “Good work.”

Unfortunately, and in no small part thanks to Jian’s shoe, they smelled like they had brought the sewers with them. The people around them began to hold their noses and clear away. It was impossible to stay inconspicuous for long. Another group of pointy hats appeared at the end of the street.

“There’s Xinde!” one of the magistrates yelled. More shrill whistling followed.

Meehae shoved and admonished the Longxian senior. “That’s what you get for being a celebrity.”

“I have an idea,” he responded, spinning around. “I know a place the magistrates won’t follow.”

He didn’t give them a chance to ask where—just ran toward a narrow path behind two rows of merchant tents. Meehae and Jian followed, half hurtling, half tripping over the ropes that tied the tents down. Wooden stakes began popping into the air, collapsing roughly a third of them. They came out from behind the destruction and joined the thick crowds entering the next district, weaving through the traffic when they could and pushing others out of the way when they had to.

They were well past the gate before the senior finally called for a halt. Jian and Meehae hunched over as soon as they stopped, panting.

Jian quickly realized why the magistrates wouldn’t follow them here. This was the Kati District, and the stares from everyone around them told him how inviting the locals were to Zhuun.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be here,” said Jian quietly.

Meehae looked equally alarmed. “I think I’d rather spend a night in jail.”

“Nonsense. They signed the armistice.” Xinde pointed deeper into the district. “Let’s get away from the front gates and wait out the magistrates.”

“I’m pretty sure that armistice isn’t going to do us a whole lot of good.” Jian fretted, looking back as the gates leading back to his people disappeared around the corner. He glanced from side to side, seeing the faces of the Zhuun’s mortal enemies, the hordes he had originally been destined to conquer. This was the first time he had seen Kati up close. They looked more alien than he had ever imagined, from their unusual hairstyles of bewildering colors to their clothing woven from grass and wood. By the looks on their faces, they were just as wary of him.

Jian was so preoccupied that he didn’t notice his friends jogging ahead. His neck was craned to one side when he ran into a woman who was standing with her back to him. He lost his balance and fell over. This was happening to him an awful lot today. Jian looked up to see a striking Kati standing over him, muscular and intense, with a wild mane of black hair on top of her head, the sides shaved. This person did not seem like someone to trifle with, or to shove in the middle of the street. She held out a hand, which caused Jian to flinch.

“Are you injured, lad?” she asked.

“No,” he mumbled, averting his eyes. Something about her gaze made him not want to meet it.

“You should be more careful of where you’re going,” the woman said firmly, but not unkindly. She lightly tapped his foot with hers, and gestured with her hand again. “Are you planning on sitting in the dirt all day?”

He stared at her outstretched hand as if it were the end of a blade. He wondered if he should accept. He clenched his teeth and berated himself. Don’t be a yolkless egg. It was he who had run into her and it was she who was offering her hand. He certainly wouldn’t have done so if their situation was reversed. Perhaps he had erred in thinking these alien Kati were all baby-eating village-pillaging devils. Perhaps the Kati were just misunderstood. Or perhaps this woman simply was nice.

“Forgive me, mistress. I was not looking.” Jian reached out. Her hand was callused and strong as she effortlessly hauled him to his feet. He bowed hastily and turned to leave.

The woman didn’t let go. Jian tugged again, but her grip was like steel. She pulled him closer until their faces were nearly touching. Her eyes glinted as she cupped his face, her sharp nails digging into his cheeks. “I sense—” She sniffed. “—something strange about you. What’s your name, lad?”

So much for being nice.