by Mary Fan
“Maybe Mowang sent the Ligui after them,” I muse aloud. “Maybe when we confront him in the Courts of Hell, we’ll learn the truth.”
“Maybe.”
I gaze out into the dark horizon, trying to picture what Hell will be like. It still doesn’t feel real to me, like a place I’m actually going to. But once I get there, I intend to make Mowang answer for all he’s done—not just for trapping Tai’s people. The Ligui are creatures of Hell, which means Mowang is ultimately the force behind them. Who knows … maybe with their king gone, the Ligui will retreat? Then Dailan won’t need outside protection, and I won’t have to marry Viceroy Kang.
It doesn’t hurt to hope.
The tops of green trees roll across the land and trail into the distant blue-gray mountains on the horizon. Baiheshan, the White Crane Mountain, looms tall above the rest. According to the navigational instruments on the ship’s control panel, we’re about twenty miles away. The city at the base of the mountain—also called Baiheshan—looks like colorful scattered pebbles from here. I squint at the mountain, trying to make out Baiheshan Miao, the temple where Tai’s spellmaster lives, but all I can see are gray stones jutting between swaths of green leaves.
Below, sunlight bounces along the surface of Baihejiang, the White Crane River. I lean my elbows against the railing. The merry ripples fill me with a sense of calm, and I crave the touch of flowing water. In Dailan, I was never more than a few houses away from the nearest stream.
According to Tai, several large caves yawn along the wide river. The plan is to steer the ship into one of them and hope that’s enough to conceal it, then walk the rest of the way so no one will suspect we’re anything more than ordinary travelers. There’s just one path up the mountain, and you can only get to it by going through the city.
Tai glances at me from behind the ship’s wheel. “What kind of food do you want me to steal for you when we reach the city? I’m guessing you’re as sick of mantou as I am. What about pork buns? Ooh, or a duck!”
I cross my arms. While subsisting on the plain white buns Tai found in the ship’s stores has been frustrating, I’d rather eat a hundred of them than let Tai steal to feed me. “First of all, I don’t need you to provide for me. And secondly, there won’t be any stealing. Not while I’m around.”
He leans one elbow against the ship’s wheel and crosses his legs at the ankles. “You didn’t seem to mind when you stole this entire ship.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. “That was different! We were escaping danger. And the viceroy has plenty of ships—it’s not as if he’d miss this one little scout vessel.”
“Tell yourself whatever you want. The truth is, you’re shaping up to be an excellent criminal.” He winks.
I turn away, certain my face is redder than the rising sun. My parents didn’t raise me to steal from others. But they did raise me to help others, and I’m sure they’d agree that someone’s life is worth more than a ship. Thinking about it that way, taking this one wasn’t such a crime.
“If you don’t want to steal, then I hope you have some coins in that tunic of yours. Or were you planning to beg?” Tai strokes his chin. “You look too clean to be a beggar. You’d have to rub some mud on your face to make it convincing.”
I resist the urge to smack him. “For your information, I’m going to earn enough money to feed us.”
“Who’d hire a pretty girl like you off the streets? And as what?” He lifts his brows.
If he’s implying what I think he’s implying, then he deserves that smack a hundred times over. But though he tries my patience, I find it in myself to be mature about this. One of us has to be.
“My sister and I are acrobats. Our parents used to take us to neighboring villages to perform.” It might not be the best idea to purposely draw attention with my act when Kang’s men are still looking for us, but that’s a risk I’ll have to take. Baiheshan is outside Viceroy Kang’s province, so it’s possible his men won’t even be there. As long as I keep a sharp eye out, I should be fine. “Most of the time, we’d make the streets our stage. I plan to do just that.”
“How much can you make doing tricks in the street?”
“Enough to buy us a meal or two. Without inviting trouble or depriving someone else.”
He clutches his chest. “You wound me with your words! You know I only steal from those who wouldn’t miss what I took. And I never get caught.”
“I caught you, didn’t I?” I smirk.
“Only because you had help. But I’m curious about these tricks of yours, so we’ll try it your way first. If you don’t make enough, I’ll steal whatever else we need. Deal?”
“No, because I’ll earn more than what we need.”
“Aren’t you arrogant.”
“Look who’s talking.”
He grins. “At least I’m not arrogant enough to think that we can walk into Baiheshan without people wondering who we are. A young man and a young woman traveling together would cause a scandal … unless we were married.” He extends his hand. “Will you be my fake wife?”
I lift my eyebrow. “Or unless we were related. How about I be your fake sister instead?”
“And here I was thinking you’d like pretending to be a married woman. You’re so eager to wed, after all.”
Though he apparently meant the quip as a joke, his words cause a strange sting in my chest. I’d managed to forget for a little while that I’m doomed to marry a man I despise. The thought of spending the rest of my life serving Viceroy Kang still makes me sick. It’s not something I can joke about.
And it’s something Tai would never understand—not that I care to explain. I scowl and walk away. Anger burns in my heart, and I’m not sure if it’s aimed at the viceroy or at Tai for bringing him up.
“Wait!” Tai runs ahead of me, blocking my path. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“What did you mean, then?”
“I …” He shrugs with a helpless expression. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
I blow out a breath, reminding myself that he has no way of knowing how much horror I feel each time I think about marrying Kang. “Don’t talk about my engagement ever again.”
“I won’t.” A strange look crosses his expression—almost like pain.
Needing to change the subject, I say, “Now that we’re practically at Baiheshan, can you tell me about this spellmaster we’re meeting? Who is he?”
“She is from the Southern Continent, a long, long way from here.” Tai’s voice is light. “And her name is Ibsituu Bekele … except in her culture, given names come first. So when you meet her, call her Ibsituu.”
The prospect of meeting someone from the distant Southern Continent is enough to banish all thought of Viceroy Kang. Both Mother and Father used to tell me and Anshui stories about the people from that far-off land. It’s said they have brown skin and speak a language that sounds like stones rolling down a creek. Like people from the West—those odd foreigners with their yellow hair and harsh tongues—they sometimes travel to the Empire of the Pearl Moon for trade. But of course none make it to a village as remote as Dailan.
“Ibsituu.” I try out the unfamiliar syllables. “I thought you said your spellmaster was a man.”
“I never said that.” Tai’s eyes twinkle. “You assumed.”
I knit my brows, mentally retracing our conversations, but have trouble remembering the exact words. I wonder what else he might have hidden this way … by feeding me incomplete information and letting my assumptions fill in the rest. And what other misconceptions I might have about him as a result.
A ringing sound chimes from the direction of the ship’s wheel. Knowing that it means we’re approaching our designated coordinates, I stride toward the controls. Tai follows and glances at one of the gauges.
“Time to start our descent.” He pulls a lever, and I step out of the way as he turns to the wheel.
I watch him manipulate the levers with curious fascination. He showed me how everything
works, but it’s different seeing the machinery in motion. The press of a button, a turn of the wheel, the flick of a switch—a dozen little things that go into bringing the small ship closer and closer to the river until it skates gently upon the water.
The deck rocks back and forth, and I grip the railing to keep my balance until the ship steadies. The mouth of an enormous cave gapes against the side of the rocky mountain. Thin green vines with narrow leaves grow rebelliously against its grayish brown surface, draping down over the opening. Tai turns the wheel, and the ship glides inside. Every splash that hits my skin as the propellers churn the water feels like a gift.
The vines graze the sail as we enter the cave. All of Dailan could fit inside. Sharp formations that look like teeth jut from the arcing ceiling, and I feel like we’ve sailed into the mouth of a gargantuan beast. Water stretches into the darkness ahead, but considering I can see the stones and mud beneath it, it can’t be very deep.
The ship halts. “This is as far as we can go,” Tai says. “Not as good as an invisibility potion would have been, but it’ll do. Give me a minute to secure the ship, and then we can head to the city.”
I glance toward the mouth of the cave. The area we landed in seemed isolated, but a flying ship is a pretty visible thing. “I’m going to scout ahead to make sure no one spotted us.”
“Suit yourself.” Tai waves dismissively, not bothering to look up from the control panel.
I double check to make sure the strap of my sword is secure. It will make me more conspicuous than I’d like to be, but I’m not going anywhere without it. Besides, I need to use it as a prop for my Warrioress performance. A knot digs into my shoulder—I tied the scrap of cloth Tai gave me to use as a mask to the strap. It’s best to keep it handy in case I need to hide my face again.
Finding the rope stashed by the bow, I toss its end overboard. It lands with a splash. As I climb down, I half expect Tai to try some prank like the one he pulled at Huimaohu, and I’m almost disappointed when I reach the bottom without incident.
The cool water, which reaches my knees, feels like a god’s touch against my skin. I savor it as I wade toward the rocky riverbank. The sun is strong enough outside the cave that I should be dry long before we reach the city.
The river glistens beneath its rays. I picture the River Dragon, with his red-green scales and curling tail, swimming beneath the surface. How lucky he is to spend his days free like that!
I walk along the bank toward the ship’s stern, which sits so close to the cave’s opening that sunlight brushes the railing. I draw my sword in case I spot trouble. The ship’s whir ceases. Without it, the air feels blissfully still. Only the songs of distant birds and the soft whisper of a breeze break the silence. Tranquil water stretches with brownish-green hues into the horizon, and the shadows of distant mountains stand proudly above it.
A great splash disturbs the quiet. I gasp at the sudden cold of mud and water hitting me. My troubled heart races from the shock, and I look around wildly.
I hear Tai’s laughter before my eyes find him, standing a few feet away with his bronze staff clutched in one hand. A rope dangles from the ship’s stern.
“You should have seen the look on your face!” He cocks his head. “You do kind of look like a beggar now that you’re covered in mud. Are you sure you don’t want to give that a try?”
He must have climbed down the ship’s back and landed right next to me on purpose … another prank. I snarl, infuriated. “Hundan!”
Tai’s eyes widen. “It was an accident?”
“You lie!” I throw down my sword and lunge at him.
Tai dodges me and sprints onto the shore, dropping his staff. I dash after him.
“Accident! Accident!” he exclaims between laughs.
“You rotten, pig-headed idiot!” My irritation froths over, and I chase him out of the cave and up the grassy riverbank outside.
He zigs abruptly to try to throw me off, then zags to avoid me again. I recognize his trick the third time and cut him off. I launch myself into him, grab him around the middle, and tackle him to the ground.
We land roughly, with me on top of him. My head bangs into his back. He flips over and tries to push me off, but I grasp his shoulders and pin him down.
Instead of fighting back, he holds up his hands with a sheepish grin. “Mercy?”
I suddenly realize how ridiculous this situation is. For a second, I stare incredulously into his eyes, then I burst out laughing. What was I planning to do once I caught him?
He laughs with me, and we both revel in the silliness. I double over, which brings my face close enough to his to feel his breath on my cheeks.
“Shagua!” I smack his shoulder. “I told you not to make me mad!”
“And I told you it’s too much fun!” His eyes dance with merriment.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
I roll my eyes. “No, I don’t.”
“Does that mean you like me, then?”
“No.” I pause. “Maybe. A little.”
“I’ll take it.” His gaze catches mine. “I have a confession.”
“Oh?” I feel like I should look away, at something—anything—else, but his eyes are too magnetic.
“The day you came to Tongqiucheng … it was no accident that you spotted me from your carriage. I was looking for you.”
“What do you mean?”
A small smile flickers across his lips. “Rumors were flying that though the viceroy’s new bride was just a village girl, she was so brave she fought the Ligui. That she was like a modern-day Warrioress. I couldn’t believe it. I’d heard that some of the remote villages were using women guards, but it never seemed believable until I heard them talking about a real, living girl who was heading into my city. It hit me how incredible this girl must be to fight monsters known to kill the best of warriors.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. I should be preening at the flattery, but instead, part of me wants to disappear. Other than my little sister, no one’s ever … admired me before. My heart hammers, and I tell myself it’s from the sprinting.
“I had to see you myself, so I went to watch the viceroy’s convoy arrive. Of course, then I couldn’t resist an unguarded coin purse, but when you looked at me …” He chuckles. “You know what happened next.”
A small laugh escapes me. “Thief.”
“Guilty.”
I lean down toward him, drawn by some invisible force that yearns to get closer. The what and why don’t enter my mind—all I know is now. His warm breath rustles the wisps of hair framing my face as he lifts himself up on one elbow, bringing himself even nearer to me—so near I can feel the heat of his lips. Never once does he break his gaze, and I suddenly feel like I’m tumbling, tumbling, tumbling into his dark eyes, not knowing or caring why.
An abrupt clunking noise breaks my trance. I look up, startled. Whatever spell held me vanishes—I’m suddenly back in the real world.
I scramble to get off of Tai, realizing how inappropriate my actions were. I’m not a little girl; I can’t tussle with boys like a child. Mother would scold me harshly if she’d seen me like that.
What I need to do now is retrieve my sword, which I abandoned by the river, and find out what that noise was. What if it’s Kang’s men catching up to us?
I rush to grab my weapon from the water’s edge. The clunking noise sounds again, this time accompanied by hissing. It sounds like a machine, but I don’t see anything. “What was that?”
I expect Tai to be as alarmed as I am, or to at least make some offhand comment about it. When only silence greets me, I look back to find him still reclining on the grass, propped up on one elbow. A strange look fills his face. Though his eyes watch me, his mind seems a million miles away.
“Tai?”
He blinks. “I guess we both look like beggars now.” He stands and brushes dirt from his clothes.
The clunking shakes the air yet again, this time louder, clos
er. I take a few steps up the riverbank and notice the narrow dirt road carving the land. Cresting a nearby hill is a mechanical wagon. It looks more like the one Grandfather built than one of Kang’s mighty vehicles. Watermelons fill the back, and a tanned, gray-haired man in a cone-shaped bamboo hat sits behind the controls. He certainly isn’t one of Kang’s cyborgs, and he doesn’t look armed either. With his humble clothing, it’s more likely he’s a local farmer going to sell his wares in Baiheshan.
If I can flag down the wagon, then we can reach the city much faster. But what if he spots the ship in the cave? I glance back at the vessel. Shadows hide all but one bit of railing, and the vines dangling over the opening further obscure it. The sooner we get to Baiheshan, the sooner we can take to the sky again, and the less likely someone will be to stumble upon it by accident.
I sling my sword onto my back and sprint up the hill. “Xien sheng!” I call for the driver.
The wagon halts, and the man turns to me. “Whose daughter are you? What are you doing all the way out here without supervision?”
“She’s my sister.” Tai, striding up to the road with his staff in one hand, answers before I can. “Our father sent us to run errands in the city. Can you spare some room for a pair of poor village siblings?” His words carry so much sarcasm, even I can hear it.
But they’re apparently good enough for the man in the wagon, because he grunts and says, “Sure, if you can find room in the back. Don’t knock off any of my watermelons.”
“Xie xie.” Tai climbs onto the wagon and gingerly crawls over the watermelons to find a spot among them.
I choose to balance myself on the wagon’s narrow back edge rather than get any closer to him.
The man yanks a lever on the wagon, and it sputters to life. Steam pours from the back, fogging the landscape before me. I stare ahead anyway, determined to look anywhere but at Tai.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE STREETS, THE STAGE
Baiheshan looks like the child of Dailan and Tongqiucheng. Like Dailan, rivers cut through the heart of the city and bridges decorated with intricate sculptures of tigers and lotuses span the water, some made of stone and others of wood. One looks so much like a bridge in Dailan—with its simple arch and rounded rails—that my heart aches for home. Yet the city’s scale and size remind me of Tongqiucheng. Elaborate storefronts line wide streets, and market stalls crowd dense alleys. Mechanical wagons chug along, but unlike in Tongqiucheng, no automatons or clockwork creatures roam about. Such technology must be rarer here.
