The Dragon of Jin-Sayeng

by K. S. Villoso

  Thanh managed a small one.

  “Now spit into this bowl.”

  “Khine…”

  “Spit.”

  I gazed at them both, Thanh’s words echoing inside my head. My son was nearly nine; I could argue that he didn’t really know what he was talking about. But something about them made me consider the scene in front of me. Trying to grasp moments is as futile as reaching for the wind. I know that much, at least. When Khine’s examination was over and it was time for us to return outside, I held Thanh and whispered an apology into his hair, so light I didn’t think he even heard it. If there ever came a time that he learned the horrors I would rather remained in the darkness, I hoped he would at least remember this moment. Remember, Thanh. I have so little else to give, but remember my love and let it shield you from the rest.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE END OF THE ROAD

  The lanterns were all out by the time we arrived at the infirmary tents. Khine made his way to the pump around the back to fill a bucket with water. I took a seat on a pile of sandbags, gazing up at the starless sky and thinking back to the conversation I just had with my son. My boy—somewhere along the way, my boy had grown up. Before I left, he was still easily distractible, still just as concerned about his toys as the nonsense in his books. How could a little over a year have done this?

  The thoughts churned, like restless dogs trying to sleep.

  Khine paused over the pump handle. “Back there… you said you wanted him to leave Jin-Sayeng.”

  “You did say you wanted me to let you do this, and he cannot stay here—not when the whole nation is like this.”

  He looked conflicted. I could tell he was trying not to lose his temper. “His freedom signals yours. Without your son’s safety on the line, why do you have to stay here?”

  “I can’t just walk away, Khine.”

  “Because you’re your father’s daughter?”

  I stared at him, wondering how often I’d said such words for him to be able to throw them back at me so easily. “Yes,” I conceded. “And not for what you think. My father has done too much. I can’t just close my eyes and pretend it has nothing to do with me.”

  “Does it?” he asked, exasperated. “You’re not him.”

  I pressed my knuckles on my knees. “I know,” I said.

  He was quiet for a moment, before grumbling, “Yes. Well. Your nation has made it clear you have many faults, but choosing the easy way out has never been one of them.”

  “Are you complimenting me, sir?”

  “Maybe.” He gave me a grin before looking away.

  “My son,” I said, growing serious. “He’s not the infant at my breast. Hasn’t been for many years. He really… doesn’t need me anymore.”

  “I can assure you, Tali—that is the furthest thing from the truth.” He paused, gazing at the bucket at his feet. He must’ve been thinking about his own mother.

  “I know,” I said. “In a perfect world, I would agree with you. But it isn’t a perfect world. All I have now is the hope that Lord Huan would give me an army, that his alliance could forge others for me for when I ride back to Oren-yaro. I need people loyal to me, not my elders.”

  “He’s at war with Kaggawa.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “And you believe you can rally everyone under you and Rai, even after you’ve rescinded your claim to the throne?”

  “It won’t stop other wars from breaking out in every corner of Jin-Sayeng. It will be like the War of the Wolves all over again—every region forced to pick a side, with everyone secretly trying to plant their rump on the throne. Like throwing a hunk of meat into a pack of starving dogs. It will be nothing but chaos. Peace will be a long time coming.” I gave a grim smile. “You’re wrong about me. I would choose the easy way out if I knew what it was. If there was one. But there isn’t.”

  Khine returned to work at the pump. Water sloshed into the bucket, spilling down the sides. He noticed too late and swore under his breath. He straightened his back and turned to me again. “Do you remember Kyo-orashi, the day before we all went into the arena with the dragon? Agos thought he was going to die there. I was to stay back and let him deal with the beast to save you. He asked me to tell you what he felt. Said if he could pluck each and every one of the stars from the sky for you, he would. He believed you shouldn’t waste another moment of your life with that prick Rayyel, because you deserve better.” Khine swallowed. “I undermined his plan.”

  “It was a lousy plan,” I said. “The one you replaced it with wasn’t any better.”

  “I don’t disagree. I wasn’t thinking.” He paused, scratching the back of his head. “I told you I could be selfish.”

  “You… didn’t stop me when I chose him over you.” Would I have gone to him instead, if he had? It was a question that had haunted me since. The other way around, Agos might still be alive, and Khine the one dead.

  “You weren’t mine to stop. For all I knew, you loved him, too.” He cleared his throat. “But it’s Jin-Sayeng that matters most to you. Listen to yourself telling me about overturning a system that has kept this nation running for hundreds of years, simply because it’s the only way you can make it work. It’s madness, but you’ll do it anyway, or die trying. Neither of us should’ve expected less from the woman we loved. It’s why we loved you, after all. At least why I do.” He sighed. “I will take you to Yu-yan. I don’t want to, but I will.”

  “Thank you, Khine,” I managed, trying hard to ignore what his words made me feel.

  “I need to make more salve, anyway,” he said, in that voice that could mean anything.

  We left while it was still dark. Karia accompanied us all the way to the gate. I observed her interactions with Khine quietly, and felt my stomach stir. I pinpointed it as revulsion over my feelings. I didn’t own the man. What he did with his time was none of my business. Still, I couldn’t help but notice how touchingly tender he was with her, a stark reminder of how he had been when we first met. Nor did he limit these interactions with her. On the way out, Khine clasped one of the guards on the back. “If she needs any help…”

  “Of course, Doctor,” the guard said, returning the gesture. “We’re all fond of Karia here.” The man flashed her a grin, one which she didn’t return. Rayyel’s sister, through and through. If I didn’t believe it before, I did now.

  We went up the road, Khine’s box of empty herb pots jingling on his back.

  “How did you manage to make Dai give you this much freedom?” I asked, in an effort to chase away the awkward silence. “The last time we saw each other, he wanted to kill you.”

  “He—or the soul he shares his body with, at least—is an intelligent man. I don’t know for sure what sort of discourse they had about me, but I think they decided it was better to have me on their side. It helped that their surgeon had gone missing.”

  “Missing,” I repeated.

  He gave a wry smile.

  “Don’t tell me the man is under the Yu-yan River somewhere.”

  “Heavens, no. I just gave him enough coin to run off to Fuyyu. He didn’t like having to treat foreigners, especially ones hired to attack his own countrymen. He had an apprentice and I paid that one off, too.”

  “And where, pray, did a man like you get all that money?”

  “Karia is related to one of the old rice lords in the area, someone opposed to Dai’s war,” he said. “He provided all the funds.”

  “Anino is with him, I assume.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Khine—”

  “I know. You haven’t got a hair on your head that could hurt that child, or any child. It’s the people around you I worry about.”

  “They do give you that impression,” I said. “I can only guess what they’ll do to my son.”

  “If it’s assassins you’re worried about, don’t be. There’s a few of us who are watching him. Karia. Larson, whom I believe you’re acquainted with. A number of the other soldiers.”


  “Do they know he’s the prince?”

  “No. Dai wants it kept a secret from most of the soldiers. I’ve let it slip he’s the son of a rice lord that Dai is holding hostage, and that if the boy is alive by the end of summer, there’s a reward waiting for them. A tangible reward, one they don’t have to die for… higher in value for people like that. Dai doesn’t know it, but we’ve not left Thanh unguarded since I arrived. If not for Karia, you wouldn’t even have gotten close to him.”

  I must’ve been staring at him too hard, because he suddenly looked away, a hand on the back of his head. I turned to counting my steps in the blue-grey darkness and heard him take a deep breath.

  “So,” Khine said. “You were going to tell me about what had happened after we last saw each other. I recall you giving me a taste of my own medicine.”

  “How does it feel?”

  “Awful. And uncalled for.”

  “I’m not sure you’ll like the outcome, in any case. Anya’s dead.”

  He grunted. “I told her to go home. She wouldn’t listen. That damn woman. Did you do it?”

  “Ozo.”

  “Jiro… Jiro won’t take this well.” He swallowed. “What else happened out there?”

  “I met my mother.”

  His eyes flashed. “I thought she died giving birth to you.”

  “I thought so, too.” I turned the memories in my head, hating even speaking them out loud. Hearing all of it shamed me. “But it was worse. The spells in my father’s study had addled her brain. He had been conspiring with mages this whole time. With mages, and his lords and bannermen, none of whom were ever loyal to me. My father died, but he remained in charge. And they made it all happen. Everything. Chiha. Anino. Agos. Agos was Ozo’s bastard son and they placed him beside me solely to be my confidant.”

  “Agos is Ozo’s bastard,” he repeated, blinking. “I thought Ozo seemed familiar.”

  “They wanted to tear my marriage apart, damn the consequences, and they made sure they gave us everything we needed to make it look like we were doing it ourselves. They gave us enough rope to hang ourselves with.”

  Khine frowned. “A dead man… creating a plan to be carried out after his death, one that hinges on your actions…” He trailed off in disbelief, and he didn’t even know the half of it.

  “I was a mark,” I said with a smile. “A mark who didn’t always do what was expected. But Yeshin had supporters who are all still very much alive, all brilliant minds who are waiting for their moment under the sun. They worked together to anticipate my next move, whatever that may have been. Agos and Chiha alone created the scandals necessary to push us whichever way they desired. If Thanh had been Agos’s, Ozo would’ve probably whisked him away as soon as the trial’s results were announced. Let Ryia’s retaliation be the reason to declare war on the Ikessars. If Thanh had been there and everything played out as it should, I’m convinced Ozo would’ve gifted Yuebek with my son’s head.”

  Khine looked almost impressed. He of all people knew the feeling of a con being carried to fruition, all the little things that had to go just right. Hard enough for a man to pull off, let alone a dead man. I wasn’t sure how I felt about him admiring my father’s handiwork.

  “My father’s instructions to all of us ensured a skeleton of sorts,” I continued. “A backbone, to keep us all running in the same direction.”

  “And this whole time, your father relied on your obedience to his will?”

  “He relied on it, but he knew, even early on, that I would grow up to be just as stubborn as he was. I’m told it plagued him for his last few years.”

  “But he expected it,” Khine said.

  “Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”

  “From what I’ve heard of your father? It is. My understanding is that he was suspicious, given to declaring everyone but himself incompetent. Knowing what he knew about you, why would he create plans spanning decades that would rely on your obedience? Something’s not right.”

  We continued to walk. I tried hard to focus on the explosion of birdsong around us, the feel of the cool morning breeze, and not the growing dread inside of me. I didn’t want to talk about what my father truly wanted. Even admitting it to myself stung.

  “What was she like?” Khine asked, breaking the silence. “Your mother.”

  “A woman caught in an updraft.” I turned away, my attention drifting towards the column of black smoke rising in the distance. There was sufficient sunlight for me to see two trails of it.

  Khine swore under his breath. Without a word, he bolted down the road. I watched Khine disappear down the hill for a few conflicted moments. After what felt like a hundred knives running through my chest, I hurtled after him.

  The smoke was coming from two overturned wagons, sacks of rice spilling into the ditches. Whatever animals had been pulling the wagon—horses or oxen, I couldn’t tell—were gone, the harness lines cut. Khine stood in the middle of several corpses, facing down two Kag soldiers. Both were older men, with white stubble equally covering their balding heads and faces. Their skin was red, suntanned.

  “Go back to your herbs, Doctor,” the Kag said, his Jinan scraping like sandpaper. “Nothing to see here.”

  His companion sniggered. “Unless you’re planning to report us?”

  “General Dai was adamant the commoners be left alone,” Khine said. “It’s one of his few rules.”

  The first soldier gave an exaggerated bow. “These aren’t just commoners. These were spies.”

  I came up behind the furthest one. He didn’t hear me, didn’t notice I was there. His attention was on Khine, his jaw muscles tense. One hand hovered over his sword.

  “What proof do you have?” Khine asked.

  “Don’t need proof,” the other soldier said. “They’re carrying rice. Only the enemy eats rice.”

  “Bland, disgusting Jin food,” his companion agreed.

  “The villages are starving,” Khine said. “Some of the rice lords would’ve sent relief.”

  “Like I said, aiding the enemy,” the soldier said with a smug grin.

  “It sounds to me like you consider everyone the enemy.” Khine’s voice was barely a whisper.

  “But that’s true, isn’t it?” the soldier asked. “If you’re not with us, you’re clearly against us. And when you all look alike—”

  I slid my grass-cutter across his throat, cutting his voice box before he could finish his sentence. As his body dropped to the ground, I turned to the other one, who came barrelling towards me with his heavy sword. Heavy sword, heavy armour, and all he saw was a woman who got lucky. I tripped him with my foot and we both came crashing down the ditch, into the muddy field. I stabbed him in the neck before he could recover.

  I kicked the bleeding body away and crawled out of the ditch. Flies were already starting to gather over it. Both kills had lasted less than a minute.

  “You weren’t going to talk your way out of that one,” I said, before Khine could say anything.

  He looked at the dead soldiers. “I know.”

  “I don’t like doing that,” I continued.

  “I know that, too.”

  “I’m not my father, Khine.”

  He looked away, and I felt my senses blur as we returned to the dusty road. I felt that stone wall come between us again.

  “Lofty dreams,” Khine finally said, as if answering an unasked question.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Belfang’s words. He was right, you know. There was a time I looked down on people like him, people who were… resigned to their lot in life. People who had no desire to make something better for themselves and the world around them. But what did that do for me? I couldn’t even make my own dreams come true. And then you showed up, and I—”

  Thunder rumbled overhead. Grey clouds were beginning to gather and I could feel the wind growing colder. I shivered, my skin prickling.

  His mouth quirked into a smile. “At least it’s not dragons.” />
  “We should go before we’re proven wrong,” I said. My heart was racing, and I wasn’t sure anymore if it was the fear of lightning or my nearness to Khine that was doing it. I showed up, and then what? I am content as I am, he had told me in Oka Shto, except he wasn’t. It should’ve been clear to me from the beginning that Khine Lamang was a man who was forever at odds with himself. In him was ambition, tempered by reality. What did he really see in me?

  The road turned into a small field, wedged between several low hills. We climbed up a path that bordered a wide stream, entering a copse of maple and elm trees. There were still patches of compact snow on the ground here, a signal that we were further north than I thought we were. “I’m surprised rice grows out here at all,” Khine said. “You’re probably going to say it’s got something to do with the dragons.”

  “Of course it’s the dragons,” I replied. “It’s too cold out here otherwise, but they’ve changed the soil somehow. How far are we from Yu-yan?”

  “A couple of hours on the river should take you straight to it. It’s not far.” Now the lightning flashed. I clenched my fists and closed my eyes as the first shower of rain arrived—what seemed like rain. It sounded like falling pebbles. We sought shelter under a tree further up the path as the hail poured down around us, covering the ground with patchy white layers. I tucked my hands under my arms, shivering from the sudden blast of cold air, and glanced at him, at his face. With the beard, he looked more sombre than the cheerful man I met in Shang Azi. We all had our masks. It was only that his had never been so clear before.

  “I failed my last year’s exams on purpose because I was angry with my teacher,” Khine said, out of nowhere.

  I stared back at him patiently, waiting. Listening.

  “And I was angry at Jia. She was carrying my child. She went to him without my knowledge and had it… taken care of before I even knew it existed.” He swallowed. “I was angry and I didn’t think that she was young and frightened, and that her father would’ve beaten her if he found out. I thought she understood that I would’ve taken care of her. I thought she did what she did because she didn’t really love me. And Tashi Reng Hzi—after all his talks about the value of life—couldn’t even let me know? He said it was her choice, that my decision wouldn’t have made a damn difference, but all I heard were the words of a hypocrite. I made it about me when it wasn’t. So I failed the exam in vengeance.”