by Jeff Wheeler
Bingmei stepped forward, and she smelled their shock that someone so young should lead such an esteemed group of warriors. She smelled something else too, a vaguely familiar odor that she struggled to place.
“My name is Bingmei,” she said, holding on to the rune staff. “My master was Kunmia Suun, who perished during the fall of Sajinau. My grandfather, Jiao, and my parents also ran an ensign in the eastern lands. My family was murdered by the Qiangdao. We need food and shelter, but we offer our services in return. Like General Tzu, we’re determined to resist Echion’s lust for dominion and power.”
There was that smell again, growing stronger. She resisted the urge to look around the room. It wasn’t coming from those assembled in front of her.
“Welcome, Bingmei,” said King Zhumu. He looked at her closely. “She who is the chosen of the phoenix. I see some strands of your real hair, which has escaped the wig you use to disguise it. If you would, please remove the wig and prove your identity.”
Bingmei hadn’t been expecting that. His request alarmed her—and so did the eyes digging into her. Many servants and military officers had gathered in the small throne room.
Fearing it would displease the king if she refused, she held out her staff, and Mieshi stepped forward to take hold of it. Mieshi looked at the princess with a smirk of disdain that Bingmei instantly understood. These people were preparing for battle, yet they clearly spent hours each day on grooming and fashion.
She felt filthy standing before them. Her clothes were stained from the journey, and everyone in the ensign was desperately in need of bathing. The last thing she wanted to do was reveal her unusual appearance to them, but she felt she had no choice. The king had asked, and if she wished to stay, she must do as he asked. She reached up and pulled out the pins, one by one, then tugged off the wig.
King Zhumu leaned forward slightly, but the expression on his face was not one of disgust. “You are the one,” he said. “General Tzu has told us about your visit to Sajinau. He shared the prophecy of Jidi Majia. You are welcome here, and I would be honored to accept you into my service. Your ensign is weary from travel and toil.” He raised a hand and gestured. “We will prepare a great feast in your honor tonight. For now, you will receive fresh clothing and clean water to bathe in. We will also find a place for your ensign to stay. Daughter, please see that my words are fulfilled.”
“As you command, my father,” said Cuifen in a melodious voice that suddenly made Bingmei feel even more self-conscious about her appearance.
The smell she’d noticed earlier wafted toward her again, and this time she recognized it—the lemony smell of greed. She turned her head and saw King Budai lurking in the shadows wearing sumptuous robes. His girth had diminished, but she’d recognize his scent anywhere.
As soon as their eyes met, he abruptly walked away.
Because the palace was so crowded, Princess Cuifen brought Bingmei, Mieshi, and the other women from the ensign to her own personal chambers. The men were escorted somewhere by the king’s advisor. Other servants were preparing a bath for them. Unlike the tub Bingmei had used in Sajinau, this pool was built into a room attached to the princess’s chambers. The steaming water had a slightly odorous smell that suggested the water came from a natural hot spring.
“Leave your clothes here on the stone bench,” said Cuifen as they entered. The marble tiles were wet and squeaked as they walked. “My servants will wash them for you. We will provide silk garments for each of you, even the children. What you are wearing now will be quite uncomfortable here in Sihui.” Gesturing to a wooden shelf lined with vases, she added, “Use these oils to rid yourselves of the fragrance of the water after you’ve bathed. We will provide some refreshments and cots so you may rest. I will return later.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Bingmei said. It felt strange bathing in the princess’s personal space, but Cuifen gave no indication that she was offended or disgusted by their presence.
“I honor my revered father,” she said, bowing to them. “Be at peace.”
A slight filmy haze covered the water, illuminated with light from four small windows framed in the ceiling. The windows were covered in paper, but they provided some light in the dim interior. Steps led down into the pool. Bingmei squatted near them and scooped up some water in her hand. It was hot to the touch.
“You winced,” said Mieshi. “Is it that hot?”
“I think they might want to boil us alive,” Bingmei said teasingly. She straightened, shaking off the water droplets that hadn’t slipped through her fingers yet. “Budai is here.”
Mieshi looked startled. “Did you see him?”
“In the crowd,” said Bingmei. “But I sensed him first. There’s no mistaking his odor.”
Mieshi’s eyes narrowed in concern. “You banished him from the quonsuun. He won’t have forgotten that insult.”
“I also told him he owed me a debt,” said Bingmei. She bit her lip. “I’m beginning to regret that decision.”
“Do you think he’s hoping to marry the princess?” Mieshi wondered.
Bingmei hadn’t even thought of that. “That would . . . be revolting. He’s older than her father.”
“Since when has that ever stopped a man?” Mieshi said with a snort. “Rowen’s coming is timely, then. Perhaps it was fate that we came when we did.”
Bingmei felt her insides twisting again. Why did the thought of Rowen marrying anyone bother her so much? Was it stubbornness? The prince could marry whomever he wished. He had indicated he had feelings for her, but that wouldn’t stop him from making a practical choice. She didn’t wish to explain any of that to Mieshi.
She looked down at the steam, eager to shift the conversation off Rowen. “Are you getting in, Mieshi?”
“You first,” said the other woman with a smug smile. “If you survive, then I will.”
After bathing in the near-scalding water, Bingmei dried herself and used some of the oil from the vessels to rub over her skin. It had a pleasant smell that reminded her of rare juniper. An array of garments had been laid out for them, and Bingmei selected the pair made of red silk fabric. It whispered against her skin as she put it on. The sleeves of the jacket were long and wide, different from any style she’d worn before.
After she’d dressed, she grabbed her pack and staff, which she’d refused to let out of her sight, and entered the princess’s chambers. The oil felt cool on her skin, and the looseness of the jacket and pants helped reduce the discomfort of the humidity. She brushed out her hair, braided it, and coiled it above her head. When she pinned on the wig, she took care to make sure that every strand was covered.
Mieshi joined her shortly thereafter, wearing lavender-colored garments. The other woman smelled sharply of impatience, just like what Bingmei felt. The younger girls had not yet bathed, but it felt wrong to stand here, idle, when they should be preparing for battle. They needed to do something.
Bingmei and Mieshi sent the younger girls in to bathe, then collected their gear and left the room. They had not gone far before they encountered Pangxie, who was hurrying toward them down the corridor. He almost didn’t recognize them because they were dressed in the clothing style of Sihui. Bingmei had to call out his name before he stopped. His anxious scent caught her nose as he came to a stop before them, panting.
“Ah! You’re finished! This is good. General Tzu wishes to see you at once, Bingmei. The prince has refused to marry Cuifen. He says he’s made an oath of service to you as part of your ensign. He said he will not violate his oath unless you command him to. King Zhumu is angry. He thinks this is some trick. You must come! This could ruin all we’ve worked to achieve.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Prisoner
As Bingmei and Mieshi followed the warrior, conflicting thoughts swirled in Bingmei’s mind. She had hoped—wrongly—that coming to Sihui would alleviate all their problems. That they would be able to follow rather than lead. Instead, it felt like their problems were stacking
up like boards, the burden getting heavier and heavier.
“What is Rowen up to?” Mieshi wondered aloud as they walked quickly down the dimly lit corridor. She smelled of suspicion, which had a dampness to it, like grass after a storm.
“One thing about him is he’s good at getting into trouble,” Bingmei pointed out. Why had he put her in the middle of the fray? Was he hoping she would say no as an indication of her favor? Frustration pressed in on her. Although she did care for Rowen, it was obvious his affection for her was much stronger than hers for him, and she was not interested in pursuing a relationship. If only he would explain what he knew about the “bond” they shared, perhaps they could clear this up and put it behind them.
Mieshi’s lips turned up into a smile. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet,” Bingmei said. “I often wonder how Kunmia solved problems. She was so wise.”
“Her wisdom came from long experience,” Mieshi said. “She learned who she could count on.” She gave Bingmei a sidelong look. “You have an advantage there.”
“One that I’m not about to divulge,” she said, appreciating that Mieshi didn’t blurt it out.
As they approached the throne room, they heard voices raised in anger. Bingmei braced herself for what was sure to be an assault on her senses.
The door opened, and her eyes immediately shot to General Tzu, Jiaohua, Rowen, and Damanhur, standing in a knot in front of the throne. They seemed to be surrounded by the courtiers of Sihui adorned in jewels and silk robes trimmed in fur. The king’s advisor, Kexin, stood before Rowen in an adversarial posture, one hand on his hip, the other held at eye level, finger pointed in expressive demonstration. King Zhumu sat on his throne, watching the argument with keen interest. Princess Cuifen, she noticed, was not present.
The lemony scent of Budai was unmistakable now that she’d identified it. She began searching for him with her eyes, finally finding him leaning against a pillar at the side of the room.
“You are outsiders here,” Kexin said, each word clipped with anger. “Do you not realize that if not for the graciousness of our compassionate king, you’d be struggling to survive in the wilds? We have provided your people with food and shelter at great cost. But we uphold the virtue of hospitality. Surely an alliance between Sajinau and Sihui would be of benefit.”
“We are not saying that there cannot be one,” said General Tzu placatingly. “Our people have labored to help fortify this city against Echion’s fleet. We sleep in tents and barns and do not complain of how the merchants treat us. The prince and his ensign have only just arrived. They don’t understand your society yet.”
“But their arrival changes the nature of the situation,” Kexin said. “The phoenix-chosen and the crown prince of Sajinau are both here. This changes the very tide. Let us come to an agreement. We know not how long we have before Echion attacks us. His attacks are sudden and deadly. We’ll do better if we’re united.”
The lemony smell grew stronger as Budai stepped away from the pillar and advanced to the front of the throne room. “And what have you against an alliance with Wangfujing if the prince is unwilling? My case should be equally strong. We are both the second sons of our fathers, but my father chose me as king of Wangfujing.” She smelled his fiery determination, and she realized that he had been lobbying for this throughout the winter. Mieshi had been right. He wanted to marry the princess, the mere thought of which brought Bingmei another strong feeling of revulsion.
Kexin shot him an angry look. “An alliance with Sajinau is far more likely to bring glory and honor to Sihui. You trade in frogs and scorpions, Budai.”
“I have collected far greater wealth than you know,” said Budai, his eyes glinting. “In my treasury are meiwood weapons of every sort. I’ve collected them for years!”
Another man from Sihui, whom Bingmei didn’t know, scoffed at that. “Which Echion has undoubtedly claimed for himself and his own warriors! You have nothing.”
“I have magic still,” said Budai. His hand reached into his pocket, and Bingmei wondered what it held. Did he have a relic like she did? “How do you think I survived the attack in Wangfujing? Not all my treasures were hidden in the palace. Don’t mock me. I have performed great service for this kingdom.”
“You have,” said King Zhumu in a calm, patient voice. “And your suit of my daughter is not without merit.”
The others hushed as the king rose from the throne. “I encouraged my servants to question you all, your motives, your intentions. You are all foreigners to Sihui and have no true allegiance. You reveal much by what you do not say.” He turned his gaze on Bingmei, who still stood near the entrance. “Welcome, chosen one. Would you grant your consent for Prince Rowen to marry my daughter? Perhaps this argument has been for naught.”
All eyes turned to her, the attention flaying her already raw nerves. She didn’t want to argue as the others had been—she hated the feelings it produced. And yet, she couldn’t give the king what he wanted. He confounded her, and the room was too much a morass of emotions and smells for her to get a good sense of him. The only thing she knew about him was that he wasn’t riled in the least. His carefully combed hair and immaculate garb made him seem impressive, but who was the man behind the mask of calm?
She could not release the prince until she knew what the king wanted with him. Besides which, she didn’t think it fair to force anyone into a marriage they found disagreeable . . . and there was that little voice inside her that didn’t want Rowen to marry. At least not yet. But she pushed the feeling away again. They were here to help the city stand strong against Echion, and nothing could be allowed to distract her from her mission.
It was the only way she could make amends, somewhat, for what had happened in Sajinau.
“Gracious king,” Bingmei said, bowing to him with respect. “We have only just arrived. I think it would be . . . premature to work on any arrangement so soon.” An idea struck her mind. “We came here as your servants, not your equals. The might of Sajinau has fallen, as has the splendor of Wangfujing.” She gave Budai a pointed look, showing him that she acknowledged him. “Let us serve you first. We will do all we can to help Sihui avoid the fate that we have suffered.”
She heard a few murmured grumbles at her words, but King Zhumu lifted a finger and silenced them.
King Zhumu cocked his head to one side. “Wisely spoken, Bingmei,” he said. “The matter will not be settled at present. I will hear no more on this subject for now.”
Budai gritted his teeth, smoldering with anger, and gave Bingmei an accusatory look. But then he mastered himself and acknowledged the king with a respectful nod.
King Zhumu opened both palms upward. “Serve the feast.”
At his command, one of the far doors was pulled open, and the smell of spices and cooked fish and rice and a variety of different sauces floated into the room, mixing with the smells of those who had been arguing so recently. In the commotion that followed, Rowen made it to her side, giving her a grateful look.
“Why did you not speak for yourself?” Bingmei asked him in a low voice. Mieshi arched her eyebrows at the prince. “Why not tell Zhumu no?”
“I told you before,” he said, smelling once again like freshly baked bread. He gently touched her arm, his fingers pleasantly warm. “We are bound, you and I. What could I say without your permission? I’ve promised myself to you already.” His look became more intense and so did the smell coming from him. “And besides, I don’t want to marry her.”
“If she marries Budai instead, he’ll get his revenge on us,” Bingmei said, trying to ignore the way the smell made her feel. Trying to pretend, both to herself and to him, that he didn’t affect her at all.
“Possibly,” Rowen answered, but he didn’t sound particularly concerned. Damanhur gestured to him, and he pulled away with one final look over his shoulder. The two walked off together.
Mieshi gave Bingmei a curious look, one that seemed not only perplexed but
also disturbed. She had noticed their interplay. “Is there more between you than I supposed?” she asked quietly.
Bingmei felt angered by what Rowen had said. She’d told him before that she didn’t share his sentiments, yet he still acted as if she might. It was confusing, and so were her emotions. And now Mieshi had noticed. The discomfort of the position flamed her anger higher.
“Now is not the time to answer you.” But the answer she withheld was no. There wasn’t anything more between them, and there couldn’t be.
They walked into the other room, both deep in thought. The feast had been arrayed on long tables assembled in the feasting hall. The air held an aroma of heavy spices, punctuated by the pleasant and shrill tones of musical instruments, which combined into a sweet assault on the senses. The tunes were haunting, without any specific melody, just a series of notes both high and low, the lead of the music switching between different kinds of reed flutes and an instrument that seemed to be made from small gourds.
They were guided to pillows on the floor, and the servants bustled around, bringing them steaming dishes of fish and fowl, black rice, and tubers soaked in sauce. As the meal was served, Bingmei prepared herself for the spiciness of the fare, but the dishes were still excessively hot. She reached for a cup of water, and it wasn’t until she brought it to her lips that she discovered the water must have come directly from the hot spring—it was scalding.
She and her compatriots ate slowly, all save Marenqo, who was more used to the spicy food, and she watched in disbelief as he sampled each of the various dishes and spoke to his hosts in their language. The feast went on well into the night, with new dishes brought out at intervals, accompanied by fruits she’d never seen before, all displayed in an appealing manner. Even the fruits had spices put on them, but thankfully the spices were more savory than hot, and she enjoyed how they eased the burn in her mouth.
