by Jeff Wheeler
Bingmei sloughed out of her body, as if it were a canvas bag that had burst a seam. Her spirit form lay at his feet. She shrank from him, even though she was incorporeal. She sensed the awful presence of the dragon that lived within the man, could hear its clucking, reptilian sound tear from his lips.
Echion threw her body to the floor, and she watched her own head strike the ground before lolling to one side, her eyes glassy, lips parted, a trickle of blood running from her nose.
“I’m not done with you yet,” Echion snarled, and he reached down, not for her discarded body, but for her soul. His hand, trailing pungent black smoke, gripped her soul and lifted her as effortlessly as if she’d been a leaf. The tendrils of smoke crept up his arm, as if his very pores oozed it out. The smoke billowed out of his jade eyes as well. The dragon bound within him strained to come out and attack, and she feared he might sprout a snout with daggerlike teeth and devour her whole.
Echion took her insubstantial form and walked to one of the burning braziers. She couldn’t feel the heat, but she saw the orange coals blazing inside. He bent down and stuck his other hand into the grille. The flames danced against his skin but did nothing to injure him. He brought out a living coal and then frowned as he squeezed it, pulverizing it in his hand. When he opened his palm, she saw black smoldering ash. The little flecks of livid fire winked out, one by one.
Then he walked back to where he’d tossed her body. He crouched down, a look of harsh determination on his countenance. He spat on her face. With his soot-stained hand, he then drew a sigil on her body’s forehead with the ash. Next, he used his littlest finger to dab some of the blood from her mouth and then, using it as red ink, traced another glyph on her forehead. Finally, he murmured the words, “Shui, Xue, Po.”
As soon as he uttered the words, she felt a charge of power. The meiwood pillars within the hall flared with life, their sigils blazing with sudden fire. To Bingmei, it felt as if her body quite literally sucked her soul back in. It wasn’t a gradual easing but a snapping feeling, hooks wrenching her back to the mortal plane.
Her swollen eyes parted, and she saw Echion rise and stagger backward until he caught himself on the edge of the sarcophagus. He looked drained, weakened, and for a moment, he breathed unnaturally fast. The runes he’d drawn had weakened him. She could smell his worry, his sense of vulnerability. She stared at him through half-closed eyes, wishing she had the strength to rise and attack him. But her body felt crooked, weak, and darkness crowded in on her as surely as it had in Sihui.
When Bingmei regained consciousness, she did not know how much time had passed. But she smelled a deep impenetrable sadness. She blinked, coming awake slowly, her eyes not quite able to focus. Someone was softly rubbing a damp cloth on her neck.
She tried to say his name—Jidi Majia—but her throat was so constricted it was impossible to do more than grunt.
“Don’t speak, Bingmei,” said his calming voice. “I’m grateful you are awake finally. I was afraid he’d killed you.”
He had. Her arms and legs ached, but that was nothing compared to the pain in her throat and neck. Squinting, she attempted to focus on her surroundings. She was lying on a bed, covers drawn up to her chest. The constricting clothes Eomen had helped her into, the ones she’d worn to see Echion, had been replaced with a looser outfit. She lifted her arm and watched the flowing white silk robe slide down. The amount of light in the room showed it was still daytime.
“Rest, Bingmei,” Jidi Majia said coaxingly.
She tried to clear her throat, and that was agony. It frightened her how much damage she’d endured.
“Some tea might be helpful,” he suggested. He rose and went to a little table near the bed and poured some tea into a ceramic cup with peonies engraved around the rim. The flowers reminded her of Kunmia Suun, who’d always smelled of peonies, and her heart ached with the memory.
“Let me help you,” he said. He put his hand behind her neck and lifted gently, assisting her to rise. When he pressed the cup of tea to her lips, she took a little sip, and it burned all the way down, making her wince. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.
After she drank another few sips, she felt she might be able to whisper. She held on to his arm to steady herself and looked around the room, recognizing it as the chamber where Eomen and the other girl had bathed and dressed her. There was no sign of the ensign guardian. Had she been left unprotected? Her heart began to swell with hope.
“How long have I been here?” she managed to get out in a whisper.
“It’s the second day since they carried you out of the Hall of Memory,” Jidi Majia answered. He glanced back at the door and then gave her a reassuring smile. “We thought you were dead at first. You still have bruises on your throat. But Xisi hasn’t returned, so you were successful.”
“Where is the guard?”
“He wanders down the corridor sometimes. He must be bored by now.” His gaze sharpened with warning. “The door is open, and there is no other way out of this room. He’ll return any moment.”
Bingmei nodded, trying to save her words. “You . . . came to see me . . . the night I arrived . . . but I know it wasn’t you. Do you . . . remember?”
His face darkened, and she smelled his sadness deepen. “It felt like a nightmare,” he said, looking away. “When I’m asleep, I have these dreams sometimes. Darkness smothers me, and I can’t awaken. When I eventually do, much later, memories start to flit through my mind.” He pressed his lips together. “I think those are the times . . . when Echion controls me. So I don’t . . . I don’t remember visiting you, Bingmei. I’m sorry if I did anything hurtful to you.”
She tried to smile, as much as she could, and squeezed his arm. “You didn’t. He tried to convince me to revive her willingly.”
Jidi Majia shook his head. “And you refused?”
Bingmei felt a cough begin to rattle in her chest, and she instinctively tried to quell it, knowing it would be painful. But it erupted anyway, and the agony it caused nearly made her black out again. It took several long moments after the coughing subsided before she could accept another sip of tea. Tears danced in her eyes, not just from the pain, but from the feelings that welled up at the memory of her horrible confrontation with Echion.
“I did,” she finally managed to say. “But I think I must do as he asks.”
“No!” Jidi Majia said with desperation. “Bingmei, you mustn’t. The Dragon of Night cannot regain his full powers without the queen. Their powers are inextricably linked. You are the only one who can revive her. So you must resist!”
Bingmei felt his deep worry and determination to persuade her. “I agree with your logic.” She paused, wincing again, waiting for the pain to subside. “But something in my heart tells me that I should. The morning this happened”—she gestured to her neck—“I went for a walk in the concubines’ garden.” It was agony to speak, but she kept going. “I had an experience there, something that overcame me. My hand traced the name of Xisi. And it felt right to bring her back.”
Jidi Majia looked even more panicked. “It is one of Echion’s tricks!”
She squinted again and shook her head. “I don’t think so. It didn’t feel like it. I can’t explain this.” She licked her lips, tasting the residue of the tea. “It felt more like a premonition from the phoenix.”
Jidi Majia stared at her in surprise.
“I can’t explain it,” she repeated.
“Bingmei. Please listen to me. Was it this same feeling that compelled you to awaken Echion? Were you not subverted then also?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. I didn’t know who he truly was until after he was revived. And I didn’t know about the phoenix until I met you.”
“He has the Phoenix Blade. I think he can use it to control your feelings.”
“Then why did he kill me?” she said.
“He didn’t kill you. He choked you close to death in a fit of rage.”
Bingmei shook her head. “I was dead
. I know what it’s like, Jidi Majia. You remember when it happened to me at the palace of Sajinau.” She smelled the ensign guard returning. They could only talk openly for another moment. “Were there marks on my forehead when they carried me out? Stains?”
“Yes, I saw some smudges.”
“I heard him speak the words that brought me back to life. Shui, Xue, Po.”
He looked surprised. “I know those words. They are the old tongue.”
“What do they mean?”
“They are the words for water, blood, and spirit.”
“He’s coming,” Bingmei said, then lowered herself back down onto her pillow.
Jidi Majia turned and faced the doorway. “Who is?”
A few moments later, a shadow dimmed the room as a person stepped into the doorway, blocking out the light.
She heard the warrior ask, “Were you talking to someone, Jidi Majia? I heard your voice.”
“I was talking to Bingmei, of course,” he replied. “I was hoping some soothing words might help revive her.”
“Go. I will watch over her now. Report to the Hall of Splendor. Liekou has arrived with the princess of Sihui. You will be needed, eunuch.” He said the last word with a tone of disdain.
“As you command,” said Jidi Majia. He rose from the bed, but not before squeezing her arm in sympathy.
Bingmei’s thoughts had turned to Sihui and the people she’d left behind. What had become of Rowen? Had he been struck by a dianxue blow? Was he dying or already dead? What about Marenqo and Mieshi? Damanhur and Jiaohua? She’d been so caught up in her own nightmare, she hadn’t paused to think about what had become of her companions. Her ensign.
Although she could not hear the guard’s approach, she could smell it. She feigned sleep but worried whether she would be successful. A moment later, she felt him standing over the bed, staring down at her. His perusal made her skin crawl.
“You are wise not to awaken,” he said softly in a mocking tone. She remained as still as she could. “The master is so angry with you. You pricked his thumb with your thorn, ice rose. You made him bleed. I wonder how?”
She smelled the ambition behind that question. The desire for power and authority. He was intrigued by what she’d done because he wanted to know how to weaken Echion too.
Yes, in Echion’s world everyone had a place. But no one was content to stay in theirs.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Grandfather Jiao
Hunger drove her to wakefulness in the end. Eomen brought her a small bowl of soup, and Bingmei ate it despite knowing what it meant. Word would be sent to Echion that she was recovered, and he was sure to summon her back to the Hall of Memory to revive his queen.
After finishing the soup, she asked Eomen, “Has another princess arrived?”
“How did you know?” Eomen asked. “You’ve been unconscious most of the day.”
“Jidi Majia told me,” Bingmei confided in a small voice, glancing toward the doorway where the guard was pacing.
“Ah. Yes, the daughter of King Zhumu has arrived. She has been chosen as another concubine.” The spoiled smell of her depression and disappointment grew stronger. “Poor thing. She’s very frightened.”
“Where are they keeping her?”
“She is being groomed and prepared to meet the master this evening.” Her eyebrows sloped down. “If you wish to speak with her, I do not think it will be allowed. There are other concubines assigned to watch her.”
Bingmei tilted her head. “How many does he have?”
“The master?”
“Yes.”
Eomen’s smile looked pained, and a vicious scent of spoiling tubers wafted from her. “We don’t know how many he has now. But Jidi Majia said the Iron Rules entitle him to one thousand concubines minus one.”
The thought sickened Bingmei to her core. “How could he . . . I don’t understand; that is so many.”
“It’s a symbol of his power,” she said with revulsion. “It may take years before he calls all of us. Some will not be called at all.”
“I’m sorry, Eomen,” Bingmei said, but the woman gave her a scornful look.
“We’re all jealous of you,” she said with a tone of malice. “At least you’ll be dead when he’s done with you.”
The room became stifling, full of raw and terrible emotions. “I need to walk,” Bingmei said, desperate to get out.
“Shall I escort you?” asked Eomen, but Bingmei could tell she asked out of duty, not companionship.
“No. I need some air, and I’d like to be alone with my thoughts.”
Bingmei rose and lowered her legs off the side of the bed. She was exhausted still, despite all the rest, but the soup had restored some of her strength. The loose white robe she wore had a silver trimming. She tried standing, wobbled a bit, but then found a steady balance. Her skull throbbed where it had struck the floor. All her muscles ached.
As she crossed the room to the exterior door, which was generally open during the daytime, the strength returned to her legs. She walked out without speaking to her guardian, who followed at a distance.
The day was coming to an end, and the sky had layers of orange and pink clouds. It was a dazzling view from the ancient city. She saw people crossing the courtyard below, eunuchs by the look of their uniforms. Guards patrolled the walls still. She saw smoke drifting from where various fires burned to cook meals, but spied none within the ancient palaces. There was the Hall of Memory, which she walked away from. She also saw the Hall of Unity, which she’d been told was forbidden.
After crossing the way, she took a set of stairs down to the courtyard, gripping a stone railing sculpted to look like twin herons. She twisted her head back and forth, then rotated her shoulders. Her muscles were not only sore but stiff from lack of use, so it felt good to walk. With a surreptitious backward glance, she saw her guardian trailing her down the stairs.
Ahead of her, she saw concubines walking together, about ten in total, each wearing the same type of costume. They walked at an angle away from her. She tried to see if Cuifen was among them, but it was difficult to tell given the similarity of their attire and style.
Everywhere she looked, there were people performing various duties. Some of the eunuchs had brooms and brushed the courtyard from end to end.
A gong rang out, the sound long and ominous, and the people cocked their heads and began walking swiftly in various directions. Confused by its significance, she turned back to look at her guardian.
“Is something wrong?”
“The evening feast,” he answered. “For the servants.”
Soon the courtyard had emptied, and it was just the two of them, plus the guards lining the walls.
“Are the guards Qiangdao?” she asked him, gesturing toward the walls.
He nodded. “It’s a great honor to serve in Fusang. For the obedient.”
“You consider it an honor escorting me?” Bingmei said with a teasing tone.
He pursed his lips. “I serve the master,” he replied. “Soon he will give me another assignment.”
The veiled implication was obvious to her. “Have you spoken to Liekou?”
“Briefly. My charge is to ensure you do not try to escape, not to hold conversation with you.” Although her ability to resist Echion had interested him, briefly, he considered her a burdensome task. The feeling smelled of day-old bread.
She missed Marenqo and his sense of humor. Mieshi was occasionally dour, but her moods were preferable to the deep bitterness of Princess Eomen, although Bingmei didn’t blame Eomen for her feelings. Everyone who lived in the splendor of Fusang was trapped. Even her nameless guardian was a prisoner to Echion’s whims. He thought he was free, but should he fail the master, he was a dead man, and should his ambition rise too high, she had no doubt he’d be replaced by another.
She walked away from him, her heart brimming with anguish for the calamity she’d unwittingly unleashed. But as she walked away from him, toward the forbidde
n Hall of Unity, a strange feeling came over her. Once again, she had the notion that she’d been here before, that she was part of this place somehow. She eyed the walls, gazing at the light the setting sun cast on them. She’d seen a sunset like this before.
The echoes of some unknown past thrummed inside her, making her pause. She stopped where she stood.
Bingmei closed her eyes, letting the emotions wash over her. And then she started to move, performing the exotic five-birds form that had been unlocked from the cage of memory. It felt so good to be moving, her legs crouching and then rising as her arms swept through the air. Strength filled her. How she wished she could lift herself up and away, fleeing the confines of this beautiful prison.
As she finished the form and opened her eyes, she saw the walls of the Hall of Unity ahead, atop a steep flight of stairs. This place had unsettled her upon her first visit to Fusang—now she felt it beckoning to her.
She started walking toward it with purpose.
“Where are you going?” said her guardian.
She ignored his words and hastened her steps.
He did too—she smelled him approaching before his hand grabbed her wrist to stop her. “That place is for—”
Bingmei twisted around and chopped the edge of her hand into his neck in a stunning blow. Her sudden violence surprised him, giving her the opportunity to wrench her hand free. She ran to the steps and began mounting them.
A warning cry sounded from the soldiers on the walls, who had seen the attack, and the guard she’d injured started chasing her.
The sigils in the meiwood pillars glowed as she approached them. She wasn’t sure if they were warning her back or inviting her on. The feelings in her heart propelled her forward.
“You cannot go in there!” said her guardian angrily, huffing for air.
