by J C Kang
Lord Peng’s eyes darted back toward Wen. “Isn’t that Lord Zheng’s son? The one banished on pain of death?”
Oh, shit.
Eyes glinting with avarice, the Gardener motioned to a Seedling. “Go get the gate guards.”
Chapter 5
Tian’s mouth watered as Wen pulled him through the kitchens. After days of eating food that tasted like wet paper, he couldn’t help but gaze longingly at the chefs as they prepared aromatic pastries. Their scrumptious smell rivaled the pastries served in the Imperial Palace. If he weren’t the son of a Great Lord, he’d swipe some from the trays.
Wen stopped, leaned in, and whispered, “Go ahead, take one.”
She always seemed to know what he was thinking. Tian shook his head. “Stealing is…”
“…is what we do. Now hurry and see if you can take one before the chefs see you.”
Swallowing hard, Tian watched as the chefs turned this way and that, rolling dough, chopping it, then spinning around to deliver trays. Six in all, they fell into a beautiful rhythm like a dwarf-made clock. He swiped a pork bun and hid it in his sleeve, then looked around.
The cooks all continued their work, never breaking their intricate dance.
Laughing, Wen pulled him to the back door and saw him out. She pointed to an open door in the compound walls, twenty-two steps away. “Can you find your way back to the Red Boat Theater?”
He pouted. “You will not come with me?”
She gestured back toward the common room. “They’re expecting me soon.”
“All right.” It shouldn’t be that hard.
She flashed a pretty smile and started to turn around.
“Wait.” He tugged back on her hand. “Why did the woman pretend not to know a man was shot here?”
“It wasn’t here. There was another building, exactly the same, just a few blocks over.” She waved to the east.
He followed her gesture, then turned back. “But her face. She knew about it.”
“Wen!” the woman’s voice yelled from the common room.
Wen nodded. “She owned the other house, before it burned down. Now, I have to go.”
Burned down? As close as all the buildings were, it was a miracle that the fire hadn’t claimed the entire Floating World, like Jie’s story from twenty years ago. He watched as Wen hurried back through the kitchens.
Then, he took eight paces over the rear yard’s pavestones and passed through the gates. Getting back to the theater would be easy, as long as he backtracked from the front gates; but the burned-down compound Wen had indicated was beckoning. That’s where the answer was, and he had to know. He headed toward a single pole, which rose like a middle finger, from beyond the compound walls. It seemed to point at the Iridescent Moon, now waning to its second crescent. An hour to dusk.
Foot traffic had picked up since their arrival. Now, instead of young girls bustling through the streets, it was mostly loud men in fine clothes, pointing at the various buildings. Every now and then, he’d look back. With the Peony Garden’s height and distinctive red tiles, it served as a perfect landmark to keep his bearings. The sloshing of lake water in the near distance indicated a proximity to the north edge of the Floating World.
“Are you lost, Young Sir?” a pretty woman approached, her feet wobbling. Unlike the gowns in the Peony Garden, which resembled Imperial Court fashions, this woman’s dress looked like nothing he’d ever seen. The neckline plunged low, her breasts nearly spilling out, and the slit of her skirts rose up the side of her leg, revealing web-like undergarments. Her bloodshot eyes, however, stood out the most, even through her hooded lids.
Mouth dry, Tian backed up a step. “No, miss, I am going to the burned house.”
“Whatever for? There’s nothing there. Come with me to the Yue Heaven.” She beckoned with fanning fingers and a crooked smile, but nearly tripped on her skirt.
Yue… made from the sap of the yue tree, some of the officials in the Imperial Palace smoked it, and the pungent smell stuck to everything. Shaking his head, Tian hurried on his way. Several dozen paces away, he looked back.
The woman was now talking with a group of three men in gentlemen’s robes. If her breasts had been nearly spilling out before, she was now shrugging her shoulders in such a way that it showed just about everything. She’d adjusted her posture so that her leg jutted out from the slit in her skirts.
With a shudder, he continued at a brisker pace. He arrived at the spotless, white walls in a few minutes, along the eastern edge of the compound. It hadn’t rained in a week, yet the walls were so clean, even after a fire. He ran his hand over the plaster as he worked his way around toward the south wall, which faced a main street.
Before he reached there, his fingers snagged on an indentation, and he paused. There were four identical marks, evenly spaced. A quick scan up and down revealed two more sets up, which would’ve been just out of reach from the first set; though the space between the set on the left side was closer than the right.
In the stories Mother used to tell, Black Fists used metal climbing claws to scale walls and sneak into naughty children’s bedrooms at night. Before this week, it had all been cautionary tales to get him to behave; but now, he knew Black Fists were real. He’d have to ask the mean half-elf if climbing claws were real.
One thing was for sure, said mean half-elf was probably spry enough to run and jump and reach the top of the wall; so it wasn’t her who’d used climbing claws—if indeed that’s what they were, and not burrowing wasps with an excellent sense of space and distance. Testing the holes with a finger, he found they all had the same depth, tapering in a point.
He continued and rounded the corner to the main street. It was as if this one block were a ghost town. Across the empty street, the restaurants, a massage parlor, and a shrine all had closed signs on their doors. On the blocks to either side, life went on as usual.
Tapping his chin, Tian went to the compound’s main gate. The doors, carved and painted with the logo of a chrysanthemum, hung ajar, the entrance blocked only by a warning sign.
He clenched his jaw. The sign, stamped with the official seal of the city watch strictly forbade entry, and a good boy would obey authority. He peered around it at the charred timbers. Up close, the single pole he’d seen from a distance turned out to be a brick chimney, rising three stories—just like in the Peony Garden.
Suspicion prickled at the back of his neck. A voice in his head that sounded like Princess Kaiya nudged him to enter. He had to see the spot. Looking left and right to make sure no one was watching, he ducked under the sign.
The white pavestones led through a lawn, lined by trees, the first several which had survived the fire. The ones closer to the building, however were nothing more than charred trunks, which still seemed to give off heat. The distance to the walls had probably saved the rest of the Floating World from burning down. Maybe the architect had had that foresight.
He went up the stone stairs and picked his way through the fallen timbers to the common room. The frame of the stage remained partially intact. Curiously, mangled copper pipes jutted from the enormous hearth. With a little imagination, he could see the banners and lanterns hanging from the mezzanines. Holding the image of Jie’s schematic, he went over to where the man sat dead.
Surely he would’ve been sitting up, which meant the angle… he walked along the bolt’s probable flight path to the archway between the common room to the veranda. If that one crossbow had survived the fire, and now lay with the other evidence in the clan safe house, the other would have, too. And if the clan hadn’t recovered it, maybe it was just under the rubble.
His search had uncovered nothing by the time he reached the now non-existent archway. From here, the assassin had a clear line of sight on Lord Ting, but still would’ve been visible to Jie. Curiously, the spot lay almost directly between the climbing claw marks on the other side of the wall and Lord Ting’s chair. That must’ve been how the assassin had come in and out.
>
If the assassin had needed climbing claws, they couldn’t have possibly scaled the wall holding a repeating crossbow. Maybe strapped to their back, but Repeaters were heavy, and if the killer were in a hurry… No, in all likelihood, they would’ve left it behind. Or disassembled it and scattered the pieces.
But no, the telltale parts of an imperial Repeater were fire-resistant eldarwood, and even if they did burn, the metal components would’ve survived. Picking through the nearby rubble revealed nothing of interest. No wonder, given how thorough the clan had probably scoured the scene. He climbed through the remains of the veranda and walked toward where the claw marks would be on the opposite side of the wall.
In the grass near the wall, something glinted in the late afternoon sun. He hurried over and picked up a metal peg—part of the cranking mechanism of a repeating crossbow. He’d taken apart and reassembled dozens in his life, and all used standard parts. While exactly the same length as a standard imperial issue part, this one was made of bronze instead of steel.
More connections to the North, home to many bronze foundries. If they could cast beautiful statues, it would be even easier to make a simple rod. All they had to do was make a mold from an imperial steel pin.
Now, why had the assassin been so careless as to drop it here, when everything else about the plan had been so exact? Tapping his chin, he looked at the wall and found the same climbing claw markings. He stuck his finger in the holes and found they went to the identical depth as the ones on the other side.
“Hey!” a gruff voice yelled from the entrance.
Heart leaping into his throat, Tian turned.
A scowling man in red robes drew a broadsword and pointed at him. “Come over here.”
Tian swallowed hard. He wasn’t even supposed to be in the capital. If this was an authority…
Wen had said this was an exact copy of the Peony Garden, which meant there was a back gate. Though this newcomer had longer legs, he would either have to run around the ruins, or pick his way through it, slowing him down.
Tian bolted toward the back.
“He’s over here!” The man gave chase in long lopes, closing the distance to the burnt ruins faster than Tian covered the space between the side and rear yards.
At this rate, it would be close. Tian’s heart hammered as he ran. The man rounded the side of the house just as Tian reached the back gate.
Charred timbers lay in a haphazard pile, but it looked like there’d be enough space for him to pick his way through. Chest heaving, Tian climbed over one beam and ducked under another. Pain bit into the back of his hand as he scraped it on something. The gate was right there.
He was on all fours, crawling toward the opening, when a hand clamped down on his pant leg.
Tian was halfway out from under the fallen timbers and into the alley. Crawling on all fours, he yanked on his leg to no avail. The man’s pull drew him inexorably closer, and the silk pants showed no sign of tearing. Capture in the capital, from which he’d been banished, meant a slow death.
“Stop struggling, Fatty!” the man bellowed.
What would a Black Fist do if their clothes snagged on something?
Gulping hard, Tian loosed the pants’ drawstrings and lifted his knees. The pants ripped away, and he scuttled forth, out from under the debris.
“Come back, you little shit!”
Tian bolted down the alley, even as his stomach twisted. The man had yelled to some companions, which meant there could be more pursuers. Maybe they’d even round the wall ahead of him, cutting off the escape route.
He made it to the alley’s intersection with a road. Looking both ways, he found he was close to the reservoir along the northern edge of the Floating World. To the south, a new man in red rounded the corner.
His eyes met Tian’s. “There he is!”
Heart pounding, Tian dashed across the street into the next alley. The Peony Garden lay up ahead, where Jie could probably help him.
Chapter 6
Blocks away from the Peony Garden, Jie sniffed the air, picking up on Tian’s red bean paste scent. It had grown more noticeable the further west she went. Which meant the kid had no sense of direction, if he’d followed Wen’s instructions to meet at the Red Boat Theater.
Back at the Peony Garden, she’d stared down Gardener Ju, to create as much of a diversion as possible for Tian to escape. When the House guards had come to show her the exit, she’d dipped into a terse bow and left. Old Feng followed close on her heels, all acting skill forgotten. It was no wonder he only played minor parts in his troupe.
No doubt, the sharp Gardener had seen through his act. Which meant that her sending guards in search of Tian was not meant to reunite a lost son with a frantic father. No, she’d always been an avaricious woman. She never did anything if it didn’t benefit her, and saw Tian as a bounty to be claimed.
No matter what, Jie had to find him first. If he had sense, he’d hide among all the men now milling about the Floating World.
Old Feng had cleared his throat. “I need to get back to the theater. So, about the balance of my fee…”
Jie peered at him. “I’ve seen shadow puppets with a better range of facial expression. You’ll get paid when you help me find Tian.”
He pursed his lips. “Fine. I’ll go this way.” He pointed in the direction of the theater.
That had been ten minutes ago. She looked up at the Iridescent Moon, now waning to half-crescent. Twelve minutes ago. With Tian’s short legs and extra weight, he couldn’t have gotten far.
Maybe he could hide? With the sun close to setting, the Floating World’s red lanterns would cast the streets in a pink glow. He wouldn’t know how to work the angled shadows. Following his scent, she worked her way west.
Tian’s red bean paste aroma grew stronger, and her gut knotted as it mingled with the bitter scent of charred wood. The burnt husk of the Chrysanthemum Pavilion came into view, or at least, the chimney which had survived the fire.
She swallowed hard. She’d last been back several days ago, in the immediate aftermath of the explosion she’d barely escaped, to help collect evidence. If time healed all wounds, not enough of it had passed.
That was neither here nor there. Unsurprisingly, Tian had apparently figured out that the Chrysanthemum Pavilion was the actual site, and had gone to investigate. The boy had more intuition in his pinkie than most. It left little room for common sense. Squaring her shoulders, she broke into as fast a run as her dress would allow.
Several passersby’s gazes fell on her. They whispered among themselves, but her elf ears picked up their furtive conversations:
“It’s Jie.”
“She’s in a hurry.”
“Which House does she belong to now?”
“I heard the Fangs in the Trench bought her contract.”
“I had a bid on her virginity.”
“Too bad, how that worked out.”
“I’d still sell my mother off to pay for a night with a half-elf.”
Having unique, exotic features made her instantly recognizable, one reason the clan felt she might be a liability on operations. Maybe they were right.
Ignoring the hushed excitement of pathetic men, she made it to the front gate of the Chrysanthemum Pavilion ruins.
Her heart squeezed. She’d spent six years of her life here, all with Lilian.
Something else was here now: a new smell, or rather several. The Peony Garden’s lavender fragrance mingled with steel and minute traces of red bean paste. Tian had been here, and the Peony Garden’s guards had followed him not long after. There was no sign of any of them now, though.
With a deep breath, she ducked under the city watch’s rope line, and into the grounds. Tian’s and the men’s scents diverged, the different concentrations indicating they’d passed through the courtyard a quarter of an hour apart. She followed Tian’s dissipating smell into the remains of the mansion’s common room.
It’d been here that Lilian had assassina
ted Lord Ting, a devout vassal of the emperor who kept the North from rebelling. It had been an ingenious plan, one which Jie hadn’t seen coming until it was too late to stop.
Lilian had spared Jie. Their mutual affection had been their weakness, and only one of them had survived.
If Tian was correct with his observation—and it made sense, given the angle at which the crossbow bolt hit Lord Ting—there’d been one more accomplice somewhere along the east side of the room. Jie picked her way through the rubble to the spot in front of the ruined stage. The area had been disturbed recently, given the scuffs in the charred floors. Tian must’ve looked around for a few minutes before the Peony Garden guards caught up with him.
She sniffed the air again. The red bean paste scent picked up the further east she went, through the ruins of the veranda and all the way to the compound’s eastern edge. There, telltale signs of climbing claws dug into the walls. Which meant, someone trained in Black Lotus ways had used this point of insertion. Surely not Lilian: she could jump and catch the top of the wall and climb. Someone else.
One of the other twenty-six clan sisters embedded in the Floating World? Before last week, it wouldn’t have been imaginable. Usually, a Black Fist would fill the holes to hide evidence of their passing; so whoever it was had been in a hurry. They were also a little taller than Jie, given the distance between the marks.
The clan had missed this evidence a week ago. Of course, based on her own account of the murder, they had no reason to suspect a second shooter. Tian had somehow found this very spot. He might be out of shape and far behind in Black Lotus training, but he was proving his worth already.
She continued following his scent trail to the rear of the compound, where fallen timbers blocked the gate. Tian’s pants draped over one of them, and fresh blood stained another. He’d been in a hurry to get out, and since he probably hadn’t paused to relieve himself, his pursuers had snagged his pants. Likely the former, since the guard’s smell was nearly as strong as Tian’s here.
With a running jump, she grabbed the top of the wall and scrambled up. From the higher vantage point, she looked down the empty alley. No sign of a pants-less boy running around. No one—
