by Jeff Wheeler
Did Xisi intend to take him as her own?
“I’m so sorry, Bingmei,” Quion said, weeping. “I . . . I couldn’t stop her from taking him. The next thing I knew, I was in those dark streets. The symbol of the black dragon was everywhere. It was terrifying. I saw my father . . . you r-remember him, right?”
Bingmei nodded, trying to suppress the agony of suspense in her heart.
“He said my mother was lost in the maze somewhere and we had to search for her. I went with him, and all he could do was talk about finding her. If we both looked, he thought we’d manage it. But I was only there for a little while before I was yanked out of the Grave Kingdom like a fish on a hook. I saw you kneeling by me, watching me, and I knew you were the one who’d brought me back.”
Again she felt grateful for the power that had helped her do it. But the pain of losing her child was unbearable. She blinked away tears, clenching her fists and slamming them against the rocks despite the pain.
“Bingmei,” Quion said, gripping her arm. “You have to save him. You have to.”
That was her earnest intention. She looked him in the eye. “You did your best, Quion. And I’m grateful for it. If you had still been alive . . . Xisi would have killed you. I have no doubt about that. But I can’t stay with you. I have to go after them.”
Quion nodded. “Are you going to Fusang?”
“Yes. She’ll keep him right under Echion’s nose. She has the power to protect offspring. He’s a boy, not a girl. Even the Iron Rules won’t win out. I can’t believe this has happened. I’m still stunned by it. They were waiting for us to cross there.” She clenched her fists even harder and shook them. “They were watching for us. And like fools we fell into their trap.”
“It’s not your fault,” Quion said, shaking his head.
“It is,” she retorted angrily, but pain quickly overwhelmed her anger. “My son. My poor son. I have to get him back, Quion. Whatever she’s planning.”
“I know,” Quion said, gazing into her eyes tenderly. “You must go on alone. I can’t keep up with you.”
“I’m sorry, Quion,” she said, her voice trembling. “I have to go. Now.”
“I know,” he said again. “I’ve got the cricket. I’ll be able to cross the Death Wall.”
She stared at him and saw how defenseless he was. The cricket would help him, but he still needed protection that she could no longer provide.
“Go to Sihui,” she told him, pulling the short sword from her belt. The polished blade was stained with black. She set it down next to him. “I will meet you there. Tell General Tzu what we know about Echion’s plans. How he plans to lure him on shore before unleashing the dragons. And take the blade. I’ve taught you the glyph that will protect you from the killing fog. Teach it to the others if you get there first. I’ll bring Shixian to Sihui when I’ve freed him.”
Quion nodded boldly. “Fly, phoenix. Fly.”
By the time Bingmei reached Fusang, she was utterly exhausted. She had flown throughout the night, soaring past the sentries patrolling the Death Wall, over icy glaciers, and between huge mountain passes. The Phoenix Blade and Rowen’s presence both guided her. The blade was still in the palace of Fusang, and she wondered if Echion were even guarding it now. Could she possibly reclaim it?
Weary to the bone, she stopped at the phoenix pagoda atop the hill north of the city, the one where her ensign had taken shelter from the killing fog unleashed by Echion.
There was still snow in the mountains, but she’d passed over waterfalls that were now starting to release the melted ice. Thick clumps of snow still clung to the shadowed side of the pine trees, but elsewhere they were a lustrous green. The air was fresh with their scent.
She sat down cross-legged in the center of the pagoda and set the staff across her lap. Lethargy made her want to stretch out on the ground, but it wasn’t as powerful as her need to know what had happened to her son. She loosened the muscles in her neck and back. Even though the wings were spiritual things, they exhausted her physically when she used them.
There were birds all over the woods on the hill, but she knew there were finches kept in cages in Xisi’s palatial rooms. Her consciousness fled to that place on the wings of a series of birds, and she entered the room undetected, finding the finches chirping and eating from a pile of seeds deposited in the feeder tray. She saw Xisi immediately, thronged by maids who were brushing and combing her hair.
“You have hands made of silk,” Xisi crooned to one of the girls. “You will do well here. Bring me a mirror.”
The girl promptly obeyed, attracting the bird’s attention. Bingmei searched around the room with its eyes, looking for the basket or any signs of the baby. She heard no crying or fussing. Nor did she smell her son in the room. Of course, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t smell when traveling through the birds—it was a stark reminder of the usefulness of the ability she’d spent most of her life hating.
“When will the emperor return?” one of the girls asked politely.
“You are missing him already?” Xisi asked in a playful voice, but the tone was belied by the predatory look in her eyes.
“N-no, my lady,” said the girl, ashamed. “I serve only you! I do not want to be a concubine.”
“Do you find him handsome, Baihe?”
“No. He is repulsive! I would rather be wed to a toad.”
Xisi arched an eyebrow. “You try to flatter me. I wish I had Bingmei’s gift myself. It would be so useful. But then, I’d probably grow tired of it. The dragon is hunting, that’s all you need know. Be loyal to me, and you will survive this place. Sometimes the Dragon of Night rules. Other times it is the Dragon of Dawn.” A wicked smile curled her lips.
Another maidservant entered and then prostrated herself on the floor before Xisi.
“Rise, pet. Did you find her? Is she willing?”
“She is honored to serve you in secret, my lady,” said the girl after she rose.
Bingmei watched and listened carefully.
“She knows I will have her tongue if she ever speaks of it to anyone?” Xisi asked archly.
“Yes, great one. She never wanted to be one of Echion’s concubines. But her daughter was slain according to the Iron Rules, and now she hates him with a vengeful fury. She has milk, my lady. She will feed the child in secret. She . . . she asked if you’d given your son a name?”
“I have,” said Xisi. The girls had finished arranging the combs and pins in her long, luxuriant hair. She rose and made a gesture of annoyance so the girls backed away.
They waited in anticipation. So did Bingmei.
“I have named him . . . Chushuile,” Xisi said. “Any child born to an immortal, such as we are, will have special gifts. I will raise him to be a great warrior. A skilled counselor. A wise sage. But for now, little Shuile must remain hidden. Lest the dragon grow jealous too soon. Now. Sing to me. I am weary from the hunt.”
Some of the girls picked up instruments and began plucking the strings. Three others began to sing quietly, their voices soothing and graceful.
Bingmei gazed at Xisi through the eyes of the finch. If the bird had been a hawk, she would have tried to coax it into attacking the queen. After a while, Bingmei realized no more secrets would be revealed, and so she flitted from bird to bird within the palace. She went to the concubines’ area, which she’d stayed in as a prisoner, trying to find the woman who had experienced the death of her baby. Looking for signs of Shixian. She went from branch to branch, from roof edge to roof edge, but her quest did not succeed.
Sitting inside a dove perched atop the Hall of Memory, she watched the servants bustle about in the full courtyard below her. Guards patrolled the walls and the various courtyards. Some were training with staves, others with spears—all meiwood weapons.
Across the way, the sun gleamed off the roof of the Hall of Unity. She’d sensed Rowen’s presence upon her arrival in Fusang; he was still being held captive there. A single blackbird stood on the roof beam. She
went to it and asked if it would fly to the window. It was an adventurous bird and winged through the window without any more coaxing.
The windows were large enough for a person of her size to fit through, and the closed slats were still wide enough for a bird. Could she attempt to do just that at night? The room below was dark, but she could see the stained wood and simple craftsmanship of the furnishings.
There was Rowen, kneeling with his hands on his knees, head bowed in meditation. A thin beard covered his jaw. His eyes were closed.
The blackbird flew around the room and then landed on the rafters.
She watched Rowen’s head cock slightly, as if responding to the sound.
“Hello, little bird,” he said. Then he paused. “Is that you, Bingmei?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The Blind One
When Bingmei heard him say those words, she thrilled inside. He rose from his meditative position and walked in her direction. She noticed that his eyes were unfocused and still had the milky gray of blindness. But he sidestepped the couch without using his hands to guide himself. He wore nondescript black clothing, no finery, just a white collar and little rope ends fastened into buttons and hooks. It was a peasant’s garb—a marked contrast to the fine silks worn by Echion and Xisi—and yet he seemed more regal than he ever had.
When he stood beneath the rafter that the blackbird had flown to, he held up his palm. “Come down, little bird. I won’t hurt you.”
With her thoughts, she coaxed the blackbird down, promising that it would be safe, like landing on a tree branch. The bird hesitated, for her instructions went against its instincts, but it was a trusting creature. It picked up crumbs left by humans all the time and knew how to dodge and flit away when there were too many.
Come on, Bingmei thought to it. Go down.
The blackbird fluttered its wings and then soared down to perch on Rowen’s palm. It hopped a moment, looking for food.
Stay, she told it. Please.
The blackbird did.
Rowen smiled, and even with the scraggly beard, she thought him handsome. Of course, she had always thought him handsome. And he was younger than the Rowen she’d seen on her visit to the palace in the future. The little bird bobbed its head in curiosity, gazing up at the prince.
“Is it you?” he asked, mirroring the words he’d used before. “Is it?”
She wished she could speak through the bird. That she could assure him that he not only held the trembling bird in his palm, but also her.
“I feel you nearby,” he whispered, holding the bird close to his face. “You’ve flown from the north. Are you at the shrine on top of the hill? Are you really that close?”
I am, she thought with urgency. Can you hear me, Rowen?
“I knew a little bird like you,” he said. “A little siskin. It came to me after I was blinded by the dragon’s blood. I could heal the others, but not myself. It guided me through the woods. And it has helped ease my loneliness. You’re a different bird. I wonder what color you are?”
The smile on his mouth made her heart ache.
I’m here, Rowen. I’m here.
“Did she send you, little bird? Or did you come to sing to me, like your sisters? I love the sound of it. It reminds me of the hanging trees in Sajinau. Is this the fulfillment of the vision I had? It feels . . . familiar. Is this when you come to break me out of this lonely prison, Bingmei? Oh, little bird, if only you could speak.”
She wanted to tell him about their son, about the future she’d glimpsed. But she was just as helpless to speak now as she had been then. The little bird grew impatient for food, and she felt it prepare to flee.
And then she sensed a presence in the shadows. They were growing thicker, darker. A menacing shape began to take form.
Fly! Fly!
The blackbird soared away as the smoke coalesced into its dragon shape. Bingmei saw its yellow eyes fix on the bird, which raced away in a panic. As it burst out the window, she saw the siskin finch on the rooftop of the palace. It hadn’t been there before. She lunged into it. As her awareness settled within the little bird, she felt a keen intelligence and a willing spirit.
To the window, she thought to it, and the siskin immediately obeyed. Was this the same bird that had helped her escape the Death Wall? The one that had followed and helped her and Quion along the way? An eager throb of excitement came from the bird’s heart at her thought.
The siskin flew toward a different window from the one the blackbird had used, reaching it just in time for Bingmei to see the dragon finish transforming into the pale-haired Echion.
“Who’s there?” Rowen asked, his tone betraying worry.
“Can you not smell me, princeling?” Echion sneered and backhanded Rowen across the mouth, dropping him to the floor. Fury flooded Bingmei, even more so when she saw the trickle of blood from his lip.
Rowen remained down on his knees. “I . . . I didn’t know it was you, grand one. Forgive me.”
Echion’s mouth was twisted into a disdainful frown. He paced in front of Rowen, his armor snug around his body, his hair windblown. He looked as if he’d just arrived from their battle.
“Where is she?” Echion demanded.
Rowen, cowering, didn’t look up. “Who?”
Echion kicked him in the chest, knocking him from his knees. Bingmei’s mind blazed with fury. Attacking someone so defenseless was a cowardly act. Then again, what else could she expect from a man who’d ordered a generation of babies be slain?
“If you continue to mock my intelligence, I will lose my patience with you. There can be no doubt of whom I speak. She has had a child with that worm. The fisherman’s son.”
Something flashed in Rowen’s eyes, jealousy perhaps, but the look quickly faded.
“She’s made her choice, Rowen. She gave herself to that other boy. Why protect her now? She never wanted you. You meant nothing to her.”
Bingmei wanted to scream at Echion for his deliberate lies.
Rowen, wincing, pushed himself up on his arm. “You’ve already taken everything from me. You’ve destroyed me. Does it give you pleasure to mock me?”
“I have robbed you of your lust. Consider it a blessing.” Bingmei felt a pang of deep sorrow. What had Rowen endured during his months of confinement?
“I don’t know where she is,” Rowen said with a chuckle. “Yes, she has left the shrine. I thought you went to go fetch her. Or did she outsmart you . . . again?”
Echion glared down at him, but it was a pointless exercise. Rowen couldn’t see the threat in his eyes.
“Are you going to kill me again?” Rowen said. “I saw my father the last time I went to the Grave Kingdom. I’d prefer his company to yours.”
“Insolent fool!” Echion said, storming forward. He bent down and hauled Rowen off the ground, holding him by the front of his shirt. From the expression of pain on Rowen’s face, his fingers gripped skin as well as cloth. Anxiety pulsed through Bingmei until he finally released Rowen, letting him collapse to the floor.
“The baby is dead, and so is the fool fisherman, but I want the girl,” he said angrily. “You are still bound to her. You can find her, just as you did before. Where is she? Has she crossed from the Death Wall?”
“Yes,” Rowen said, massaging his chest.
“I knew it,” Echion said with a grimace. “Where is she now? Sihui?”
“Of course she went to Sihui!” Rowen lied. “She will fight you. She will try again.”
Echion barked a laugh. “It doesn’t matter, princeling. She’s lost. She will fail, just as her predecessors all failed. Now that I know where she is, I will take care of her myself. And I will crush Tzu’s army with one fist.”
“You’re afraid,” Rowen taunted. “You’re afraid of her.”
“Balance is a requirement for the phoenix just as it is for the dragon. She cannot use her full powers as the phoenix-chosen unless she shares a bond with a counterpart. With you. And you’re not leaving Fus
ang. She cannot defeat me. It is impossible. She will run and flee, but I will hunt her until she’s found, and then I will devour her in a hideous manner. I will rule again, and this time my kingdom will not fail.”
Rowen started to rise, but Echion kicked him down again.
“Kneel, worm!”
Rowen’s brow furrowed with pain. He remained on his knees, panting.
Echion took a step closer. “And while I am at Sihui, I will find your sister, for my spies have revealed that she is there with that accursed man Jidi Majia, and I will bring her back here. Her life is in your hands, princeling. Believe me, the life of a concubine is too good for her. There are torments so much worse than those you have endured. Mock me again, and she will suffer for your sins.”
“I understand, grand one,” Rowen said, head bowed meekly.
Hope burned in Bingmei’s breast. She knew where Echion was going. If she could get there first, she could warn General Tzu to prepare for his attack. Would meiwood arrows pierce dragon scales?
Excitement thrummed inside her. If she succeeded in mortally wounding or killing Echion, then the only remaining hurdle keeping her from Shixian would be Xisi.
Echion had his spy at Sihui, but she felt sure she could ferret the person out.
The emperor turned and walked toward the door. As he reached it, he dissolved into shadows, vanishing as surely as if he were using the meiwood spider.
Rowen lifted his head, a grim smile on his mouth as he glanced in the direction Echion had left. “Who is the blind one now?” he murmured to himself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Return to the Eagle Palace
It was an anguishing choice to make. Bingmei wanted to rescue her son before she left for Sihui. But if she tried to search the palace herself, it was only a matter of time before the alarm was raised and every soldier and dragon within the area started hunting her. Yet leaving Shixian behind to be nursed by one of Echion’s concubines was not a choice she relished.
