by Jeff Wheeler
Xisi strolled in, a smug look on her face. “Husband. We must talk.”
The bird landed on one of the rafters. It was terrified, and Bingmei tried to calm it down as the doors closed behind them, blocking its escape.
“Husband,” Xisi repeated. “Come out. We must talk.”
The grinding of stone sounded as the sarcophagus lid scraped against the edge. The sound made the bird jumpy. As the lid moved aside, she saw the pale hand of Echion reach out and push it over. He sat up in the crypt, wearing a silk robe, and gazed down at his wife with disdain and anger. A woman cowered next to him, wrapped in a silk sheet, which she hugged to herself in fear. Echion stepped over the edge, his bare feet touching the floor. He was huge, muscular, and smoldering at the interruption.
“Why did you come?” he asked with disdain. “I have no desire to see you.”
“I can see that your desire is occupied elsewhere,” she said back with a taunting smile. “But this news could not wait. I knew you would want to hear it immediately.”
“News? What news? I already know about General Tzu’s pitiable fleet. They should be arriving before nightfall.”
“That soon?”
“They think to take me by surprise,” Echion said, folding the robe closed and wrapping a sash around his waist. “The fools. My dragons have been watching them prepare. So your visit was unnecessary. When I wish to speak to you, I will summon you.”
“But that is not the news, Husband. While you’ve been preparing for this one-sided war, I’ve been searching for the child.”
Echion’s eyes widened. “Did you find her?”
Xisi nodded and bowed to him.
Echion’s expression altered. He was suddenly interested. He started toward her.
“Where is the babe?” he demanded hungrily.
“It was already dead. Drowned in the flood that you caused. Some birds were pecking at it, poor thing. My dragon devoured it and learned it was the infant we’ve been searching for.”
Echion’s eyes glittered with satisfaction. “Indeed, this is joyful news. All we need is to destroy the woman. And we have won.”
“We have already won, Echion,” she said, stepping toward him. Even though Bingmei couldn’t smell it, she knew Xisi was lying. “No one can defeat us both. You are far too cunning.” Echion lifted an eyebrow. “To celebrate our victory, I brought you a gift. A bottle of ice wine recently arrived from Sajinau. And I will let you have one of my servants as a concubine. You choose which.”
Bingmei heard the gasps of the girls who’d accompanied her. She clearly hadn’t shared her plan with them.
“A gift? What trickery is this?” Echion mused. “You never seek to please me.”
“A bribe, more like,” said Xisi. “One of your concubines . . . I do not like her. I think she pleases you too much. I want to kill her.”
“Jealous woman, which one?”
“I don’t know her name. One loses track among so many. But she recently gave birth to a daughter, poor thing. I want her dead.”
“She means nothing to me,” Echion said with a chuff.
“Whether or not you are lying, I don’t know. She conceived, which is rare enough. Perhaps you’ll try to get a son out of her. I don’t want a rival yet. So I thought my news would . . . soften your mood.”
“And you know I like ice wine,” Echion said.
“Your enemy will be defeated today. Our rival is dead. We win . . . again.”
Echion was already gazing at the maidens Xisi had brought, his eyes inflamed with lust. “It doesn’t happen often, your attempts to please me. Very well. You can kill the woman. It doesn’t matter to me. I want . . . that one.”
He pointed to one of the handmaids, the woman Xisi had accused of liking Echion.
“She’s yours,” Xisi said impassively.
The girl cowered with fear. She was the one holding the bottle of ice wine.
“Come, maidens,” Xisi said, turning to go.
“Hold,” commanded Echion. He padded over to the trembling girl and took the stone bottle from her.
“Let us drink to our victory, Xisi. You take the first sip.”
A sly smile spread on his lips.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Po
Bingmei felt the little bird’s trembling heart. It wanted to flee the chamber, but the doors were closed. In another moment, it would start panicking and try to escape. Bingmei soothed the bird, trying to calm it. She wondered at Xisi’s ploy, which seemed too obvious. Why hadn’t she foreseen Echion’s distrust?
“Share such a delicacy? I’d assumed you’d be selfish,” she replied.
“I’m feeling magnanimous today,” Echion said. His eyes narrowed. “Drink it.”
“Very well. Baihe,” she said to the girl who had been chosen, “pour us both some wine.”
“Y-yes, mistress,” said the girl, who still seemed to be reeling. Her eyes shifted to Echion, and Bingmei wondered at the look in her eyes. Did she harbor secret hopes to take Xisi’s place? She walked to a nearby table to retrieve a pair of goblets made of gold and jewels.
The bird launched itself into the air, despite Bingmei’s pleading, and was soon zooming around the rooftop.
Xisi looked up at the bird flapping wildly above.
Echion broke the seal on the stone bottle with his bare hands. He breathed in its scent, again his look full of suspicion.
Baihe brought the cups to Echion, and he filled them with wine. The bird smashed into one of the wooden screens in its panic to escape, jarring Bingmei’s connection to it.
Please be still! You will get out, but don’t fly again until the doors are opened. You’ll only get hurt.
The bird nestled at the edge of the window, trembling with pain and confusion. Sunlight streamed in through the sculpted slats of the window, but the gaps weren’t large enough for it to escape. Bingmei’s heart went out to the little bird. It wasn’t just a creature to be used and destroyed. She wanted to help it escape.
Echion set the stone bottle down on the edge of the sarcophagus, which was now empty. The girl inside had slunk away during the conversation. Xisi took one of the cups from her former handmaiden.
When Echion took the other cup, his hand brushed the girl’s. She peeked at him, her cheeks beginning to flush.
“Thank you for your gift of the girl,” he said, nodding, holding forth his cup as if to salute her. “You normally do not accommodate me so easily.”
Xisi held her cup low and shrugged.
“You are stalling. Drink it.”
If she felt any dread, the Dragon Queen didn’t show it. This was a strange thing for Bingmei to wonder about, and she realized how other people questioned things in their lives. But the queen raised it to her lips and began to tilt it back.
“Wait,” Echion said, stopping her. She paused, looking at him.
“Change cups with me,” he said. “You normally wait a few years before trying to kill me.”
Her look was startled, concerned. “Why? You told me to drink it.”
“I’ve changed my mind. Drink this one instead.” He thrust his goblet at her.
Xisi took a small step back. Her face betrayed doubt, but Bingmei wondered if that was part of the deception she couldn’t smell. Had Xisi taken the poisoned cup on purpose? Bingmei watched her duplicity with admiration.
“Come, Echion, if you don’t want—”
He cut her off, striding forward and grabbing the goblet from her hand. He set it down, and when she flinched, he grabbed her by the back of the neck.
“Drink it,” he commanded, offering his own goblet to her.
“Let go of me!” she snarled.
“Drink it.”
“Why would I seek to harm you now?” Xisi said. She took the cup, but Echion kept hold of it. He helped lift it to her mouth.
“Why indeed?” Echion said and chuckled. He watched as she raised the cup to her lips and willingly took a deep swallow. Then she smiled patiently at him.
“That is a good wine,” she said, licking her painted lips. “We have forestalled the Reckoning again, Husband. Because of your wisdom and cunning. And mine.” She nodded and took another sip.
Echion looked surprised. The bird at the window didn’t move. It felt Bingmei’s soothing concern and just maintained its perch. She watched the scene with deep interest.
Echion took the cup he’d put down, the one he’d snatched from Xisi, and raised it in salute.
Xisi’s smile was almost tender as he drank from it.
And began to choke.
Bingmei watched as Echion dropped to his knees, as if a dozen knives had been hurled into his stomach at once. His face distorted into a grotesque mask of anguish. He dropped the goblet with a resounding clang, and fell face-first on the tiles. He heaved once, twice, and then vomited out the wine. It looked like blood.
“I will enjoy ruling the next eon without you,” she said.
Xisi then turned away from him and walked away, looking smug and defiant and more than a little self-satisfied. Her trickery had worked. She knew her victim’s character and had exploited that knowledge against him.
The other maidens followed Xisi out, some glancing back to stare in horror at the emperor mewling with pain on the floor. Baihe knelt by his side, staring at him in concern.
When they reached the doors, Xisi drew a glyph in the air with her finger, and the doors pushed open on their own.
Now, Bingmei whispered to the bird, and it swooped out of the Hall of Memory. Echion lifted his head, glaring at the bird with utter hatred and malice.
Bingmei opened her eyes from her trance. She felt her strength returning. The pain from her fight with Mieshi and Zhuyi was gone. Echion was mortal now. He could be killed. Yes, he remained powerful, but he was vulnerable in his weakened condition. Xisi had fulfilled her part of the Xieyi pact.
Bingmei stared at Zhuyi and Mieshi, the two left behind to guard her. They had weapons, she did not. She could not hope to reason with them. But she still had to escape.
The day slipped away, her agitation increasing. If she ever got free, she determined that she would never permit a bird to be caged again. Her guards remained vigilant, watching her unceasingly, without any sign of boredom. They seemed soulless.
Which made her think. She knew the Immortal Words that could bring a person back from the dead. Shui, Xue, Po, drawn with blood, ash, and water. She had used them to bring Quion back to life.
But what if the ritual was completed without the last word—the glyph of spirit. Would it restore the body-soul without reinstating the spirit?
Could her bond sisters yet be saved?
A fragrance of honey came into the room. Bingmei blinked. It was the smell of hope. It did not come from the other two. It wafted in from the windows above. She heard the flutter of wings and recognized the presence of the siskin. With eyes fixed on Mieshi and Zhuyi, she reached out to the bird. It was perched at the window frame outside, and she saw Marenqo walking stealthily down the way, approaching the door. The smell came from him.
Bingmei unfurled her legs and stepped off the bed. She stretched her arms and shook blood into her hands.
Mieshi and Zhuyi looked at her dispassionately and stopped leaning against the far wall.
“You can’t escape, Bingmei,” Zhuyi said.
“We won’t let you,” Mieshi added.
“But I cannot stay here,” Bingmei said, lifting her voice firm and strong so that it would carry outside. “You were once my sisters. My friends. Come Mieshi. Zhuyi. Let us be friends again.”
“We serve the mistress,” said the two in unison.
“Mieshi. Zhuyi. Please don’t make me do this. Open the door and let me go. Echion has been weakened. He can be killed now. This is our chance to set things right. Please.”
She spoke the words for Marenqo, knowing that the women would not heed her. The sweet, tart scent of surprise drifted through the window.
“Open the door,” Bingmei said firmly.
They ignored her.
“Open the door!” Bingmei said again, and then smelled Marenqo’s sharpened awareness. He’d realized that she was speaking to him.
The siskin chirped encouragingly at him, and she saw him reach for the handle. He tried twisting it, but it was locked. The knob jiggled, drawing Mieshi’s and Zhuyi’s eyes.
Bingmei rushed at them both. They saw her coming, and immediately the three of them were trading kicks, blocks, and punches. Bingmei tried to incapacitate Mieshi with a dianxue blow, but the other woman thrust her forearm down, blocking the attempt. Zhuyi punched Bingmei in the chest, followed by a double kick, which Bingmei managed to sidestep and evade. With two against one, the match would be short unless Marenqo could get the door open.
Bingmei ducked low and swept Zhuyi off her feet, only to find Mieshi coming around to hammer a fist into her skull. The blow glanced off her, causing a jolt of pain.
The door finally smashed open, broken off its hinges by Marenqo’s side kick.
Mieshi looked at him and then leaped, kicking wildly at his head. Zhuyi flipped back up, and now it was two on two, the odds much easier.
There was no time to think, only to fight. Zhuyi drew her saber in a fluid move, and Bingmei lunged forward to grab her wrist. She got ahold of it, but lost it when Zhuyi violently smashed her elbow into Bingmei’s lip, cutting it against a tooth. She kneed Zhuyi in the stomach and used her own weight to shove the woman against the wall. Zhuyi slammed her forehead down to collide with Bingmei’s, but Bingmei jerked her head aside in time, kneeing her opponent again in the stomach. Zhuyi kicked her back, then swept the sword around. If Bingmei hadn’t ducked, it would have taken off her head. She grappled once again for Zhuyi’s sword arm and then jabbed her elbow into the other warrior’s ribs. Moving quickly, she drew a dianxue symbol that froze Zhuyi, who then thumped to the floor.
Marenqo was losing his fight with Mieshi, but his heart wasn’t in it. He didn’t want to hurt her. Bingmei smelled his resistance. He was fighting to save Bingmei, but it hurt him to strike at a woman he respected and had traveled with for a long time. A woman who felt nothing except blind loyalty to their enemy.
Bingmei saw that the rune staff had been dropped by the wall, and she snatched it up. Mieshi saw her out of the corner of her eye and lunged a kick at her. It struck Bingmei in the stomach, knocking her back into the wall. Mieshi turned, drawing back her fist to punch, but Marenqo slipped his arm around her neck and hoisted her off her feet in a choke hold.
Mieshi flailed, trying to free herself, but Marenqo tightened the grip.
“Please stop,” Marenqo hissed, fear surging in his chest. It was a hold that could not only make someone pass out, it could also be fatal if held for too long.
Mieshi thrashed, slamming him in the ribs, trying to get a grip on his shirt. Bingmei touched her chest and drew the glyph that froze her in place. Marenqo, panting, slowly let her down. He cradled her head on his lap.
“Thank you for coming,” Bingmei said, winded herself.
He looked up at her, his mouth twitching. “I thought I was going crazy. Or that little finch was. It kept coming back with pieces of silk that reminded me of your hair, and now I see it’s changed back again!”
“I know. I sent the bird to find you.”
“You sent . . . a bird?”
She was so thrilled to see him again, to know that he had survived. To know that he was still himself. “A bird.”
Marenqo sighed. “That’s not the strangest thing that’s happened to me so far. But pretty close. So . . . you’re here to kill Echion, then? He can be killed? Please tell me you’re not joking.”
“There is too much to explain,” Bingmei said, kneeling down by him and Mieshi. “I’m going to try to restore their spirits.”
“Do you think you can?” Marenqo said eagerly. His smell of honey intensified, but he noticed his own reaction and tried to subdue it. “I mean, that’s a good thing. These two used to be such friends.” An
other smell—a little bit of jealousy. Marenqo’s emotions were a mess.
“Get me some ash from the brazier,” she told him.
He followed her instructions immediately, as if eager for something to do. There were some coals still glowing inside, but also plenty of ash, so he scooped some up with the tongs and brought it over to her.
“I’m not sure now is a good time to remind you that you tried to bring Jiaohua back to life . . . and it didn’t work. Not that I don’t want you to try, Bingmei, but let’s be realistic.”
He had no idea what she’d been through. “Let me give it a try,” she said. She dabbed her finger on the ash in his palm and then looked into Mieshi’s face. She was still paralyzed by the dianxue blow, but showed no resistance, no desperation.
Bingmei drew on her forehead the glyph Po and whispered the word. It was the glyph of spirit, of soul. First water, then blood, then spirit. It was the combination for rebirth.
A tingling sensation went up Bingmei’s arm and into her shoulder. And then it was like uncorking a bottle of ice wine. The air immediately filled with fresh emotion. Mieshi was fully alive again, fully awake, and she smelled of grief, of joy at her new freedom, of respect and gratitude for Bingmei for delivering her, and even a little flowery scent when her eyes met Marenqo’s.
The dianxue glyph was still in effect, so she couldn’t move, but her eyes looked human again. Her feelings flickered through them.
“Did it . . . did it work?” Marenqo asked, stunned.
Bingmei released the dianxue hold, and Mieshi quickly sat up. Marenqo backed away, afraid she might attack, but she flung her arms around Bingmei’s neck and hugged her.
“Thank you, Sister,” she whispered thickly. The smell of gratitude was overwhelming.
Bingmei hugged her back. “I can smell you again,” she said, laughing.
Mieshi squeezed her and then looked over at Marenqo. “I’m so sorry,” she said, which was accompanied by the smell of guilt.
Marenqo frowned. “I survived. I’m not angry.”
Bingmei wondered how they had punished him. She thought she knew, and it sickened her. Her eyes fell on Zhuyi, who still lay on the ground, and she traced the glyph on her forehead too, uttering the Immortal Word as she did so. Zhuyi had been partially revived for longer, but her emotions returned just as quickly as Mieshi’s had. Longing filled Zhuyi, along with a smell of wonder and fulfillment. Bingmei released the dianxue hold, and Zhuyi also rose, hugging Bingmei first.
