The Dragon Songs Saga: The Complete Quartet: Songs of Insurrection, Orchestra of Treacheries, Dances of Deception, and Symphony of Fates

by JC Kang

  A handsome man in formal court robes sat on a porcelain garden stool next to a bloodwood table. He appeared older than Hardeep, maybe in his early thirties. Long, glossy black hair framed an oval face with the chiseled jaw and nose of North Hua. He reached for a teacup on the table, the very motion refined, almost effeminate. The unarmed soldier standing a respectful distance behind him wore blue robes, marking him as an officer in the imperial army.

  Xiulan gave Kaiya a firm prod. With no time to prepare herself, she stumbled into the courtyard.

  The officer knelt, fist to the ground. General Lu barely rose before sinking to his knee. “Dian-xia, thank you for honoring me.” His voice echoed off the high courtyard walls.

  “Rise,” Xiulan said, her voice resonating.

  He stood…and barely met Kaiya’s eye level.

  So short! She bowed her head. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting.” Her own words resounded off the walls.

  When his mouth opened, he spoke in a high pitch reminiscent of bird chirps. “Your grace and beauty made the wait worthwhile.” His contrived smile and rote intonation suggested otherwise. If his insincerity didn’t give her a headache, the persistent echo would. He motioned to the garden stool across from him, inviting her to sit.

  With as much grace as she could muster under the circumstances, Kaiya shuffled over and settled on the edge of the stool. General Lu sat across from her, and Xiulan and Kai-Hua sat to the side. The handmaidens and imperial guards deployed in positions around them.

  Meiling took up the kettle and poured tea.

  “Thank you, General,” Xiulan said, “for leaving the unsettled North just to meet Princess Kaiya.”

  He chuckled. “We inflicted heavy casualties on the pale-faced barbarians the last time. I do not think they will be returning soon.”

  “Pale-faced?” Kaiya ventured. “Don’t they stay on their own side of the Great Wall?”

  The officer harrumphed, but General Lu silenced him with a wave of his hand. “I am posted in Wailian County, outside of the wall.”

  That wasn’t possible. Surely, Father wouldn’t approve of establishing colonies in foreign lands. Kaiya turned to Xiulan, who nodded, then back to General Lu. “What can you tell me of Wailian?”

  He laughed. “Had I known we would be discussing the North, I would have come better prepared.”

  “My apologies for Princess Kaiya.” Xiulan bowed her head a fraction.

  General Lu waved a hand, the same motion he had used to silence his own underling. “No need to apologize. The Five Classics say a ruler should know the land, and I would be happy to explain.”

  Heat flared in Kaiya’s cheeks. Not like she would be anything more than a political tool, let alone a ruler. No doubt he was thinking of himself.

  “We annexed Wailian County nearly a year ago,” General Lu continued, “when we discovered abundant reserves of an essential firepowder ingredient. We could not let it fall into barbarian hands. Lord Tong has been building a castle overlooking the mines. A ravine surrounds the castle on three sides, and a sheer cliff drops away on the other side. It is impregnable.”

  Kaiya’s head spun. Hua had invaded a neighbor, just as the Madurans had attacked Prince Hardeep’s Ankira. Though, given the circumstances, it seemed this Lord Tong would be a more appropriate husband than General Lu. She bowed her head. “Thank you for your report.”

  He laughed again, living up to his reputation for arrogance. “Do not worry, Dian-xia. With our guns, Wailian is well-defended.”

  Kaiya’s insides twisted. A lifetime with such a conceited little man, in occupied territory, might be worse than death. If only Avarax could swoop in from the Dragonlands and immolate the courtyard now.

  “That’s enough politics for the day,” Xiulan said. “Princess Kaiya wished to sing for you.”

  Wished, indeed. As if General Lu even cared; he just played along. Kaiya’s face must have flushed redder than Yanluo’s Star, if her hot cheeks were any indication. Yet what choice did she have? She turned to Meiling. “My pipa, please.”

  Bowing, Meiling presented the instrument in two hands.

  “Thank you.” Kaiya extended both arms to receive it. How lifeless it felt compared to Yanyan’s. She tilted her head toward General Lu. “If I may?”

  “Please.” He bowed his head, but not before revealing the tight lips and glassy eyes of boredom.

  Sadness clamped her chest. He would never appreciate her beyond the prestige of her lineage. She took a deep breath and plucked.

  The sound resonated off the high courtyard walls, sending subtle vibrations into her core. Her stomach coiled again, just like it had in the Hall of Pure Melody when she had played for Hardeep. How had she never noticed the sensation before?

  Back straight, shoulders level, feet rooted to the ground, just as Prince Hardeep had suggested. Ah, Prince Hardeep. He was handsome and charming, for sure, but pining over him seemed silly. It must have been those beautiful, hypnotic eyes, convincing her of a happier future than the one for which she was destined. It must have been how the cobra felt when sung to by an Ayuri snake-charmer. How preposterous to consider such an impossibility.

  Closing her eyes, Kaiya plucked out more notes. The book from the Hall of Pure Melody suggested that a skilled performer could project the emotion of a song. Yet for all the happiness this piece embodied, only melancholy trudged in the verses she played. Align your spine, the book implored. Let your heart impel your voice. Kaiya adjusted her posture, and the vibrations spread throughout her.

  There it was, the ocean of power from before, dripping in small drops, the rhythm setting the beat of her music. The song seemed to change of its own accord, and Kaiya’s brain somersaulted in her skull.

  Gasps sheared the air. Robes shuffled. Porcelain shattered on the flagstones.

  Lifting her hand from the strings, Kaiya opened her eyes. Though she’d stopped playing, the music trailed off in the echoes.

  Tears streaked Xiulan’s cheeks, while Kai-Hua and some of the handmaidens freely wept. General Lu…

  He gawked at her. With sadness or anger, it was impossible to tell. Bolting up, he spun on his heel and stumbled out of the courtyard. His officer trailed after him, while Chen Xin and Zhao Yue looked on with what could only be described as bewilderment.

  A cloaked figure materialized out of nothingness, just on the other side of her guards. The pipa slipped from Kaiya’s startled hands and hit the pavestones with a discordant groan. Shaking their heads, Chen Xin and Zhao Yue both swept dao swords from their scabbards and backed into a defensive position.

  Chen Xin pointed the tip of his weapon at the stranger. “Identify yourself.”

  The man strode forward. His hands made no move toward the thin longsword hanging at his side.

  The guards sprang into action, attacking in a synchronized flash of blades that would have eviscerated even a highly skilled warrior. Yet the intruder blurred through the deadly barrage and arrived on the other side unscathed. Without looking back, he waved a hand at the guards, sending both tumbling to the flagstones.

  Interposing herself between Xiulan and the intruder, Kaiya fumbled for the curved dagger tucked in her sash. Not that she stood a chance against someone who could effortlessly defeat two of the realm’s best swordsmen. Her chest squeezed around her pounding heart.

  CHAPTER 11

  Ships And Sailors

  Hua’s magnificent sailing ships might have been dinghies compared to the enormous Tarkothi ship Jie found herself on. She huddled under the roughspun blankets, shivering after her inadvertent swim in Jiangkou’s frigid harbor. Even the midday sun on the black wood deck couldn’t provide enough heat. No telling how hard Tian would be laughing if he could see her quivering like a maiden on her wedding night.

  The only ones looking at her now were the curious faces of light-skinned sailors, likely Arkothi and Estomari from Tivaralan’s east. Some had a darker complexion than the majority, with shorter heights and slimmer builds. Eldaeri hu
mans, the first she’d ever seen. They had traces of elf blood coursing through their veins from millennia before, and perhaps that’s why they’d helped her.

  Even now, her pointed ears picked up the commotion along the docks. Fat Nose Jiang’s henchmen were searching for her, unless the chorus of shouts about a half-naked half-elf girl referred to someone else. Sure, she was safe from them, but minutes slipped by without the clan knowing about the illegal firepowder production and shipments.

  A fair-haired man strode over. His broad shoulders and robust frame nearly split the seams of his green uniform coat. She might have been a bug, the way he scowled at her with those snake eyes. With a sneer, he knelt down and thrust forth a mug of a steaming, aromatic tea, which looked and smelled nothing like tea.

  “Thank you,” Jie said in her best Arkothi. She jutted a hand from underneath the blanket and took it. The cup felt warm, yet did little to chase away the chill from her bones. She took a sip, and nearly spit it out.

  Snake Eyes chortled. “First time drinking coffee? You Cathayi don’t know what you’re missing.” He leaned forward, his face taking in her features. “But you’re not all Cathayi. A curious girl, really. I would wager you are the reason for all the excitement down there?”

  Apparently, no one onboard could speak the Hua language, or perhaps they were testing her. She tightened the blanket around her. Sometimes, half-truths worked better than outright lies. “I was hired to clean up their ship, but then the sailors tried to…tried to…” Blinking away crocodile tears, she cast her eyes at the ground, but peeked up through her lashes to see if her best imitation of a traumatized girl had worked.

  “A ship is no place for a girl, save for the Pirate Queen herself,” a male voice said, the perfect Arkothi enunciated with a tone that bordered on singing.

  Jie turned to find the speaker. A slim man with large dark eyes and a high-bridged nose approached, with a marine to either side. The high collar of his own green coat was embroidered in gold. A captain, perhaps, from the way the men bowed, though no sailor spoke so properly. Not only that, a gold circlet adorned his dark hair.

  She bowed her head. “An orphan takes what job she can.”

  “Ah, poor girl.” Kneeling down, he lifted her chin and studied her. “A half-elf. There are so few of you in this world, always the result of sad circumstances.”

  Sad, for sure, but perhaps not what this man thought. At least, not according to the note pinned to her swaddling blanket when she was left at the gates of the Black Lotus Temple. Still, let him believe what he would, if it would help her cause. She nodded.

  “What’s your name, girl?”

  “Jie.”

  “Jyeh.” The man chewed on the sound. His Arkothi might be impeccable, but apparently, his tongue couldn’t process Hua. “Well, your Arkothi is not bad. Perhaps I can offer you work during our stay?”

  Snake Eyes cleared his throat. “Your Highness, we shouldn’t be harboring strangers. For all we know, she’s a wanted criminal. Let’s hand her over to the men looking for her.”

  Highness. He must be a prince of Tarkoth. The prince held up a hand, silencing Snake Eyes. “So what do you say about that job?”

  She cocked her head. “What kind of job?”

  “I need guidance, and I assume you know the waterfront.”

  More than he could imagine. She nodded.

  “The emperor of Cathay will assign me guides and a translator.” He grinned. “Since these officials aren’t always reliable, I would prefer to have one of my own. We’ll pay you a silver crown a day.”

  With a furrowed forehead, Jie calculated the exchange rate. A silver jiao and two copper fen. Tian would have known automatically, probably to a fraction of a fen.

  The prince’s lips curved into a crooked grin. “What? No shouts of joy?”

  Jie shook her head. “No, it’s just that…well… I need to confer with my friends.”

  “The same ones who got you a job swabbing the deck of a Cathayi trade ship?” The prince stared at the sky.

  Jie cast him a sheepish smile. She had to report to the relay station, but it wouldn’t take much to slip away if this new job description interfered with her real work. “You are right. I accept.”

  Snake Eyes cleared his throat. “Your Highness, we know nothing about her. There are men searching for her.”

  Jie’s breath stilled. She looked from the officer to the leader. As long as they turned her over to the authorities, and not the traitors from the ship…

  He laughed. “It’s not like she could be a spy. Now, tell the quartermaster to check if we have any dresses in our cargo.” He spun on his heel and headed toward the forecastle.

  Jie turned to Snake Eyes. “Who was that?”

  “Prince Aryn of Tarkoth.” The rude officer’s incredulous tone almost made her feel stupid.

  “Why would a prince come all the way to Cathay?”

  Snake Eyes snorted. “He will be attending the wedding of your emperor’s second son.”

  The same reason Master Yan himself was three hours away in the capital. It would also explain why a Tarkothi ship had come all the way to the west coast. Now if only she could get off it and share information about the firepowder with Tian.

  CHAPTER 12

  Challenges

  With the reverberation of the pipa and the clattering of metal on the flagstones still echoing, Kaiya pointed her dagger at the intruder. As if that would deter someone who had just dispatched two imperial guards with even more ease than Prince Hardeep had.

  Her pulse pattered like spring rain on the tiled roofs of Sun-Moon Palace. She swallowed the fear and found her tone of command. “Stand back.”

  The stranger lowered his dark hood, revealing the pointed ears of an elf. Relief washed over her. Lord Xu, her father’s aloof councilor. Though he shared his rarely seen brethren’s slight build and delicate features, he stood as tall as a human did. He let his long golden hair flow freely, caring little about fashion trends that might come and go; he’d undoubtedly seen many in his centuries of life. His violet eyes sparkled with mischief. That, and his youthful appearance belied unknown years of wisdom.

  Behind her, Xiulan and Kai-Hua blew out long sighs.

  Kaiya crossed her arms, frowning. “Lord Xu. You have a flair for the dramatic. Was that necessary?”

  The elf didn’t bother to bow. Her ancestor had decreed that Lord Xu need pay obeisance to no one, not even the Tianzi himself. “I need to keep my skills sharp. Little around here is more challenging than approaching a princess protected by imperial guards.” He looked back and grinned at Chen Xin and Zhao Yue, who staggered to their feet. “Though I guess they hardly constitute a challenge.”

  Both soldiers dropped to one knee, head bowed. Chen Xin held his sword up in two hands. “Dian-xia, forgive our incompetence. If you command it, we will take our own lives as punishment.”

  Xiulan waved them off. “There is no shame in being bested by the councilor. As you were.” She turned back to the elf. “To what do we owe this unexpected visit, Lord Xu?”

  He pointed to the pipa, lying forgotten on the ground. “Twice today, the energy of the world has rippled out from Sun-Moon Palace.”

  Kaiya searched the elf’s unreadable eyes. Twice? The first was with Yanyan’s pipa, which meant the second was just now. With General Lu. Perhaps that was why he had left so abruptly. Excitement tingled in every nerve.

  His stare fixed on Kaiya. “You have finally made a breakthrough in your music.”

  Kaiya’s eyebrows rose. Finally? And where had he been hiding? “You heard it?”

  The elf’s gaze bore into her, ripping away any mental armor she might have. “Felt it. We taught the Hua people to manifest magic through artistic endeavor, but the ability to do so with music—Dragon Songs— was lost. Great masters disappeared one by one, after your great-great-grandfather bade them to play Yanyan’s pipa. Yet without a teacher, you have intuitively figured out the basics.”

  Maybe not
so intuitively, but Xu didn’t have to know about Hardeep. Heat rose to her cheeks.

  He placed a hand over his chest. “You have learned to project emotions through your music, though you require an acoustically ideal location like the Hall of Pure Melody. Or this courtyard. However, before you learn to project energy through music, you should learn to listen. Close your eyes. What do you hear?”

  Kaiya exchanged confused glances with Xiulan and Kai-Hua, and then listened. The sounds of spring mixed with the rippling of Sun-Moon Lake in the distance. “Waves, wind, and birds.”

  Xu snorted. “How about your guards’ breaths? The beating of your handmaidens’ hearts?”

  Kaiya gawked. That was impossible, even for her exceptional hearing. Maybe the elf could, with his big ears, but it was too much to expect from a human.

  To a collective gasp, the pipa materialized in his hands, looking none worse for the wear after its fall to the pavestones. He proffered it. “Close your eyes and listen.”

  She received it in two hands and closed her eyes. As if holding a pipa would make difference… But wait, there was Zhao Yue’s inhale, barely a whisper over the other sounds. She straightened her spine. Chen Xin’s exhale, vibrated in one of the strings. The handmaidens’ heartbeats were soft puffs in her ear, yet they, too resonated almost inaudibly in the pipa strings. She looked up at Xu.

  “You understand. You hear. Listening is your greatest asset.” Ears twitching, he lifted a finger. “What do you hear now?”

  Around her, Xiulan and the handmaidens quieted. Kaiya closed her eyes again. There. In the distance. The twang of a plucked instrument and whine of a bow on strings danced with one another.

  She opened her eyes. “A pipa and erhu.”

  “Follow it to its source.”

  Xiulan nodded. “You go ahead. Kai-Hua and I will look for General Lu.”

  Kaiya favored Lord Xu with a tentative smile. Even with permission from Xiulan, it seemed inappropriate to wander the castle grounds with an elf. But why not? She’d done worse this day, and nobody would suspect Lord Xu of having any attraction to humans. General Lu had cut their matchmaking meeting short, leaving plenty of time before tonight’s reception, where Father would likely not announce her betrothal. It wasn’t as if she could get in that much more trouble.