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

by JC Kang

  An illusionist, no wonder. The dark-skinned Aksumi practiced all kinds of sorcery, including the mass production of the ubiquitous light baubles. But, “Whatever for?”

  “An emergency. If you ever needed a decoy. Just like tonight, though I don’t imagine the Tianzi had this sort of circumstance in mind.” She…he…stared at the sky.

  It definitely wasn’t her body language…was it? “This will never work. It doesn’t look like me and it certainly doesn’t sound like me.”

  Kai-Long slipped the marble into its pouch and his form snapped back to normal. “My plan takes all that into account. Here’s what we will do…”

  CHAPTER 14

  Cloaks and Daggers

  Arriving two hours before his appointed meeting with Lamp Man, Tian checked the door’s threshold for light and listened for any telltale signs of activity. Unlike the previous times he’d scouted the place out, no guards circled the building. Satisfied no one was there, he picked the lock, which yielded much more easily without imperious half-elves breathing down his neck, and padded in.

  At first glance, the warehouse seemed little changed from the morning, but the crates Lamp Man had pointed out to the porter were now gone. They must’ve already loaded them onto the Wild Orchid by now. Jie, unaccounted for since dawn, would probably know, if she were still alive. It was so uncharacteristic of her not to check in with him for such a long time. His gut clenched. If Lamp Man had ill intentions, Tian shouldn’t have sent her there alone.

  He now climbed a stack of crates, and then shimmied over the dusty rafters to the lone skylight. High-quality glass, likely imported from the Estomari city states in the east. Unlatching the frame, he pushed up on it. The rusty hinges creaked as it opened. Gaining the flat roof, satisfied there was no breeze, he left the skylight open. People never looked up unless they had a reason.

  He now stood two stories above the ground, a good vantage point to see if Lamp Man came early to prepare a nasty surprise. The sun had set, and the blue light from Guanyin’s Eye mingled with the crescent White Moon to cast the gridded streets and alleys below in an aquamarine hue.

  Light bauble lamps crawled along in the hands of drunken sailors as they boisterously made their way around the waterfront. If Jie had received his message, she would stay in the shifting dark spaces between lamps. Her approach would be so quiet, he would never know until she played some childish trick on him.

  After an hour surveying the area, he had yet to fall victim to her games. She should’ve made contact by now. Instead, low voices emanated from the approaching glow of a partially shuttered light bauble. Tian dropped so that he could just see over the half-wall balustrade and crept to the warehouse’s southeast corner. Four men strode in unison, their weapons protruding from cloaks. Broadswords. Curved daggers. One cradled a repeating crossbow. The conversation became clearer as they came closer.

  “Mister Sha said to meet him here by the second waxing gibbous,” Crossbow Man said.

  Tian glanced up to the south at Caiyue. Unless this Mister Sha—Lamp Man, perhaps—made it a point of coming late, he’d be there soon.

  “How much is that bastard paying?” the largest asked. “I have some gambling debts.”

  The one holding the lantern harrumphed. “I told you not to play mahjong with the triads when you’re drunk.” Monk would make a fitting nickname, given his ascetic guidance.

  Gambler stopped midstride, breaking their tight formation. “Mind your own business.”

  “Both of you, shut up,” Crossbow Man said. “We’ll make enough to visit to the Floating World afterwards.”

  “Speak for yourself,” muttered the fourth. A short, slim man, his only obvious weapon was a knife.

  Their hardened features and confident postures suggested military training. Hua had too many soldiers past their prime, in need of work. Most hung around the harbor city and capital, employed as guards for rich merchants. Master Yan had identified them as a potential source of instability, if they ever organized.

  Footsteps from the other side of the alley drew Tian’s attention. The length of the stride matched Lamp Man, and indeed, it was his northern Hua features illuminated by a dim light bauble approaching. He hung the same lamp from earlier on a hook above the door and opened the shutters.

  The four newcomers turned into the alley and walked to the door. They nodded in greeting.

  “Mister Sha,” Crossbow Man said. “I hope we have not kept you waiting.”

  “You did, Mister Gu,” Sha lied. He nodded first at Crossbow Man, then the others. “But it is my job to be early.”

  Gu bowed. “Our apologies.”

  “You are on time, and you have done good work for my master in the past.” Little chance Sha would reveal that master without persuasion or trickery.

  Crossbow Gu bowed again. “What’s the job?”

  Sha looked up and down the alley, and then lowered his voice. “In an hour, I will be meeting with a harbormaster scribe. When we are done, I need him dead and his body disposed of.”

  Tian’s stomach tightened. So Sha planned to kill him.

  Gu harrumphed. “A scribe, eh? Easy enough. It will cost you.”

  “A gold yuan each.”

  Tian’s eyes widened as much as the mercenaries’ did. Four yuan could feed a large family for a month. His life wasn’t worth much more than Princess Kaiya’s proverbial butterfly, let alone four yuan. Sha clearly valued whatever conspiracy he was involved in.

  “The terms are acceptable.” Gu placed a fist in his hand. “You asked for four of us, so you obviously have a plan?”

  “Of course.” Sha pointed at the door. “I will maneuver the scribe so his back is to the open door. Slim Kan can slash his throat from behind. A man will block both ends of the alley just in case he escapes.” He pointed up. “You stand on the roof with your crossbow.”

  Tian stepped back from the balustrade just as Gu looked up.

  “How am I supposed to get up there?”

  “There’s a ladder inside,” Sha said, “and a skylight.”

  Damn! Tian bolted back to the skylight as quietly as he could. He had to close it before they opened the door, lest the creaky hinges draw their attention. In the seventeen and a half long strides, he considered the possibilities. Stay on the roof and Gu would find the closed skylight unlatched…but might not give a second thought to either that or the disturbed dust. Hide in the warehouse, and Tian would have to get back out again to meet Sha at the front door, and worry about Gu’s crossbow.

  Stay on the roof it was. Tian lowered the skylight, cringing at the hinges’ whine. Then he backed to the southwest corner, far from the door below and outside the thirty-two-chi glow of Gu’s lamp. He pressed his back to the half-wall.

  The skylight groaned open. Lantern raised, Gu set the crossbow to the side and climbed up. Now without his cloak, it was clear he was armed with a broadsword and dagger. After giving a cough and brushing dust off his pants, he retrieved his crossbow and clunked over to the edge just above the door. He shuttered his lamp, leaving only glowing cracks.

  Tian glanced south. The Iridescent Moon had waxed past its second crescent. Below, Gambler’s silhouette pressed against the wall near the corner. If Monk had followed Sha’s instructions, he would be waiting at the other end, while Slim Kan hid just inside the door.

  Five against one, but since they were all separated, Tian could neutralize some of them one at a time. It would be child’s play with Jie’s help. If only she were here. Closing his eyes, he pressed his hand to the roof to feel for vibrations. Ears perked, he listened for any sign of his irrepressible friend.

  Nothing. Time to put his own plan into action. Drawing a knife, he padded back across the rooftop. Gu stood at the edge, looking up and down the alley. As long as he didn’t turn around…

  Hold the dragonfly with care, for even their fleeting lives have value. Since their parting three thousand, one hundred and forty-seven days before, Princess Kaiya had rarely invaded his t
houghts—only at times like this, as a reminder of what his hands could do. Had to do, even if his younger self would have been horrified.

  Gu looked back.

  Palming a biao throwing spike, Tian ducked behind the open skylight.

  With a yawn, Gu returned to his post. At his distance from the open skylight, he likely saw only a reflection of Guanyin’s Eye, whereas Tian could see right through it.

  Tian closed his eyes for a split second to erect his mental armor. To banish thoughts of a gentle princess, the best friend he’d promised to marry. Memories led to indecisiveness, and that got people killed. Opening his eyes, he slunk right up behind Gu, covered his mouth, and slashed his neck.

  Gu struggled for a second before going limp. The crossbow slipped from lifeless fingers, but Tian intercepted it with his foot and slowed its descent to the floor. A life snuffed out, as easily as crushing a dragonfly. He lowered the body and peeked over the balustrade.

  Down below, Sha tapped his foot. Soon, he might join Gu in the netherworld. Tian worked his way back to the skylight. Jie might use a Ghost Echo, imitating and throwing Gu’s voice to lure Slim Kan into an ambush, but Tian didn’t trust his own technique. No, as long as he kept Sha’s back to the doorway, Slim wouldn’t be able to attack.

  Tian continued to the far side of the roof, then lowered himself over the edge. Fingers and toes finding purchase in the cracks between the stones, he descended about a story and then dropped lightly to the street. He dusted himself off and held his knife in an underhand grip to conceal it. Rounding the southwest corner, he walked down the middle of the street. Gambler, leaning back against the building, would see Tian’s silhouette, but would likely wait until he turned into the alley before making a move.

  Gambler’s shadowed form spun, but made no move for the broadsword at his side. Maybe he could be spared, even if Tian would not afford the same courtesy back.

  “Good evening.” Tian nodded his head.

  Gambler lifted his chin and grunted.

  Tian leaped forward. With one hand, he pinned Gambler’s right wrist; with the other, he drove the knife butt into Gambler’s temple, and then set the blade at his throat. “Hands up, turn around,” Tian whispered. “Slowly.”

  Wobbling, Gambler complied. Tian smashed the knife handle into the base of Gambler’s skull, and then eased him down as he crumpled. The two successive shots would leave him unconscious for at least six minutes, and he would wake with an excruciating headache.

  Stashing his knife in a wrist sheath, Tian turned the corner. Lamp Man Sha had not moved from his spot in front of the door, under the lamp. Their eyes met. He had no obvious weapons.

  With a bow of his head, Tian withdrew the copied manifests. “Here, sir.”

  “Good.” Sha beckoned him forward, edging back in an obvious move—at least to a trained eye—to put Tian’s back at the open door and Slim Kan’s waiting knife.

  Tian stood fast. He repeated his lines in his head several times. “All these goods bound for Wailian County. For the new castle?”

  Sha’s eyes narrowed to slits as he received the papers, then opened and shifted from one end of the alley to the other.

  Alas, the disconnect between Tian’s thoughts and mouth had ruined subtle interrogation, and perhaps even blown his cover. On to the contingency plan, which had to be executed before Gambler came to. Muscles twitching, ready to fire, Tian stepped right where Sha wanted him.

  A dagger flashed in Sha’s hand. “Now!”

  Before it could wrap around his throat, Tian intercepted Slim Kan’s arm and twisted the wrist up. Using his shoulders as a fulcrum, Tian dislocated Kan’s elbow with a wet pop. In the same motion, he spun and drove Kan into Sha’s incoming stab.

  Slim Kan screamed. Monk rounded the corner, his broadsword rasping from its sheath. Tian released Kan and seized Sha’s knife arm. With a jump back and a yank, he drew Sha into the warehouse, and then twisted his wrist.

  Sha went hurtling into the door, slamming it shut, drowning the space in darkness.

  Before the image faded from his head, Tian swept the dagger from Sha’s hand and pressed the tip to his throat. “Who do you work for?”

  “Lord Zu.”

  Of course, these forms of interrogation were far less effective than subtle ones. “There’s no Lord Zu in the North.” Tian swept the dagger upward, nicking Sha’s chin, before he returned the point to the throat. The door buckled, and Tian pulled the weapon back before the force drove Sha into it. Monk wouldn’t be able to push it open, but the threat made for a good incentive. “Tell me.”

  “Lord Peng.”

  The Tai-Ming Lord? Impossible. “Married to the Tianzi’s sister.”

  “No.” Sha shook his head. “Not—”

  The door slammed open, driving Sha into the dagger faster than Tian could withdraw it. Gambler stumbled into the warehouse, broadsword in hand. Monk stood behind him, holding a lamp and sword. Sha knelt, hands clawing his neck, choking on blood.

  Tian glanced at the dagger. It had gone deep enough to puncture Sha’s voice box, though whether it had or not would take further examination. For now, it was the dagger and a knife in his other hand against two men armed with broadswords. “Sha won’t be paying. Don’t risk your life.”

  Gambler glared back, though his eyes crossed. Two hits to the head and a jolt on a heavy door had taken their toll. He pointed the broadsword at Tian. “I’m going to gut you anyway.” He raised the sword and charged.

  Backing away, Tian flung the knife. It bit into the upper part of Gambler’s chest. Two throwing stars followed, lodging in Gambler’s gut. The brute continued undaunted, broadsword swinging in circles. Tian feigned fear—though perhaps it wasn’t all an act—retreating deeper into the warehouse.

  Gambler’s mistake was the regularity of his swinging pattern. As his weapon swept up for the fourth time, Tian vaulted forward and sliced behind Gambler’s elbow. Spinning to the side, Tian continued the downward slash to sever Gambler’s knee ligaments. A shoulder-butt created distance for Tian’s side kick to his shin. He spun to find Monk’s sword starting a swing.

  Decapitation was unavoidable.

  The hack came up short, and the blade clattered on the floor as Monk sank to his knees and gripped his side. Behind him, a lantern on the ground lit a short silhouette in a one-piece dress with a frilly border. With a knife. His savior—but who? Tian slammed his heel into Monk’s head, knocking him to the ground. A quick glance at Gambler found the man lying on the floor, holding his knee.

  Tian circled around to get the light out of his eyes. Which immediately rounded so wide, his eyeballs might’ve fallen out of the sockets.

  The strapless pink dress clinging to Jie’s lithe body was far more suited for one of the fair-skinned merchant princesses out of the East. She actually looked like a girl, despite the color mismatch. She pointed a bloody knife at him. “Don’t laugh.”

  He opened his mouth—

  “Not. A. Word.” Her tone left no room for negotiation, even as her scowl dared him to speak.

  “Right.” He leaned over Monk, whose unconscious wheezing rattled the air. Jie’s knife had caught him in his flank, puncturing his lung. He would not be saying much, if he ever woke at all. Gritting his teeth, Tian slashed his throat. A quick, merciful death.

  Jie’s eyes roved from Slim Kan to Gambler to Monk to Sha. “Who are these people?”

  “Mercenaries.” Tian pointed to Sha, likely dead, since blood no longer squirted from his throat. “Hired by him. From Wailian County.”

  Jie nodded. “The Wild Orchid held several kegs of sulfur, bound for Wailian. They are making firepowder.”

  “Sha might work for Lord Tong himself.” Squatting by the corpse, Tian examined the body. Sometimes, forensic clues yielded more information than interrogation. A grey crust lined the sole of Sha’s shoe, while traces of what looked to be sawdust flecked his coifed hair. Tian lifted Sha’s still-warm hand. Traitor or not, Tian had passed his death sentence.r />
  Sha’s smooth hand did not speak of a life of hard labor or frequency in wielding weapons. The index finger bore a gold ring shaped in the form of a coiled dragon, perhaps a replica of the Guardian Dragon of Hua itself. More curious was the pink grit under his fingernail.

  Tian held up the hand for Jie to see. “What do you make of this?”

  She leaned over and sniffed, no doubt her keen elven senses picking up more than his nose could. “It has a fishy smell.”

  He withdrew a fine lockpick and scooped out the pasty substance. “Fish paste? He seemed too cultured to eat with his hands.” He held up the pick to her for confirmation.

  “I’m not going to taste it.” Jie sucked on her lower lip. “Perhaps he was a sloppy eater.”

  He glared at her, prompting her for her real answer.

  She released her bottom lip with a smack. “Yutou Province is famous for preserved pink fish paste. Fat Nose Jiang has a Southern accent, and the Wild Orchid stops in Yutou on a regular basis.”

  And fish paste could keep for a year, or more. Tian tapped his chin with a finger. The problem was that Yutou Province exported a lot of fish paste, to all over the country. Now if only it were possible to find out how much fish paste Lord Tong in Wailian was buying. And rice. Five thousand shi of rice and five hundred jin of pink fish paste could feed his army of five thousand for a year. Then there was the firepowder.

  He looked up at Jie. “You—”

  “I have already sent word about the illegal firepowder. I would imagine Master Yan will be interrupting the imperial reception to brief the Tianzi.”

  Tian tapped his chin. What had appeared to be a brewing insurgency now threatened to boil into a full-blown rebellion, destabilizing Hua for the first time in three centuries.

  CHAPTER 15

  Not the Brightest Moment

  Kneeling at the far end of the dais in the Golden Dragon Room, Kaiya listened to the music ensemble that played in the background. Guzheng, pipa, erhu, ruan guitar, recorder; all mingled in choreographed harmony, all technically perfect.