Chapter Two
i
The Vault
His eyes burned from lack of sleep. His limbs, pushed to work for days on end with little rest, were heavy with fatigue. Yi ignored the discomfort, forcing himself to focus on his task.
It was several days after the attack on his home. He was inside the liquid steel vault, a stone cavern that was deep underground and accessible only through the metal door in his study. Thick tree roots crawled across the ceiling chamber, coaxed into position by the world monks. The roots twisted up the stairwell and disappeared into darkness, where they formed a thick wall that held the vault door in place.
Thick, viscous blue liquid slid from a crack in the cavern wall. It glowed with soft light and collected in a small pool. With the glowing pool and the oil lamps hanging at intervals from tree roots, the chamber was bright.
Yi knelt beside the pool, sweat covering his body in a slick sheen. He was clad only in soft gray pants and leather boots. Gray was the color worn by those in mourning. Around his neck was a leather thong, Jian’s jade bat pendant dangling from the end.
Kneeling at the spring, he dipped a stone ladle into the liquid, pausing to let a few drips fall back into the pool so as not to waste them. Moving with care, he poured the liquid steel into an enchanted stone mold, which would harden the liquid steel. The molds had been made from the rock of this very cavern by the world monks many generations ago.
The liquid filled the mold, which was shaped like an arrowhead. He tilted the ladle three more times, filling more molds. Soft blue light radiated upward.
He placed the molds on a shelf carved into the chamber wall. The shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, many of them already filled with liquid steel.
Without sunlight, he lost track of the days as he labored in the vault. For those times he remembered to eat, he pulled strips of dried meat from a bag hanging beside his workbench. For those times he gave in to fitful sleep, he had a pallet on the floor. His supply of water skins dwindled.
It was only when his mind and body were near collapse that he was able to banish the images of his dead wife and daughter.
And so he worked.
When finished lining the shelves, he moved onto the molds he had filled first. He took three to his workbench, where he removed the now-solid arrowheads. In a solid state they no longer glowed, but the metal still bore a distinct bluish tint.
He swayed on his feet, his body demanding sleep. His legs trembled with exhaustion. Yi blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes, then bent back over his worktable. Locking his knees, he willed them to keep him upright. He picked up a newly made arrowhead and scraped it over a whet stone, working with care to smooth the sides into sharp edges. He continued to blink, trying to coax moisture into his eyes.
Yi spent long hours at the workbench honing one arrowhead at a time. His vision blurred and his limbs shook, but still he labored.
Legend said the gods gifted liquid steel to the World Kingdom as a defense against the tyranny of the Sky Kingdom and its shamans. There was a very elaborate story about an ancient king, a holy quest, and a divine gift to a favored nation.
Yi had once believed that garbage.
It didn’t really matter how liquid steel had come into existence. All that mattered was that it could be cast into weapons that could destroy shaman clouds—and he was the man entrusted with that casting.
ii
A Gamble
A sharp rap on the vault door broke his concentration. He jerked, his arm knocking into the pile of finished arrowheads. They toppled to the floor in a loud rattle. He fumbled at his back for several moments before remembering his bow rested at the foot of the stairs.
“Yi!” a voice called. It was muffled by the thick metal door and the protective layer of tree roots. “Yi! Open up! I know you’re in there.”
Yi. His name. Whoever was up there knew his name. Did that make him a friend, or an enemy?
He staggered forward and grasped his bow, the string snapping his wrist as he tried to draw it with an unsteady hand. The bow fell from his fingers.
“Yi, it’s Jasu. Open up!”
Jasu. The name summoned the image of a man with gray hair and a scar on his right shoulder. Yi had served under him along the border. He’d been old when Yi enlisted at age fifteen.
“By the gods, if you’re in there, open up! Fire Foot is ready to tear the walls down.”
Fire Foot. The kylin’s face flashed through his mind.
When was the last time he’d left the vault? He studied the pile of arrowheads stacked on the floor and workbench. It would take at least two weeks to cast so many.
Yi tread up the stairs, one arm against the stone stairwell for balance. He reached the wall of tree roots blocking the door, but did not touch them.
“Fire Foot?” he called. His voice came out as a hoarse croak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Fire Foot?”
An answering warble that bordered on an angry shriek sounded on the other side of the door.
“Thank the gods you’re alive,” Jasu said.
The gods had nothing to do with it, Yi thought.
“Open the door, Yi. The messenger hawk you sent made it to Emperor Chen. He’s sent a reply.”
“What are you doing here?” he called, some of the fog clearing from his mind.
“The emperor sent us.”
“Us?”
“Yes.”
How many were out there? He’d always considered Jasu a loyal man, but he wasn’t so sure now. How did he know Jasu was loyal to the emperor? What if he’d sold out to the traitor who sent the shamans? This could all be a trick to get him to open the vault.
“Emperor Chen told us the truth about your . . . tea farm,” Jasu said. “He sent us as protection, in case the shamans attack again.”
Wariness curdled in Yi’s gut. Jasu knew about the House of Liquid Steel. Would Emperor Chen truly reveal the World Kingdom’s most precious secret to him?
“Much has changed since you left the imperial palace,” Jasu said. “There is civil war in the Sky Kingdom. Their emperor was assassinated by his brother, Lord Shiho. Many rally behind the emperor’s daughter, Princess Ailan, but Shiho also has strong support. Prince Roku has . . . befriended Shiho and is sponsoring him at the World Kingdom court.”
Emperor Chen’s son openly allied himself with a Sky Kingdom faction? Yi would not have been more surprised if Jasu had showed up dressed in women’s clothing. Maybe the old man was dressed in women’s clothing.
He shook his head, trying to clear it. Nothing was making sense.
“Will you open the door?” Jasu said. “Don’t make your old commander beg. I know you’re the only one who can open it.”
He weighed his options. He could stay in the vault until he died of starvation or dehydration. Or he could open the door and hope Jasu was truly the emperor’s man. It was a gamble either way.
He’d served under Jasu during the Border War. Deep in Sky Kingdom territory, they’d been separated from the main fighting unit. It had been Jasu’s calm determination that had kept them alive and gotten them home. He’d taken a lightning blast in the shoulder for Yi in that campaign.
If he had to gamble, he would gamble on Jasu’s loyalty.
His mind made up, Yi stepped forward and placed one hand on the tree roots.
iii
Message from the Emperor
At his touch, the roots groaned. They parted from either side of the doorway, the wood popping and snapping as it went. The roots moved like old arthritic snakes, recoiling until the thick metal door stood exposed. Yi undid the three bars that held it in place, then pulled it open.
Fire Foot filled the open doorway, glaring at him. The beast hissed, forked tongue flicking in and out. He lunged forward and bit him in the shoulder—not hard enough to wound, but hard enough to convey his displeasure.
Yi’s knees threatened to collapse. He grabbed a handful of mane to keep himse
lf upright. He would not tip over like a toddler learning to walk—at least not in front of Jasu.
Fire Foot kept his teeth on Yi’s shoulder, applying firm pressure while staring at him with baleful eyes. Yi sighed and accepted the punishment, ruffling his mane. The beast exhaled and let go, pushing his muzzle into Yi’s cheek.
“Kylin do not like solitude. You know that,” Jasu said. Jade Mist, his kylin, stood nearby, her blue-green scales much faded over the years.
Jasu looked older than ever, his hair so thin he barely had enough for a proper warrior knot. He was known among the soldiers for his reverence of the gods. A leather thong hung from his neck with three jade pendants. He wore the bat of Caifu, the kingfisher of the God of Peace, and the bear of the God of War.
Two more men stood in the room. Peisau was a stocky man who still wore a patch over the eye he lost on a routine border patrol. Lukai, taller and thinner than Peisau, leaned heavily on a walking stick. He’d taken a lightning blast in the leg some years ago. Though he walked with a limp, he was a dangerous fighter when mounted.
Both men were every bit as gray as Jasu, though Jasu was by far the most senior. Both men also rode kylin. Yi glimpsed them in the study doorway, both beasts peering in curiously.
Seeing the three men, Yi’s doubts fell away. These three, all his senior by at least twenty years, had dedicated their lives to serving the emperor. Yi had served under each man at various points in his military career. All had gone into retirement within the last decade, each gifted with an estate for years of exemplary service.
Emperor Chen had not sent the youngest and strongest men to the House of Liquid Steel. He had sent the smartest, the most seasoned, and the most trustworthy. If the shamans attacked again, they would find the House of Liquid Steel well defended, especially with four kylin in place.
Jasu made a face, glancing over Yi’s shoulder into the vault. “By the gods, just how long have you been down there? Smells like a privy.”
Yi shrugged, refusing to be embarrassed. He hadn’t given much thought to the full chamber pot as he’d worked.
“You look as bad as you smell,” Jasu said. “And when was the last time you slept? What, no woman around and suddenly you can’t remember how to bathe yourself—”
Yi stiffened.
“That came out wrong.” Jasu gripped his shoulder. “My apologies, old friend. The emperor told me what happened to your family. I’m sorry for your loss. Gods know I understand your pain.” He reached into his tunic and pulled out a wooden message tube. “Here’s the message from Emperor Chen.”
Yi took the tube and turned it over in his hands. “Emperor Chen has told you what it is I truly do here?” he asked, just to be sure.
“You are the caretaker of the House of Liquid Steel,” Jasu said. There was respect in his eyes. “And here we all snickered that you gave up the sword to be a tea farmer. We should have known better.”
“I gave up the sword for the woman I love.” Sei’s lovely dark eyes flashed in his mind’s eye. He thought his heart might collapse on itself. He leaned into Fire Foot for support.
Looking down to hide the emotion he knew was on his face, he slid the emperor’s message out of the tube. Imperial yellow wax—stamped with the emperor’s world dragon crest—sealed the letter. He snapped the wax and unrolled the message.
Yi,
I am sure Jasu has told you of Sky Kingdom events. The old emperor has been assassinated by his brother, Lord Shiho. While I cannot grieve for the death of my enemy, his murder has thrown the Sky Kingdom into turmoil.
Shiho has befriended Prince Roku. My foolish son believes Shiho’s promise to end the floods and droughts that plague us. He begs me to enter into a treaty with Shiho and commit troops to his cause, but I do not trust him. If he would murder his own brother, what else might he do?
Roku enchants much of the court with his talk of peace between our nations. Those who have scorned Roku for his foolishness in the past are now being swayed by him. For my son’s part, I believe he hopes to impress me sufficiently so that I will name him my successor. It angers him that I do not agree with his assessment of Shiho’s proposed treaty.
The Sky Kingdom conflict has brought division to my court and my family. I must play the court game and find a diplomatic escape.
My charge to you is this: Return to your duty in the vault. If war comes, my soldiers will need every liquid steel arrowhead you can make. I will send word when I am ready for you to come to the capital.
There is one more thing I must tell you, though it grieves my heart to put the words to ink. As there is a deep dept between us, I will not deceive you.
I believe Roku revealed the location of the House of Liquid Steel to Shiho. They conspired to seize the house without my knowledge and arm Shiho’s men with liquid steel. Now that I know there is a traitor in my inner circle, I do not think Roku will strike the house a second time and risk exposing himself. He blames Princess Ailan for the attack, but I see the lie in his eyes.
I have no proof beyond my intuition. Please know I am deeply sorry for the loss of your wife and daughter.
Remain vigilant, and trust none beyond Jasu, Peisau, and Lukai.
Emperor Chen
House of Earth and Claw
iv
The Veterans
“It was Roku.” Yi rolled up the parchment and looked at his old comrades. “He sent the shamans who killed Sei and Jian. He betrayed Emperor Chen.”
He had known there was a traitor in the emperor’s inner court. There had been no other logical explanation for the shaman attack, but confirmation of the fact from the emperor made him sick to his stomach.
He groped for the rage he knew he should feel, but all he found was a black pit of emptiness and exhaustion. Was this how it felt to be betrayed? Was this how Emperor Chen felt?
“I suspect Roku’s attack was done to impress the emperor,” Jasu said. “If he could secretly arm Shiho and help him win the Sky Throne, he would be the one to usher in the peace Shiho promises.”
“The boy has always been gullible and nearsighted.” Lukai shifted on his good leg, using his cane for support.
“It’s the emperor’s affection for Lord Kiro that makes Roku so rash,” Peisau said. Lord Kiro was the emperor’s nephew. “Roku is desperate to win his father’s approval.”
“While Kiro practically lives in the royal stable.” Jasu fingered his jade pendants. “I swear the boy only comes out to spar, eat, and sleep. His obsession with his kylin breeding program consumes him. He has no ambition for the throne.”
Yi leaned against the doorway, rubbing his tired eyes. He hoped he never saw Prince Roku again. He was not sure he could hold back from killing the man who had let Sei and Jian be slaughtered. Emperor Chen would not forgive the murder of his only son, no matter how much debt was between them.
When he raised his head, he found all three veterans staring at him. He ignored the concern in their eyes. He didn’t need their mothering.
“Emperor Chen has charged me to cast arrowheads,” he said.
“And we are to patrol and protect the house,” Lukai said. “I hear there is good hunting in these mountains.”
“Menghai,” Yi said. “And sheto and silang. All plentiful around here.”
“Menghai quills. Women love menghai quills.” Lukai grinned. His exploits in brothels were legendary among the soldiers. The stories only got more notorious after his leg was wounded. “At my age, it never hurts to have a pretty bauble to impress a lady.”
Yi felt his heart shrivel as he thought of how much Sei loved menghai quills. The memory made him want to break something. Instead, he turned toward the vault.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Jasu stuck out an arm to block him.
Yi glowered. “To carry out the emperor’s will. To cast arrowheads.”
“Not until you get a bath. And empty that chamber pot down there.”
“I don’t need to smell good to cas
t arrowheads.”
“We need you to smell good,” Jasu said. “We didn’t ride all this way to spend our days with a walking privy.”
“And we can’t have you passing out from exhaustion,” Peisau said, giving Yi a firm look with his one eye. “You need sleep. You can’t defend the house if you’re half dead.”
“You don’t look like you’ve had a real meal in days,” Lukai said. “I’ll go hunting and bring back something fresh.”
“Last I checked,” Yi said, “my mother was still alive and well. Or did she pass into the afterlife and assign the three of you to be my nursemaids?”
Jasu raised an eyebrow. “Don’t make me drag you into the river and scrub you myself.”
Yi spread his glare evenly between the three old men. They gazed back at him. Frustration made his chest tight. He knew those looks. He’d followed each of these men into battle, and each of them got the same look when they were determined to follow a course—whether it be to charge into a burning village and fight shamans, hold a battle line when low on liquid steel, or force him down to the river for a bath.
Yi stalked past his old commanders, ignoring the expressions of triumph that passed between them.