World Kingdom Warrior (3 Kingdoms - Book 0.5)

  Chapter Three

  i

  Envoy of the Sky Princess

  Yi rode through the moonlit night, one hand absently rubbing Jian’s jade bat pendant. He carried Sei’s poetry journal in his cloak pocket. The red tulip on the cover rested against his heart. A thick cotton knapsack was secured to his back, several bundles of liquid steel arrowheads inside.

  Two weeks of hard riding had brought him to Chong-chi, where he would meet the envoy. The city sat high on a hill raised by world monks, protected from the floods sent every year by the Sky Kingdom.

  In his youth, Yi had spent countless nights in Chong-chi. That was before he’d met Sei—before he learned one night with a woman he loved was worth ten thousand nights with the whores of Chong-chi. It made him cringe to recall his youth and the money he’d wasted on women. The emperor banned whoring in Pei-sing, which was why Chong-chi had sprouted up several miles outside the imperial city.

  Soldiers patrolled the short city walls. A few of them caught sight of Fire Foot and tipped their heads to Yi in respect.

  In his early days as a soldier, he’d stood on those very walls in an identical yellow-and-brown surcoat. Patrol work in Chong-chi was lively. There were always fights to disperse, cheaters to chase, and drunks to lock up.

  Fire Foot plodded up the dirt road that led to Chong-chi. They entered with several other men on foot, all of them laughing and bragging about the women they were going to buy for the evening. Chong-chi was a city that thrived under the moon and the stars. Drink, food, gambling, women—all could be found at any time of night.

  Little had changed in the city over the years. The twisting cobbled streets with brightly painted buildings—each establishment seeming brighter and more garish than the one before—were familiar to him. Fire Foot drew more than a few stares. Yi met the eyes of those he passed, delivering a flat, silent challenge. It was always better to show strength in Chong-chi.

  The Lotus Palace was a three-story gambling house. The outside walls were painted with giant lotus blossoms, their petals open to reveal stacks of coins. Bright light spilled forth from every window. Yi had lost coins on more than one occasion in the Lotus Palace.

  He dismounted, running an absent hand along the bottom to his knapsack, and then led Fire Foot into the stable yard.

  “Would you like a stable for the night, m’lord?” asked a young boy.

  “Just some water and feed,” Yi replied, tossing a copper tail to the boy. “Keep my kylin here in the yard and steer wide of him. He doesn’t like strangers.”

  As if to illustrate his point, Fire Foot hissed. The boy jumped back, eyes wide. Yi made his expression severe. Anyone watching would think twice before harassing his kylin.

  He entered the Lotus Palace. The bottom floor was hot, smelling of too many bodies and spilled alcohol. Men sat jammed elbow-to-elbow at every card table. Groups of four sat around smaller tables, playing tiles. Serving girls sucked in their bellies and edged through the crowd with trays held above their heads. He didn’t remember whores being on the menu at the Lotus Palace back when he was a soldier, but they were here now. They draped themselves over the customers, sitting on laps or pressing their breasts against backs of card-playing men.

  He moved through the crowd, taking his time to study each man he passed. It was easy to move slowly in the press of bodies, especially with the arrowhead-laden knapsack on his back. It was so hot. He wanted to take off his cloak, but didn’t dare. The cloak kept his knives and coin purse from sticky fingers.

  He studied the clothing of a rowdy group of gamblers. There were differences that set sky folk apart from people of the World Kingdom. For one thing, they almost always wore leather clothing. For another, no one in the Sky Kingdom had long hair. Even the women kept their hair cropped short.

  That rules out everyone I see in this room, Yi thought. Every man here wore a queue or a topknot.

  He made his way to the second level, where there were more gambling tables. One look told him there was a lot more money being wagered in this room. It wasn’t nearly as full as the first floor, and the men up here wore fine tunics. He even saw the glint of gold on necks and fingers. The women on this level had smoother skin, straighter teeth, and were decorated in fine dresses. They did not hang on the men. They drifted through the room, subtly shifting hips and breasts to draw the eye.

  Yi spotted the sky man immediately. He was the only man with close-cropped hair. He also had the sun-darkened face of a sky man, his face seamed and weathered from a life spent living on the clouds. At least he’d had sense to get rid of the tight-fitting leathers worn by sky people. His clothing was World Kingdom garb, a fine brown tunic embroidered with a kingfisher at the cuffs and collar.

  He sat in a far corner playing tiles with three other men. He looked up as Yi entered, and their eyes met. Yi held his gaze longer than necessary, fingering the quiver at his side.

  The sky man threw some coins on the table and excused himself from the game. Yi picked up a dice cup and sat at an empty table. Without a word, the sky man took the chair opposite to him.

  Yi placed five silver claws on the table. The sky man did the same. They began a game of dragon’s fire, silently passing the dice cup back and forth. They kept score without speaking, shifting coins between them at the end of each round.

  Yi was comfortable with the silence. This was not so different from a scouting mission on the border. He endured days—sometimes weeks—of silence on those solitary runs. He was used to keeping his own counsel and observing, as he did now.

  The sky man appeared to be in his late forties. His eyes were sharp, and he studied Yi as openly as Yi studied him. Was he a shaman, or just a simple man of the sky?

  “I am Zuki, envoy of her royal highness, Princess Ailan of the House of Cloud and Feather.”

  Yi inclined his head. “What message do you bring for Emperor Chen?”

  “You are not a man of the imperial court,” Zuki said.

  Yi said nothing. He was not here to answer questions.

  “You walk with the grace of a warrior,” Zuki said. “Do you carry liquid steel arrowheads in your quiver?”

  What game does he play? Yi wondered. He cast the die and said, “What message would you have me deliver to my honored emperor?”

  The die rolled across the table and settled, showing a turtle and a snake. Zuki pushed two coins across the table in acknowledgement of his win.

  “Are you a common soldier?” Zuki said, a note of scandal in his voice.

  Yi picked up the dice and rolled, never taking his eyes from those of the envoy’s. He sat without speaking. Sooner or later, the envoy would say what he came to say. Yi just had to wait him out.

  How strange. Six months ago, he would have marked this man as an enemy and killed him without a second thought. Now he sat dicing with him.

  Six months ago, he had been a father and a husband.

  “Lord Shiho has extended an offer of peace to the World Emperor in exchange for support of his claim of the Cloud Throne,” Zuki said at last. “The princess believes she can make a more . . . attractive offer.”

  Yi flipped over the dice cup, resting his hand upon it. He nodded, indicating for Zuki to continue.

  “Princess Ailan offers her hand in marriage.”

  It was with conscious effort that Yi kept his jaw from sagging open.

  “Not to Emperor Chen,” Zuki said quickly, seeing Yi’s expression. “It is well known that your ruler is at the end of his life. Princess Ailan will accept a betrothal to the emperor’s heir.”

  “And who,” Yi asked carefully, “does she think the heir is? Emperor Chen has made no public announcement of his chosen successor.”

  “It does not matter who the heir is,” Zuki said, “so long as he is allied through marriage with the legitimate ruler of the House of Cloud and Feather. Marriage is a stronger alliance than any signed treaty. Besides, Emperor Chen can trust no treaty signed by that traitor.”

/>   The idea of the Sky Kingdom having a foothold in the World Kingdom made Yi queasy, though he was careful to keep his face composed.

  “I will carry your message to my honored emperor,” he said. “How can I send a response to Princess Ailan?”

  Zuki opened his mouth to answer. Before he could utter a word, the liquid steel cuff Yi wore around his upper left arm flared with heat. He had only a moment to register the pain before a bolt of lightning shot through an open window.

  ii

  Attack

  The bolt was silvery and wire-thin. It cut through the room and bored a hole straight into the side of Zuki’s head. The envoy slumped, forehead banging on the table. Blood leaked out of his temple.

  Yi jumped to his feet, chair flying backward. Over the heads of the gamblers, he saw a single cloud shaman hovering outside the open window. He raised his honey-jade bracelet and took aim.

  Yi threw himself to the floor. Lightning exploded into the wall above him.

  Men yelled and women screamed. They formed a mass of bodies that surged for the stairs.

  Staying low, Yi crawled for the open window. He could see nothing past the rushing legs and pounding boots. The liquid steel cuff around his upper arm was hot.

  Shiho sent someone to ambush us, Yi thought. He does not want his niece’s proposal to reach the emperor.

  If Shiho would go so far as to launch a public attack, he must be desperate to keep this from the emperor.

  Reaching the window, he crouched below it and drew a black-fletched arrow. Its liquid steel arrowhead gleamed gray-blue. Somewhere outside, Fire Foot warbled. Fitting the arrow into his bow, he peeked over the windowsill—and came face to face with a cloud shaman.

  Yi yelled and leaped back, instinctively firing. His aim was off, and his arrow bounced off the window frame and fell to the floor.

  He dropped to the ground, his years of training taking over. He dodged sideways as a blast of lightning shot toward him. It missed his head and blew a hole in the floor.

  He rolled to his feet and dropped into a crouch. The other man floated just outside the window. Yi had not seen or fought a shaman since the day Sei and Jian had been killed. The sight of the man made his blood pound. He felt it in his chest, heard it in his ears. Images of Sei and Jian, lying in their shared grave, crashed through his mind.

  He was going to kill this bastard shaman and make him pay for what had been done to his family.

  He charged forward, leaped out the window, and flew straight at the shaman.

  The shaman raised his hand to fire, but Yi was already upon him. He landed on the cloud and rammed one shoulder into the man’s stomach. The shaman took to the force of the blow with a grunt and delivered a return punch to Yi’s ribcage. He could not use his lightning at such a close range without risking his own life.

  Below them, the street emptied as people fled. They steered wide of Fire Foot, who had jumped free of the stable yard and now pranced back and forth below them, neck arched as he strained toward the sky.

  Yi gritted his teeth and dug his boots into the cold, slushy heart of the cloud. It had a consistency similar to hard-packed snow. Vapor roiled around his ankles. He planted both hands on the shaman’s leather vest and pushed, trying to drive him backward with brute strength. The shaman dug in his heels and pushed back. He gripped Yi’s tunic with one hand and punched him repeatedly in the gut with the other.

  As the shaman drew his arm back to deliver another blow, Yi snatched his dagger and slid it between the man’s ribs. A hiss passed between the shaman’s teeth as he staggered back. The force of Yi’s momentum drove them both over the edge of the cloud.

  They fell through the night. Yi gripped the shaman’s vest and tucked his head and shoulder against him for protection. The shaman made a weak, garbled cry, which cut off as his body hit the deserted cobblestone street with a fleshy whump. Yi rolled away, unhurt.

  Fire Foot burst through the commotion and dove for the shaman’s bracelet, hissing in exultation as his teeth closed over the glowing jewelry. There was a series of loud crunches as the kylin devoured the honey-jade. His scales glowed.

  Yi kicked the limp body of the shaman, groping for some sense of satisfaction from the kill. All he felt was more anger. It boiled in his gut and threatened to choke him.

  Focus, he told himself. Focus.

  He took several breaths, struggling for calm. He pushed his emotions into a tight ball at the base of his skull. A beat later, he was able to ignore them. It was like they didn’t exist. Almost.

  He retrieved his blade and nocked his bow, scanning the sky around him. His bracelet was still hot—even hotter than it had been during the initial attack. The intensity of the heat meant there were multiple shamans nearby.

  The moon, nearly full, hung bright in the sky. Yi turned in a slow, methodical circle, bow aimed at the sky. The street was empty. The lanterns in the Lotus Palace had been snuffed out. People peeked from windows up and down the street, but no one ventured out.

  Fire Foot approached, frisking with his lightning charge. Yi vaulted into the saddle. His bracelet burned even hotter than before. How many shamans were out there?

  “Show yourselves,” he called.

  In response, three of them rose into view. They glided over the rooftops of nearby buildings, closing in on him from three sides with their bracelets raised.

  Fire Foot reared, his mane fluffing at the scent of so much lightning. A shiver ran through him as his forked tongue licked the air. He was the only thing preventing the shamans from blowing Yi to bits.

  “You are not our target,” called one shaman. He was past his middle years, his face creased and his close-cropped hair bright silver. His dark eyes were calculating and unafraid. “We know you transport liquid steel to the emperor. Surrender it and we’ll let you live.”

  Yi could imagine what Shiho would do with liquid steel. It would definitely give him an advantage over Princess Ailan.

  “Did Shiho order you to murder the envoy, or do you also act with Roku’s blessing?” Yi asked. He guessed Shiho acted alone. The sky lord would not want Roku to be tempted by a marriage alliance with his rival.

  “Hand over the liquid steel and I will let you live,” the shaman replied. “Resist and I will kill you and take it anyway.” He aimed his bracelet for emphasis.

  “Lightning strikes are difficult to control so close to a kylin,” Yi said, leveling his arrow at the man. “An arrow, on the other hand, always flies true.”

  With that, he released it. The man swerved and the arrow flew wide.

  A blast of lightning came from behind, no doubt from a shaman thinking to catch Yi in the back. Fire Foot, attuned to the lightning, jerked around. It caught him in the shoulder. He arched his head back in ecstasy as the charge flowed into him.

  The shamans collectively pulled back, horrified by their miscalculation. Lightning spiderwebbed across Fire Foot in sharp, flicking tendrils.

  In that split second, Yi made a decision. Logic told him he should flee, that he should let Fire Foot’s lightning charge put miles between him and the shamans. But he wanted to reduce these wretched warriors to blood and body parts. And so he let Fire Foot frenzy.

  He lowered his bow and leaned low over Fire Foot. The kylin, recognizing the signal, gave a warble of delight. He screamed and leaped straight for the lead shaman. The man jerked his cloud sharply to the left, narrowly escaping the kylin’s cloven hooves and snapping teeth.

  Fire Foot landed on the rooftop of the Lotus Palace. The beast spun around and pounded across the tiles. Yi raised his bow and fired. His arrow sliced through the cloud of a younger shaman who tried to close in behind them. The man fell as his cloud evaporated.

  Fire Foot reached the edge of the roof and jumped. He soared through the night, his red-gold scales glowing with brilliance. He slammed into the third shaman—a woman. She screamed as he knocked her off the cloud. The kylin followed her earthward. He lunged for her bracelet
s in midair, tearing at her flesh. In a panic, she discharged a bolt of lightning, but Fire Foot immediately absorbed it.

  She landed hard on her back. The kylin landed on top of her, his hooves crushing her chest and ribcage. Yi jumped out of the saddle and dropped into a crouch. He spun in a circle, looking for the lead shaman.

  The man flew backward, bracelets raised as he retreated down the street. His eyes met Yi’s as he disappeared around a corner.

  With a grunt of frustration, he lowered his bow. He glanced at Fire Foot, who raised a bloody muzzle from the body of the dead woman. His eyes glowed so brightly Yi could not look directly into them. His antlers gleamed like embers.

  The beast pounced on the other fallen shaman, snagging a wrist between his teeth and gorging himself on more lightning. A contented warble filled the night.

  Yi snatched up the remaining bracelet from the dead shaman’s right wrist. Fire Foot hissed and lunged for it, but Yi shoved it into his cloak pocket. It never hurt to have a lightning stash for an emergency. Shaman jewelry was hard to come by.

  He jumped back into the saddle. Fire Foot danced sideways, wanting to run, but Yi restrained him. The last shaman was still out there. Likely he was on his way back to Shiho, but Yi wasn’t going to take any chances by letting his kylin tear blindly through Chong-chi. They would move slowly and carefully, and he would keep an eye peeled for the shaman. He wasn’t going to be caught unaware a second time.

  iii

  Cloud Song

  The House of Flowers was hot and loud. Flowers and men were everywhere. Tulip wiped sweat from her forehead and crawled with a rag under a table. A stupid man had spilled a pitcher of wine. He kept laughing about it, and Iris—another flower of the house—laughed with him. Tulip wanted to tell them both it wasn’t funny and they were both stupid to laugh about a mess, but she knew better.

  As she mopped up the wine, the stupid man poked her with his boot. “I hear that one’s not old enough to make tofu,” he said.

  “She doesn’t even know how to make tofu.” Iris laughed even louder than before. “The child is a simpleton.”

  Tulip felt her body getting hot. Why did Iris always have to be so mean when men were around? Peony was friends with her, but Tulip wished she wasn’t.

  She scrubbed hard at the floor with her rag. Someday she was going to know how to make special tofu and no one was going to make fun of her anymore. Someday—

  A familiar jolt of music went through her body. She straightened in surprise and banged her head on the table.

  “See?” Iris said. “A simpleton, I told you. Now, what were we talking about?” She touched the stupid man’s cheek and turned his face toward hers.

  Tulip scrambled from beneath the table. Could the cloud song be here so early in the season? It usually didn’t come until late autumn with the big storms.

  She bent low and hurried through the crowded common room. Mistress Wang would beat her if she caught her sneaking out, but the mean old lady was busy yelling at a man and accusing him of trying to rob her. Peony was upstairs making tofu. No one saw Tulip slip into the dim hallway leading outside.

  As she set her hand on the door handle, another burst of cloud song filled her. It was so strong she fell against the door. Shivers raced up and down her body. The music hummed in her blood. She had never felt it like this before, so . . . so close.

  She threw open the door and stepped outside. The air hummed. Her hair lifted from her shoulders and fanned around her head. Music flowed through her blood.

  This is how it always was when the storms came: She felt the melody in her body, felt it in air around her. She called it cloud song, and tonight, it was everywhere.

  She turned her face to the sky, stretching her arms out on either side of her. The cloud song danced in the air around her.

  With a jolt of surprise, she realized there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. How could there be cloud song without clouds? And why was it so strong?

  Lightning flared in the night. Tingles shot up and down her arms and legs. Her skin felt crackly, almost like she was being tickled.

  And then something unexpected happened. A pressure filled her fingertips, pushing against her skin with such force that she cried out. Her hand ached, feeling as if it would split open like a fat grape.

  She panted and gasped for breath, and still the pressure grew. She tried to clench her hands into fists, but they were paralyzed with pain.

  Just when she thought she couldn’t stand it any longer, something snapped within her. Sparks shot from her fingertips, filling the night with a brief flash of light.

  Tulip fell to her knees, taking in deep gulps of air. That had never happened before.

  She brought her fingers to her face and studied them. She touched them to her cheek to see if they were hot, but they weren’t.

  Cloud song rushed into her without warning, and again the strange pressure filled her hands. This time she didn’t fight the pain. She surrendered to it and felt a snap inside her. More sparks shot out from her fingertips.

  I should be scared, she thought. Normal people don’t shoot sparks out of their fingers.

  But it wasn’t scary. Cloud song wasn’t scary. Cloud song was like the sesame balls Peony got her for her birthday—warm and sweet and nice. And sparkly.

  Another flash of lightning came. Just as it lit the sky, the stable yard door opened.

  Peony, wearing a red silk dress, rushed outside in time to see sparks shower from Tulip’s fingertips.

  Her mother froze, one hand pressed over her mouth.

  Tulip jerked her hands behind her back. Even though she didn’t mind the sparks, Peony would not approve.