Chapter 17
The alleyway, cast in shade, was noticeably cool, its cramped lane made narrower by a stack of crates piled up against the wall. Old, withered hay littered the ground, sticking to the soles of my boots as I bounded after the man.
“Wait!” I called to his retreating back. “Please, sir, I’d just like to speak with you for a moment!”
He halted near the alley’s opposite opening and turned.
“What do you want, girl?” he growled, hands tucked formally into his sleeves. He looked like a scholar or a sage, shoulders perfectly straight and beard reaching to his stomach. He was the first person I’d seen in Xiatang who didn’t appear ready to faint.
My footsteps slowed. I didn’t dare draw too close, afraid of frightening him off. “Who are you?”
He scoffed. “Don’t waste my time by asking questions you already know the answer to.”
“Master Zhang, then?” I said. “My name is Kang Siying. I’m—”
“I know who you are,” he cut me off. His irritation lapped at my ankles, even from this distance. “I’ve been watching you since the moment you and that boy stepped into Xiatang’s boundaries. Of course, you wouldn’t know that. You seem entirely oblivious to the fact that there are eyes everywhere.”
I creased my brows. “What do you mean?”
He gestured vaguely at the air.
I swallowed my annoyance, reminding myself that although he was dead, Master Zhang was still an elder deserving of respect. And despite his prickly behavior, he seemed different from the spirits I’d encountered before, someone who could be reasoned with.
“If you know who I am,” I said, returning to the issue at hand, “then you must also know what I’ve come to ask you.”
He sighed impatiently. “Yes, yes. You’ve come to exorcise me, is that right? Rather an unusual task for a ganshi priestess, but I’m sure you’re being paid well. Did the king send you?”
“No, of course not.” I squeezed my staff. “But you’re correct in that I’ve come to purify you. Of course, I’d prefer your consent…”
“No.”
I froze. “But—”
“You ask for my consent, and I’m telling you no.” He narrowed his eyes, a dark aura radiating from his being—heavy, gray, and terribly familiar. “You do understand the concept of no, don’t you, girl?”
I rolled my lips together, hard enough to hurt. Speaking slowly so not to lose control of my temper, I said, “I understand your reluctance. But my friend needs your qi, and you need to move on to the next world—for your sake and the town’s. I can give you peace, Master Zhang.”
“Who says I want to move on?” he countered, lifting a thick eyebrow.
I felt a wave of déjà vu. Liu Chunhua had argued similarly.
“Why wouldn’t you? Your life here is already over. If you stay, you accomplish nothing, and you won’t ever be able to reincarnate. I’m offering you a fair bargain.”
“Your idea of fair is very different from mine.” He began to turn away. “I’ve made up my mind, priestess. I suggest you leave town and find a more foolish spirit to pester.”
“I don’t have time to find another spirit!”
My outburst startled a mouse, and it darted into a nearby stack of crates. I bit my lip, embarrassed, but I was more worried about Ren. And Baba, of course, whose fate was tied with his. If I didn’t save Ren, I wouldn’t be able to save my father either.
Master Zhang glanced over his shoulder, expression flat. “I fail to see how that’s any of my concern.”
“Master Zhang, there’s something—”
Before I could voice my worries about the residents, he stepped out of the alley and rounded the corner. I sprinted after him, only to stumble into an open field of tall yellow grass. The town’s former leader had vanished.
I paced the edge of the field, searching.
When it was clear the spirit wouldn’t rematerialize, I contemplated how I’d find him again.
Because I had to find him. Ren’s qi was already dangerously low, notwithstanding his carefree behavior.
If we didn’t obtain Master Zhang’s qi, I wasn’t certain I could gather enough elsewhere—and in time.
There was also the matter of the town’s bizarre languor, which I was now confident was related to Master Zhang’s energy. I just wasn’t sure how yet.
Skin tingling from frustration, I retraced my steps through the alley, back to the market road. As I strode into the sunlight, my troubled thoughts were interrupted by Ren calling my name.
“Siying, there you are!” He appeared beside me, his happy relief faltering into a frown. “What’s the matter? Miss Li said you’d gone to find me, so I worried you’d gotten lost. Did something happen?”
“I ran into Master Zhang’s spirit.” I didn’t mention my suspicions about the spirit’s strange aura, still uncertain what the relation was.
“Really? Where is he?”
“Escaped.” I couldn’t look Ren in the eye, disappointed by my own failure. “But I’ll find him again, I promise.”
“Siying.” Ren tapped the bottom of my chin, prompting me to meet his gaze. His smile was surprisingly tender, stilling the waves in my stomach. “It’s all right. I trust you. Which is why I thought I’d try to be more helpful by interviewing the townsfolk today.”
I arched a brow, impressed. “And here I thought you were passing time with gossip.”
“Gossip can be a useful way to uncover truth,” he said slyly. “And thanks to the gossip I heard today, I learned about a memorial that the town created for the lost rebels.”
“A memorial?” In my excitement, I stepped closer to him, our noses nearly bumping. His lips parted in surprise, and I couldn’t stop from staring a moment too long at their pale-pink softness. Summer-hot blood flooded up my neck. I jerked back and cleared my throat. “Where is it?”
He turned his face east, the hint of a smile teasing the corner of his mouth.
If he noticed my awkwardness, he had the good grace not to mock me for it.
“We passed it, actually, last night. It’s an oak tree near the pond.
Perhaps Master Zhang will be there, considering it’s a sacred location for honoring the dead. ”
I tightened my hold on my staff and followed his gaze. “Then we must go and see if you’re right. I won’t let him slip away again.”
Ren pinched the fabric of my sleeve to keep me from rushing off. “Not so fast, dear priestess. We can go after lunch. Miss Li and her mother are waiting for us, remember? They’ve prepared a wonderful meal, and it’d be rude to let it grow cold.”
I chewed on my lower lip, having forgotten all about food and manners. I was eager to finish my business in Xiatang, but I recalled the Lis in the kitchen, sacrificing their time and food to feed us, their unexpected guests.
“You’re right,” I said after a pause. “But we’re investigating as soon as lunch is over.”
We did not leave as soon as lunch was over.
Like Ren had said, the meal was wonderful—carp bathed in a red sauce and paired with pickled cucumbers, braised bean curd and mushrooms, rice cooked to a perfect tenderness.
Though the ingredients were simple, the flavors reminded me of my childhood, when Mama would make a colorful variety of dishes for holidays and birthdays.
Judging by the amount of food, Feilin and her mother had specially prepared these dishes for us.
Ren had no shortage of praise for the women’s cooking, making them both blush with pleasure.
I shared his appreciation by consuming a decent serving of each dish and picking off every last grain of rice in my bowl.
I hoped, briefly, that Baba was eating well too.
After the meal, I helped Feilin wash the dishes, concerned about her pallid complexion, while Ren accompanied her mother to deliver food to an elderly neighbor who lived near the market.
By the time I was finished, Ren still hadn’t returned. I imagined he’d been lured into another long, mundane conversation. As a priestess of death, I always had an easy excuse to leave. But Ren was much too kind and patient. If only he’d use his listening skills as king.
Unable to wait any longer, I told Feilin where I was going and grabbed my peach staff.
“Wait,” she said. “I’ll come with you. I can show you where the memorial is.”
I considered her offer and decided it would indeed be more efficient to have her as my guide. And it was unlikely that Master Zhang would hurt her if we did find him there.
“I appreciate it,” I said.
I felt only slightly guilty about leaving Ren behind—he was safer this way, I told myself. After I convinced Master Zhang to help, then I could bring Ren to him.
The town’s notorious pond appeared smaller in the daytime, but it took us as long as the previous night to traipse halfway around its shore to the oak memorial.
I wouldn’t have noticed it if not for the wooden plaque nailed to its broad trunk.
It was a rather unassuming tree, with gnarled, outspread branches bent slightly to one side.
Its fiery leaves contrasted brightly against the brown-black bark, the reds and oranges blending with the forest behind.
“Without their bodies, this was the best we could do for our men,” Feilin said ruefully.
“I understand.” I stepped up to the plaque and skimmed the words inscribed into the wood. They were names—undoubtedly of those who’d been killed by the king’s army. At the top of the list were the characters for memory.
For some reason, the plaque made me think of Ren.
If I’d never reanimated his corpse on that battlefield, would his name have ended up on a memorial like this?
Or would he have been forgotten, a nameless soldier lost in a foreign land?
The thought pricked my heart. I couldn’t imagine a world left quieter by Ren’s absence.
Feilin and the other families of Xiatang probably felt the same.
I brushed my fingers against the wood and bowed my head in reverence, aching for the spirits stranded far from home. I mourned for the surviving families so desperate for their lost loved ones to obtain peace that they’d commemorated them with this plaque in the hopes that it would be enough.
But it wasn’t enough. I’d felt the anguish of the spirits every time I walked past the grave of traitors. They had yet to move on.
Feilin joined me by the plaque and sighed. “At least we still have Master Zhang.”
I glanced at her. “You trust his spirit that much?”
“He may be a spirit, but he’s more than capable of protecting us.”
“But don’t you think it’s time for him to move on?”
“Maybe.” She rolled her lips together. “But then who’d keep us safe?”
“You’re already safe,” I told her. “And I’m sure Ren will convince the king to allow your men a proper burial, here in Xiatang.”
“I really hope so.” Feilin smiled faintly. “He must’ve done commendable work to impress the king so much.” She paused, then said, “You really think the king will listen to a painter, even an honored one? My mother—well, she has her doubts. But she’s wrong, isn’t she, Mistress Kang?”
The desperation in her question gutted me, and I heard myself say, “Actually, Feilin, the truth is—”
I broke off.
But Feilin’s attention never wavered from my face.
“The truth is what?” she pressed.
I chewed my lip. Feilin was a friend. She’d proven her kindness by helping us so much already. Surely she deserved to know the truth, and deserved to be reassured by it. I just didn’t know where to start.
My throat felt suddenly dry as I said, “The truth is … the truth is Ren is really close to—to Prince Liqin. And he’s not really a painter. I mean, he is, but not professionally—”
Heavens, this was embarrassing, my attempt to untie a lie I’d knotted so tight. I’d never confessed like this before. My words were coming out horribly jumbled.
Feilin looked understandably confused. “What do you mean, not professionally?”
“I mean he doesn’t get paid. At least, I don’t think so…”
“So he paints for the prince as a favor?”
“No! I mean, I don’t know, maybe sometimes since they’re brothers—”
Her eyes widened. “Brothers?”
“Oh!” My stomach felt like a fish on land, flapping for water. “Well, they’re … sorry, yes. They—they are brothers. Ren is a prince. The second prince of Sian.”
Feilin stared at me, stunned. I searched her eyes, deciphering bewilderment, surprise, worry—but not anger. At least, not yet.
“Feilin,” I started. “I’m sorry for not telling you the truth from the beginning. But this is why I think Ren can convince his father—”
“What did you say?”
We both jumped at the voice that had come from behind me.
I spun around. Master Zhang stood a yard away, watching me with cold eyes. His gray-green pao and silvered hair fit well into the natural scenery. He could’ve been a forest spirit from children’s stories, if not for the distinctly human anger directed at me.
“Master Zhang,” I said, horror drenching me from head to toe. “Please listen to me—”
“Is that boy really the king’s son?” he interrupted.
I pressed my mouth shut. But my silence was just as damning as the truth.
A shadow crossed the old man’s face, his gray aura intensifying, and I realized I’d made a dire mistake.
Ill-timed clouds curtained the sun, causing a sudden chill that matched the coldness radiating from Master Zhang.
Gone was the ornery elder of Xiatang. Standing before me was the evil spirit who’d killed an entire platoon of trained imperial soldiers.
With just his will, he’d dragged their helpless bodies to the bottom of the pond, leaving them for dead.
As I stared into his storm-black eyes, I knew he would readily do the same to Ren, the son of his greatest enemy.
“No,” I gasped.
But it was too late.
Without warning, the spirit of Master Zhang dissolved into nothing. And yet I knew he wasn’t gone, merely going somewhere else—to the very town where I’d left Ren alone and defenseless.