CHAPTER ONE #2
“My husband has changed over the past few months,” she begins haltingly. “Returning late at night, losing his temper more often. I used to be his closest friend, now he barely sees me.” Tears well in her eyes. “Is he… possessed by an evil spirit?”
More likely he’s taken up with a new mistress, but she doesn’t want to hear that. “Do you have a token of your husband’s?”
As she hands me a fat circlet of jade, I rub it between my fingers like I’m thinking hard, fighting the temptation to slip it into my waistband. When I return the ring, the customer’s necklace is gone, tucked in Mistress Henglan’s pouch.
“He’s not possessed.” The honest part of my prediction. “But his spirits are burdened by an outside influence. Put away what money you can for safekeeping; it will come in useful one day.” Useful for her when he installs a concubine in the household.
She nods, sitting straighter. As she leaves, a girl takes her place on the stool.
Business is brisk this morning. Mistress Henglan’s smile widens as she ushers in customer after customer, each leaving with their purse a little lighter, missing a trinket or two.
Regardless of my lies, I try to advise them well.
I tell a man the woman he likes doesn’t match his horoscope when she clearly prefers another.
I advise a mother with a screaming child to keep sweets from her diet, and an old man to reconcile with his brother whom he’s still mad at, though he’s forgotten why.
Most of what I say is gleaned from listening to the other fortune tellers or the chatter on the street.
Small things, gravely spoken, embellished with enough detail to give them color.
At last, there is a break between customers.
I take a long drink from the waterskin, my voice having grown hoarse.
Mistress Henglan wanders to where a game of dice is underway.
I breathe easier when she’s gone, though I hope she won’t lose too much.
At this hour, the market is crowded. Children carry skewers of candied fruit, villagers huddle on benches as they slurp up bowls of noodles, some chewing sesame pancakes.
I reach for the stale bread in my pouch, but release it when I remember the tax we owe.
As I scan the crowd for another customer, my gaze falls upon a young man.
His eyes are the clear brown of freshly steeped tea, his black hair framing his tanned face.
It’s cut short, unlike those here who wear it pulled high or in a topknot.
And he is handsome, maybe more so than Farmer Lan’s son, whom many here stare at.
I cast the distracting thought aside. More importantly, this stranger is rich with his fine garments, the jade-studded belt around his waist, the bulging pouch hanging from it.
I wait till his eyes flick to mine, then give him my most knowing look, my mouth curved into a half smile.
He appears too assured to be a typical customer, but perhaps I can distract him long enough to steal something of worth.
He approaches, angling his head to one side as he towers over me. “A fortune teller,” he says. “How good are you?”
“Most of my customers leave happy.” My smile feels stitched on, his tone setting me on edge. “Would you like your fortune read, sir?”
A mirthless slant of his lips. “Can you read it?”
“As well as you can read the sign on my table.”
“How old are you?”
“Does it matter?” I reply a trace curtly. He acts like a lord, like he’s far more knowledgeable than me, though he looks only a few years older.
He doesn’t leave as I expect but sits down on the stool. His eyes go to the moles on my forehead. “Those aren’t well painted. Is this even your skin color?”
My hands fist in my lap. How did I ever think he was handsome? “I was born this way.”
“You sound offended.”
“Wouldn’t you be if I asked whether you borrowed the clothes you’re wearing?” I lift my head, searching the crowd for an easier prospect than this time-waster.
“What is your fee for a palm reading?” he asks. “Today, I’m bored enough to test your ‘gift.’”
“Three pieces of silver.” He is wealthy and condescending; I feel no remorse in cheating him. The fruit vendor beside me snorts but covers it with a cough. He’ll not betray me, just as I kept silent earlier when he charged a haughty customer twice the usual price. The tax of the ill-mannered.
“A high fee for a village fortune teller.”
“If you can’t afford it—”
“I can. It’s whether I think you’re worth it.”
My patience snaps. “If you won’t pay, then leave.”
He pulls out six pieces of silver, placing them before me.
Is this to flaunt his wealth? My pulse quickens as my gaze darts to the dice table, checking that Mistress Henglan isn’t looking our way—then I swiftly scoop up the silver and tuck it into my waistband.
Let him be a fool; I’ll take what I can.
He lays his hand on the crate, his fingers callused at their tips. “Will I find what I’m looking for in these mountains?”
Despite his generosity, the desire to thwart him remains. I’ll tell a good fortune… one he deserves. I brush my fingers over his palm, peering closely at it. “The stars are aligned in your favor today,” I begin in my most solemn voice.
“How do you know when you’re staring at my hand instead of the sky?” he counters.
“Don’t listen if you wish, but I won’t return your silver.” I’m trying not to grit my teeth. “What you seek lies just a day’s walk away, past the low hills north of here, and through the bamboo forest.” Right into the bog of stagnant water, stinking of mud and rot.
“You mean the marshlands?”
I blink, caught off guard. I thought he was a visitor, unfamiliar with the area. “Go beyond there,” I improvise, eager to send him as far away as possible. Far enough that by the time he returns, I’ll be long gone. “You’ll see a hill with violet flowers. Climb it, and once you’re close to the top—”
“You are the most precise fortune teller I’ve ever met,” he interjects.
“I don’t think you consult fortune tellers often.” Whenever I encounter suspicion, it’s safer to deflect the attention from myself.
“You’re right.”
“Why are you here?”
He studies me in silence. “I keep my eyes open, vital in any search,” he says at last. “You look like you do the same—that you have something interesting to say beyond your ‘fortunes.’”
The back of my neck prickles. Did he see Mistress Henglan stealing from my customers? If so, he’d have reported us to the soldiers. “What are you searching for?” I ask.
“Information. That I’ll apparently find after wading through a bog and scaling a mountain.” He folds his arms across his chest. “What if you’re wrong?”
“That is the price of boredom.” A rash answer. Something about him makes me want to tilt toward the edge rather than skitter away.
He smiles, a real one this time. I catch myself staring, then look away—just as Mistress Henglan returns, her steps brisk with anger.
She’s lost at dice, gambled away a chunk of our earnings.
At the sight of my customer, her face lights up.
As she approaches quietly, bending to divest his purse, he swings around like he senses her.
She recovers quickly, clasping her hands. “Would you like a cup of tea, Honored Sir?”
Before he can reply, I hear raised voices, followed by the clink of metal.
The vendors around me stiffen; any sign of unrest is bad for business.
Soldiers turn the corner, their iron armor glinting as brightly as their weapons.
Several people are rushing away, pushing through the crowd—my heart sinking.
Mandatory recruitment for the mines is rare, but it happens when there is a shortage of workers, the guards rounding up all the able-bodied youths they can find, ignoring their protests and cries.
The late king was ruthless in his ambitions.
Now that he is dead, our hopes for change lie with his heir.
A woman accompanies the soldiers, my first customer of the day. She stalks toward me, pointing a finger my way. “That’s the thief ! She stole my necklace.”
Dread pools in my gut. At once, Mistress Henglan slips into the crowd, her eyes squeezed in warning to hold my tongue. I hesitate—and then, she’s gone. The sentence for thievery is the same one my uncle suffered: the mines.
The arrogant young man is watching me, a curled finger against his lip. “Thief ?” he repeats softly. “I’ve underestimated you.”
I ignore him, rising as the guards circle me. “I didn’t steal from you,” I tell the woman, though it’s not quite true.
“Do you have the necklace?” a soldier demands.
I shake my head. “No, I swear it. Search me if you want.”
“Come with us,” the soldier orders harshly. “We’ll bring you to the magistrate.”
I nod, inwardly braced for flight. The magistrate is a corrupt official known for his lechery. Six silver pieces won’t be enough to grease his palm. A memory flashes of my uncle being dragged away by the soldiers, his proud head bowed. Months later, his gaunt body returned to us in a shroud.
I won’t let them take me.
I kick the wooden crate at the soldiers, flinging my stool next.
As a soldier lunges at me, spear outstretched, the young man stands abruptly and backs away, tripping the soldier in his haste.
Is he a coward, or just trying to help? I don’t think anymore, sprinting away.
The crowd parts as I push my way through, then closes to conceal my way.
Most don’t like seeing another caught; we know how hard life gets.
I rush down a narrow path, cursing when it ends at a wall, a scrawny tree towering beside it.
The soldiers’ voices grow louder; there’s no time to turn back.
My heart pounds as I clamber up the frail branches, which dip precariously as I reach to grab the edge of the wall.
My hair swings across my face, the piece of cloth used to cover it fallen away.
I tuck my feet into a narrow crack in the stone, heaving myself over, then make my way down.
I’m good at climbing, I’ve played among the trees since my childhood.
And I’m even better at disappearing from trouble, a skill honed with Mistress Henglan as my guardian.
Shouts ring out, footsteps heading in my direction.
I rush away, but someone seizes my wrist, yanking me through a doorway.
It’s dark inside, the air thick with dust. My free hand closes around my knife, slashing it at my attacker—a man, a head taller than me.
As he swings aside, I nick the side of his neck just below his ear.
I dart back, but his fingers lock harder around my wrist. I raise my blade again, but he catches my other hand with startling strength.
“Cut me again and I’ll cut you back.” His voice is almost guttural as he twists my knife loose. It falls to the ground with a soft clatter.
“Let me go or I’ll do worse,” I seethe, even as fear pierces me—of him, of the soldiers hunting me.
I thrash wildly, slamming my foot against his thigh.
Uncle taught me how to defend myself, among other things my aunt preferred I didn’t learn.
As I wrench one hand free, I bury my fist into his gut.
He grunts, folding forward, his short hair covering his face.
I stare, frozen with shock. It’s the young man from earlier.
“What are you doing?” I bend to snatch up my knife, pointing it at him.
“I don’t mean you any harm.”
“So says every villain.”
He touches the cut on his neck, his fingers stained with blood. “Maybe I should have let the soldiers arrest you.”
So he did help me by tripping one of them. An apology hovers but I quash it, my wrist still smarting from when he knocked my dagger away.
He leans against the wall, his mouth curved. “How are you going to get out of the village? All the gates are sealed, everyone leaving will be inspected.”
Terror spills over, but I leash it, forcing myself to think. If the entrances are closed, I won’t stand a chance by myself with the soldiers looking for me. I must find another way out, one they won’t expect.
“Help me.” I sound bold, but inside I’m bracing for his refusal.
His eyes gleam as he pushes himself from the wall. “Why should I?”
“I’ll pay you.” I dig out the silver from my sash, offering the pieces to him.
“With my own money?”
“I can get more—from my step-aunt,” I lie. “Bring me home and she’ll reward you.”
“Your aunt who abandoned you to be captured while she fled?” He’s sharp, seeing too much. “My payment is going to be a lot more than six pieces of silver.”
He’s reeling me in, though I’m the one who cast the bait. I study him, weighing whether throwing myself into his hands would be preferable to the magistrate’s. At the memory of the magistrate’s oily gaze, how he leers at the girls when he struts through the market, my choice is made.
“You said you were searching for something,” I say slowly. “I can help you.” Today’s promise is tomorrow’s burden.
“I’m not sure how your predictions will benefit me further.” A hint of irony in his tone.
My hands curl. “I have other skills, those that helped me escape the soldiers. I know these mountains; I’ve lived here all my life. I can fight, I can—”
“Lie and steal?” He grins in a way that makes my hand itch to slap him. “I do need a pair of eyes around here. Someone with your skills might come in useful.”
“Then you’ll help me?”
“You’ll owe me a favor.” His smile widens, both charming and vicious. “To be called in when I wish. Within reason, and in good faith.”
The words fall smoothly like he’s struck this bargain before. I hesitate—but more shouts ring out in the distance, the soldiers closing in, their footsteps growing louder.
“I accept.” As I thrust my hand out, he shakes it. We stare at each other before breaking apart. “What’s your plan?” I ask.
He stalks to the doorway. “I have a carriage.”
“That’s it? What if they search it?”
He turns back to me, unclasping his cloak and drawing it around my shoulders. As he pulls up the hood, he looks into my face. “They won’t search my carriage. They wouldn’t dare.”
“Why? Are you the prince?” I ask rudely to mask my unease.
A beat of silence. “Be thankful I’m not.”