Descendant of the Crane(84)

She summoned her maids to help her prepare. Some gasped upon seeing her back, but Ming’er worked silently, putting Hesina in a black ruqun embroidered with white camellias, their glossy, teardrop leaves rendered in emerald silk on the bixi panels draping the skirts. It was a prudent choice. The black drew out the olive undertones of Hesina’s skin, and she left the infirmary looking more alive than she felt. Sanjing offered his arm at the doors, and she leaned on him as they made for the throne hall.

“Dianxia!” Ministers dropped into koutou when brother and sister crossed the threshold. “Wansui, wansui, wan wan sui!” Ten thousand years, ten thousand years, ten thousand of ten thousand years.

Forget about years. Hesina just wanted to live through today. It hurt to walk. It hurt to breathe. Yet somehow—thanks to Sanjing’s iron grip—she reached the dais just as the enamel pythons laid into the walk began to ripple and swim.

She sank into the throne with a wince of relief. First order of business, done; she’d made it to her meeting in one piece. Next order of business: Bring the realm back from the brink of self-destruction.

Elevens help her.

Sanjing positioned himself at her left. Caiyan was already at her right. Hesina assumed he hadn’t visited her in the last four days because he was busy, but now he didn’t even look at her. Her anxiety spiked. She tried to tame it before facing the sea of kneeling officials.

“Rise.”

Everyone had answered her summons, from minor courtier to the six ministers. They forested any space between the pillars, standing so close to one another that the black wings of their wusha caps brushed.

One by one, Hesina called them forth.

The Minister of Works reported that all industry within the city walls had halted, and cases of looting and public works defacement had skyrocketed. The Minister of Personnel reported that sector magistrates could no longer keep their residential wards under control, and that neighbors had turned on one another, demanding proof in blood. The Commandant of the city guard reported that his forces were spread thin in restraining the vigilante groups.

So this was why the Imperial Doctress had been so keen on keeping her locked away. Hesina’s back tingled as the blood required for healing rushed to her heart. She tried to will some to flow to her brain. “How many vigilante groups?”

“Roughly twenty. The largest one is comprised of blacksmiths and skilled laborers. They call themselves Children of the Eleven.”

The irony. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry.

The explosion had unleashed suspicion among the masses. Not only did people believe soothsayers were living disguised as their neighbors and friends, but they also believed the king’s real killer remained unfound among them.

“But the perpetrators are already dead,” Hesina said. “So is the convicted.” Her mouth went grainy, and Sanjing tensed.

“Who’s to say that the perpetrators weren’t working as part of a bigger group?” asked Xia Zhong. His neck was bare of scarf and beads. His bruises, Hesina noticed tartly, had finally healed.

“As for the convicted,” said the director, and Hesina glowered at both men, “it turns out your representative presented quite the convincing defense. She was guilty of being a sooth, yes, but few believe she was the king’s true murderer.”

Akira had constructed a solid defense. Would things be different if he hadn’t?

But the reality couldn’t be changed. Fifty-two civilians were dead. Hundreds were injured. One sooth had been identified by the vigilante groups and hastily executed. He’d burned to death on the seventieth cut.

Just when Hesina thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did. Secretariats approached with sheaves of papers. As Hesina spread them out on the ivory kang, they explained that messenger pigeons had been flying over the imperial city and the surrounding provinces for days now, dropping Kendi’an stamped leaflets. The city guard had tried to collect as many as they could, but some, inevitably, had fallen into the people’s hands.

TO ALL THE SOOTHSAYERS

WHO DISPLAY STRANGE AND UNUSUAL POWERS, YOUR KINGDOM HAS ABANDONED YOU.

OURS WELCOMES YOU.

SEEK SANCTUARY ACROSS THE BORDER.


Hesina envisioned the Crown Prince, lips draped with a smug smile. You are no better, he’d say. And he was right. By dropping these letters, he was fanning bloodthirst against the sooths. All he needed to do now was sit back and watch her people tear themselves apart before striking.

She managed to set down the letters without crumpling them. Her gaze sliced to the assembly ground. “Kendi’a lies. Their goal is to enslave the sooths.”

Her officials tutted in disgust. At least they could be trusted to condemn slavery, which the Eleven had outlawed along with serfdom.

“Grand Secretariat Sunlei, see that this corrected information is posted around the imperial city and flown into the affected provinces.”

“Understood, dianxia.”

Hopefully, it’d calm the people’s anger against the sooths. And hopefully, it’d stop sooths from seeking “freedom” across the border.

But Hesina wasn’t optimistic, and her hands balled as she realized something else.

“Eleven days.” Her voice boomed through the faux archways. “It’s been eleven days since the explosion. The fastest falcon takes twelve to reach Kendi’a, and another twelve back. Do you know what this means?”