Jade Fire Gold(68)

Her eyebrows go up and she gives me an appraising, skeptical look.

“We need a room if it’s not too much trouble,” I say to Master Luo, ignoring Ahn.

He claps me hard on the back as if to test my strength. “Of course. Dispense with the formalities. The gods must favor you.” His voice lowers. “The priests were here a few days ago, searching as usual, but they didn’t find anyone, thank Heavens. I don’t expect them to return any time soon. I assume you’re here to meet Master Sun?”

“Yes.”

“I expect him to arrive in a day or so. Wait here.” He disappears into the alcove.

“Is he a Tiensai?” Ahn whispers.

“No, his son is.”

“Does he know who I am?”

I shake my head. She relaxes and slouches against the table. “Who’s Master Sun?”

“My mentor.”

She’s about to say something when Master Luo returns with another large lamp and a pile of fresh clothes.

“I’m not sure if these will fit well, but they will do for now.” He runs through the keys hanging from a thick iron ring, pausing at a small knobby one. “There’s a big crowd here this weekend for the Qixi Festival, and I wasn’t expecting the two of you, only Master Sun and his guest.”

Ahn throws me a questioning look. I give her the briefest of nods to indicate that the guest is her grandmother.

Master Luo clears his throat, eyes sneaking to Ahn. “I have, uh, only one room to spare for tonight. Will that be a problem?”

Ten Hells. I tip my head at Ahn. This should be her decision.

“It’s fine,” she says wearily.

I smile tightly. There better be two beds in that room. I’m tired of sleeping on the ground.

“Two flights up, last door to your right. The two of you look like you need a good night’s sleep.” Master Luo’s nose twitches as he hands me the key. “And a bath.”

We creep up the stairs, careful not to make a sound. I open the door and curse right away.

A single bed greets us. A narrow one. The only way two people could ever fit on it is if one of them slept sideways and rested their head on the other’s chest. Which . . . isn’t going to happen.

“You can have the bed,” we both whisper at the same time.

Ahn throws up a hand. “You’re injured.”

“I’ve recovered, and I’m the man—”

“Women can sleep on floors, too.”

“I didn’t say—”

“In case you didn’t notice, I’ve been sleeping on the dirt all this time,” she whisper-hisses.

“I’m trying to be considerate.”

“So am I.”

We stare daggers at each other, whisper-fighting like a married couple worried about the neighbors eavesdropping. I’d have laughed at the absurdity of it all if I weren’t so tired. Too tired to bicker.

“Fine. I’ll take the bed,” I say.

“Fine.”

Ahn huffs and drops the rucksack on the floor with a loud thud. She doesn’t seem pleased with my decision even though it’s what she said she wanted. Not my problem. I disarm myself, rip off my top, and head toward the bathroom.

Ahn makes a noise. Something between a muted cry and a sharp intake of air.

I spin around. “Are we really fighting over the bathroom?”

One look at her face and I know the gasp was for the scars on my back, not the bathroom. She must not have seen them when I was ill with the poison.

They aren’t hard to miss in this well-lit room. Long thick cicatrices, some a good twelve inches long. The whiplike marks have lost their pink-red hue over the years, taking on the pale waxen look of healed skin stretched taut. They look bad. But they are a far cry from the bloody, ripped flesh that once split down my back when I was a boy.

Ahn doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything. She isn’t horrified or disgusted. Something about her expression makes me . . . I don’t have words for that feeling. It reminds me of the moment when she made that ghastly joke after I told her how my sister died. The same look. No pity or fear or revulsion. Something else.

My instincts want to fight it. Fight whatever emotion she rouses inside me. But the truth is, she makes me feel less alone.

We stand face-to-face, silent. Until the quiet between us grows too intimate and I can’t bear it anymore. Then, I head into the bathroom and shut the door behind me.





27


Altan


The sensation of heat wakes me up. It’s almost noon, and surprisingly I have slept well. No dreams, no nightmares. Just a peaceful, blank slumber.

Ahn is curled up on the blanket I left on the floor. When I try to wake her, she waves me off sleepily and burrows her face into the fabric. I want to take a stroll around town to ease my restlessness, and it’s better for her to stay out of sight anyway so I let her sleep on and leave a note: a warning to stay in the tavern in case the Imperial guards or priests have caught up.

Downstairs, Master Luo plies me with food. Lots of it. Our conversation is innocuous. He doesn’t know our plan or where we are going or any of the extraneous details. We both know it is safer this way. Before heading out, I leave a cyphered letter to Linxi in the care of Master Luo’s messenger.

Most of Heshi is built on and around the tributaries of a snaking river. Canals serve as roads, connected by arched stone bridges carved with various flowers and animals. I spot kingfishers, dragons, lions and tigers, and occasionally, a monkey, all sculpted with astonishing lifelikeness.