The War Arts Saga - The Art of Legend E-Book

Wesley Chu

• Herausgeber: Titan Books
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 1104

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

A humbled prince, a grumpy grandmaster, and a ragtag band of heroes find out what it takes to become truly legendary, in the conclusion to the epic, action-packed War Arts Saga trilogy. A hero once believed to be the chosen one must find a new path with the help of a band of unlikely allies in the epic conclusion to The War Arts Saga, an ode to martial arts and magic from the #1 New York Times bestselling author Wesley Chu. Once in a faraway kingdom there was a prince prophesied to be the Chosen One, who would defeat a great villain, the Eternal Khan, and save the kingdom. But then the Eternal Khan died . . . and the prophecy was broken. For Jian, the fated prince, this could have been a moment to succumb to despair. But instead, he chose to create his own destiny. He studied under his curmudgeonly but beloved mentor to become a great warrior. And he banded together with some unlikely allies whose courage and determination match his own—such as Sali, a gruff warrior who is also forging a path apart from the one her culture created for her. Because some heroes aren't simply born legends—they choose to become legendary. And great heroes do not stand alone, but are stronger together.

Leseprobe

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Leave us a Review

Copyright

Dedication

Dramatis Personae

Act I

Chapter One At The Gates

Chapter Two The Penal Life

Chapter Three Vauzan

Chapter Four The Refreshed Start

Chapter Five Chopstick

Chapter Six The Shulan Court

Chapter Seven The Temple of The Tiandi

Chapter Eight Final Affairs

Chapter Nine The Lesson

Chapter Ten Home Life

Chapter Eleven Lawkan Corner

Chapter Twelve Exit Plan

Chapter Thirteen The Nursery

Chapter Fourteen Hard Choices

Chapter Fifteen The Right Motivation

Chapter Sixteen Found Out

Chapter Seventeen Champion

Chapter Eighteen The Rally

Chapter Nineteen The Kati Raid

Act II

Chapter Twenty The Viperstrike

Chapter Twenty-One Life Under Siege

Chapter Twenty-Two Progress

Chapter Twenty-Three Sunjawa

Chapter Twenty-Four The Thorned Garden

Chapter Twenty-Five Day Off

Chapter Twenty-Six Diplomacy

Chapter Twenty-Seven Forgotten

Chapter Twenty-Eight Oracle of the Tiandi

Chapter Twenty-Nine Reunited

Chapter Thirty Honor and Righteousness

Chapter Thirty-One Good Talks

Chapter Thirty-Two The Alliance

Chapter Thirty-Three The Team-Up

Chapter Thirty-Four Death Sleet

Chapter Thirty-Five Escape from the Tulip

Chapter Thirty-Six The Reality

Chapter Thirty-Seven Down in the Drink

Chapter Thirty-Eight Difficult Diplomacy

Chapter Thirty-Nine Scheming

Act III

Chapter Forty Reacquainted

Chapter Forty-One A Sort of Return

Chapter Forty-Two Recovery

Chapter Forty-Three Hengyen

Chapter Forty-Four Nezra Rides

Chapter Forty-Five Prisoner

Chapter Forty-Six Property of the Tiandi

Chapter Forty-Seven The First Plan

Chapter Forty-Eight War Prelude

Chapter Forty-Nine Second Chance

Chapter Fifty Cities Battle

Chapter Fifty-One The Second Plan

Chapter Fifty-Two Third Plan

Chapter Fifty-Three Identity

Chapter Fifty-Four The Conqueror

Chapter Fifty-Five Together

Chapter Fifty-Six Shadowkill Homecoming

Chapter Fifty-Seven Unification

Chapter Fifty-Eight To the Victors, the Spoils

Chapter Fifty-Nine Beginning of the End

Chapter Sixty Twisted Loyalties

Chapter Sixty-One The Pursuit

Chapter Sixty-Two Last Contribution

Chapter Sixty-Three Revenge

Chapter Sixty-Four Freedom

Chapter Sixty-Five Prophecy’s End

Chapter Sixty-Six The Final Fight

Epilogue

Appendix

The Story So Far

Salminde the Viperstrike Chaqra Spirit Shaman Book Storage Archive

Consortium Logs: Maza Qisami Cell: Grunt Tsang

Consortium Logs: Maza Qisami Cell: Grunt Cyyk

Acknowledgments

About the Author

AVAILABLE FROM WESLEY CHUAND DAPHNE PRESS

The Art of Prophecy

The Art of Destiny

The Art of Legend

LEAVE US A REVIEW

We hope you enjoy this book – if you did we would really appreciate it if you can write a short review. Your ratings really make a difference for the authors, helping the books you love reach more people.

You can rate this book, or leave a short review here:

Amazon.co.uk,

Goodreads,

Waterstones,

or your preferred retailer.

First published in the UK in 2025 by Daphne Press

www.daphnepress.com

Copyright © 2025 by Wesley Chu

Cover illustration by Tran Nguyen

Cover design by Jane Tibbetts

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All rights reserved.

This edition published by arrangement with Del Rey, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent publisher.

All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Hardback ISBN: 978-1-83784-054-0

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-83784-056-4

eBook ISBN: 978-1-83784-055-7

Waterstones Exclusive HB ISBN: 978-1-83784-112-7

Broken Binding Exclusive HB ISBN: 978-1-83784-113-4

The authorised representative in the EEA is Authorised Rep Compliance Ltd71 Baggot Street Lower, Dublin, D02 P593, Ireland.Email: [email protected]

1

To childhood dreams,may they all come true

DRAMATISPERSONAE

THE TIANDI

AYQUE High lord of the Shulan Court. Leader of the stupid faction.

BHASANI, NARWANI Master of the Drowned Fist.

DONGSHI Duke of Lawkan. Former whisperlord of the empire. Leader of the Ten Hounds.

FAUSAN, NOON also God of Gamblers. Master of the Whipfinger Style Song Family Ho Lineage.

GORAMH Legendary Tiandi monk. His wisdom is renowned throughout the world. Likely starved to death on a mountain.

GUANSHI, SASHA also Beautiful Boy. Daughter of Guanshi Kanyu. Boss of the Worst Today Boys.

GUIMAN Hansoo monk. One ring. Pahm’s little brother.

HACHI Heir to the Whipfinger Style Song Family Ho Lineage. Close friend to Jian.

HAIKSONG Gardener at Skyfall Temple.

HUA, SHAO Latest protagonist in the popular long-running Burning Hearts romance series written by a Xhu Weh Sahri. Not a real person.

HUAKT Captain in the Shulan Displayguards.

HUJO, AKAI also Longsleeves. High lord and a general of the Caobiu Cinderblossoms.

HUYYI Prisoner at the Happy Glow Retirement Home. Lover to Cyyk.

JIAN, WEN also Lu Hiro. Champion of the Five Under Heaven. The Prophesied Hero of the Tiandi. Heir to the Windwhispering School of the Zhang Lineage. #1 Most Wanted Fugitive in the Enlightened States.

KAIYU, HWANG Heir of the Houtou style Third Lin Lineage. Close friend to Jian.

KASA, HWANG also the Sky Monkey. Master of the Houtou style Third Lin Lineage. Father to Kaiyu. Killed while saving Wen Jian from the Lotus Lotus monks.

KORANAJAH Battleabbess of the Black Orchid sect in Vauzan. Friend to Taishi.

KUOLONG Master war artist of the Tea Bears of Xing. Slain by the Eternal Khan of Katuia during the siege of Xusan.

LIUMAN Hansoo monk. Twelve rings. Pahm’s former master. Killed by Qisami.

MEEHAE Apprentice acupuncturist. Close friend to Jian in Sanba.

MORI, LEE Templeabbot of the Temple of the Tiandi in Vauzan. Former lover to Taishi.

MUNNAM, LING Former Master windwhisper. Father to Ling Taishi. Deceased.

NEEHONG Resident of Vauzan. Mother to Neeshan.

NEESHAN Former box girl in Vauzan. Lover to Hachi.

OBAN, ORI High lord of the Shulan Court. Close friend to former Duke Saan and interim leader of Shulan Duchy. Leader of the idiotic faction.

OBEEN, ORI Lord of the Shulan Court. Brother and personal mind trust to Highlord Oban.

PAHM Hansoo war monk. Ten rings. Close friend to Xinde and Jian.

PEI Child Oracle of the Tiandi. Friend to Taishi.

PENGZO Initiate at the Skyfall Temple.

QINHHWANAN Former battleabbess of the Black Orchids, friend of Taishi, slain by a Katuia champion.

SAAN also the Painted Tiger. Duke of Shulan. Former Emperor Xuanshing’s second son. Former student to Taishi. Killed by Sunri.

SAKU SAKU High lady of the Shulan Court. Leader of the capitulation caucus.

SANSO, LING Son of Ling Taishi. Deceased.

SOHI, SOA Former Eternal Bright Light master. Younger brother to Sohn.

SOHN, SOA Master of the Eternal Bright Light Fist Pan Family Pan Lineage. Lost heir to the family’s schools. Formerly nicknamed Pan’s Pillaging Playboy. Wanted Fugitive.

SOHNSHO, SOA Eternal Bright Light master. Head of the Pan family Pan Lineage. Nephew to Sohn.

SONAYA, RAS Daughter of the Drowned Fist. Bhasani’s heir. Love interest to Jian.

SUNRI also the Desert Lioness. Duchess of Caobiu. Former concubine to Emperor Xuanshing.

TAISHI, LING also Nai Roha. Grandmaster of the Windwhispering School of the Zhang Lineage; Windwhispering School of the Zhang Lineage of the Ling Family Branch. Distant #2 Most Wanted Fugitive in the Enlightened States.

WAYLIN Duke of Xing. Cousin to the Emperor Xuanshing.

XINDE Magistrate in Vauzan. Former captain of the Caobiu Stone Watchers long eyes unit. Former First Senior of the Longxian War Art Academy. Close friend to Jian from back in Jiayi.

XUAMIO Worst Boy Thug of the Worst Today Boys.

YANSO Duke of Gyian. Former purselord to Emperor Xuanshing. Killed by Sunri.

YINSHI, HUI Former songmistress of the Xing Court. Mother to Ling Taishi. Deceased.

ZOFI, WU Taishi’s close confidante and assistant. Adopted daughter to Ling Taishi. Best friend and tutor to Jian.

THE SHADOW

AKIANA, AKI Lady of Aki household. Twin to Akiya. Youngest daughter of Lord Aki Niam. Under the care of Qisami as Child Companion Kiki. Deceased.

AKIYA, AKI Lady of Aki household. Twin to Akiana. Youngest daughter of Lord Aki Niam. Under the care of Qisami as Child Companion Kiki. Deceased.

BADGASGIRL Member of Cyyk’s Grunt Gang. Prisoner of the Happy Glow Retirement Home.

BIG LETTUCE Member of Cyyk’s Grunt Gang. Prisoner of the Happy Glow Retirement Home.

BINGWING Shadowkill in Koteuni’s copper-tier cell.

BURANDIN Shadowkill in Qisami’s cell. Husband to Koteuni.

CHALKFACE Member of Cyyk’s Grunt Gang. Prisoner of the Happy Glow Retirement Home.

CHIAFANA also Firstwife. The Minister of Critical Purpose. Adviser to Duchess Sunri of Caobiu.

CYYK, QUAN also Cyknan. Lord in the Quan family of Caobiu. Son of Highlord General Quan Sah. Former student of the Longxian School. Grunt in Qisami’s cell. Prisoner at the Happy Glow Retirement Home.

FUNGUSFEET Member of Cyyk’s Grunt Gang. Prisoner of the Happy Glow Retirement Home.

HAAREN Shadowkill in Qisami’s cell. Opera. Killed by Taishi.

HAIR BEAR Boss of Barrack Twelve, also known as the Goons, of the Happy Glow Retirement Home.

ISSA, TAWARA Mother of the River, former Lawkan lord. Prisoner at the Happy Glow Retirement Home.

ITO, TAWARA One of the leaders of the Lawkan faction at the Happy Glow Retirement Home.

JAHKO Shadowkill in Koteuni’s copper-tier cell.

KOTEUNI Leader of a copper-tier shadowkill cell. Former second-in-command in Maza Qisami’s cell. Wife to Burandin. No longer friends with Qisami.

QISAMI, MAZA also Kiki. Former copper-tier shadowkill from the Bo Po Mo Fo training pool. Former diamond-tier operative under demotion and garnishment from the Consortium. Resident at the Happy Glow Retirement Home.

SNOUTNOSE Member of Cyyk’s Grunt Gang. Prisoner of the Happy Glow Retirement Home.

SOY, MUBAAN Former minor Gyian taxlord. Prisoner at the Happy Glow Retirement Home. Castrated by Qisami.

SUNXIA Warden of Happy Glow Retirement Home. Possibly cousin to Sunri.

SURRATOO Sister of the Black Orchids. Nanny to Pei, Oracle of the Tiandi. Excommunicated.

SVENT Barrack Three boss of the Happy Glow Retirement Home.

THREE CHINS Elevator king of the Hope You Get Rich Mine at the Happy Glow Retirement Home.

TSANG Former grunt of Maza Qisami’s cell. Now promoted to the Consortium training pool.

USHMU Shulan lord defending Vauzan’s Prime Ward.

ZIYAK, MAZA Emeritus Senior Mnemonic of the Gyian Court. Father to Maza Qisami.

ZWEI also Zweilang. Shadowkill in Koteuni’s cell. Opera. A Yiyang.

THE KATUIA

ALYNA Viperstrike of the Nezra clan. Former mentor to Salminde. Deceased.

BHUSUI Will of the Khan to Visan.

DAEWON Master tinker. Council member of the Nezra clan. Husband to Malinde. Father to young Hampa.

DAI Ninth Yazgur of Sunjawa Outpost.

FAALSA Viperstrike and a clan chief of the Nezra clan. Father to Salminde. Deceased.

HAMPA Viperstrike. Neophyte to Salminde. Killed by Raydan.

HANUS Yar of the Honest Run. Member of the Great Deals Galore Guild.

HOQUO Nezra warrior. Slain during the Nezra attack on the Honest Run trade barge.

HORSAW Will of the Khan to Visan.

HUONG First Yazgur of Sunjawa Outpost.

HWASHI Will of the Khan to Visan.

JAWAPA Hrusha cobbler of the Sun Under Lagoon. His crap is garbage.

JHAMSA Elder Spirit Shaman of Katuia. Council member of Chaqra, the Black City. Former heart-father to Sali.

JIAMIN also the Eternal Khan of Katuia. The Lord of the Grass Sea. Childhood friend of Sali. Deceased.

JOUM Will of the Khan to Visan.

LEHUANGXI THIRAPUT CUNGLE Captain of the Hana Iceberg. Friend to Sali.

MALI also Malinde the Master Tinker. Sectchief to Nezra tinker sect. Council member of the Nezra clan. Sister to Salminde. Wife to Daewon. Mother to young Hampa.

MARHI also Hoisannisi Jayngnaga Marhi. Neophyte viperstrike to Salminde. Former rumblerlead of Hightop cluster. Friend to Hampa.

MILEENE Viperstrike of the Nezra clan. Mother to Salminde. Deceased.

NANKA Crew member of the Not Loud Not Fat. Former howler monkey of Nezra clan.

RAYDAN also Raydan the Stormchaser. The Stormchaser. Former raidbrother to Sali. Killed by Sali.

SALI also Salminde the Viperstrike. The Viperstrike. Former Will of the Khan. Council member of the Nezra clan. Leader of the Exiles Rebellion against Katuia.

SHOBANSA Nezra Supplychief. Trader and wealthiest person in Nezra.

SURIPTIKA also Conchitsha Abu Suriptika. Happan ritualist. Cobbler in Hrusha. Healer to Sali. Keeper of the Xoangiagu.

SURUMPTIPA Clan chief of Liqusa.

THUAIA Will of the Khan to Visan.

VISAN also the new Eternal Khan of Katuia. The Lord of the Grass Sea.

WANI Viperstrike of Nezra clan. Neophyte to Salminde. Former howler monkey.

WEIGO Nezra tinker under Daewon.

YURAKI also Rich Man Yuraki. Elder of Hig.

For a summary of the events of the War Arts Saga so far,please turn to “The Story So Far” in the appendix.

CHAPTER ONE

AT THE GATES

The Siege of Vauzan began during a sunny Tenth Day Prayer. Ling Taishi was gnawing on a thousand-layer flaky bun at the Tall Wall Dim Sum restaurant set up at the parapet of the Dauntless Wall, which ran along the eastern perimeter of Vauzan city, the ducal capital of Shulan Duchy. The wall didn’t serve as much of a deterrent. It was wider and squatter than it was tall, and no opposing army had ever been intimidated by a fat wall. The court often rented the grounds of the outer battlement to various businesses and special events. Wedding processions circling the city were especially popular.

Today was Breakfast Club, which happened at every Tenth Day Prayer. Taishi would never admit it, but she savored these meals with the other women of the club. These events were some of her most enjoyable moments in a world increasingly devoid of such small pleasures. The Vauzan Temple of the Tiandi during Tenth Day Prayer was insufferable, so this gave her an excuse to leave the temple grounds and stay as far away from the ghastly, pious rabble yearning to tithe their way into heaven. With the troubles brewing across the Enlightened States, the business of religion was doing well.

She continued to nibble the edges of her bun. Like the wall, her breakfast was also falsely advertised. The so-called thousand-layer flaky bun had many layers, yes, but not close to a thousand. Probably not even twenty. Even worse, it was dry and bland. Every bite sucked the moisture out of her mouth. It was a good thing that Taishi was prepared. She reached for one of the six cups arrayed before her. The one on the left was hot soy milk for dipping. Next to it was the black poison tea—not actually poisonous. Beside that was the plum wine, the ginseng drink, and then the monk fruit drink. The last cup was water, for washing of course.

Taishi drained the hot soy milk in one burning gulp, and then scooped up another bun. It wasn’t that the Tall Wall’s pastries were that good; it was that there was competition here, and Zofi ate enough for three.

Sitting across from Taishi, smirking, was Narwani Bhasani, Master of the Drowned Fist, who said, “Ling Taishi, grandmaster war artist, legend of the lunar court, the most-wanted fugitive—sometimes second—in the Enlightened States, is a messy eater. We can’t take you anywhere respectable, master.”

Flakes dribbled onto Taishi’s lap as she sucked her fingers. “I might not be alive next time we get a table here. I’ll eat how I like.”

It was true; reservations at the Tall Wall Dim Sum, a pop-up open only during Tenth Day Prayers, were difficult to land. That was the thing about time. When she first entered the lunar court, reputation was everything, especially for young women starting out in a man’s world. Now that these masters were older legends, they were practically invisible, which suited Taishi fine. Once you’re close to death, you tend to stop worrying about what other people think of you.

Taishi popped the last bit of bun into her mouth and flagged down one of the servers moving between the tables. “Hey, pretty miss, another round of soy milk, please.”

The girl with the bright green apron rolled her pushcart next to the table and swapped out the empty pitcher with a piping hot one. She also brought out three stacks of wicker baskets and placed them on the table before scribbling markings on a small wooden tablet next to Bhasani.

She bowed to Taishi. “Will that be all, holy dowager?”

“That’s it, pretty miss.” Taishi objected to the title, but not everyone gets the chance to choose their own identity. She did her best to play the part. She now lived in Vauzan under the alias Dowager Nun Nai Roha.

The legendary grandmaster war artist and criminal Ling Taishi was, by all official accounts, deceased, although she still had the second-largest bounty in all the Enlightened States on her head. According to the carefully crafted and then leaked story that she and Templeabbot Lee Mori had concocted, Taishi had been killed two years ago by her disciple, Wen Jian, the Prophesied Hero—or Villain, depending on which clergy you asked—of the Tiandi, the Champion of the Five Under Heaven, and still the most wanted man in the Enlightened States. It annoyed Taishi that her bounty never surpassed his, and never would now that she was dead.

The rumors surrounding them were equally fantastic and unbelievable. The facts were decidedly murkier and needed to be kept under wraps for a while longer. Taishi was not yet ready to reveal Jian to the world, and honestly, he wasn’t ready.

Ras Sonaya and Wu Zofi joined the two masters at the table a little while later. The drowned fist heir was Jian’s tutor, and Taishi’s assistant and ward rounded out the last two members of the Breakfast Club. As usual, the girls were late. Both were dragging a little, their heads bowed and shoulders slumped as they fell into their seats. It must have been another late night for the young people.

Taishi used her chopsticks to pick up a couple pieces of garlic green beans. “Have a seat. There’s more soy milk coming.”

“You’re late, daughter,” Bhasani scolded. She was always a stickler about her heir’s timeliness even though she was the one who was often criminally tardy.

“Apologies, Mother.” Sonaya looked hungover. She double-fisted a cup of water and a cup of tea and took turns sipping from each. The drowned fist didn’t have a strong tolerance, and any drinking the previous night now showed on her usually unblemished face. After Sonaya finished her second cup, she helped herself to the blood orange wine, gulping that until she was out of breath. She set it down and burped, earning a disapproving glare from Bhasani. Sonaya had been spending her free time with Jian, and the two had rubbed off on each other in the worst and best ways.

Bhasani’s puckered lips reflected her views on the two young women’s late-night escapades, but Taishi didn’t mind. They were young, assertive women in one of the grandest cities in the world. Taishi had once been just like them, except with more bar brawls. Bhasani had been too, if the haughty drowned fist master bothered to remember.

Zofi, on the other hand, had an iron stomach and could match the God of Gamblers gourd for gourd. She could probably go for another binge after breakfast if she chose. The former mapmaker’s daughter immediately reached for the wooden menu tablet and took inventory of the spread on the table, as she was wont to do, as if she were running her father’s map shop. She began to mark up the orders as if she were grading one of Jian’s tests, adding two extra plates of garlic spinach and removing one of the small dragon buns.

“You always get too many,” she chided Taishi.

After she was satisfied with the business of ordering breakfast, Zofi began to dig into her plate as if this were her last meal. The girl ate like a large Lawkan ring-push wrestler, swallowing a potsticker with one bite. “This could use a little salt and sesame oil.” She was a food snob too, with an opinion on everything. She crunched a thousand-layer flaky bun. “Gah, so dry.” Zofi slurped her soy milk and made a face. “This could use some sugar.”

The drowned fist daughter had drained her cups and was flagging down the server for a refill. “Excuse me, pretty miss. Girl, hey, excuse me . . . hey!”

The server walked past their table. It was a particularly peculiar trait among the Shulan. If an elderly person was around, they ignored the younger people as if they were toddlers. It was their way of showing deference, but as with everything else, they took it to an extreme. Taishi enjoyed sipping her steaming soy milk as Sonaya tried to flag someone down. The young woman was so used to attention that she got easily riled when it was withheld. Jian might love her, even if he didn’t realize it yet, but she was a handful.

“Little stinkfish!” Sonaya hissed the fifth time the server walked past her. Her eyes narrowed, boring into the back of the server girl’s head. Her lips parted . . . and then closed when Bhasani smacked her across the shoulder.

“Don’t abuse your powers, daughter.”

“But, Mother . . .” She started to sulk, but a sharp look silenced her.

Taishi wished Jian could be so dutiful. She raised a limp hand, and the server immediately rushed over. “Yes, dowager, how may I serve you?”

Taishi smirked. “Refresh our cups, pretty miss, and we’ve added to the order.”

“Very good, dowager.”

Another server arrived a few minutes later with his pushcart carrying an extravagantly glazed green soup bowl shaped like a turtle. He removed the lid with a flourish, revealing bubbling red liquid inside.

“Dragon egg soup.” Zofi rounded on Taishi. “Did you order this? We’re on a budget!”

Taishi frowned. “This must be a mistake, handsome boy. We didn’t order this. You have the wrong table.”

The server bowed, his voice cracking. “Pardon, holy dowager. Courtesy of the gentlemen at table three.” He pointed to a large eight-top with a rotating center. Four men sat around it, throwing attention their way. It was likely at Sonaya, who had become a striking young woman. Too much so, in fact, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing when you’re a fugitive.

Zofi sneaked a peek. “Fancy any of them?”

The drowned fist daughter sniffed. “I cannot be bought with soup.”

“Pardon, mistress, but the gift is for the dowager nun.” The server’s cheeks turned a darker shade of red. “The generous gentleman requests the pleasure of your presence.”

Taishi shrouded her face. Either someone recognized her or someone had a fetish for old, dying women. Both were nonstarters. She looked over, not bothering to be subtle. All four were impeccably dressed, with pale painted faces and perfectly manicured eyebrows. All were staring directly at her. She snorted. They were either court officials or gangsters. Neither would do. “Tell my gracious patrons that I thank them for the fine offer, but if they look my way again, they’ll be reincarnated as toads.”

The server was taken aback. “But you accepted his gift. It’s only courteous you accept—”

Taishi cut him off. “It’s not a gift if I have to pay for it. Take it back if you like.”

Not everyone agreed. Bhasani wrapped her arms around it and hissed. “Dragon eggs are worth their weight in gold. It’s disgusting, but I doubt I’ll get the chance to taste it again.”

The server acted as if he were going to try to take the bowl from her anyway, but then changed his mind. He bowed. “As you wish, mistresses.” He retreated back to the young men.

The four ladies settled back into their seats and helped themselves to their newfound bounty. The men, obviously courtiers, had looked puzzled and then furious when the server had relayed the message, but what were they going to do about it? The Breakfast Club had already slurped the expensive soup. They were not under any obligation to cater to these dumb hatchlings’ whims simply because they were gifted an expensive appetizer. The dragon egg soup was delicious, although Taishi doubted it was liquid-gold good.

The four women forgot about those silly boys and resumed their meal. They had nearly checked off every dish on the menu tablet when several patrons rushed to the wall, looking to the east. A crowd began to gather at the edge of the outer wall. Some put their hands to their mouths. A few cried out and fled, leaving their tables with breakfast half uneaten.

Zofi looked over first. “Is a thunderstorm approaching?”

Sonaya followed her gaze and squinted. “It’s too low for clouds. Perhaps an incoming fog?”

Taishi had been busy making out with the sweet potato bread but finally looked over. It was a strange sight at first, a thin plume of smoke rising up toward the heavens. Then the dark, cloudy pillar expanded, spreading out on both sides until it became a vast wall of smoke rising on the horizon where the land met sky. She had witnessed it before, and terrible things always followed shortly after. There went her pleasant morning. “We better finish our breakfast.” She turned her attention back to making love with the sweet potato bread. This could be the last piece she would ever eat.

Bhasani had recognized it too. She was the first to stand. “Smoke.”

“What was that?” asked Sonaya.

“It’s a Smoke Curtain. Caobiu armies use them as a fog of war. It’s their calling card to incite panic.”

“‘The Smoke Curtain parts ways to invite death in,’” recited Taishi. “It’s always been a clunky battle cry.”

A few moments later, several lines of soldiers flooded onto the battlement. Fresh tension began to sour her breakfast. The table next to them abruptly got up and left. They were followed by several more, including the four men who’d tried to lure Taishi away with soup. The flow of traffic fleeing the walls became a rush. Others went histrionic, falling to their knees and praying, ruining the mood. It wasn’t long before the four women were the only ones left at the tables.

Zofi, as always, was the first to become alarmed. “Shouldn’t we get going somewhere as well?”

Taishi continued to chew her food. “After breakfast. Do you know how hard it is to get these reservations?”

“There’s an army approaching!”

Taishi glanced at the growing Smoke Curtain and shrugged. It was still half a day away. By the size of it, the army was big, probably filled with siege towers and massive war wagons and legions upon legions of soldiers. Sunri never warred small.

She reached over for her cup of plum wine and found it empty, as were all her other cups. She raised her arm and looked around. “Pretty miss? Handsome boy?” All the servers had fled. She scowled. “Fine. Let’s go.”

She stood and made her way toward the stairs. The crowds of worried people parted before her as she led the other three women down the stairs toward the city level. It was one of the perks of being a dowager nun. Zofi hurried up next to her. “What should we do, Taishi? Should we leave the city? We should get out of here, right?”

Taishi didn’t love the idea of dying on the run, but it appeared they had no choice. “The sooner the better, child.”

A groan came from both of the drowned fists. Bhasani made a disgusted face as if she had just passed gas. “Or . . .” The drowned fist master held up a fingernail-painted, manicured hand. “We could lay low and mind our own business until things blow over. We’re set up well within the city. We have shelter, food, and most importantly, anonymity. We go on the run, we risk being exposed or encountering bounty hunters or—”

“Drifting helplessly right into a naval battle,” said Sonaya.

“Being taken prisoner by an enemy army and stuffed into a corpse wagon,” added Zofi unhelpfully. “That was fun.”

“Even if Caobiu takes the city, they would certainly leave the Tiandi temple alone. Why rile the local populace?” Bhasani raised her cup and sipped. “Besides, you said the other day that Jian wasn’t ready to reveal himself to the world yet.”

Both Zofi and Sonaya bobbed their heads. No one relished being on the run again, either as fugitives or refugees. Taishi didn’t blame them. She did not care to be out in the open either, especially in her condition, partially sickness but also just old age, which weakened her with each passing day.

She stayed firm, however. “I’d rather risk the dangers outside these walls than the ones inside once the Caobiu are here. Sunri is a monster. She’ll find Jian eventually and turn him into a puppet, assuming he lives that long.”

“Fair,” Bhasani conceded. She sounded almost grudgingly admiring of the duchess.

All of them did. Taishi didn’t blame them for that either. She must be getting soft with her old age, but the truth was the truth. As terrible as she was, Sunri certainly deserved to be empress. A woman needed to be ruthless to triumph in a world ruled by men. Duchess Sunri was, at the same time, the best and worst role model for little murderous girls everywhere.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and started into the city proper. The main square near the Gate of Meaning was a panicked mob of citizens trying to flee deeper into the city while soldiers pushed upstream to get to the city’s defenses.

Taishi turned to Zofi. “Start gathering necessary supplies. We’ll head west, circle south around the Cloud Pillars, and then head south along the Tyk Coast. We’ll need garb that can withstand rain. Maybe an amphibious wagon if you can obtain one.”

“And then what?” asked the mapmaker’s daughter.

Taishi shrugged. “We’ll decide once we get there.”

“I’ll head to the market to pick up travel supplies.”

“Good girl.” Taishi turned to the others.

Sonaya wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like touching food unless it’s being served to me. I’ll be in the fashion ward. I need a new travel wardrobe.”

“And I,” added Bhasani, “am not missing my spa appointment. I won’t let Sunri have that power over me. If Sunri is going to run me out of Vauzan, I intend to have a memory of a grand spa day to relive for the rest of my life.”

Everyone remembered their fond memories, but the drowned fists had the ability to relive them fully with their jing. Taishi was jealous of that power, although she would probably abuse it to relive her most tragic moments in life.

The Breakfast Club broke up, each woman going her separate way, leaving Taishi standing alone at the base of the Gate of Stillness leading outside the city. Something about this moment gave her pause as she watched her friends disappear into the crowded streets. Sadness swept over her, and she wondered if today’s Breakfast Club would be the last good morning she would have for the rest of her life.

CHAPTER TWO

THE PENAL LIFE

The gong rang once, reverberating across the prison barrack.

Maza Qisami woke up to the sound of rain drumming against the roof and walls of the large but cramped room. Her eyes opened to the misshapen beams of rotting wood and dirty ice haphazardly cobbled together like a building about to collapse into itself. She wiggled her toes and fingers, making sure they still worked, and then continued the motion up her limbs to her neck. Satisfied she was still in one piece, she yawned and let a long breath escape. She sat up, the crown of her head narrowly missing the curved ceiling that met at a point in the center of the large sloping roof, and looked around the long rectangular room of her barrack. She was still here, still breathing, still in one piece.

Everything was fine.

The second gong rang. Qisami reached under her sand-filled pillow and retrieved her clothing—five cut-up burlap sacks and four more she wore as cloaks—to add to the five she slept in. Lastly, she donned the last bit of her uniform: a rotting wooden plaque secured by a string of hemp hanging around her neck. Burned onto the discolored wood were large ashen characters: 1439 ROOM 3. Scribbled below were roughly carved Zhingzhi letters: NO UTENSILS. NO TOOLS. NO ROPE.

Qisami swung her leg over the side of her bed and began her descent down the five levels of bunk beds toward the ground floor.

The loud snorer directly below was still asleep, his ragged breathing sucking air through his nostrils like a clogged sewer line. The woman in the bunk below him rolled away from Qisami as she passed on her way down. The man on the second level had just awoken and was massaging his right arm. The poor sap had the ill luck of it getting frostbite and turning blue the other day. He might not realize it yet, but that hand was as good as gone. He stopped getting dressed and stared at her as she continued down to the ground level.

The last person in her stack at the bottom bunk, a middle-aged man who had arrived during the last supply shipment, lay on his side in a fetal position with his arms wrapped around his already rigid body. His eyes stared at Qisami as her foot touched the floor.

She stared back. Someone must have stolen his burlap sack last night. It was a common occurrence for fresh fish, as newcomers were called. Those residing on the bottom bunks had to learn to guard their sacks, lest they suffer this same fate. A few unfortunate predators had tried to steal Qisami’s sack during her first few days here, when she had been assigned a bottom bunk. She still wore their four sacks five years later. Layering was important for survival in this frigid land of eternal cold. No one bothered her anymore.

Poor guy. That left only one thing to do.

Qisami patted the body and rummaged through his pockets, coming away with a small vial of burnroot and a short string of liang tucked in his underpants. She also found a small pouch with a small painted wooden regiment insignia. The corpse had been an artillery officer in the Caobiu army. He must have done something terrible to get sent up here. He probably accidentally fired upon his own troops, deserted, or had been caught raping. Sunri did not tolerate incompetence or poor behavior, especially the latter. Either way, he was dead and Qisami was nine coppers wealthier. Coins were of particular value around these parts. They carried a better exchange rate than the other currencies, they didn’t deteriorate like paper bills or wooden chips, and in a pinch you could toss your coins in a sock and use it like a flail in a fight.

The water basin line was fifteen deep by the time she reached the end of the barrack. The piss line was even longer considering there were only three squats for over fifty souls, which was the typical barrack size. Fortunately, Qisami was known, so the crowds parted before her as she walked past them. No one objected when she cut in line. Seniority, or rather notoriety, had its privileges at the Happy Glow Retirement Home.

“Chopstick,” came the smattering of greetings and nods. Most were begrudging. That was the nickname she had earned shortly after she arrived. Just one stick.

No one used her real name. None here knew it, save for one person and he didn’t count. Most were terrified of her, for good reason, and looked away when she passed. Qisami had made her reputation shortly after she had arrived, and she had enjoyed this authority over the years. Now it was tiresome. At least it allowed her to cut in line for the piss hole, so that was something.

The gong banged louder and a bit more urgently a third time.

Qisami emptied her bowels and finished cleaning up before joining the rest of the crowd as they filed out. Barrack Three lined up ten rows, five people deep in front of their building in the main yard, which was a large, circular open space surrounded by the barracks, which were divided into four unequal quadrants with the Caobiu corner by far the largest.

It was a warmer day than usual in the Grass Tundra, meaning it wasn’t snowing and they could actually see the dull King floating across the clear blue sky. Late spring in the first cycle of the year was as good as it got around here: the wind didn’t bite so hard, the snow was softer and crunchier, and the ice blocks that formed most of the buildings at the colony were wet and weepy.

A rotund, well-fed man, equally wide as he was tall, walked out from the large building alone in the center of the circle, and approached their group. “Good morning, friends!”

“Good morning, Lord Svent,” the chorus replied.

Svent was the boss of Barrack Three and technically an inmate. The difference was that he hailed from a wealthy merchant family in Danziyi, which made him management. He was a jovial man, and he forced that same cheerfulness on his customers, as he liked to call them. And like most of the affluent here, Svent made sure to remind the rest of Barrack Three that while they were all technically inmates, he was a higher class of prisoner than the rest. The nobles were still nobles, the wealthy still had status, and the commoners were there to get stepped on. Everyone lived their sentences here that reflected their social status back at home. Management consisted of the nobility, and the wealthy worked as administrators or guards, leaving the remaining inmates—the commoners—serving as laborers or miners.

The Happy Glow Retirement Home was an infamous place and widely considered the worst prison to get sent to. It was located in the ass end of the world, deep in the Grass Tundra past the borders of the Enlightened States. The prisoners were divided by where they came from, with everyone sorted into a corner based on their home duchy. In a way, the Happy Glow Retirement Home was somewhat of a microcosm of the Enlightened States. This was also the hole where Sunri tossed her political enemies.

“Listen up, customers. Who wants a full belly today?” Svent was a miserable man, thinking himself more silver-tongued than he actually was. The man aspired to climb the corporate prison ladder. He was easy to annoy, quick to temper, and had an appetite for flesh. He had tried to come on to Qisami when she had first transferred to Three from the Goons, and had been lucky to walk away with only a few broken fingers. They had a solid understanding ever since. It still made him a piggy that she wouldn’t mind making squeal, but as long as the trades he made with the women in Three were voluntary, it was none of her business.

“We do,” came a smattering of replies.

Svent scrunched his face. His voice was louder the second time. “It seems like everyone wants to starve today. Do you all want to freeze to death too?” Escalating his threats was always an effective way to build enthusiasm and team spirit.

“No, Lord Svent!” The chorus made more effort this time.

He nodded. “Good. You’re all on ore-panning duty this week at Warehouse Two. Lucky you, always the plum assignments. You can thank your boss for that.” When no one answered, rage flashed across his face. His fists clenched. “Now is a good time to thank your generous lord, you snow ticks.”

“Thank you, Boss Svent,” the chorus grumbled.

The smile returned as if it had never left. “Splendid! Get me three full quotas today and the furnace gets to eat tonight. You all want to keep your fingers and toes from falling off, am I right?”

“Yes, Lord Svent,” they chorused.

Qisami even joined in this time. It actually was a good deal, but she berated herself for sinking that low. She was a woman who, just a few short years ago, was living on top of the world: wealthy, powerful, and could do whatever she wanted to whomever she wanted. She didn’t even answer to dukes. Now she was giddy over a bowl of watered-down mushy rice.

Sure, everything was fine.

“Hit four and there may be an extra bowl of congee for you. Maybe even chicken,” Svent continued. “How do you like that? Everyone thank Boss Svent now, yeah?”

“Thanks, Boss Svent.”

The inmates dispersed, moving quicker than usual. Bonus food was a treat. Everyone was usually a step ahead of starvation. Barrack Three was known as the good fortune house. They always seemed to get assigned better jobs and higher bonuses. There was a logical reason for that, and it wasn’t due to the strength of Svent’s charm and influence.

Svent threw his arm across Qisami’s chest as she passed, touching her chest and opposite shoulder. “Not you, Chopstick. Warden wants to see you.”

She looked at his arm barring her way. In another lifetime, it would have been separated from his shoulder. “You got it, boss.”

Qisami broke away from the rest of the pack and backtracked, moving against traffic. By now, just as the predawn rays of the King appeared in the distance, a weak piss-colored glow blanketed by gray clouds and white flurries was beginning to crawl across the darkened landscape. It never really got dark in the Grass Tundra, just like it never really got any brighter. There was always a constant blanket of stark grayness as far as the eyes could see.

The Happy Glow Retirement Home was an open-air prison. It had no walls or fortifications. Archers were not manning guard towers. Management did not send hunting parties to chase escaping inmates. That was the first thing every inmate was told the first day they arrived. “If you want to go, then go.” They’d usually just wish you luck and wave as you walked the Grass Tundra to your likely demise. There was no escape or shelter for over a hundred miles. No civilization, no refuge, no hope. All there was in the Grass Tundra was frigid death or slow starvation.

Qisami continued toward the heart of the colony, passing by Barrack Two and Barrack Five, and then past the kitchen and holding area storing ore, awaiting the shipment of inbound supplies and outbound ore scheduled at the beginning of first cycle spring and near the end of the second cycle fall. Having fallen behind due to a particularly harsh third cycle winter near the end of last year, management was trying to catch up with their quota, which explained why they were offering extra bowls of congee for extra work.

The management office was a large two-story manor at the center of the main field. It was one of the few buildings built from stone and wood. Most others were constructed from packed snow and ice. The lone guard leaning against the wall next to the door let her pass with a lazy wave of his hand and continued his staring contest with the floor. The Happy Glow was manned by a small militia that had just enough bodies to put down a riot, guard the mine, and chase off the occasional polar bear or woolly rhinoceros or mammoth. They consisted mostly of low-standing nobles from court or wealthier business types, who were able to bribe their way into management during their sentencing.

She crossed the main hall with several dozen wristwaggers working at tables huddled around small fireplaces. Most had been sentenced for fraud, bribery, or tax evasion, or they were considered threats to the duchess’s regime. Sunri had a way of maximizing the usefulness of her assets.

Qisami passed by one young noble sitting at a table playing a game of Siege with another. “Hey, One-Ball.”

As always, Mubaan Soy flinched when she neared. Soy was an unpleasant minor Gyian taxlord who had tried to impose himself upon the house staff back in Allanto. Qisami had ended that hobby by separating one of his testicles from its sack with a knife after he had made an attempt on her. After Sunri seized Allanto, she sent a quarter of the Gyian Court to the Happy Glow. While most inmates were here for legitimate reasons, some were here because Sunri simply didn’t like them. The entire Mubaan family was here due to the latter, and Soy was the last of them.

The duchess had no tolerance for men behaving poorly. That didn’t mean Qisami wouldn’t gut her at the first opportunity. That bitch was at the top of Qisami’s list of death marks. By now it was a lengthy list, although Qisami had to admit she had become lax in remembering all the names these days. Reciting them didn’t make her feel alive the way it used to.

She reached the warden’s chamber on the second floor, where two young Caobiu nobles posing as guards flanked a pitifully narrow wooden door. Why these limpweeds needed to guard anything was beyond her. The two nobles looked almost too young to have committed any offense that would deserve being sent up here. They were more likely the victims of being born into a noble family who had crossed the duchess. Maybe the lord of the family hadn’t bowed low enough to Sunri or maybe had looked at her the wrong way.

“He’s expecting you, Chopstick,” the one on the right said as the other opened the door. Qisami appreciated that her reputation preceded her.

The door behind her closed firmly as she entered the warden’s sanctum. Unlike the rest of the penal colony, the warden’s private quarters were richly decorated with many of the trappings worthy of court. The floors were lined with dark mahogany wood. Thick tapestries covered three walls from floor to ceiling, while a bank of windows—with actual glass—lined the fourth. Two golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling. The people of Caobiu had a thing for chandeliers. Every room had one, if possible, even bathrooms. It must have cost a fortune for the duchy to transport so much material so far north.

The large man sitting behind a desk facing the door at the other end of the room didn’t look up when she walked in. He flicked his hand, dismissively. “Sit.”

Qisami remained at the doorway for a beat, then moved toward a sofa off to the side.

“Not the cushioned seats. The bench next to the door.” He still hadn’t looked up from his work.

A growl sprang from her throat, but she buried it and did as ordered. There was a time when she would have stabbed a man for that insult, but that was Maza Qisami, not 1439. Not Chopstick. As the minutes ticked by, her annoyance increased. Some old habits are never broken.

One could always tell when someone was born with a stick up their ass by the way they played the waiting game. It was a power play often used in court by someone of higher standing to remind someone lower exactly how much lesser they were in the hierarchy. The greater the difference, the longer the wait. That stupid Duchess Sunri once made her wait several days after summoning her before they finally had an audience.

Qisami passed the minutes by staring at her surroundings. This was the only place in the entire accursed colony that didn’t feel like a prison. For one thing, it was warm here. The one constant at the Happy Glow was that the chill was always nipping at you, no matter where you were or what you were doing. For another, this room didn’t smell like piss or death or both. Not to mention the seats were dry and soft, even this wooden one. Sitting usually involved hard uneven stone, wet ice, muddy earth, or rotting wood full of splinters.

Qisami closed her eyes, and for a few moments she let her mind roam free. She was on a beach enjoying the sun. She was in a salon getting drunk with someone soft sitting on her lap. She was—

Qisami’s daydream was interrupted when the warden coughed and snorted in the loudest and most obnoxious way. He sounded like a boar feeding. She grimaced and focused on the man before her.

Warden Sunxia was a distinct man, large and tall with the bearing of a war artist, if not for his sedentary lifestyle adding weight to his frame. With a face half-burnt on the left side and a deep scar running down his right, he was ugly. Actually, no, he wasn’t. She could tell the man had once been handsome, with long black hair, his one good eye striking and large, and a chin worthy of a duke. Those days were long gone, but she still found him attractive even with his scars, or perhaps because of them.

What was more interesting about the warden, however, wasn’t just his once-obvious good looks, but who he looked like. All someone had to do was hold a silver liang next to his face to see the striking resemblance to a certain Duchess of Caobiu, not to mention that the two shared the same surname. The gossip at the Happy Glow was that Sunri and Sunxia were cousins, and that Sunri had brought him to the imperial court after she was raised to fourth wife of Emperor Xuanshing, may his greatness ever last. Supposedly, Sunxia had attempted a coup in the Caobiu Duchy shortly after the empire broke apart, and he had come out on the losing end.

Another rumor that persisted was that Sunxia was simply too handsome for the duchess to keep around court, which earned him not only his burnt and cut-up face but banishment to this penal colony. But since he still was a noble, and more importantly, a Sun, his sentence was to rule the Happy Glow Retirement Home. Nobles were weird like that.

The water clock on the wall had just emptied a full hour when an attendant came in with a breakfast tray, which made the wait even more unbearable. At least it stirred Sunxia from his work. He finished his wristwagging and stood, his wide frame causing his chair to scrape against the floor. His time spent standing was brief, and then he was sitting at the dining table breaking a large piece of bread and stuffing it into his mouth as if he were smoking a pipe.

He beckoned to her. “Chopsticks, I have a dirty job, and I’d rather not sully management. I need my most rabid dog.”

“It’s one stick,” she grumbled. Qisami approached the edge of the table. The spread was decent. The heady scent of sugary pastries, savory sausages, and steaming soy milk wafted into Qisami’s nostrils. There were taro cubes, scallion and flat noodles, deep-fried dough and hot soy milk, scallion crepes and sweet buns. There were even moon cakes. Where was the warden hiding all this stuff? Finding it would be her next hobby. It wasn’t like she had much else to do. Her stomach growled, not only from hunger but from the sharp though fading memory of what decent food tasted like. She couldn’t remember the last time she had a meal other than watered-down congee. “What’s the ask, Warden?”

Sunxia took his time picking assorted foods onto his plate and savoring every bite. Again, this stupid waiting game. It was another five minutes before he addressed her. “The wagons on the west end of mine five are coming back with weak loads. Same weight but with disproportionately poor ratios of valuable ore to dirt and stone.”

Qisami was only half listening as she watched the warden’s scanning eyes. This was a good time to practice a little shoplifting. As soon as he was distracted, her fingers got busy on the table. She gesticulated with one hand to distract from the other. “Those ungrateful dogs, the nerve! Could it be because those particular shafts have dried up?”

“Doubtful.” The warden shook his head. “Sent the foreman last night. Claimed he was tripping over sparkstone, coal, and silver. I had them go over reports from several weeks back. Same issue with sub-mine sixteen, nineteen, and twenty-three, all assigned to the same Lawkan crew from Barrack Twenty-Four. Some white rice are shaving off the top and the pruneskins are the only ones with the expertise to pull it off. Find those responsible and teach them a lesson. No one dares steal from the Caobiu, not even in prison. Especially in prison.”

“Do you know how they’re doing it, boss?”

“Who knows how those pruneskins are pulling it off? It’s in their blood.”

Lawkan Duchy was known for two things: its extensive waterways and its beaches. Those people loved to bake in the sun, thus the pruneskin slur. And because of their naval and merchant expertise, the Lawkan also happened to home-grow the best smugglers in the Enlightened States.

Qisami kept him talking for a little while longer, peppering him with pointless questions. This five-minute conversation had proved fruitful. Cookies, pastries, and other sweets were high-value black market items. Finally, after her pockets were full, she worked toward an exit plan.

“Take care of them like this?” She ran a finger across her neck. “Or take care of them like this?” She made a bonking motion with her fist.

Sunxia shook his head. “There were fourteen accidents last month. The blasted shipments are falling behind schedule.”

“Kneecaps it is.” Qisami brushed her hands free of crumbs and rose from the table.

“Concussions,” the warden corrected. “Unfortunately, only eight of those fourteen died, so now we have six useless mouths to feed until they recover. No need to waste a good bed. As always, keep management above the fray.”

“Any extra scratch for me?” Qisami decided to push her luck. “How about a room here, in this nice warm building?”

The warden snorted. “You do as you’re told, dog, or you go back to the Goons in the deep mines. No more luxury with Barrack Three, yeah?” The warden’s eyes lowered to Qisami’s legs. “You’ll get a new pair of shoes, and I won’t chop off your hands for those pastries you just pocketed.” The warden was more observant than he let on.

A pair of new shoes and getting to keep her hands? Good enough deal. “Fine, but I’ll need some muscle and a couple extra pairs of shoes.”

Sunxia considered her request. He pulled out his wooden circular marker the size of her hand and slid it across the table. “Here’s a marker. You get six pairs of shoes, that’s it. Be done by tomorrow. I won’t tolerate more theft on my watch. Now go. Your stink is ruining my appetite.”

“Sure, Warden.” Qisami stuffed one of the cookies into her mouth. There was no use hiding them if she had already been caught.

“Actually,” the warden called as she was about to leave the room, “I changed my mind. Kill a ringleader. I don’t care who. Set an example for the rest of the thieves.”

Qisami closed the door after she left the warden’s sanctum, and broke into a satisfied grin. Her pockets were bulging with sweets, and she was about to get a much-needed new pair of shoes. Overall, it had been a productive morning.

Getting excited over cookies and shoes was just another reminder of how far Qisami had fallen. But sure, everything was fine.

CHAPTER THREE

VAUZAN

Taishi’s mind raced as she hurried back toward her cottage hidden in the back of the bamboo forest on the Vauzan Temple of the Tiandi grounds. There wasn’t much to pack. Most of her worldly possessions were entombed in her family plot back on the burial mountain. She had given Jian instructions on how to retrieve them after she was gone. Everything else she could carry in her satchel.

The only things she needed to retrieve were her favorite llama sleeping robes, a few Burning Hearts romance books, and the sketch of her mother. Even her straight sword, the Swallow Dances, had been passed down to Jian. The thought of no longer being her beloved blade’s owner still brought a lump to her throat.

The curving path Taishi followed broke off from the main road and ran in a descending spiral down a wooden walkway circling a tall waterfall and then broke off through a dank tunnel and into the Jewel in the Eye of the Lotus residential ward that led toward Peony Peak, where the Vauzan Temple of the Tiandi resided. A constant breeze sprayed mist over her from the water flowing over the crest of the waterfall directly overhead and plunging to the pool several stories below.

Vauzan might be beautiful, but it was dank and wet, and lacked railings. It was a wonder more older citizens didn’t break their necks walking about. The importance of safety mechanisms had never occurred to Taishi until she no longer was able to soar atop the wind currents.

That was the hardest part. Taishi deeply missed flying. It had been over a year since she last tried. Maybe she could do it, but age made one cautious, especially now that her once-stone-grounded sense of balance had abandoned her. She had already promised herself that, Tiandi willing, she would fly one last time.

Unfortunately, traversing these hills and valleys felt like hiking uphill both ways. Her knees ached, as did her back and feet and neck and everything else. People with a lifetime of battle trauma weren’t meant to live this long. She was tired of being old. People often waxed poetic about how wisdom came with age, but no one talked about the hardship of simply taking a breath. The tremors were frequent and so bad that she often couldn’t hide them beneath her many layers of clothing. Another thing no one bothered to mention was how her body was literally shriveling up. The other ladies might have valid reasons for not wanting to go on the road again, but this journey would likely kill her, if Sunri didn’t find her first.

A gaggle of young Tiandi monks—initiates by their plain robes—stopped in, lined up, and bowed as she passed. She nodded back, if only to maintain the pretense. The young ones were always the most fervent. Her robes were those of a hanma, an old, retired dowager battlenun particularly revered among the devout. More importantly, local businesses always offered her discounts. It also gave her an excuse to wear a weapon, which, in her case, was a hollow sword that she primarily used as a walking cane as she stepped out from the tunnel along the slippery path.

Taishi had nearly made it to the Big Faith Ward, where the temple was located, when the street suddenly emptied of traffic, leaving her standing alone. Strange. She stopped at the middle of the walkway when two figures stepped in front of her. She felt the presence of someone approaching from behind as well. Taishi’s body immediately sank down as her feet instinctively took a wider stance. She subconsciously checked the direction of the breeze. There was heavy moisture in the air, which made for slow air currents. Not that it mattered, but old habits die hard.

One man bowed, fist to open palm, formal but shallow. His irritation showed. “It did not have to be this difficult, master. You should have accepted the soup.”

“It’s still easy, young lord,” she replied. “You don’t want difficult, trust me.”

“By the decree of the Regent Council of Shulan, you have been ordered to present yourself to the ducal court.”