Descendant of the Crane(14)

But Caiyan had never robbed a merchant of five hundred pieces of banliang. “Now he’s wasting away in the dungeons. I could pardon him, but he is without a home and family. I’d be releasing him to rot on the streets. The only thing that can save him now is a ticket past the preliminary exams.”

Xia Zhong shook his head before she had even finished. “No.”

“Please. If my father’s case makes it to trial, pick him for me as my representative.”

“I said no.” The minister slipped past her.

Hesina balled her fists. She’d lost count of all the sunny days she’d stayed in to read another treatise or commentary on the Tenets, reciting the passages to her tutors. It couldn’t have been for nothing. If Xia Zhong could use the words of the dead, then so could she.

“Passage 5.7.1: ‘The death sentence for petty crimes such as theft and vandalism will be lifted because the potential for such persons to contribute remains.’ Passage 4.6.3: ‘The examination system will not discriminate on the basis of gender, class, or background.’ Passage 5.2.2: ‘Everyone, under the new era, will have an equal chance at a self-sustainable living.’”

Xia Zhong stopped in his tracks.

“Passage 2.4.1,” she added for good measure. “‘A minister serves.’”

A gale swept down the gallery, bringing the first of the fallen gingko leaves to Hesina’s feet.

“Name. Quickly,” snapped the minister when she didn’t speak. “Before I change my mind.”

Name.

Name.

She had no name. She’d made up this elaborate story about a boy whose name she didn’t even know. Demons take her. “Cell 315.”

She wanted to disappear into the ground as he left without a word.



Three letters appeared on Hesina’s desk the next day.

One was from the Investigation Bureau; they had received her case on the king’s murder and would notify her if it proceeded to trial.

Another was from the Imperial Cosmologist, who’d selected an auspicious day for her coronation, two nights away.

The last was from Xia Zhong.

Hesina unfolded this one slowly, apprehension drying her mouth to lotus paste.


Passage 2.4.1: ‘A minister serves.’

If a trial is declared, consider Convict 315 your coronation gift.





FIVE





WAR IS THIEVERY ON A GRAND SCALE.

ONE OF THE ELEVEN ON WAR


THE EMPERORS THINK IT’S A GAME. THEY SIT ON THEIR THRONES AND WATCH PEOPLE DIE ON THEIR BEHALVES.

TWO OF THE ELEVEN ON WAR

Downward slash.

Do you know how to duel?

Palm the hilt.

Come to me when you’re ready.

Transition into leftward swing, leading with the torso.

Win.

Forearm to eye level.

And I will represent you in your trial.

Cut right.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

Hesina lowered her sword.

Sanjing came up from behind. He adjusted her grip. Then he led her arm in a series of strokes. “Your opponent isn’t a log to be hacked at, but a painting to be finished. The tip of the sword should always fall sure. Keep your wrist loose for a wider range of motion.” He stepped back. “Try again.”

“Stop favoring your dominant side,” he barked after her third repetition. “It makes you predictable.”

Hesina cut right and returned to her center. “You always win,” she grumbled. A breeze combed through the courtyard, teasing apart the willow fringe on the white limestone walls. “That makes you predictable too.”

Sanjing crossed his arms. “I can’t help being brilliant.”

Hesina snorted, then smiled. The tension between them had eased—for now. “Why are you here?”

“Thought I’d stop by before heading west. Carrying out your orders to delay a war, if I remember correctly.”

Her smile slid. “Now?”

She noticed her brother’s attire. Leather pads covered his legs. A thatch cloak for wicking away the rain fell over his shoulders. He was dressed to ride.

She waited for Sanjing to speak, but he simply paced to the courtyard’s center, where an ivory table, speckled with black and white stones, displayed an unfinished game of Go.

After studying positions, Sanjing lifted a white stone. “A messenger hawk from the Yan-Kendi’an border post just arrived.” Placed it. “We’ve lost a village. It’s gone.”

“To another raid?” Then Hesina realized how ridiculous that sounded. People lost cattle and oxen and grain stores to a raid. Sometimes money. Sometimes lives.

Not villages.

“Explain, Jing.” Fear and frustration bolted through her gut—frustration because she should have had the answers, and fear because it felt like she never would. No matter how much Hesina learned, her kingdom was too large. She would always be blind to its corners. “What do you mean by ‘gone’?”

“What do you think I mean?” Sanjing’s eyes burned black. “Nothing is there. No livestock. No people. Everything is gone without a trace.”

He raised a black stone, gripping it as though he aimed to hurl it. Hesina drew back, and the fire in her brother’s gaze abated.