Stronger Than a Bronze Dragon Read online

  “The soldier was well aware that he was no match for Warrioress’s skills.” Though he’s speaking to the audience, Tai’s gaze remains on me. “He knew he could never be worthy of such a legend, and that he’d always be in her shadow. But his love was so true, he did not care.”

  He places one hand on my cheek, and my breath catches. For a moment, I forget where I am, what I’m doing.

  “All this humble soldier had to offer was his unconditional respect and devotion, and he hoped it would be enough.” His voice softens, and he sounds so sincere I wonder if he was an actor as well as a soldier in the past he won’t tell me about. Or perhaps it’s part of being a thief—this ability to cast illusions without magic.

  Because that’s all this is—illusions. He’s playing a character, just like I am, and I hate that I have to remind myself of that. I must be sinking too far into my role, because my heartbeat quickens at his words. But I’m not Warrioress and never will be. And he’s certainly not this ridiculous piece of fiction he improvised.

  “Marry him!” A woman’s voice bursts from the direction of the crowd.

  “Yes, marry him!” another audience member cries.

  A laugh explodes from my lips. It’s ludicrous how invested the audience is in this impromptu perversion of a legend, but why do I care so much? After all, it’s just a story. And if having Warrioress marry the soldier—who somehow became a romantic hero instead of the first demon she defeated—will prompt them to give us more coins, then I shouldn’t care.

  “Very well.” Throwing on a carefree expression, I look at the crowd. “After he spent years and years proving his love, and after she came to realize that having someone so devoted was rather nice, Warrioress agreed to marry the soldier.”

  “And they went on to have many, many more adventures together,” Tai adds. “Traveling the world and taking down evil wherever they went.”

  Worried that he’ll stretch this performance out even longer, I say, “The end!”

  I back away from Tai, yanking my hand from his, and lean forward in a quick bow. The sounds of clapping hands and approving shouts tumble toward me, and I grin. The thrill of applause sweeps through me and knocks away my worries for a moment.

  Tai steps forward and bows as well. Though he smiles for the audience, he seems … faded. The usual spark has vanished from his eyes, and there’s something forced about his grin.

  I feel like there’s a great, wide … something … standing right before me that I’m just not seeing. I’m not sure I want to see it.

  Something about it scares me.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  HIDE YOUR FACE

  A spicy burst of rich, pungent flavor explodes on my tongue, and though my eyes sting, I savor the sensation. I’ve never eaten anything that tasted so powerful before. Apparently, the boiling oil of this beef dish wasn’t hot enough, and the cook had to make it even hotter with pointed red peppers. Those who run this restaurant come from the Lunan Province in the southwest, which is famous for its spices. I can’t decide if that makes this food delicious or just painful, but either way, I’m enjoying the challenge of eating it.

  We still haven’t spotted any sign of Kang’s search party, which I can only guess means they haven’t made it as far as Baiheshan yet—maybe they’re methodically combing through Sijiang Province first before moving beyond its borders. But there’s no way to know for sure, and we shouldn’t linger. I quicken my pace.

  Across the worn wooden table, Tai leans back in his chair with a quizzical expression. “You’re sure this is the first time you’ve tasted Southwestern food?”

  I’m busy stuffing rice into my mouth to relieve the heat, so I simply nod in response.

  “You must’ve been really hungry then.” He glances at my now-empty bowl, which is red from chili sauce. “It takes most people a few tries before they can stomach spicy beef.”

  I swallow my bite. “I’m not most people.”

  “That’s true.” He looks away.

  Since we concluded our street performance, he’s been unusually muted. As we went through the audience collecting coins—more than enough to pay for lunch and the next several meals—I threw several self-satisfied comments in his direction to gloat. After all, I’d proven myself right, and he wouldn’t be stealing anything. Instead of mocking me as usual, he simply smiled.

  He remained similarly faded as we hunted the streets of Baiheshan for a suitable place to eat. I was the one who picked the rickety little restaurant run by a Lunan family—I’ve always wanted to try their famously spicy dishes. It surprised me when he didn’t comment on my bold choice.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I blurt. “You’ve seemed off since the performance.”

  “I’m tired.” He lifts his shoulders. “Takes a lot of energy to fight imaginary monsters.”

  I narrow my eyes, unconvinced.

  “Zen me le? I’m not allowed to get tired?” A teasing spark lights his gaze, and though I know whatever’s coming will probably infuriate me, I’m glad to see its return. “I see. You find it as much fun as I do when I make you mad. Don’t worry, I have plenty more ways to do so.”

  “I’m sure you do.” I keep my voice flat and unimpressed.

  He leans his elbows on the table. “You seemed to like the new direction I took Warrioress’s story.”

  “Because the audience did! Why did you do that anyway?”

  “For fun.” The corner of his mouth flickers, but falls before the smile completes. “It always bothered me how the legend of Warrioress ended. I love how it begins—a lone youth taking on the world against all odds. You’ll laugh at this, but I always wanted to be her.”

  I arch my brows, surprised. “Not many men would admit that.”

  “I’m sure many more think it than would say so.” He grins. “Anyway, every version of the tale I ever heard ended with her marrying a king. After that, the story was just … over. As if she vanished once she got married. I always wished I could change it.”

  I’d never looked at Warrioress’s story that way before. It was always told as though becoming a great queen was her ultimate triumph. But Tai’s right … there are no stories about what she did after she married. It’s as if her life ended at the bridal carriage.

  That’s the future I face as well. Gloom settles over me as I recall the image of Lady Jiangzhu—the painted face that scarcely looked like mine. She’s not a person … she’s a fine-looking object to be commanded, hardly different from one of Kang’s automatons.

  “Anlei …” Tai nudges my arm.

  I look up, and he flicks his gaze to the left without turning his head. His expression is firm—it must be something serious. I glance in the direction he indicated then quickly turn back around.

  One of Kang’s cyborg soldiers is hovering outside the restaurant. The glowing yellow eye and gleaming bronze arm, whirring with gears, are unmistakable. My whole body tenses.

  How did they find us? They couldn’t have followed our ship … I would have noticed. If the viceroy’s men had made their vessels invisible, they’d have descended on us a lot sooner. We’d never have made it to Baiheshan. The viceroy must have sent his men to every city in search of clues after learning about Tai’s stolen ship. I wonder if the men we left stranded had some mechanical means to send a message telling the viceroy of our last known whereabouts. Could someone have spotted the ship we hid in the cave? If they did, and the viceroy’s men reclaim it, how will we ever make it to the Courts of Hell?

  We have to leave. Since the cyborg stands by the main door, I look around for another way out. My gaze passes over the restaurant’s plain walls and across the beat-up tables and chatting diners. It lands on the small doorway leading to the kitchen. The restaurant’s owner—a full-figured woman with a high bun and round cheeks—emerges from it, her long blue tunic swaying around her knees as she brings someone their tea. She probably wouldn’t mind a few extra coins in exchange for letting Tai and me slip out the back.

&nbs
p; I turn my eyes back to Tai and incline my chin toward the door. Tai glances at it then nods.

  Tongqiucheng must be empty of soldiers because all of them seem to be here. I can’t turn a corner without seeing a cyborg. Locals and foreigners alike ogle at the half-man, half-machine beings. Two bronze ships, each with three masts supporting wide tawny brown sails, hover on giant propellers above the city. Long ropes dangle down their sides.

  I’m grateful for the sheer number of people on the main road. With every step I take, someone bumps into me or I’m forced to dodge a rattling cart. It’s a miracle anyone’s able to move through this clogged-up place. But Tai and I chose to take the city’s busiest road because the multitudes provide cover.

  As we weave through market stalls and throngs of people, Tai wraps a rag over his face, leaving only his eyes exposed. I untie the cloth looped around the strap carrying my sword and bind it around my own face. A few passersby throw us odd looks. Unfortunately, the masks seem to be making us more conspicuous.

  “How far until we’re out of the city?” I murmur.

  “Not far, but leaving might be a problem.” He jerks his head to the right. “See that gate?”

  I crane my neck to see over the crowd. A wide street lined with storefronts stretches toward an elaborately carved stone gate. Curving designs reminiscent of a cloud’s wisps hug the tall, arched doorway flanked by tiered fountains down which streams of water skip. Beyond it, a narrow road winds up the mountain, whose emerald peak pierces a sheet of white clouds. I glimpse the distant rooftop of the temple nestled into its side.

  That must be the road we need to take. But two cyborgs stand by the gate, peering at everyone who walks through it. Not that there are many who do. The area is fairly empty compared to the density of the rest of the city.

  “That’s the only way to the temple,” Tai murmurs. “We could try to get out another way and circle the city, but I have a feeling the other roads will be watched as well.”

  I nod, silently cursing our misfortune. Perhaps the safer thing to do would be to remain in Baiheshan for the time being. But how long would we have to hide? I wouldn’t put it past Kang to order his men to search every hub of civilization from here to the Southern Continent and stay there until the thief is caught. Waiting him out could take time—time I don’t have. The longer it takes Tai and me to free his people, the higher the chances that another Ligui attack will descend on Dailan before I can return the River Pearl and secure the viceroy’s protection.

  Besides, I don’t have that kind of patience. There’s always a way …

  My gaze lands on the narrow river snaking through the city, the one crossed by the simple bridge that reminded me of Dailan. As far as I can tell, no cyborgs patrol its banks. A handful of simple wooden boats glide along its serene surface, carrying bulging woven baskets, and a stench rises from the water, powerful enough to wrinkle my nose even through my mask. The sewage and garbage of a whole city must be rotting in there. Apparently for that reason, several of the boaters wear masks as well.

  No wonder no one’s stopped Tai and me. Though it might be unusual for someone to keep their mask on after leaving the river, it’s probably not unheard of.

  Several unused boats sit beside one of the bridges, and an idea strikes me.

  “Follow me,” I murmur.

  Tai knits his brows but doesn’t speak as I lead him in the direction of the riverbank. Glimpsing a cyborg soldier, I turn my face away and squeeze past a horse-drawn wagon toward a small market stall selling cone-shaped bamboo hats; I pause briefly to trade a coin for one. The merchant seems surprised when I fail to haggle. He cocks his eyebrow at our masks but doesn’t comment.

  If Kang’s cyborgs question him, he could point them in our direction, so I zigzag into the crowd so he won’t know where we’re heading.

  “What’s your plan?” Tai whispers.

  “The river.” I secure the hat to my head. “We’ll take a boat. Since they’re not looking for a woman, I’ll steer while you hide in the back.”

  “Oh, so you’re stealing again?”

  “Renting.” I narrow my eyes. “We’ll leave our remaining coins behind for the owner. And I’ll dock it someplace obvious once we make it past the city limits.”

  Tai arches his brows. “The boat’s owner won’t see it that way.”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  “I wasn’t saying yours was bad. Just pointing out that you may be as much a thief as I am.”

  I choose not to answer. As I approach the riverbank, a twinge of guilt pierces me, but a person’s life is worth more than any object.

  A narrow boat sits under a wide bridge, anchored to the riverbank by ropes tied in elaborate knots that might have presented a challenge had I not grown up in a river village. Several large, empty baskets fill the back. That works. My heart pounds as I draw closer, and I silently pray that the owner won’t come back for it anytime soon. The bridge’s shadow soon covers me.

  “Give me your staff.” I hold out my hand.

  Tai complies. He keeps watch while I undo the knots. When I finish, he crawls into the back and ducks down. Knowing my sword will make me stand out, I place it down beside him before arranging the baskets to cover him. I leave the small bag of coins we earned from our street performance under a rock, then push off, hoping the boat’s owner will find it. There’s no way to guarantee that someone else won’t steal the money, but it’s better than not trying at all.

  Hopping into the vessel, I push the staff along the bottom of the shallow river, sliding the boat along the water. My breath quickens as I spot a cyborg on the bridge above. I duck my head, hoping my hat will cover my face. Even with the mask on, I fear they’ll recognize my eyes.

  They don’t know we’re here, I remind myself. As far as they know, I’m just another resident of Baiheshan.

  Unsure of where the river leads, I risk a glance up. The mountain towers in the distance, and though I’ll have to lead the boat upstream, I can still get us closer to the temple if I follow the water in that direction.

  I push along the bottom of the river. Tai lies completely still, but his presence seems to fill the space around me. I pray Kang’s men won’t sense it too.

  A cyborg paces along the riverbank ahead, questioning one of the boaters who glides past. My heart seems ready to leap out of my chest as I draw closer, and I push the boat further toward the opposite bank, hoping he won’t notice me.

  His yellow eye meets mine. “You!” He waves his arm in a beckoning gesture. “I—”

  “You have no authority here!” A man in the long, embroidered robe of a civil officer marches up to the cyborg, his black queue swaying from beneath his round hat. “Viceroy Chu demands to see you and all your kind at once!”

  As the cyborg proceeds to argue with the official, I blow out a breath.

  Keeping my head bowed, I continue pushing the boat forward, wondering how long my luck will last.

  Anshui’s spectacles do a decent job of letting me see through the dense trees at night, but enough shadows remain to make me tense. Though Tai and I have been trekking through this forest for hours since leaving the boat behind, we seem no closer to the temple. Since we have to fumble our way through the wilderness—it would have been far too bold to take the road—I can only hope that we’re still heading in the right direction.

  I glance at Tai, who’s a few paces behind me. “Any idea how long it will be?”

  “No. I’ve never had to take this route before.”

  My whole body aches from everything I’ve put it through today, and my stomach rumbles, reminding me that it’s far past dinnertime. But we can’t afford to slow down—not when it’s night and we’re exposed. “Baiheshan Miao is protected by barrier spells, right?”

  “Yes,” Tai answers. “Though I’ve never heard of any Ligui here. As far as I’m aware, they only attack Sijiang Province.”

  “I wonder why that is. Part of me wishes they would attack someplace else so
maybe the Emperor would believe our messengers.”

  “I’m pretty sure the only reason he doesn’t believe them now is because the viceroy doesn’t want him to.” Tai’s tone darkens. “It would look bad for him if the rest of the Empire knew that his province was under attack and he had to seek help.”

  “So he let my village suffer for the sake of his reputation?” I knit my brows, outraged.

  “That’s my theory.”

  If Tai is right, Kang might as well be responsible for what the Ligui did to Dailan. By refusing to send help or allow anyone else to come to our aid, he let those monsters kill our people. Yet we still have to grovel to him for help. And I still have to marry him to ensure he will. It all seems so wrong, and I yearn for some kind of justice. But what can I do? Small villages like Dailan are at the mercy of the powerful. The Emperor barely even cares that we exist.

  “How do you know so much about the viceroy?” I ask.

  “I don’t know any more than most.”

  “But your face means something to his soldiers. You would never have made it out of Baiheshan unseen without me, which means I as good as saved your life today. Considering I helped you escape Tongqiucheng and the scout ship, that’s three life debts you owe me. The least you can do is tell me the truth about who you are.”

  Tai purses his lips. I’m not sure if he’s looking away because it’s too dark for him to see where I am without the benefit of Anshui’s spectacles, or if he’s deliberately avoiding my gaze. “My identity is a secret I’ve guarded all my life, and I swore an oath to keep it that way. It’s not something I can confess.” I start to protest, and he holds up his hand. “You can press me all you want, but I won’t break my vow.”

  If an oath binds him, then asking him to break it for the sake of my curiosity would be wrong. At least this means he’ll likely keep his oath to me about returning the River Pearl when he’s done with it.