“I want something better for them,” I said, thinking aloud. “I want a different sort of childhood for them. Not like the kind we had.”
Lei’s eyes bored into mine. When he spoke, his words sounded like an oath. “Then we make it happen.”
The bamboo leaves murmured in foreboding. In that moment, I missed my mother more than anything in the world.
I shook my head, drawing my knees into my chest. The world was broken, but so was I. This was a job for someone else, another great warrior, or a hero that could be sung about in ballads to come. It wasn’t a problem for someone like me, someone damaged, someone who couldn’t afford to care for others while my own life hung so precariously by a thread. I had to be selfish. I had to save myself.
But how will I be remembered?a voice whispered in the back of my mind. Would history vilify me? Would they call me selfish? Would they ask why, when the world was falling apart, Hai Meilin stood by and did nothing?
It did not matter. Like my mother, I was running out of time.
“I-I can’t, Lei.” I didn’t know what he wanted from me, but I couldn’t take any more responsibility. “Don’t push me on this.”
He released a hard breath, which fogged in the cold air. To my surprise, he let it go. “I’ll take first watch. You should get some rest.”
Thirty
I advise the use of erxin berries. Even those trained in poison cannot develop resistance to them, making them an effective and discreet option.
—Minister Hui, in a private missive to Cao Zihuan, 924
First Crossing had descended intototal chaos. Despite the flood of newcomers here for the Three Kingdoms Treaty, most trading stores had been closed and boarded up, so that basic supplies like rice and salt were selling for ten times the market rate. Spirit gates had appeared along the edges of the city, making it even more challenging for travelers to enter. As if this weren’t enough, the inclement weather made it so the mornings were frigid with icy rain, while the afternoons blazed hot as a furnace, the lack of vegetation on the mountain peak making for scarce shade.
Lei’s expression was grim as we crossed yet another spirit gate, this one so small only a child could squeeze in. And by the looks of it, a child had. Her head was facedown in a puddle of water, her little hands clenched into fists. When Lei turned her body over, I gasped in fright to see her face—inky black veins extending out of her eyes across her cheeks.
Lei grimaced, closing her eyes and moving her body out of the main road. Was Kuro responsible for this? For surely the Black Scarveshad reached First Crossing weeks before we had, with their many horses and supplies.
As we entered the crowded thoroughfare of First Crossing, my neck crept with anxiety. Road-weary travelers surrounded us, some looking to trade, others looking to steal. In the houses overhead, I scanned the boarded-up windows and doors, unable to shake the suspicion that we were being watched.
Lei had stolen from the bandits we’d encountered, so that we had a reasonable amount of coin on hand. The trouble was, we hadn’t anticipated how high the demand would be, and how limited the supply. With the surging prices, we wouldn’t be able to afford even a week’s worth of provisions, and the trek across the Red Mountains purportedly took months, if you lived to see it through.
“We’ll need to sell some of our jewelry,” I muttered, looking around the thoroughfare for vendors.
“Not here,” Lei cautioned. “It’s too public.”
Abruptly, he turned and jerked me into a nearby alleyway off the main road. Caught off guard, I nearly tripped over a sleeping man in the corner of the longtang, who’d curled up in the shade of the wall. “I’m sorry!” I said, before looking more closely at the old man. He was barely a skeleton, his skin hanging off his bones in ragged folds.
“Food,” he croaked, reaching for me. “Please.”
Overhead, a light rain began to fall. I hesitated, wondering what I could spare, but Lei dragged me away.
“I only—” I protested.
He covered my mouth with his hand, pressing me into the shadows. Confused, I tried to shake him off, before he jerked his head toward the roof.
Over two dozen soldiers were crouched on the rooftop, scanning the thoroughfare below. Most puzzlingly—they did not wear Anlai colors.
They wore Ximing uniforms.
“But,” I tried to say, into Lei’s hand. He tightened his grip.
The old man looked from us to the soldiers. Then he grinned, revealing several missing teeth. “Over here!” he shouted, above the growing rain. “They’re over here!”
Lei swore. “We could’ve given you coin, old man.”
“Not as much as they can,” the man replied cheerfully.
Lei pushed me forward to run, but it was too late. The soldiers had spotted us and begun rappelling into the alleyway. We both drew our swords, but the space was too narrow, and we were outnumbered fifteen to one.
