“Really? Where is he?”
“Escaped.” I couldn’t look Ren in the eye, disappointed by my own failure. “But I’ll find him again, I promise.”
“Siying.” Ren tapped the bottom of my chin, prompting me to meet his gaze. His smile was surprisingly tender, stilling the waves in my stomach. “It’s all right. I trust you. Which is why I thought I’d try to be more helpful by interviewing the townsfolk today.”
I arched a brow, impressed. “And here I thought you were passing time with gossip.”
“Gossip can be a useful way to uncover truth,” he said slyly. “And thanks to the gossip I heard today, I learned about a memorial that the town created for the lost rebels.”
“A memorial?” In my excitement, I stepped closer to him, our noses nearly bumping. His lips parted in surprise, and I couldn’t stop from staring a moment too long at their pale-pink softness. Summer-hot blood flooded up my neck. I jerked back and cleared my throat. “Where is it?”
He turned his face east, the hint of a smile teasing the corner of his mouth. If he noticed my awkwardness, he had thegood grace not to mock me for it. “We passed it, actually, last night. It’s an oak tree near the pond. Perhaps Master Zhang will be there, considering it’s a sacred location for honoring the dead.”
I tightened my hold on my staff and followed his gaze. “Then we must go and see if you’re right. I won’t let him slip away again.”
Ren pinched the fabric of my sleeve to keep me from rushing off. “Not so fast, dear priestess. We can go after lunch. Miss Li and her mother are waiting for us, remember? They’ve prepared a wonderful meal, and it’d be rude to let it grow cold.”
I chewed on my lower lip, having forgotten all about food and manners. I was eager to finish my business in Xiatang, but I recalled the Lis in the kitchen, sacrificing their time and food to feed us, their unexpected guests.
“You’re right,” I said after a pause. “But we’re investigating as soon as lunch is over.”
We did not leave as soon as lunch was over.
Like Ren had said, the meal was wonderful—carp bathed in a red sauce and paired with pickled cucumbers, braised bean curd and mushrooms, rice cooked to a perfect tenderness. Though the ingredients were simple, the flavors reminded me of my childhood, when Mama would make a colorful variety of dishes for holidays and birthdays.
Judging by the amount of food, Feilin and her mother had specially prepared these dishes for us. Ren had no shortage of praise for the women’s cooking, making them both blush with pleasure. I shared his appreciation by consuming a decent serving of each dish and picking off every last grain of rice in my bowl. I hoped, briefly, that Baba was eating well too.
After the meal, I helped Feilin wash the dishes, concerned about her pallid complexion, while Ren accompanied her mother to deliver food to an elderly neighbor who lived near the market.
By the time I was finished, Ren still hadn’t returned. I imagined he’d been lured into another long, mundane conversation. As a priestess of death, I always had an easy excuse to leave. But Ren was much too kind and patient. If only he’d use his listening skills as king.
Unable to wait any longer, I told Feilin where I was going and grabbed my peach staff.
“Wait,” she said. “I’ll come with you. I can show you where the memorial is.”
I considered her offer and decided it would indeed be more efficient to have her as my guide. And it was unlikely that Master Zhang would hurt her if we did find him there.
“I appreciate it,” I said.
I felt only slightly guilty about leaving Ren behind—he was safer this way, I told myself. After I convinced Master Zhang to help, then I could bring Ren to him.
The town’s notorious pond appeared smaller in the daytime, but it took us as long as the previous night to traipse halfway around its shore to the oak memorial. I wouldn’t have noticed it if not for the wooden plaque nailed to its broad trunk. It was a rather unassuming tree, with gnarled, outspread branches bent slightly to one side. Its fiery leaves contrasted brightly against the brown-black bark, the reds and oranges blending with the forest behind.
“Without their bodies, this was the best we could do for our men,” Feilin said ruefully.
“I understand.” I stepped up to the plaque and skimmed the words inscribed into the wood. They were names—undoubtedly of those who’d been killed by the king’s army. At the top of the list were the characters formemory.
For some reason, the plaque made me think of Ren. If I’d never reanimated his corpse on that battlefield, would his name have ended up on a memorial like this? Or would he have been forgotten, a nameless soldier lost in a foreign land? The thought pricked my heart. I couldn’t imagine a world left quieter by Ren’s absence.
Feilin and the other families of Xiatang probably felt the same.
I brushed my fingers against the wood and bowed my head in reverence, aching for the spirits stranded far from home. I mourned for the surviving families so desperate for their lost loved ones to obtain peace that they’d commemorated them with this plaque in the hopes that it would be enough.
But it wasn’t enough. I’d felt the anguish of the spirits every time I walked past the grave of traitors. They had yet to move on.
Feilin joined me by the plaque and sighed. “At least we still have Master Zhang.”
I glanced at her. “You trust his spirit that much?”
