CHAPTER 18
I ordered Feilin to go find her mother, then bolted back to the village.
The Xiatang marketplace was in utter disarray. Stalls had been overturned, oil and water spilled across the ground from fallen woks, bruised produce lay dismally in the streets, and startled goats scampered in search of safety. Similarly, residents ran, frantic, from the destruction, pausing only when far enough away to observe the heart of the chaos.
I followed their attention to an abandoned cart, whose back wheel had splintered like a hobbled leg. Behind it was a storefront in the midst of renovations, its wooden scaffold appearing just as in danger of fracturing.
But what really made my heart stop was the sight of Ren crumpled against the cart, a thread of blood trailing from the side of his head, his talisman gone.
And there, standing across from him, was Master Zhang.
His appearance had changed drastically. Gray-white hair now hung, unkempt, down his back. The fabric of his robewas faded, dark-brown stains soaking his sleeves and hems. He turned his head slightly, revealing eyes that had sunk into the darkness of his pupils, the shadows spreading out to his ashen cheeks like cracks across clay. The inhumanness of his face reminded me of Chunhua, vicious and impenetrable. When I blinked, flashes of his memories—fire and shouting and horse hooves slamming into the earth—interrupted my vision.
“Stop!” I shouted, rushing forward.
But the spirit didn’t bother to face me. He stood impassively, watching as a stray rope crawled out from the wreck and floated over to Ren’s debilitated form. Compelled by an invisible force, the rope wrapped around his neck, its ends pulling upward—
“I saidstop!” Instinctively, I scooped a handful of glutinous rice from my bag and flung it at Master Zhang’s back.
With a hiss, he disappeared, the rope falling from Ren’s throat.
I raced to Ren’s side, reaching for his face as I crouched beside him.
“Ren.” I shook him gently, his blood smearing my fingers. The situation reminded me, nauseatingly, of when my father had collapsed at home. My pulse thundered in my ears. “Ren, speak to me.”
He cracked one eye open, his mouth screwed into a grimace. “That hurts.”
“Sorry,” I gasped, loosening my hold. I gingerly brushed back his hair, searching for the wound. “Where are you injured?”
“Oh, everywhere, it feels. But it isn’t anything I’m not already used to.” His eye fluttered shut again as his consciousness waned. “Just give me… a moment… to catch my breath.”
“You can’t stay here.” I eyed the hazards around us and started reaching into my bag for a Fu talisman to replace the one he’d lost. “We must get you away before Master Zhang returns—”
As if conjured by my unease, the spirit’s voice sounded from behind. “You’re not taking him anywhere.”
I straightened and stepped in front of Ren, my peach staff pointed at Master Zhang. Though his hands were hidden inside his sleeves, I knew he could attack without making the slightest twitch. I tried not to flinch beneath his eyeless stare—or the wintry darkness enveloping the town.
“You’re angry at the wrong person,” I snapped. “Ren isn’t your enemy.”
“No?” Master Zhang sneered, the sound of bone cracking as he pointed an accusatory finger at Ren. “He’s just like the rest of his selfish family, coming here to take what doesn’t belong to him and making false promises.”
“They’re not false promises—not yet. And Ren isnothinglike his family. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
Master Zhang snarled, “Then you’ve been blinded by his silver tongue. Do you know who led the army against our lost men? It was the eldest prince himself. He personally ensured that those men would never speak again. What do you think will happen if I let this boy free?”
I froze at Master Zhang’s words. Liqin, the man Ren would choose to be king, had slaughtered those citizens of Xiatang? He was the one responsible for all this grief?
But Ren wasn’t like that. Not at all. Perhaps he was ignorant of his brother’s crimes, but he wasn’t cruel.
“I’m sorry,” I stammered, meeting Master Zhang’s gaze, his fury burning through the black chasms of his eyes. “But even ifwhat you say is true, those were the actions of another, not Ren. You can’t judge him for something he didn’t do.”
“It’s what hemaydo that worries me,” he said, advancing toward me. “Now move aside, priestess, unless you want to be caught in the cross fire.”
I spread out my arms, gesturing at the damage around us. “You’ve already brought innocents into the cross fire, Master Zhang! Look at what your anger has done. Look at your own people. They’re terrified!”
As I spoke, a puzzle piece clicked into place in my head. I reexamined the men, women, and children trembling behind windows, around corners. They stared back, their eyes wide with confusion and alarm. But there was something else, another emotion clinging to their wearied frames—anguish.
The same anguish I sensed from Master Zhang.
