He sighed. “I wish I could see the future.”
“I have seen it, General,” she said emphatically. “We reclaim Fusang.”
“But how, Bingmei? How?”
She looked at him. “I don’t know. Just believe it will happen. Find a way to make it happen.”
While Bingmei slept, she sent her consciousness away and let it soar on the wings of birds. She shifted from one to the next, closer and closer to Fusang. Her awareness arrived there before morning, as countless birds trilled in preparation to greet the dawn. There were so many to choose from as she sought the siskin she’d sent on a mission.
Something in the grand courtyard before the Hall of Memory had attracted the birds’ attention. They watched from the rooftops, and Bingmei joined them, peering through the eyes of a blackbird.
The first blush of dawn crept into the sky, revealing a scene unlike anything she’d ever witnessed. It was a training yard full of ensign warriors . . . like her, only they were all male. There were easily two hundred warriors assembled, wearing black silk with red stitching. Echion himself stood at the forefront, and they were mirroring his pose. He grunted a command in a tongue she didn’t know as he shifted to another stance, letting out a measured puff of breath. The men copied him.
She had never seen this form before, but it looked strangely familiar. Echion’s hands were splayed like claws, and he did low blocking motions, shifting from one sturdy stance to another. The others mimicked him, already expert in the form. Stomps and grunts filled the courtyard.
Could this be the dragon form?
And that’s when she realized that the men in this group were his dragons, now in human form. They were training together, preparing for the coming conflict. As they moved, she felt the magic of the form building. It was giving them strength, just as the phoenix form did for her. Echion’s hands began to glow with power as he shifted from one stance to the next. Moments later, the same thing happened to his men.
Power thrummed inside the courtyard, causing little tremors within the stone itself. Each of the men followed their master, repeating the moves he demonstrated for them. Yes, it was the dragon form. It all fit—the proud nature of the stance, the heavy footsteps, even the way they tucked in their arms and flared their elbows out in a likeness of wings. She watched with mingled fascination and dread.
When the form was finished, each of the men cupped a sphere crackling with energy between his open palms. Echion rose to his full height and pressed the sphere to his chest. It absorbed into his flesh as he breathed in a final sigh. The others repeated the action. Bingmei could not help but think of General Tzu’s army rushing across the courtyard to fight them, only to be attacked with huge blue balls of crackling energy.
At least they would have meiwood weapons, and the protection of the fog. It would have to be enough.
Echion turned and faced his disciples. “They are coming. Be ready. Fight as one. Destroy them all. The season of dragons has returned.”
One by one, those assembled transformed into dragons and took to the skies. Some of the birds fled in panic at the startling metamorphosis. Bingmei kept her blackbird still, and when the sky was full of dragons, she saw Echion walking toward the Hall of Memory alone.
She tried to get the blackbird to fly toward the Hall of Memory, but it was still unnerved by the dragons. That trapped her for the moment, because no other birds were close enough for her to reach. After a while, she felt the presence of the siskin coming toward her. Bingmei immediately leaped into it as it raced over the roof of the palace just as the sun began to gleam on golden spikes embedded in the walls. The siskin perched in a flowering bush in the concubines’ garden, and Bingmei watched as a woman beneath her cradled a baby in her arms. Her baby. The woman stroked the edge of her finger tenderly over Shixian’s little nose. Bingmei wondered what she was feeling, having so recently lost her own child.
“Good morning, baobei,” the woman crooned. “Good morning, little treasure. Your eyes are so bright today.”
Bingmei’s heart spasmed with pain at the sight of someone else holding her child. She wanted to hold her baby so much it burned inside her. Then Bingmei heard an intruder through the bird’s senses, and watched Xisi as she materialized out of the garden.
The concubine didn’t see that she was being observed by the queen, who frowned at the loving intimacy on display.
“You forget your place, concubine,” said Xisi.
The startled woman rose to her feet, holding the baby protectively. “I didn’t see you, Your Highness.” She bobbed her head in submission, over and over, but Bingmei could tell her heart was quailing for the child. For Shixian.
Bingmei glared at Xisi through the eyes of the siskin.
A little impatience will spoil great plans.
—Dawanjir proverb
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The Bond of Xieyi
The chirp of birds awoke Bingmei before dawn. She had arrived at the phoenix pagoda behind Fusang the previous night. Her body felt stiff and weary from the journey, but the rest had reinvigorated her. She stretched her limbs and performed the phoenix form to draw in energy and power, then ate a quick meal from the provisions she’d brought in her pack.
Before leaving the pagoda, she took out the wig she’d acquired in Sihui and quickly put it over her crown of braids, fixing it with pins. Wearing a wig had once been part of her daily routine, but it felt uncomfortable now. She avoided the urge to adjust it
