“Xisi is coming this way,” Bingmei warned in a low voice.
“Do you smell her?” Marenqo asked.
“Not yet. But I can see her.”
“There’s another path to the main courtyard,” Zhuyi said. “This way.”
They followed her out of the covered walkway. After they had passed around a corner, Bingmei shifted her awareness back to the bird, watching as Xisi crossed the very spot they’d just left. She sighed in relief, returning to her body.
“I’m glad we put the broken door back in place,” Mieshi said. “But it won’t fool her for long if she goes to check on us.”
“Do you think she will?” Marenqo asked.
“Not soon. She’s been very busy since the palace started preparing for war,” Mieshi said. “They’ve known Tzu is coming. They intend to let him land without much resistance. Then they’ll send the dragons out to destroy the boats and frighten the army. The Qiangdao will swarm them. How is the general going to face the dragons?”
Bingmei could smell their concern and quickly spoke to reassure them. “The general knows this already. He knows he’s walking into a trap. And he’s gathered meiwood weapons to fight the dragons.”
“Won’t the weapons summon the killing fog?” Zhuyi said.
“It can’t harm them now,” Marenqo reminded her. “And the fog will create cover as well. It will make it harder for the Qiangdao to fight them. Even the odds.” He smirked. “Clever man, that general.”
“Clever Bingmei,” Mieshi said, glancing at her proudly. Her smell was flowery.
Bingmei enjoyed the scent, but their victory was far from assured. “When we first came here, we couldn’t have killed Echion even if we’d all fought him together. He was immortal and immune to our attacks. Now he isn’t. We have our chance to defeat them. This is what we were meant to do, what Kunmia would do if she were here instead of us. I don’t have her skill or training.” She felt a throb in her heart, the misery of longing for someone who had died. “But I will help guide you. Once Echion is dead, Xisi’s powers will be reduced. We can figure out a way to defeat her too.”
“She has your baby still,” Mieshi said, and Bingmei smelled the bite of her own sorrow.
“Wait . . . Bingmei has a baby?” Marenqo asked in wonder.
“Yes. It is Rowen’s son.”
All three of them turned and looked at her in bafflement as they walked.
“How can that be?” Mieshi said. “He’s a—”
“I know,” Bingmei interrupted. “I can’t explain it now. But it’s true. I gave our son to Xisi through an unbreakable pact. She intends to raise my son to rule at her side. I won’t allow that. She and Echion must both be stopped.”
“Someone’s coming,” Marenqo whispered.
They’d passed the gates leading to the inner palace. The main courtyard was around the corner, and the building’s sloping roof blocked their view of the person whose footsteps Marenqo had heard. His scent revealed him. The man approaching them down the path was one of Echion’s ensign, the warrior who had guarded her when she’d first been brought to Fusang. The man who had killed King Shulian with his fist.
“He’s one of Echion’s,” Marenqo whispered.
Bingmei continued to walk with purpose, leading the others. She had her wig and could not be recognized from afar.
The man glanced at them and slowed his pace. The smell of distrust came immediately.
Bingmei kept her expression unconcerned, as if oblivious to his identity.
“Where are you all going?” he said, holding up a hand to stay them.
Bingmei continued to advance. “We don’t answer to you,” she said curtly.
A gong sounded from the main courtyard. The noise reverberated in the air, then rang out again like a bell of doom.
“Report back to your mistress,” the man ordered. “The army is being assembled in the southern courtyard, prepared to march. The ships have been sighted entering the inlet.”
Still, Bingmei advanced with her companions.
She smelled it then. A shock of recognition.
“We don’t answer to you,” Bingmei repeated, then gripped the staff and thrust it hard right at his chest.
The man sidestepped, blocking the thrust, and Mieshi and Zhuyi lunged at him. Marenqo went around to block his escape. Bingmei saw a wild panic ignite in the man’s eyes as he tried to fight off three women at once. His hand went to Zhuyi’s side to try to draw a dianxue glyph on her, but Bingmei thumped his head with her staff. The blow caught him unawares, and he stumbled to his knees, his consciousness dazed. Mieshi grabbed him in an arm bar, and he was thrust forward, forced to kneel.
Zhuyi had her saber out and looked to Bingmei for orders.
Marenqo went to the next opening in the covered walkway to keep watch on the courtyard.
Bingmei walked up to the prisoner. “I never knew your name,” she said, standing before him. She kept her emotions under control. She did not hate him or seek revenge. But she couldn’t let him go either. It would risk the safety of her companions and her mission.
He looked up at her in fear and despair, sweat trickling down his cheek. And he knew he was a dead man.
Send him to the Grave Kingdom, came the whisper from the phoenix. He has chosen his master already.
“My name . . . my name is Heishou,” he said thickly.
An image came to Bingmei’s mind. A dianxue glyph for execution. The death touch. Zhu.
It was a punishment earned. One he had inflicted on many others. His body began to tremble with fear.
“Warn the souls in the Grave Kingdom that their master is about to return,” Bingmei told him. “The Reckoning is coming.”
A bloom of terror filled his breast, smelling of burnt soup. Bingmei drew the simple glyph on his head as Mieshi restrained him. And she watched as his spirit-soul sloughed from his body, which collapsed as its animating energy abandoned it. She saw his spirit-soul look at her, could smell its fear and despair. And then the otherworldly wind sucked it away, and it was
