And that’s the problem, I thought, scowling at him. He wasn’t saying anything, just the same-old same-old excuses.
His name was Meng Li Guo, and he was the tenth official I’d visited today. Like all the others, he was dressed in sober gray, with the screaming dragon insignia embroidered over his heart, and except for an honorific here and there, his speech sounded the same as all his brother officials. I’d noticed that each time one handed me off to the next, it was always to a smaller room, with chairs more uncomfortable than the last. Now I perched on a rickety wooden stool in a cramped cubicle, on the second basement level of the palace wing dedicated to police and royal security. Meng Li Guo’s eyes were an ordinary black, nothing like the mechanical eyes with wires and connectors you saw in the senior guards. That alone told me no one was taking me seriously.
I scowled and thumped a fist on his desk. “Right. Thank you. Very well. You would make every effort. Oh, except my mother is an ordinary old woman, and not some important noble in His Royal Majesty’s court, so I should not express great surprise if you are unable to spare the guards or wizards to search for her.”
The guard allowed himself a brief glare. However, he was an experienced diplomat, despite his youth, so he suppressed whatever curses rose into his throat. Instead, he coughed politely and referred to the papers on his desk. “You say you last spoke with your mother, the widow Shen Zou, yesterday at twelve o’clock. You left her shop in the West Moon Wind District and spent several hours—”
“Two hours,” I said, testily.
He smiled. Scribbled a notation on the paper. “Two hours with various acquaintances, whose names are listed below . . .”
On he went, describing my pitiful morning and afternoon in more detail than I wanted to hear. But I listened hard, nevertheless, to make certain he had not omitted, or worse, altered, any details. Of course, I had not mentioned Danzu’s possible connection with smugglers, nor the speculations I shared with my friends about the king’s health and doings at court. Those didn’t matter. What mattered was that my mother had walked out one fine bright autumn afternoon and never returned.
“. . . and the second apprentice, one Yún Chang, informed you upon your return that your mother had departed at two o’clock, with the intention of visiting certain markets where one might obtain herbal and magical ingredients . . .”
I wanted to choke him, to make him talk faster, to find my ma mi that instant, but I knew throwing a temper tantrum wouldn’t accomplish anything.
So I squashed my impatience, and listened to the miserable toad assigned to handle my complaint. After ten hours of waiting in antechambers and shuffling through the palace corridors, I’d heard enough to realize the chief wizards and ministers were more concerned with troubles in court. Oh, I didn’t hear anything outright, just whispered innuendoes, and the names they used were all nicknames, which only insiders could recognize. Still, I knew the smell of rumors, and these all stank of intrigue.
At last, the young man finished off his report, signed it, and placed it under a coiled gray lamp. He pressed a button. Blue light flared, making me blink.
“Done,” he said. “That will transmit the report to our outer guard posts. If you wish for regular updates on our progress, you will need to submit form number 34A-732, with appropriate identification and signatures, to the district oversight department.” He eyed me with some doubt. “Or not. However, please be aware we have fulfilled our usual obligations for such a case. Extraordinary measures . . .”
“. . . would require extraordinary commands.” A phrase Princess Lian often quoted with a scowl. “Yes, I understand. Thank you.”
Outside the palace, I released a long unhappy breath.
You were nice.
Chen, invisible, but very present.
I didn’t want to be, I told him. I wanted to throw bricks at his ugly face.
But you did not.
I blew out another breath, no better, no easier than the first. It wouldn’t do Ma mi any good. Maybe I’ll come back tomorrow. Be like water on stone.
Chen grunted an indecipherable comment that had to be rude, or it wouldn’t be Chen. Ignoring him, I trudged across the square to the nearest fountain and splashed handfuls of water over my hot and dusty face. All those hours in the palace had left me feeling dried up, like a withered prune, and it wasn’t until I dunked my whole head in the fountain that I felt human again. A breeze made my wet skin prickle. It carried hints of wood smoke and pork roasting in a nearby kitchen. The stronger scent of pine and old frozen snow from the mountain tops. A hint of wet chill that spoke of the coming autumn rains.
I wiped the water from my eyes, only to get an unhappy surprise.
The public square in front of the palace was always crowded, but in the few moments I’d taken to wash, it had emptied out. Sunset burned bright red across the gray and white peaks above the city. Shadows flickered through the narrow streets. Night was fast approaching.
Hurry. I hear the demons are hungry these days, Chen said, before winking away himself.
I shook the water from my hair and jogged to the closest wind-and-magic lift. Just as I reached the counter, the temple bells rang out the hour. Immediately, the old hag behind the counter slammed down the shutter. At the same time, the warning whistle screeched, the gates snapped together, and the lift shot upward.
I cursed.
No reply from behind the shutter except a wheezing laugh. Well, she might have a room nearby, but I didn’t. And I didn’t care to spend the night in a cramped (and expensive) dark-time shelter. Without wasting any more curses on counter clerks, I jogged even faster toward the next covered passageway. Those wouldn’t keep me safe from watch-demons either, but they did lead to the nearest entry into Lóng City’s Hundred Sewers. Most people stayed out of the sewers, and not just for the usual reasons, but I had special privileges, courtesy of my adventures with Lian.
You just like the muck, Chen said.
Ignoring him, I levered the metal plate off to one side, then scrambled down the metal ladder.
Magic lamps clicked on as I landed on the stone platform at the bottom. Their light reflected off the damp brick walls, casting a sheen over the thick oily stream running down the center of the tunnel. My eyes watered from the stink. The old kings had built these sewers as escape routes, but that didn’t stop them from being used for all the
usual reasons, too.