The Sword Dancer (19 page)

‘There’s someone else.’ His lip curled. ‘Someone close to your heart.’

He waited for her to deny it, but Li Feng refused to answer. She stood, irritated at the way he always prodded and tested her, pushing against her boundaries.

‘What does that have to do with anything?’ she demanded.

‘When the time comes, you’ll be thinking of him instead of what you need to do. It will turn your blade.’

She was thinking of Han now. He was inside her, a part of her. And Bao Yang was right, the thought of him made her want to turn back while she still could, but she had to do this for the sake of her family, for her brother.

They owe us blood.
She kept on hearing Liu Yuan telling her that over and over. She had to do this for her sake as well.

‘Once we’re inside, any hesitation could cost all of us our lives,’ Bao Yang warned. ‘It will all be for nothing.’

‘There’s no one.’ She looked fiercely into Bao Yang’s eyes. Let him challenge her again if he still doubted her resolve. ‘I can do what needs to be done. There’s no one.’

Chapter Seventeen

T
he upper room of the Seven Bowls Tea House served expensive tea to higher-class customers while the lower floor and courtyard had tables crowded with labourers and porters. Han continued his investigations the next day, discovering that a good portion of them worked at the many docks along the river, loading and unloading the transport boats. It seemed a reasonable place to focus his effort, given Cai Yun’s salt-smuggling connections. Unfortunately, there were hundreds of boats and the Min River wound throughout the entire city.

By the afternoon, he knew he’d have to enlist more help. Han approached the yamen gates with thoughts of petitioning Magistrate Tan for additional men to assign to the task.

‘Magistrate Tan is not present,’ the clerk told him.

‘This is an urgent matter. If I could enquire where I may find him.’

The man glanced worriedly about and gave a look to the other attendant who promptly disappeared into the back. A moment later, a deputy magistrate appeared flanked by a pair of armed guards. Constable Guo showed up at the same time to wave them down. Han should have known to go to Guo first. He wasn’t known to the bureaucratic arm.

‘You’re Zheng Hao Han, the thief-catcher?’ The deputy magistrate looked him up and down.

‘Yes, sir.’

Han knew the picture he presented. A thief-catcher was nothing more than a common labourer to the scholars and officials in the magistrate’s office.

‘Magistrate Tan received an invitation from Prefect Guan and has left for the day,’ the deputy said.

Invitation? The prefect had been locked inside his residence for over a week, refusing to see anyone. ‘This matter involves the prefect as well,’ Han began.

‘Prefect Guan is hosting a banquet for an important guest, one Wang Shizhen. Surely any business can wait until tomorrow.’

The name struck Han like a blow to the face. He had mentioned the salt-smuggling ring, but hadn’t yet revealed the connection between Prefect Guan and the warlord to Magistrate Tan.

‘I need to get to that banquet. Immediately.’

* * *

The prefect had spared no expense for the feast. The orders came to the local restaurants for roast pig and duck. A newly appointed steward ordered an entire wagon of Bao Yang’s special wine.

‘Had we known, we might have poisoned the casks and saved ourselves some trouble,’ Bao Yang remarked drily, but she found the idea of poison highly unsatisfactory after the wrongs these men had committed.

They entered the mansion under the guise of a martial-dance troupe. Bao Yang and her brother would perform a lion dance, operating the head and tail of the costume. Li Feng would perform an ever-popular sword dance, a favourite of General Wang’s.

The prefect’s bodyguards searched through their stage items. The men only gave a cursory glance at her sword, an obvious show sword with its dulled edge and tip. They spent more time staring at her costume. The turquoise material flowed over her like a second skin, allowing for movement. She glared at their backs as they moved on to the other performers.

‘Careful,’ Bao Yang warned, though he didn’t refrain from casting a dark look at the guardsmen either.

The entertainers were separated from the banquet by a paper screen stretched over a bamboo frame. From behind it, she could make out the silhouettes of attendees sitting at low tables. A constant flow of music from a pipa accompanied the event.

The prefect and the general would be enjoying the feast at the front tables. She tried to focus on them, but they were nothing more than blurred shapes amidst the buzz of voices and laughter. Guan had likely invited a few distinguished poets and scholars to toast their accomplishments. Courtesans were present to pour wine and liven the conversation. They would be distracted when it was time to strike, full of wine with beautiful women in their laps.

Behind the screen, the performers waited for their time.

* * *

The performances started after the first dishes were served. There was an acrobatic tumbling routine, a graceful ribbon dance. The lion dance would follow and Li Feng’s sword dance would be the last act.

Bao Yang and her brother were dressed in black. The
lion’s head rested at their feet. It was painted in bright colours of red, green and gold with large yellow eyes. A long striped canopy trimmed with black fur draped down from the lion’s head to serve as the body. Their weapons were hidden inside the hollowed shell of the head, sealed behind layers of paper pasted over the rattan frame.

As the guards moved away, Liu Yuan broke into the hidden compartment and slipped Li Feng her short sword. A shiver wormed through her as she took the weapon in hand. The blade promptly disappeared beneath her sleeve.

A rising drumbeat signalled that it was time. Her heartbeat thudded to the same rhythm as the men slipped into the lion costume. Her brother pulled the head over the top half of his body. He aimed the painted eyes at her and the lion bowed his head and shook his mane. Its mouth gaped open in a smile that appeared ghastly under the circumstances. She almost wanted to laugh, but it would have been a harsh, flat sound. She had no joy left in her. She left all thoughts of happiness behind to focus on what she needed to do.

The acts finished one after another as the shadows danced on the other side of the screen. Then it was time for Liu Yuan and Bao Yang to begin, parading out in the lion costume to join the world of silhouettes.

The movements of the traditional lion dance required strength and co-ordination as the two men acted as the front and hind legs. The lion pranced and leapt, a celestial beast at play. They had spent the afternoon practising so that they could at least enact a mimicry of the popular dance. Their real purpose was to present a diversion as they moved into position.

Li Feng gripped the prop sword. She closed her eyes to gather her thoughts.

Their parents had performed for the last time in this very place. Mother had twirled around and around on nimble feet. Father had piped out a happy melody on his flute. Their spirits would be watching now over son and daughter. Soon they could rest. They could all finally rest.

A cymbal clanged and she opened her eyes. It sounded once, then paused. Then two more times. She moved into position and took in a deep breath. The moment the drums began again, she started her run. Each beat propelled her forwards. Thump, thump, thump. The feel of the ground pushed up into the muscles of her legs. The drumbeat became her pulse. She sprung on to her hands just before the screen and burst through the paper as the audience gasped with wonder.

Her tumbling pass continued. The world spun around her in swirls of colour as she flipped from hands to feet to hands. With the last flip she twisted around in the air and landed, her feet whisper soft.

The world shifted back into focus and she raised her eyes to the man who had destroyed her family. She expected such lewdness and greed to show on a man’s face. It would drag down his mouth and sink his eyes into an ugly portrait. But the man she looked upon had aristocratic features. His face was elongated, his nose high. His hands were raised in applause, but they had stilled mid-clap. His smile was similarly frozen.

He recognised her.

She didn’t know how that was possible. She only knew it was time to act.

Rearing her arm back, Li Feng launched her sword like a spear towards the main table. General Wang leapt aside and his guards sprang into action the same time Bao Yan and her brother cast aside the lion costume, knives in hand.

These next moments meant everything. She closed the distance to the prefect, slipping the real sword from her sleeve. The dramatic costume made the sheath easy to hide.

Guan He didn’t move as the blade came for his throat. He was too stunned. Let him die with that fear choking him. Her own heart pounded within her, forcing blood to her limbs and resounding hard through her skull—louder than any drumbeat.

A shadow flew from the corner of her vision as she drove forwards. Another blade connected with hers, deflecting it with a force that jarred her arm to the bone. Zheng Hao Han had emerged from nothingness to stand in the centre of the courtyard. That bastard Thief-catcher Han.

He grabbed a handful of the prefect’s robe and shoved the man to the corner.

‘Li Feng.’ His dark eyes never left her face. ‘Don’t do this.’

A surge of emotion filled her at the sight of him, but she forced it back down to the darkness within. It was too late to stop.

A cold smile curved her mouth. ‘Han,’ she acknowledged, with the softness of a lover. ‘Don’t hold back.’

With that warning, she released the catch on the sleeve sword to extend the blade and attacked.

* * *

A fist clenched around his heart. He meant nothing to her.

Han raised his
dao
, prepared to defend against Li Feng’s thrust, but she’d misdirected him. Her attack was directed to his left. It was Prefect Guan she wanted.

He shoved the low banquet table into her path. The obstacle provided only a moment’s distraction. She stepped on to the tabletop and leapt, using the added height to bring her blade down on him. He dodged just in time and positioned himself directly between her and Guan. She would have to fight through him.

All around them, other fights broke out. Han gave the other attackers a cursory glance before focusing back on Li Feng.

She drove back in, closing the distance, moving deep into his stance. Her sword pointed at his heart. He stepped out of the way, but Li Feng shifted her weight and flowed back into him, her attack circling around his guard. He felt the nick of the blade without ever seeing it. A razor line stung across his knuckles. Insubstantial, but infuriating that he’d allowed that much through. He swung the
dao
at her head. She had no choice but to retreat, but in a heartbeat she was back before him.

This was Wudang sword—a form based on circular patterns and the redirection of energy. Her short sword truncated the movements, making the techniques faster, more efficient.

This was the first time they had truly engaged in battle. Li Feng was more artist than killer, but she was presenting a good semblance of the killing part. Her eyes were black and unfathomable as she searched for an opening. A hunting falcon narrowing in on its prey. But there was something beyond strategy in her gaze. He knew that look. He knew the intent.

His blood ran to ice. She had asked too often about Two Dragon Lo, the bandit king who had been determined to die in his own way.

‘Li Feng—’

He should have known better than to try to speak. Her sword cut at his throat. He dodged the swipe, only to take a kick to the gut. He fell back, momentarily stunned. A flash of steel caught his eye. The relentless sword was coming for him. Instinct took over and he grabbed at the blade. The sharp edge cut into his palm, but Li Feng was momentarily disabled. Tucking the
dao
back, he swung the back of his hand into her jaw.

The crack of bone made an ugly sound and Li Feng staggered. His gut wrenched at the sight of her on the ground. The flash fire of pain in his hand began to register. He clenched his fingers over the wound to stanch the flow of blood while Li Feng twisted on to her feet. The look she shot him was equal parts loathing and respect. But the light had returned to her eyes. She was aware, finally seeing him instead of the ghosts of the past.

‘Run,’ he demanded.

Her gaze swept over the rest of the courtyard. The feast was in a shambles, tables upturned, dishes scattered. The warlord’s men swarmed over the other would-be assassins. There was more commotion outside the walls. Sounds of fighting.

His palm was torn to shreds. Li Feng’s face was swollen, the corner of her mouth bleeding.

‘You’ll have to kill me,’ he warned.

Li Feng hesitated. At least she gave him that much.

‘Run,’ he muttered again beneath his breath.

She had come here ready to die. Was there enough between them for him to stop her? There was the chase, the many escapes. He’d spared her, she’d saved him. And they had one night. One night in each other’s arms.

Their battle had positioned her against the archway leading into the rear section of the garden. The rest of the fight was behind him. She looked quickly to her comrades and stepped backwards through the archway, keeping her eyes on him until she disappeared deeper into the mansion.

* * *

This section of the garden was eerily quiet, untouched by the violence just beyond the wall. There was one way out of the mansion and that was through the front gates. No one thought to invade this private sanctum of miniature landscapes and silent stones. The sounds of struggle continued through the archway, but in this secluded area, the fight seemed diminished. She could hear the rippling of water as a carp broke the surface of the pond before disappearing again into the black depths. The serenity was an abomination. It did nothing to calm the thudding of her pulse or the anger that gathered inside her like a coming storm.

Who was Han to try to force her hand? He thought she only had two options, defeat him or retreat. But water and wind flowed around rocks and mountains. She would run up the garden wall and go
over
him to get to Guan He. Han would not confuse her. He would not stop her.

‘Daughter?’

The plaintive sound came from the far corner of the garden. A tremulous voice that resounded through her like thunder. She turned her head like a puppet on a string, her mind wholly removed from her body.

A woman in blue appeared beneath the veranda, stepping into the waning light of the day. She was slender, graceful, beautiful in a way no other woman could be in a little girl’s eyes. It wasn’t like seeing Liu Yuan where her memories came back in pieces through fog and time. She knew at once in every part of her who this was. Li Feng flew over grass and rock to fall into her mother’s arms.

‘Xiao Feng.’

Mother’s arms curved around her. Li Feng was childish-small again and blinded by tears. In that moment, the heavens were infinitely kind. She had a mother.