“You will be permitted the use of a single dried pupa tomorrow evening,” Elder Guo says, “upon which you will perform the transformation for us to review.”
We bow as we leave the chamber. I can’t help but glance back once more at the question on the calligraphy scroll hanging above our heads.
Good, or evil?
* * *
“How much do you know about these birds?” I ask Lian once we return to our rooms. I set the bird on one of the side tables. It swivels its head in an uncanny way, watching our every move.
“Not much,” she admits, peering at it through the bars of the cage. “They are … unnatural creations. I cannot imagine how many birds have to die in order to create them.”
“The same for the jīncán.” I shudder. “So many had to die, and for what?”
Lian nods solemnly. “It is contrary to the art of Shénnóng, to what my people call the t’chi, for its sole purpose is the taking of a life. It is a weapon, nothing more, as much as Elder Guo likes to pretend it has a higher purpose. I’m surprised the ministry has approved its use.”
“Perhaps it is a way for the princess to see who exhibits comfort with the use of poisons, and in turn, will lead her to the one responsible for the poisoned tea bricks,” I speculate.
Desperate people resort to desperate things. It is a daunting task before the princess, to wade through the murky pool of the court, determining who is loyal and who is an enemy.
“She remembered me,” Lian says, idly picking up a nut from the table and setting it on the edge of the cage. The Piya twitters and flies down to peck at it. When the bird deems it edible, the nut is tossed up in the air and eaten swiftly.
“Who?”
The bird ruffles its feathers and pecks at the floor, chirping. Lian pushes more nuts through, and the greedy creature swallows them one by one.
“Zhen,” she says, sounding like she is lost to memory. “Older Sister, I used to call her. When we were children, we were permitted to play together. But then the fear of rebellion came, and she was kept apart for her own safety. My father saw this and cautioned me that someday someone may want to hurt my family and hurt him, through me. He said that was why I had to be watchful and useful, because that day could come sooner than expected.”
My time spent in the palace, all the things I’ve learned, have begun to change my understanding of my childhood. How I used to view everything through a warped mirror, and how I am still searching for clarity.
“She does not know who to trust,” I tell her. “How can she?”
Lian offers the bird a peanut, and it squawks, annoyed. “She may be right in one aspect. If she is able to determine the source of the poison and figure out an antidote, she can at least appease some of the people.”
“Many of them are just tired and afraid.” Lost, like me.
“My father has been preparing for this day. The stars have already foretold it. The empire will split, and change will come.” She says it with confidence, as certain as the sun rising from the east, and I envy her staunch belief in the words of the astronomers.
“What do they see? Is her rule foretold?” I ask, curious. “Why can they not reassure the people who will be a good ruler and who will be a bad one?”
“Everyone is able to see the stars; it’s the interpretation that is the dangerous part.” Lian frowns. “The stars are not a straight road but a split stream, each breaking into smaller ones, infinite possibilities outlined across the sky. And it’s a risky profession. You may say something that will anger a powerful person, and then…” She makes a slicing motion across her throat.
“Not everyone wants the future to be seen,” I remark, and she acknowledges this with a nod.
Lian picks up the cage with the bird, ready to bring it into our sleeping area.
“You don’t mean for us to sleep with the Piya?” I ask, skin already crawling with the thought of those eyes watching me while I’m dreaming.
“You heard the warning Elder Guo gave us. If the bird dies, we’ll be removed from the competition, and worse.”
I puzzle over this, not understanding, until the realization comes. Kill the bird, strike us from the competition. With the bird in our care, we’re vulnerable to sabotage.
“Games within games,” I mutter, sick of the intrigue. It reminds me again of my own ignorance.
“I told you before, Shao’s family is deeply connected in the court,” Lian says. “In both the department of the royal physicians and the Court of Officials, but he is the first of his family to have demonstrated an affinity with Shénnóng. Liu Guoming is a distant relative of the marquis, and his family has been in the tea business for generations. Their families know intimately how the tea and entertainment districts function with the officials. It is advantageous to them to have an ear in the court or influence in Hánxiá.