On the floor, their shadows quiver, forming mysterious shapes, clawed creatures approaching our feet. I step back, even though I am almost certain they are just shadows … almost. The scent of frost grows stronger, and our breath can be seen in the air, an impossibility in summer.
Chengzhi strides forward, a small dish in hand. He places it in front of the bird, and I recognize what’s on it as feverberry, the same berry I offered to Peng-ge in the library earlier, the one that induces mild vomiting. The bird pecks at it and eats the clump of berries rapidly, then throws up a mess of black liquid. The poison expelled, death averted.
Wenyi lets out a sigh, and the shadows in the pavilion ease, retreating back into their normal shapes. He wipes his brow and takes a sip of water, his complexion paler than normal.
The judges clap politely. The marquis frowns, covering his face with a handkerchief, his distaste clear. Minister Song appears slightly pale, taking a quick sip of his water as well.
“That was certainly a sight to behold.” Elder Guo strides forth with a raised brow. “Use the poison to create a threat, forcing the bird to be on the defensive, and in doing so, ingest a small amount of jīncán in the snake’s blood. One that can easily be expelled by purging.”
“Can the snake be revived?” the princess asks, appearing troubled.
“No, Highness.” Wenyi bows his head. “It is animation, approximating movement, nothing more.” A puppet, dancing from a string. It is a clever solution, but one unappreciated by the judges.
“Pity,” the chancellor comments. “It would have been preferable if the snake could have lived.”
Their Piya is carried out of the enclosure, making pitiful noises, but my attention remains on the snake, remembering the one that attacked me on the rock. It does not move, its one visible pale eye staring into nothing. The servant slides it back into the pot, where it lands in the water with a heavy squelch. Blood drips down the side of the table.
It’s dead, I repeat to myself. And the shadows are only shadows. As if repeating it often enough will make it true.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
We stand before Elder Guo, waiting to be dismissed, the round concluded.
“Only six remain.” She clasps her hands together. “Six competitors, but room for only three in the final round.”
“Three?” Guoming yelps, his confidence slipping in an instant. The four young men regard each other uneasily, assessing who is the biggest threat—notably ignoring Lian and me.
“Legend says that when the world was first created, there were six gods. The Bird of the South, the Tiger of the North, the Carp of the East, and the Tortoise of the West. The Twin Gods ruled over them all—the Jade Dragon of the river and the Gold Serpent of the cloud sea. But the Gold Serpent became jealous of how our ancestors worshipped the Jade Dragon for bringing water to their fertile lands and offered up great treasures that filled his underwater palace.”
Even if it is a story I have heard many times before, her words ring hypnotic in the air, drawing us in.
“He deceived his brother by luring him into his mountain domain, and trapped him under the granite peaks of Kūnmíng. To demonstrate his displeasure at the pitiful humans, the Gold Serpent flooded the Purple Valley with storms, and many perished.
“The four remaining gods attempted to overthrow the Gold Serpent, but he proved too powerful for even the other gods. They banded together and broke the Jade Dragon from his prison, and the skies thundered from the fierce battle. Brother against brother. God against god.”
The ancient story spoken into the night seems to gain power on its own, and the wind stills. Even the frogs have stopped croaking. There is only silence as we listen to the conclusion of the creation tale.
“When the Gold Serpent finally fell from the sky, his blood dotted the lakes and ponds of Dàxī like rain. Where his blood touched water, water lilies bloomed. But the Jade Dragon also perished, and the four gods lifted him up into the heavens. They were never seen to walk among humans again.”
Elder Guo’s voice softens. “When the water lily flowers, we remember how the gods once roamed the earth. In the pond behind me there are three water lilies with treasure hidden inside their blooms. The first three of you to find one and bring it back to us will continue forward in the competition. May the gods guide you in your search.”
She bows, and the challenge is on.
A loud splash sounds as Guoming has already raced down the stone steps and is in the water, shoving aside floating leaves. Chengzhi is not far behind him, taking just as little care with the plants. Shao carefully steps into the water, reaching down to tentatively touch a closed bud. Wenyi stands at the edge of the pond, considering the stretch of water lilies before him with a pensive look. The fragile alliances have already broken, each of them now fending for themselves.