A body lay perfectly still in the shadow of the bushes. That was what Bao had tripped over, but neither of them had seen it in the dark. It was a man in his mid-to-late thirties, with sun-browned skin and scars etched all over his sharp cheekbones. He wore a sleeveless tunic embroidered with an insignia Bao did not recognize: a crimson flower surrounded by leaves. Bao pressed two fingers to the man’s throat, but there was no pulse. “Dead,” he uttered, and Lan backed away with a soft cry. “But he hasn’t been here long. His body is still warm.”

“How did he die?”

Bao studied the belt around the man’s waist, which held two daggers and the scabbard for a missing sword. He grunted as he rolled the body onto its side. “He’s been stabbed in the back.”

“The witch?”

He examined the man’s wounds as Lan coughed, looking sick. “He was stabbed multiple times. Deep, forceful cuts, and they didn’t miss a single organ. Whoever killed him both meant to and knew how.” He looked in the direction of the witch’s hut, but it was still silent. Surely she would have heard them talking and come out by now.

Lan pointed to a great black circle on the corpse’s left arm. “What is this marking?”

“That’s the brand of a criminal,” Bao said, shocked. “This man was an inmate of the Iron Palace, the jail in the Surjalana desert where they put those who commit awful deeds. Master Huynh had me reada volume written by a physician who specialized in treating those prisoners.”

“Why would anyone treat them?”

“They’re used for manual labor. Maybe this man’s sentence had ended.” Bao got to his feet grimly. “Let’s go see if the witch is home.”

As before, he gathered his belongings from the boat and Lan did the same, trailing after him as he approached the woman’s door. But no one responded to his knock, and when Bao threw the door open, they found the place empty. There was nothing inside but a crooked table, a single wood bench, and a bed covered with rags. Bao’s attention was attracted by a small fire in the corner. A pot of what looked like a thin stew was beginning to boil.

“She was here not long ago,” Lan whispered. “Where do you think she went?”

A twig cracked outside, but Bao had no time to turn before he felt something sharp dig into his back. “And who might you be?” asked a deep, rough, accented voice.

10

Lan shrieked at the sight of a spear, long and lethal and tipped with pure silver, held by an armored man. His breastplate was emblazoned with a dragon clutching a forest within its talons, the symbol of the Kingdom of the Great Forest. That explained his accent when speaking the language of the Sacred Grasslands. No sooner had Lan ascertained this than a second, shorter soldier materialized from the shadows, holding a torch and pointing another spear at her.

“Please,” she begged, showing the men her weaponless hands. “We’re only simple fishing folk. We came from the river market to the north.” She heard Bao’s barely audible groan and wondered, too late, if she ought to have adopted more of a village accent. But perhaps two men of the Great Forest wouldn’t know the difference.

“They’re just children, Commander,” the short soldier murmured, lowering his spear.

“Children who happen to be near a gang of smugglers. There’s more to this story,” the other man said.

“Commander?” Lan squeaked. “As in Commander Wei, leader of Empress Jade’s army?” She goggled at the heroic figure who had been the topic of so many stories and ballads she had read over the years.

“You’re rather knowledgeable for simple fishing folk.” The man was armed to the teeth—Lan took note of his beautiful sword, which had rice flowers carved into the hilt—but he did not wear a helmet like his companion, and his shaven head gleamed in the torchlight. He had a sharp, handsome face, though his mouth was hard and unsmiling. Lan could tell that he was the sort of man who would be suspicious of even a toddler found on the premises. “I’m going to give you one more chance to tell me who you are. Choose your words wisely.”

Lan swallowed hard, knowing the man could gut Bao like a catfish in seconds. “Please, sir,” she said, adopting her most polite tone, “we don’t know anything about smugglers. My father is Minister Vu, a former official in the court of the Sacred Grasslands. He wouldn’t let me go south to visit my aunt because of the conflict there. So it’s unlikely I would have anything to do with smuggling.” She gave Commander Wei the smile that had always gotten her out of all sorts of trouble.

But instead of being disarmed, the Commander only stared coldly back at her. “Why are you traveling south, then, if your father has forbidden it?”

She fiddled with the hem of her overdress. “He doesn’t know I’m gone. My friend here is ill and appeared unexpectedly. I’m helping him look for the woman who can cure him.”

“Has the illness affected his tongue?” Commander Wei barked. “Turn around and speak, young man. Who are you?”

Bao obeyed, trembling. “My name is Bao. I’m the apprentice to a physician local to the river market, but he can’t help me,” he added hastily, seeing the Commander’s mouth open to ask the question. “I’m not somuch ill as... cursed. The woman who lives in this hut is a witch, and she placed me under a spell that I’m trying to break.” He winced and looked at the Commander out of one eye, as though expecting to be speared for the sheer absurdity of his explanation.

But Commander Wei lowered the weapon instead. “A witch,” he repeated. “Go on.”

“She trapped me inside a flute,” Bao went on, looking at Lan, who tried to give him an encouraging nod. “It will become permanent unless the spell is broken before the next full moon. Sir, I know how ridiculous I sound. If I were you, I would think I was crazy or lying. But I’m telling you the truth. We need to wait here until the witch comes back.”

After a tense moment, the Commander said, “I don’t think you’re crazy or lying. But I’m afraid I have bad news. My men managed to intercept and kill most of the smugglers, but some evaded capture and took your witch friend with them.”

“Took her?” Bao echoed, horrified. “Where?”

“My men saw that her hands and feet were bound, so she may be a prisoner. She won’t be coming back for some time, if ever. We assume they’ve gone back to the Gray City.”

Lan exchanged glances with Bao. If the witchhadtold Bao the truth, then perhaps her sister had paid men to forcefully bring her home. “We need to go after them at once!” she cried. “We’ve already lost time standing here. If Bao’s mother summoned her back...” At once, she realized her mistake as the Commander’s attention sharpened.