Page 27 of Song of the Crimson Flower

Lan rushed to his side, waving away the last tendrils of black spice. She knelt beside him and felt his damp, clammy forehead. “You’re not fading,” she said. “Are you in pain?”

“It wasn’t the spell. I—I think it was the incense. But how could it have been, when I was wearing this, like all of you?” Bao slipped off his mask and looked at it helplessly.

“It seems you’re a bit more sensitive to black spice than the rest of us,” Lord Koichi told him, patting his shoulder. “How are you feeling now? Dizzy? Sick?”

But Commander Wei was watching Bao sharply. “You saw something,” he said, and it was a statement, not a question. “The black spice gave you a vision. What did you see?”

Bao’s face, which had begun regaining a bit of color, blanched once more. “I—I didn’t see anything much. Just a hole in the ground, in a beautiful garden. I didn’t know what it meant,” he said, and Lan squeezed his shoulder, feeling his distress. “There was a hot spring there... and a mirror made of water.”

Commander Wei froze, and Wren and Lord Koichi exchanged glances full of meaning.

“What does it mean?” Lan demanded, for it was clear that they all understood something she and Bao did not. “Why did Bao have this vision when none of us did?”

“There was a woman kneeling by the spring,” Bao went on, before any of them could answer Lan’s questions. Perspiration beaded his forehead and upper lip. “She had pale, pale skin and lips as red as blood. Eyes that lifted at the corners. She spoke to the water.”

The Commander stared at him, shocked. “Who was she?”

“Wei,” Wren said, a hint of warning in her voice.

“Who was she?” he repeated, and Bao quaked under the strength of his stare.

“I don’t know,” Bao said helplessly. And then his eyes widened. “I saw you, too, sir. But you were much younger, possibly my own age. I don’t know. I have an awful headache.”

“You’re all right,” Lan said soothingly, as he turned his desperate gaze to her. She looked up at Commander Wei, whose face looked ashen. “Sir, I don’t think he meant to offend you. He doesn’t know what’s saying... He’s overtired; he hasn’t had any rest in a few days...”

“Slowly now, my young friend,” Wren said briskly, helping Bao to his feet. “You and Miss Vu should return to the house, and we will talk about this later.”

“That’s enough for now,” Lord Koichi said to the soldiers. “Ensure that this wagon is locked up until we can determine how best to destroy its contents.”

Lan took Bao’s arm. His face was wan and weary as they said their goodbyes to Lord Koichi, Wren, and Commander Wei and headed back toward the Phans’ house.

“It was the strangest thing,” Bao muttered to Lan. “Like dreaming wide awake. I had the mask on, but I could smell the black spice so strongly. I saw Commander Wei embracing this woman. I tried to look away, but I couldn’t. He was so much younger, and she was so beautiful.”

“It must have been Xifeng. That’s why he looked so disturbed,” Lan said quietly.

Bao stopped and leaned against a pillar for a moment, his breath ragged. “I had another vision, too. And it might prove what I’ve been afraid of since the Commander said that Mistress Vy’s ancestor married a witch.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve been dreaming for some time about a woman in a field, standing outside a great city of stone. She is searching for me and calling my name, but the second she finds me, I always wake up.”

Lan listened, a growing knot of tension forming in her gut.

“This time, it wasn’t a dream,” Bao said, his lips trembling. “I saw her again... and I heard her speak. She told me she was my mother. She looked so important and regal—tall like me, with iron-gray hair. She smiled and said that my aunt had come home, and so would I. Lan,” he added, forgetting to address her formally in his fear, “I think Mistress Vy of the Gray City is my mother. And I think that the river witch must truly be my aunt.”

A trickle of cold slipped down Lan’s spine. From everything she had heard of the Gray City and its enigmatic leader, they were by all intents and purposes malicious and profane. She could see on Bao’s face the same consternation—that he could be so closely related to the very woman against whom Empress Jade and two other kings wished to declare war. But son or not, she knew he could not be anything like Mistress Vy; she could imagine no one more different from shy, retiring Bao, with his awkward ways and love of learning.

“All right,” she said, full of pity for his distress. She put a hand on his shoulder, and it felt almost natural to comfort him with touch, the same way she had brought him back from the curse. “Let’s think about this some more and keep it to ourselves for now. We won’t tell anyone else yet, especially the Commander.”

Bao nodded, clearly relieved. “He won’t be pleased. And he’ll trust us even less. Maybe he won’t even want to take us south anymore.”

“He doesn’t have to know yet,” Lan said firmly. “We will both get some rest, and tomorrow we’ll finish what we set out to do.”

12

Bao lay on a cloud, and as he watched the stars wheeling overhead, he saw images in the light they cast: Commander Wei standing over the body of the beautiful, dead Xifeng; the poppy fields ablaze with light outside a vast and unknowable city; and the woman who searched the fields for Bao, calling his name as she wandered through the tall grass. The cloud spun him ever higher into the sky, and soon he would leave earth behind for all time...

Someone was shaking him. He saw a beloved face, a pair of wide eyes, rose-pink lips pleading with him to wake up, please wake up. Suddenly, the drowsiness and the lightness left him, and Bao blinked and found himself in a grand bedchamber, lying on a thick bed filled with swan feathers. It took him a moment to remember where he was: Lord and Lady Phan’s home, where Empress Jade was staying. The first rays of dawn were creeping through the open shutters, along with a pleasant breeze. He turned his head slowly, disoriented, taking in the delicate paintings and the stacks of books on the rosewood table, and finally Lan kneeling beside him.

“Thank the gods,” she sobbed. Both of her hands were gripping his right arm so tightly, her fingers had left marks in his skin. “I thought I was too late.”

Bao stared at her in confusion, then jerked backward. It had been a warm night and he had slept half-naked. “Lan!” he cried, again forgetting to address her in a formal manner. He yanked the light blanket up to his neck, covering his bare chest. “What are you doing in here?”

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