I had done bad things there. A lot of bad things. I had told myself that I had done so because I was not myself, but was instead under the control of something else, something sinister. However, truth be told, much of what I did, I took a dark and sinister pleasure in. Nearly s.a.d.i.s.tic, in fact. And that had disturbed me greatly, for I knew myself to be many things, but never once had I believed I was someone who enjoyed the pain of others. Yes, I had caused others pain, to be sure. But it had always been a by-product. Or they'd deserved it, or done me harm in some way and I was getting back at them.

Hurting the helpless simply to enjoy the sensation of inflicting suffering... that wasn't me.

I have observed throughout my life that things rarely occur by themselves. That when one type of situation transpires, invariably and inevitably, something of the opposite sort occurs as well. For every action, some action of an ant.i.thetical type--but otherwise equal in every way--happens. This is so immutable that I would almost venture to say it's universal. There are a couple of other "laws" I've observed regarding how fate seems to move, but I'll save those for some other time.

How that applied to my situation in Chinpan was obvious. If, in Wuin, I had done terrible things--and I had--then I was now being compelled by the laws and forces of nature to do equal but opposite things.

The thought that those black-clad b.i.t.c.hes had killed Ali with impunity was gnawing at my gut. So much so that I knew I had to do something. The problem was, fetching Mitsu into the hands of the Forked Tong was an evil deed in and of itself.

Which, if my theory was correct, meant that while I was busy trying to even the scales on one side, I was going to wind up tipping them against me at the same time. But as much as I turned it over and over in my mind, I was forced to the inevitable conclusion that there was no other way. And considering I was someone who excelled in finding another way when all seemed hopeless, that was a frustrating admission to make.

The only conclusion to which I could finally come was that, if 'twas to be done, then it would be best to do it quickly. With that in mind, I immediately turned my thoughts to pondering just how to go about getting Mitsu to the Forked Tong.

Truthfully, conceiving the mischief took me almost no time at all. Fairly impressive, I had to admit: My ability to cause difficulty for others remained undiminished even as trials were heaped upon my shoulders.

Having developed the plan, I then proceeded to get no further sleep that night. How was it that I was intending to atone, in any sense, for the evil I had done as the peacelord of Wuin, and yet the first step in that atonement was to put an innocent girl at risk?

I satisfied myself by saying repeatedly that she wasn't really going to be at risk. That the Forked Tong, just as Veruh w.a.n.g Ho had stated, would find her of far greater use alive than dead. Furthermore, it could always be said that in some ways, she was living on borrowed time. Had I not interceded when I'd first seen her being confronted by those angry circus folk, she would very possibly have been beaten to death right then and there. In that sense, she owed me her life, and really, I should be able to do with it as I saw fit.

Remarkably, at the time that made a twisted kind of sense. At least, I thought it did. This is further proof that people will say or do virtually anything to justify their own actions.

So it was that, very very early, several hours before the rising of the sun, I stepped out onto the deserted street. There was still a steady mist of rain coming in, and I kept my cloak tightly over me.

There was a faint but steady wind from the south, the direction of the fish market, carrying with it a distinctly scaly aroma.

Then all I had to do was whistle. I knew how to whistle: I put my lips together and blew. The note was long and sustained and quite sharp. It carried high and far over the rooftops of Taikyo. I held it for as long as I could, stopped, drew in a deep breath, and did it again. Then one more time for good measure.

After that, I just stood there. I felt no need to keep whistling. Instead I waited. And waited.

At one point, the proprietor of the inn stuck his head out and gave me a very curious look. He had still not seen my face clearly, since I'd been careful to keep my hood up. He probably thought I was a loon.

That was perfectly acceptable to me. As long as he didn't think I was a fugitive from the stained honor of the Imperior, we'd get along just perfectly.

He ducked back in without questioning why I was out there in such unfortunate weather, which was fine with me. I continued to stand there, watching, waiting, looking to the skies, depending on something that I really didn't fully understand.

Then, far in the distance, I saw a small, dark object, wings flapping smoothly in the air against thenight sky. I didn't want to get too excited too quickly. It could be a large hawk or eagle or some other more traditional avian. But within moments the figure drew closer, and I knew my initial impression had been correct.

Part of the magic that was Mordant was his ability to hear my summoning him from, it seemed, anywhere. Back in Wuin, it didn't matter where I was. I would just let out with a piercing whistle and, lo and behold, he would show up before long. There were limits, of course. Were I trapped in a cell or somesuch, he wouldn't simply appear from thin air. He would, at most, show up outside the cell and offer the dubious aid of providing cutting observations over how foolish I was to have gotten myself into this situation in the first place.

But if I was anywhere outside, Mordant would somehow hear me and would come, no matter where he was.

I realized belatedly that it might have been a good idea to test the limits of that responsiveness when I'd been floating on a piece of wood in the middle of b.l.o.o.d.y nowhere. But it hadn't occurred to me.

Besides, Mordant didn't just magically appear from one place to the next. Presuming he could have broken off from whatever he was doing to see why I was summoning him, it might have taken him days, even weeks, to fly the distance separating us. By that point I would have been fish food, so ultimately it didn't make any difference.

As he drew closer, I could hear the slightest flapping noise from his wings. I wound the trailing end of my cloak around my forearm several times to provide a cus.h.i.+on, and I extended my arm as he neared, providing him a perch. Making his final approach, he ceased his flapping and glided the rest of the way, nestling gently down upon my arm. I tried not to wince as his claws dug into my skin and was only partly successful.

"So," he said without preamble, "quite a situation you've gotten yourself into."

"You've heard?"

"It's all through the palace. The Imperior is incensed with you, and instead of doing the Imperior the courtesy of ending your life, you instead killed the leader of the Hamunri, the most formidable warriors in Chinpan. Every Hamunri with the slightest sense of honor--namely, all of them--wants to be the one to make your shoulders lonesome for your head. They're roaming the countryside looking for you."

"How flattering," I said. "What, they're not scouring the city as well?"

"I think they believe you would never be so stupid as to come here."

"Well, I try to make it a policy never to be underestimated when it comes to stupidity," I said sourly.

"Don't count on it to help you in the long run. They'll be looking here soon enough. So what do you want? I'll tell you right now, if you're looking for an airlift out of here, I don't think I'm going to be able to carry you."

"I need help, all right. But not from you."

He stared at me with his unblinking eyes for a moment. "The princess," he said with immediate understanding. "Yes."

"What makes you think she can help you? If she were a son, perhaps. As it is, her father has little to no regard for her, or haven't you been paying attention?"

"I a.s.sure you, I have," I said. "Nevertheless, she's my best shot at trying to salvage this. To begin with, I didn't kill Go Nogo."

"Didn't you?"

"No! Why?" I asked in annoyance. "Did you think I did?"

"Well, he was stabbed in the back," Mordant said reasonably.

"That certainly sounded like your style."

I was about to issue a scathing retort until I realized that, yes, that more or less did sound like my style. "Be that as it may, I was not responsible," I said. "But I know who was."

"Really? Who?"

"A member of the Anais Ninjas."

Mordant c.o.c.ked his head slightly and looked at me askance.

"Really. That might well be of interest to the Imperior."

"That, along with the fact that I was subsequently approached by the Forked Tong. They want me to join them. If the Imperior has any interest in burrowing into the organization and destroying them from within, the opportunity may well have presented itself. Provided the Imperior's people don't kill that opportunity before it has the chance to benefit them."

"For 'the opportunity,' read 'Apropos.'"

"That," I nodded, "is the way of it."

"And you believe that somehow the princess can fix all this."

"Yes. I need to meet with her."

"Meet with her?"

He paused, and it might have been my imagination, but he sounded suspicious.

"Yes. Meet with her."

"Why? I can relay whatever you want to say..."

"But you cannot guarantee that she will believe it," I told him.

"For me to truly convince her of the truth of what I'm saying, I need to be able to look her in the eyes.To tell her with my own voice and convince her to aid me. Plus she may have questions, and time is far too much of the essence. While you are busy flying back and forth, some of the Imperior's soldiers may find me and make short work of me."

"She may not come."

"She'll come," I said with conviction, hoping that conviction was not misplaced. "I'm certain of it."

For the longest few moments of my life, Mordant pondered what I was saying. If he refused to cooperate, or smelled some sort of trap, then I was effectively b.u.g.g.e.red. The odds of my gaining entrance to the palace were negligible. On the off chance I was able to get in, I likely would not get out in one piece.

But if I did not produce the princess, the Forked Tong would put me at the top of their list for swift and sure execution. Furthermore, I would have disappointed the lovely Veruh w.a.n.g Ho, which really shouldn't have factored in, yet did.

"All right," Mordant said, startling me from my brief reverie.

"Are you staying within this place?"

"Yes."

"Don't go anywhere."

Beneath my hood, I couldn't help but smile a humorless smile. "I can a.s.sure you there is very little likelihood of that."

With that, Mordant bounced off my arm like a diver bounding into a lake. He ricocheted skyward, bouncing off buildings to gain alt.i.tude, and moments later was angling away into the sky.

There was nothing for me to do but wait.

I returned to my room, taking care not to make any sort of eye contact with the innkeeper. He simply bowed slightly upon pa.s.sing me. Very likely he gave me no further thought, having things of far more importance on his mind than the activities of some sleepless guest. Still, I was nervous enough about my situation to spend the entire morning in my room wondering if, at any moment, soldiers were going to come cras.h.i.+ng in. Call me a fool, but somehow I didn't think the wafer-thin walls were going to afford much in the way of protection.

One would have thought that every hour that pa.s.sed would have made me feel more and more secure that I had not been somehow betrayed by Mitsu, or even the innkeeper. Instead all I did was get increasingly nervous, figuring that since the attack had not come yet, it would probably come soon.

By noon the innkeeper, from outside my door, was politely asking me if I wanted anything for lunch. I muttered as gracious a refusal as I could manage, considering my stomach was one large knot. The more time pa.s.sed, the more I dwelt on all sorts of possible outcomes, and none of them--not a single d.a.m.ned one--was a good one.

So I hardly think it should come as a surprise when the sound of footsteps at my door and a gentle rap were enough to have me let out an embarra.s.singly high-pitched scream. The puzzled voice of Mitsu came from the other side. It was definitely her. I could see her shadow.

There was no one with her. "Apropos?" she called softly.

I sighed heavily and tried to slow the pounding of my heart. Feeling it unwise to call out her name, I just said softly, "Yes."

"If this is a bad time..."

"No, no," I a.s.sured her.

"I just... I thought you had a woman in there with you."

I bit my lower lip in chagrin, but then had to allow a soft, self-contemptuous laugh. "No. No woman.

Just me doing my best impression of a woman."

"Oh." Obviously she had no idea why I would do that. I could see her shrug. "Well, it's... it's very effective."

"Thanks."

"Shall I come in there?"

"No. No, that's... quite all right." I got to my feet, grabbed my staff, and slid open the door.

She was once again dressed in a manner similar to a boy. If I hadn't known it was her, I would have thought her a him. I shook my head in wonderment. Even though I knew her gender, I never would have been able to tell. "I see you're wearing your traveling clothes."

Mitsu bowed slightly. "I'd be a bit conspicuous if I endeavored to depart looking the way you've seen me back at the palace."

"You mean naked?"

She laughed in that light voice of hers. "That too, I suppose."

I looked into her face and the guilt I felt was almost overwhelming. It took genuine mental force to get my legs to move, since I knew I was leading her to betrayal and capture. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"Out of here for the time being. Who knows who's listening in."

She nodded and we headed out.

As we walked into the street, thoughts continued to tumble through my head. Would she hate me?

The notion that she would come to hate me over this betrayal was remarkably painful. I couldn't blame her if she did, though. Why wouldn't she? Who in the world doesn't hate someone who betrays their trust? Then again, I'd had my own trust betrayed so many times that I'd become used to it. Maybe I'd just forgotten how much it hurt.

I was so self-involved that I didn't realize she was talking to me at first. "Pardon?" I asked.

She made a slightly impatient whistling noise. "I was saying that you could have thanked me for dropping everything, sneaking out of the palace--"

"Of course, of course. I'm sorry."

We were strolling along the riverbank. The bridge was not far away at all. It seemed more than just a man-made structure. It was a metaphorical bridge, daring me to cross it and, in doing so, cross over into depths of betrayal I once would never have thought possible.

"Mordant says you claim you did not kill Go Nogo," she said. The amus.e.m.e.nt had vanished from her voice. She was all business now. This was a princess faced with a supplicant who desperately needed her aid and mercy.

"That's right, I didn't," I a.s.sured her. "I had nothing to do with that, or with the drugging of the tea which rendered all the men unconscious."

"Drugging of the--" She sounded amused. "Is that how you got away from my father?"

"Well... yes." I was suddenly suspicious. "Why? What had you heard?

"As the story has grown in the retelling, you were described as a fiercely demented warrior who hacked and slashed his way out past some of the best soldiers Chinpan has to offer."

I should have laughed, I suppose. But I was so used to the almost routine nonsense that pa.s.sed for human interaction that all I could do was be mildly amused. "Would that it were so," I a.s.sured her. "No, I tiptoed quietly around them while they were lying insensate."