Chapter 3

Ying stepped in through the open doorway of the Maiden's Well, one of the larger taverns on the isle of Muci, as a torrent of rainwater rolled down her oiled cloak to form a large puddle on the wooden floor. She had been out in the pouring rain trying to solicit shelter from the heartless Muci residents, only to finally have one of them direct her to this tavern instead.

If the signs from the heavens were anything to go by, then perhaps Ying should have decided to turn around and sail back to Huarin, but she wasn't intending to. She had never been the superstitious sort. Besides, she was already so close. Muci was the final stop before she arrived at the capital.

The interior of the tavern, warm and toasty, was a stark contrast to the bleak situation outside. Ying looked gratefully toward the roaring hearth in the center of the main hall and quickly surveyed the many tables filled with jolly patrons, some more drunk than others. Unlike Roya's tavern back on Huarin, which was merely a larger-sized ger, this one was a more permanent construction that echoed the architecture of Fei, rectangular in shape with a tiled roof held up by sturdy, cylindrical pillars.

As the isle closest to the capital, Muci reflected Fei's influences much more than the other isles. It also received the largest volume of trade flowing to and from its shores, accounting for the wealth and snootiness of its populace.

Ying stood by the entrance for a long while, awed by the colorful sights and sounds. Music was playing from a mechanical ensemble sitting at the far end of the hall, the steam-powered fingers of the wooden musicians strumming the strings of the zither and pipa to a somewhat stiff but nonetheless pleasing rhythm.

"Are you here for a drink?" a curt, high-pitched voice interrupted, slicing through the tavern's noise like a sleek blade. It belonged to a portly matron, hands stuck on her hips and head tilted sideways as she studied Ying like one would a cricket. "If you are, then get in, if not, then get out. You're blocking my entrance."

"Yes, I am," Ying answered, shifting inward a couple of steps. "I'm sorry. I'm from out of town."

"Figures." The matron pointed to an empty seat at a table that was already occupied by two men. "That's the only one left, take it or leave it. Order chits are on the table. When you're ready, just send it to the kitchen." She waved at the intricate network of wooden tracks that crisscrossed overhead, sending small bamboo tubes carrying orders from patrons zipping toward the kitchen.

Ying slipped the hood off her head and hung her cloak on one of the many hooks by the entrance. She squeezed her way through the crowded space, siddling into the empty seat she had been assigned. The men at the table didn't bat an eyelid when she sat down, which meant that her disguise was still holding. Her disheveled appearance probably helped. Besides, it was not uncommon for boys to have softer features, since not all of them had to go through long hours of martial arts training or farmwork that would harden the lines on their faces and turn their skin a rougher, sun-kissed shade of brown.

She scribbled an order for warm fermented milk and a bowl of steamed mutton dumplings before stuffing her chit into a bamboo tube and placing it gingerly on the rails above. She stared in amazement as the tube was shuttled precisely along a predetermined path by a series of rotating gears and cogs, until it finally disappeared through a small window leading to the kitchen.

The dreamer inside her stirred into being. If such inventions were employed in a tavern on Muci, then the reality in the capital could only be better. Beyond the interior of her father's workshop, the use of any such technology on Huarin and the other outer isles was few and far between. It was an extravagance that most could not afford, and engineering talent was selfishly hoarded by the capital city, so there were hardly any engineers stationed on the peripheral isles who were able to maintain such intricate technological systems.

"I told you we should have done a prayer ritual before we left Kamar," one of the men at her table said to his companion, his thin mustache twitching in displeasure. "This rainy weather is going to set us back by at least a couple of days. Our produce will be rotten by the time we reach Fei!"

"We can try to ply it here. The prices won't be as good, but at least we won't make a loss."

"That's assuming we can find someone to off-load it on. And you're right about the prices. I was hoping to sell our stock to the Engineers Guild. They'll be wanting to increase their supplies, what with the influx of trial candidates and all. They would've given us such a good price!"

The Engineers Guild?

Ying peered across the table, ears perking up.

"Excuse me," she interrupted, "but did you say the Engineers Guild? The one in Fei?"

The two men turned, only just realizing that there was a third wheel at their table. The mustached fellow frowned. "Of course the one in Fei. Is there any other?" he replied.

"What about the trial candidates? Isn't the guild's annual apprenticeship trial already over?" Ying probed.

The man let out a loud harrumph, then he said, "Have you been living under a rock? The trial hasn't even begun! It's only starting in two weeks."

"Really?" Ying's eyes lit up. News from the capital came to Huarin across a broken chain of gossipy mouths, so it wasn't always accurate.

"Were you not listening to what I was saying?" the man snapped, shaking his head. "If you're thinking of competing, then I suggest you forget about it. They close registrations tomorrow. You wouldn't make it even if you hop on the fastest boat from here." He clucked his tongue impatiently, then turned away to continue his conversation with his companion.

Ying became an invisible figure in the noisy tavern once more, but her mind was too preoccupied to care.

The apprenticeship trial.

The only way that someone from the outside could be granted entry into the Engineers Guild. She had dreamed of this so many times, of joining the prestigious ranks of the engineers and becoming a guild master just like her father had been. A ludicrous thought popped into her mind. Maybe, just maybe, if she had been successful in disguising herself as a boy thus far, she might be able to squirrel her way into the guild trial as well?

The light in her eyes dimmed when she recalled what the man had said. Registrations for the trial would be closed by the time she arrived in Fei. That door was shut to her—as it had always been.

Perhaps this was Abka Han's way of telling her to accept her lot in life, instead of constantly dreaming of what wasn't meant to be hers.

Just then, her order arrived, piping hot and comforting for a dreary evening, but the rich, spiced flavors were not enough to distract Ying from the thoughts circling inside her head. She chewed absentmindedly, eyes flitting around the tavern hall.

Then she saw him.

A man stepped in, shaking droplets of rainwater off his dark hair and somber black robes. He had a rectangular face, with thick, heavy brows and a nose that tilted slightly left. He could have been any other patron, now being directed toward a newly vacated table by the tavern owner, were it not for a singular scar running across his left eye.

Beside him walked a creature whose menacing head almost came up to the man's shoulder. A nine-tailed fox with rust-brown fur, its bronze mechanical tails fanning out proudly behind it. Only one of its eyes remained, the other having been replaced with a shiny metal socket that likely had its own insidious function.

A chimera.

Chimeras were curious engineering projects, often viewed with apprehension and distaste—fusions of beast and machine to form hybrids that were neither. They were extremely difficult to engineer and extremely expensive to maintain.

But what caught Ying's attention was the scar on the man's face. A scar that she would never be able to forget as long as she lived.

A strangled cry escaped from her lips. Her chopsticks fell from her fingers and onto the table.

It can't be.She turned to hide her face behind her left hand. What would he be doing on Muci? Maybe it's just a coincidence and it's not him—?

In her mind, the assassin who had murdered her father was a man of the shadows, someone who had stolen across the seas from the lands of the Empire. He wasn't supposed to be walking around a tavern in plain sight like an ordinary Antaran citizen.

She widened the cracks between her fingers to take another look.

Their eyes met.

Ying's elbow slipped on the table surface, crashing into her bowl of dumplings and sending its contents spilling all over the table. The two men she was sitting with yelped and leapt out of their seats, as the sudden commotion drew everyone's attention toward them.

She made a beeline for the door.

The tavern owner squeezed her way over to Ying and grabbed her by the arm. "Hey, you haven't paid yet!"

"I'm sorry." Ying fumbled for her pouch and took out a few bronze coins, pressing them into the matron's fleshy palm. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the scarred man stand from his seat. Did he know it was her? Or was it just the noise that drew his attention? Ying angled her face away and tried to relax. She had to get out before things got worse.

All the while the fox was staring at her, studying her suspiciously with its one real eye.

"Don't think you can get away with a free meal. No one tries to—" The matron looked up from counting her coins, but there was no longer anyone standing beside her, just the tavern doors swinging on their hinges.

The rain pelted down relentlessly from the murky skies, soaking through Ying's wool robes. In her haste, she had left her oiled cloak back at the tavern, but it was a small sacrifice. If she wanted to seek revenge, she needed to stay alive, and that meant not confronting her father's killer until she had a proper plan, until she had time to figure out why things had happened and whether there were larger forces behind all this.

Hugging her bundle of belongings close to her, she wound her way down the unfamiliar streets of Muci. The cobbled streets reminded her of how far she was from home. There were no streets on Huarin, only grassy pathways running between the patchwork of white tents.

I'll be fine. He can't have recognized me like this. He wouldn't have.

She was dressed like any other male traveler, without any of the beads and other adornments she had been wearing in their last encounter, and the rain had given her a damp curtain of hair that obscured half her face. He couldn't know it was her.

But still the fear coursed through her veins, making her heart beat erratically inside her chest. Ying turned her head to check that she wasn't being followed—and her blood ran cold.

There through the hazy curtain of rain stood a dark silhouette, its unmistakable set of tails glinting as they reflected fragments of light coming from the flickering street lanterns.

The chimera!

Did that mean his master was not far behind?

Ying slowly turned away, trying her best to hide the tremble in her step as she carried on walking. Behind her, the clipped sounds of the creature's mechanical feet against the stone grew louder as the gap between them closed.

She broke into a run. It might be foolish, but it had to be better than waiting for the creature to catch up with her.

The fox let out a high-pitched howl, giving chase.

Ying made a sharp turn down a long, narrow alley, pushing aside rattan baskets and bamboo poles to slow down her pursuer. She leapt over clay jars and slipped under washing lines, praying that the practice she had in running away from Roya and other irate villagers as a delinquent child would come into use now.

But how could she outrun a creature—a machine—that was not truly flesh and blood?

Just as she turned a corner, the fox leapt into the air, front paws landing heavily upon Ying's back. She crashed face-first to the ground. Pain shot through her body as the chimera's metal claws dug into her flesh.

She struggled to free herself, turn over, but it was impossible to do anything with the weight of the beast bearing down on her. Lifting her head from the rainwater and grime, she saw the hulking shadow of a man approaching. Its master had caught up with them.

Ying said a silent prayer to Abka Han and to her parents up in the heavens, for them to protect her and not let this foreign town be her final resting place, so soon in her journey. But the faith in her own chances of survival was quickly fading. Nian had been right—she had underestimated the dangers that she would face, and her quest was to end before she even stepped foot on Fei.

She clenched her fists in defiance, tasting the bitter, metallic sensation of blood against her lips as she waited for the inevitable—but then—

Thump!

The pressure pushing down on her suddenly lifted. The fox's body went flying into the air, kicked away from her. It landed hard against a wagon parked by the side. The creature yowled in anguish. Picking itself up, it ran back to its master, whimpering pitifully. The assassin took another glance at Ying on the ground, then up at her unseen rescuer.

Ying's gaze remained fixed upon the assassin, bracing herself for another attack. But it didn't come. Instead, the man simply retreated into the curtain of rain with his injured companion, disappearing from view.

"Are you all right?" a mellow voice called out to her, and suddenly the raindrops vanished.

She looked up at the yellowed paper umbrella that was sheltering her from above.

A young man peered down at her, the cold and distant look in his gray eyes drawing a stark contrast to the words of concern. His dark, braided hair was pulled to the back of his head with a silver circlet, highlighting his well-defined, angular cheekbones and two gold cuffs hooked to his earlobes. A black fur cloak hung off his shoulders, pinned in place with a silver brooch. It looked like bear, and bear fur cost an arm and a leg in the nine isles.

He was the one who had kicked the chimera away. Kicked a beast that was half solid metal—and sent it flying.

Perhaps that had made the assassin feel threatened enough to back off.

"Yes, yes, thank you," Ying replied, looking around anxiously to verify her assailant had truly gone.

The streets were empty. There was no one there—as if it had all been a hallucination. She heaved a sigh of relief.

"This…" The young man bent down and picked up a small jade pendant carved with the characters "Aihui" from the ground.

Her anxiety spiked again. "That's mine!" Ying exclaimed, hastily grabbing her clan pendant back from him and clambering back to her feet. It must have slipped off her broad belt when the chimera had pounced on her. She stole suspicious glances at her rescuer, wary that this stranger could also be dangerous.

"Did you offend someone?"

"Excuse me?"

"The chimera. It might have bitten off your head if I had showed up a second later," the man said. He studied her from head to toe, as if to assess what value she might have, to warrant such an attack. He did not seem impressed with what he saw. "A chimera of that size and quality can only be owned by nobility. I don't suppose you stole from a traveling noble, did you?"

"Of course not!" Ying retorted, her face twisting with annoyance. How could he think her a thief? Then she saw the dirt stains covering her robes, and her indignance deflated somewhat. She didn't even have to worry about her disguise, because no one would be able to tell what manner of human lay beneath the grime. Even Nian might not recognize her in this pathetic state. "Thank you, again, for saving my life. I owe you a debt of gratitude," she mumbled, giving the man a respectful bow before turning to leave. Best get out of here as soon as she could, instead of continuing to embarrass herself.

"Wait."

She stopped, wondering what else he had to say. If he wanted her to pay him in coin, then she would be in trouble. She didn't have that much in traveling expenses that could afford to be whittled away.

"Do you want to get that looked at? If you leave it unattended, it could fester quite quickly," the man said, gesturing toward her back.

Ying threw a quick glance over her right shoulder, only then remembering the bloody scratch marks left behind by the fox's sharp claws. Fear did wonders for numbing pain.

"I have a physician with me on my ship. If you don't mind, he could help treat the wounds."

She hesitated, eyeing him apprehensively. Why would a stranger be so kind? Did he have a hidden agenda? She quickly shoved the thought aside. The encounter with the assassin had left her on edge.

Buying medicine in Muci would cost her far more than she was willing to spare, but leaving her injuries untreated could derail her quest. If someone was offering help, then it was to her advantage to accept—with precautions, of course.

"I know how to treat my own injuries," she said, "but I could use some help getting the necessary herbs. I'm not native to Muci, so I'm not sure where the herbalists are located."

She couldn't risk exposing her identity by having a physician examine her, but if she could get the medicinal herbs for free, then why not? Judging from this fellow's getup, he could certainly afford to give her some.

"Of course." The man pointed toward the north. "My ship's parked that way. It's not far from here." He turned and headed down the street, and Ying hurriedly followed along.

As she walked, her eyes kept darting to and fro, praying that the assassin and his dreadful chimera wouldn't be lurking around the next bend. She didn't know what new dangers might be waiting ahead, but right now, it was reassuring to know that she had a companion. Whether or not this companion could be trusted was a question for another time.

Ying's jaw nearly fell to the ground when she saw her rescuer's "ship."

This wasn't any ordinary ship—it was an airship.

She had only ever seen airships from afar, black orbs floating high up amid the clouds, their engines whirring noisily. They had drifted past the cliffs of Huarin every now and then, oblivious to her village's existence as they went about their important business. Airships were a luxury that only Fei and the wealthier Antaran clans could afford, along with the intricate chimeras like the one that she had almost been mauled to death by.

Ying stared in awe at the ship's black hull looming before her. Deckhands were busy rushing about, shouting out instructions to one another as they filled the airbags with kaen gas to prepare for the journey ahead. The massive envelope inflated until it was suspended entirely above the ship's body, straining to be free of the ropes that kept it tied down to the ground.

The rain had stopped, and the clouds parted to allow the sun's rays through. The silver insignia of the cobra on the black silk surface of the ballonet gleamed, reflecting the light as the wind made its surface ripple. A wooden figurehead extended from the prow of the ship—the image of the same spitting black cobra arching its back in a graceful curve.

"The Cobra's Order," Ying whispered. The military arm of the Antaran High Command. "You're a bannerman?" she turned to the young man and asked.

Her companion opened his mouth to answer, but a shout interrupted him.

"Sir, there you are!" a skinny attendant with a long plait trailing from the back of his head cried, running over to them. "Where have you been? We were so worried! You should have let me come with you."

"What could possibly happen to me? Although I did have a rather curious encounter," the man replied, glancing sideways at Ying. "Nergui, where's the physician? Bring him over and let him take a look at my"—he paused, as if considering the right word to use—"friend over here. He has some scratches on his back that need tending to."

"Friend?" the attendant called Nergui spluttered, shooting Ying an imperious look that made her feel like she was a mere ant. "But if we delay departure any further, we won't be able to get the shipment to Fei before the next full moon!"

"Fei?" Ying's ear perked up. "Are you going to Fei?"

The young man nodded, the corners of his eyes twitching imperceptibly. "Is something the matter?" he asked.

"I'm headed to Fei too, but they told me that the ships wouldn't be able to sail for a few days because of the storm," Ying explained. "If you're leaving today, could I hitch a ride with you? I can pay for passage, I promise." She dug in her bundle and pulled out a string of coins. "Here's twenty copper coins. That should be enough—"

A commotion near the ship's stern distracted Ying, and she turned to see several panicked deckhands rushing toward the cargo hold.

The young man started marching toward the site of the chaos, and Ying quickly jogged along with his crabby attendant. They walked up the gangway and into the hold, which was already crowded with jostling men.

When the shiphands saw the young man approach, they immediately parted to the sides, leaving a clear path.

A man was squirming on the floorboards, his face flushed red with agony as he clutched his right forearm. To Ying's horror, huge bleeding pustules lined his hand. The festering wound seemed to be spreading up his arm, as if something was eating away at his skin. Beside him stood a bamboo barrel wrapped in a thick layer of cow's hide, with a trickle of silver fluid leaking from a small hole in its side. A large oil-lined sheet of leather had been laid beneath the barrel.

Her rescuer walked over to the writhing man, and a brief frown appeared between his dark brows, then he reached for his waist.

A wink of silver reflected sunlight into Ying's eyes, blinding her momentarily. There was a loud scream, and when her vision cleared, she stared aghast at the pus-ridden hand that lay on the ground—detached from its owner. A thin sliver of blood slid down the blade that the bannerman was holding in his hand.

He gestured for two men to come forward. They lifted their injured comrade, hauling him away. A trail of blood remained in his wake. The bannerman wiped the surface of his sword with a cloth, then slid it back into its scabbard without so much as a twitch of a muscle on his cleanly sculpted face.

Ying continued to stare at the detached hand, appalled.

"Beile-ye," the other men bowed and greeted in unison.

Beile-ye?

Ying turned to her companion in shock, momentarily forgetting about the severed limb. She didn't know whether she had struck a gold mine or a hornet's nest, to have had her life saved and to scrounge a ride to the capital off the back of one of the High Commander's sons.

The young man waved his hand to dispense with the formalities. "What happened?" he asked, his voice so calm that it made Ying doubt whether or not she had indeed witnessed him slicing off a man's arm.

"This is terrible!" Nergui shrieked, flailing his arms about the leaking barrel. "The High Commander will not be pleased at all. Who did this?" He looked around at the gathered crowd, searching their faces for any signs of guilt. "Was it that bumbling fool? Should have just let him die for his crime."

The callousness of his words struck Ying like a sledgehammer. A person's life mattered less than a barrel of—

She glanced down at the leaking silver liquid that was slowly puddling on the tan leather. The hole it was dripping from seemed to have grown a little bigger already.

The fabled ming-roen ore.

The innocuous shimmer drew her closer, like the devil whispering to the foolish passerby. The descriptions in her father's journal appeared in her mind, the ideas he'd outlined for containing and transporting the capricious resource. She walked toward the barrel and peered down at its gaping mouth, gazing down at the silver pool inside.

They had lined the inside of the barrel with a layer of well-oiled leather—one of the materials that was more resistant to the ore's corrosive properties. The same could not be said of bamboo, which the barrel's frame was made of. Without the hole, the leather would have kept the liquid ore from directly contacting the bamboo frame, but the cavity in its side had ruined that careful construction. It wouldn't be long before that slow trickle grew into a rushing stream.

"Have we got any spare barrels?" Nergui demanded.

"No, sir," one of the men replied. "We've used the very last one."

"It's fine," the beile said, his voice remaining a calm monotone. "Get the men to bury the entire barrel. Make sure it's deep enough so no one digs it up by accident."

Ying took a quick look around the cargo hold.

"Wait," she called out.

Everyone turned to look at her, regarding this scrawny newcomer with suspicion.

"I might be able to salvage it," she said.

Nergui snorted. "Even the masters at the Engineers Guild wouldn't have a solution to this. What could a beggar boy like you know? Once a barrel is compromised, it's worthless. If we don't get it off the ship, then it'll burn a hole right through the hull! We don't have time to deal with another half-wit who wants to die from bleeding pustules."

Ying ignored him and ran over to a toolbox that she had spotted nearby, fishing out a wooden bolt. Grabbing a handful of straw that was used as packing material in some of the cargo crates, she wound it around the cylindrical bolt. Next, she ripped off a strip of cotton fabric from her sleeve and made that the outermost layer. She held out the little stump at eye level, assessing the cross section carefully.

In a few minutes, when the ore had burned through a little more of the barrel, it would probably fit.

"Is there any horse oil or lard around here?" she asked.

The men turned toward the beile for instructions, and he gave a slight nod. Someone immediately scurried off and returned moments later with a bottle of lard oil from the ship's kitchen.

Ying grabbed the bottle from the man and carefully poured a healthy amount of oil over the stub. Squatting in front of the barrel, she waited until the hole looked about the right size.

The plug went in.

Everyone stared at the barrel with bated breath. Almost all of them were expecting the makeshift bung to dissolve and the silver liquid to ooze out again—but it didn't happen.

"How did you do that?" the beile asked.

Ying startled, not having realized that he had walked alongside and was now kneeling beside her.

"The oil plays a big part in slowing down the corrosion process—that's why the leather lining in the barrel works," she explained. "Wood is porous, so it helps to absorb a larger volume of oil that can hopefully keep the ore away from the bamboo for a longer time. It's not a permanent solution, though—you'll have to replace that after a few hours."

"A lucky guess," Nergui muttered. Still, he immediately gave instructions to prepare a few bungs on standby using the method that Ying had devised.

The faulty barrel remained in the cargo hold along with the rest of the shipment, and everyone returned to the preparations for takeoff as if the interlude had never happened. The beile turned and headed back out, and Ying followed behind.

"Nergui, arrange for a cabin on board for him," the beile said.

"Excuse me? But, Beile-ye—"

"You're giving me a ride to Fei?" Ying interrupted.

"Take it as payment for helping me to solve the problem with the leaking barrel. Devil's ore does not come cheap, so you've more than earned your fare."

A tiny squeal escaped her lips, but she quickly clamped her hands over her mouth, hoping that no one detected anything amiss about that high-pitched exclamation. Still, she couldn't control the broad smile spreading across her face.

They made their way toward the main gangway of the ship, leading up to the passenger cabins. Before she stepped onto the sturdy plank, Ying paused.

"Quit gawking and hurry up. We're losing time," Nergui snarled, giving her a rough nudge from behind before he pushed past her and scampered up the gangway.

The silver cobra loomed menacingly from above, reminding Ying that she was about to board a ship belonging to one of the Eight Banners. The engines of the airship roared to life as the crew cranked the giant propellers attached to the ship's stern.

She ran up the plank, but right when she was about to step into the ship's interior, her foot slipped on a wet patch. She braced herself for another fall, but before she knew it an arm circled her waist, steadying her, and her gaze met a pair of still gray pools, the shade of the sky before a storm.

"Are you all right?"

Ying nodded, eyes widening in panic. She instinctively wriggled out of his grasp and took two steps back.

The beile arched an eyebrow. "I would like to have a word with you. Come to my cabin once you've changed out of those wet clothes," he said. "The physician…I'll have him bring some fresh bandages to your cabin. You can tell him what medicinal herbs you require later."

"Yes, Beile-ye."

A tiny tremble ran up her spine. What could he possibly want to speak to her about? Had she done something wrong? Something that raised suspicion?

She recalled the sensation of his arm around her and silently cursed herself for being so careless. She had bound her chest tightly, not that she was especially well-endowed to begin with, but an observant person might still have sensed the distinct curve of her waist beneath her baggy robes. It was already risky enough for her to be on board an airship of the Cobra's Order—the last thing she needed was for her identity to be exposed.

She heard the rattling of metal chains from behind her, and the door to the ship's hold shut with a loud slam, sealing them in. The gas lamps fixed to the sides of the narrow corridor flickered, casting ominous shadows across the walls.

No turning back now, Ying.

The only way left for her was forward.