Chapter 6

The stench of men was unbearable. Sour and rancid, like Wen's socks when he went for days wearing the same pair. Or Roya's infamous cabbage stew that was bound to give you the runs.

Ying stood at the doorway of her assigned dormitory, her feet reluctant to take a step farther. There was one long, raised platform inside, flush against the wall, meant to serve as a bed for the six people sharing the room. Four of them were already inside, lounging on the platform with their shoes kicked off. Chang-en caught sight of her and waved, beckoning for her to come in. She tightened her grip on her bundle.

This was where she had to stay for the next few months, surrounded by these boys. It hadn't struck her how uncomfortable it might be, considering she had only ever shared a room with Nian before.

What if someone saw through her?

Before she could make up her mind about entering, someone else's shadow appeared beside her.

"You can't be serious. I'm supposed to sleep with these peasants?"

Ying turned. "You again?" She scowled. It was the same oddball with the veiled hat who had pushed her over on the steps. Her palms were still stinging from the fall. "If you don't want to live here, then go somewhere else," she said. She steeled her heart and walked over to where Chang-en was, setting her bundle down on the platform.

Be calm. Be confident. Become Aihui Min.

"Who's that?" Chang-en pointed at the fellow by the door.

"Some rude kid."

"Hey, take off that stupid hat," Chang-en hollered. "Have you got hives on your face or something?"

The boy hesitated at the entrance for a moment before finally stepping in. He studied his surroundings, then pointed at the best sleeping spot by the window, which was already occupied by a behemoth who reminded Ying of the bulls they reared on the grasslands. "I want to sleep over here," he announced. "Move over."

The burly boy he was trying to displace ignored him, continuing to banter with the others.

"I said," the kid repeated loudly, "move over."

The beast rose slowly from his perch. At full extension, he towered almost two whole heads above the insolent child. "I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you properly," he said. He lifted his arms above his head in a slow stretch, and his thick biceps strained against his sleeves.

"Move! You should be thankful I'm even allowing you to have floor space and not chasing you out of the room altogether," the boy snapped, unperturbed by the show of strength.

"He must be out of his mind," Chang-en whispered to Ying. The two of them sat quietly by the side, watching the drama unfold with voyeuristic pleasure. "The fellow he's up against comes from a long line of generals from the Plain Red Banner. To fight barefisted against him is asking to be crushed like an ant."

"What's he doing here if he's from a military clan?" Ying asked.

Chang-en shrugged. "I heard he wasn't doing well in his clan's succession tussle. Maybe he's thinking of putting his eggs in more baskets. If he makes it into the guild, he'll be guaranteed a stable footing in the clan hierarchy."

A shriek interrupted their conversation.

"What do you think you're doing? Let go of me!"

The impertinent little squirt was dangling in midair, suspended by a viselike grip around the scruff of his neck. He was kicking and shouting relentlessly, though none of what he said sounded like an apology.

"What's this? Hiding your face like a girl," the giant scoffed. His voice was thunderous, booming across the room.

A girl?

Ying stiffened, hackles rising.

The hulking beast had ripped the boy's straw hat off his head and tossed it onto the floor.

A flushed, indignant face appeared, filled with rage. He looked no more than fourteen, on the brink of transitioning between boy and man, and the angles of his face still held a soft, childlike quality. "I will cut you down, you boor!" he spat. "I'll have you hung upside down outside the guild walls." His dark irises flashed dangerously, but his flailing arms and legs made for a comical sight.

"Is that so?" His tormentor chuckled. He flicked the boy on the forehead, then dropped him onto the ground. "Go on, then." He sat himself down on the platform, turning to continue his conversation.

The boy scrambled off the ground, nostrils flaring. He reached for his broad belt.

Ying saw a glint of silver catch the light. She quickly stepped forward and grabbed hold of the boy's wrist.

"Don't be foolish," she hissed. "Do you really think you can hurt him? He'll break your arm before you even get close." She didn't like the kid's arrogance, but she didn't want to see him ruined either.

He reminded her of herself. Hotheaded and rash—the "reckless mare," as her brother liked to call her.

The boy pressed his lips together in a hard line, then he swung his arm away. The dagger that he had whipped out went back into its scabbard. "Give me your spot, then," he demanded, walking over to where Ying had placed her things.

He marched over without waiting for her response, pushing her bundle to one side and climbing onto the bed.

"Hey, Min was here first. How could you—"

Ying placed her hand on Chang-en's shoulder, shaking her head. "What's your name?" she asked the kid. Since they were going to be bunkmates, it was best to keep things cordial. She didn't need any drama interfering with her progress in the trial, or in the search for her father's killer.

"Ye-kan," the boy replied. "Don't think I'll be grateful to you for giving up your spot. It's what you should do."

Chang-en flipped the whites of his eyes. "Don't know where you get that confidence from," he muttered.

A senior apprentice appeared at the doorway, wearing a uniform that was the same shade of maroon as the masters' robes. Until they were formally accepted into the guild, Ying and the other apprentice hopefuls were not allowed to wear that uniform. They were issued drab gray outfits fashioned out of cheap, scratchy fabric instead. A reminder of their value.

"Everyone report to the main hall in five minutes."

The main hall of the Engineers Guild was as sober as the rest of the compound. Ying entered alongside the other candidates, curiously studying the tall pillars of polished stone that lined its two sides, its dull, slate-gray walls adorned only with long scrolls that carried the guild's teachings.

A model airship was suspended from the ceiling, constructed entirely out of yellowed rice paper and slender reeds. Unlike the one that she had ridden in from Muci to Fei, or those patrolling the skies over Huarin, this model looked a lot simpler. Just an oblong ballonet attached to a small hull that looked like a fisherman's sampan. No propellers, no battened sails, no portholes.

"The first airship," Chang-en whispered, his voice laced with awe. "Designed and built right here. Can you believe it?"

Ying continued staring at the model overhead, the shadows in her mind reenacting the scenes she imagined had taken place all those years back. The masters hunched over long strips of bamboo as they bent the ballonet into shape, weaving the very first prototype of an airship hull under the dim illumination of the oil lamps lining these walls. Refinement after refinement had been layered upon this original frame, iterating the design over and over until it evolved into the impressive feats of engineering that soared above the nine isles.

Without this very model as a starting point, the Antaran people would never have known what it felt like to fly.

Ying felt her blood rushing through her veins, her heart beating fervently in her chest.

This is where dreams are made reality.

She couldn't imagine why her father would ever have chosen to leave.

"We lost the little squirt," Chang-en said, his voice bringing her back to the present. He was looking around, peering across the shoulders of the other candidates who were slowly streaming into the hall.

Ying turned and did a quick survey of the faces in the crowd. Sure enough, Ye-kan had vanished. They had brought him out of the dormitory with them, but somewhere along the way he had gone missing.

While there was no sign of Ye-kan, Ying spotted a familiar silhouette standing near the front of the hall with his back to her. She instinctively weaved her way through the sea of heads, gravitating toward him. Before she got close enough, someone grabbed her by the collar.

"Where do you think you're going, Aihui Min? Why don't you stand here with us?"

It was Arban, who appeared to have found some lackeys in his dormitory who were eager to follow his lead. They were looking at her contemptuously, as if she were a worm.

Better a worm than a girl, she thought. The fear of being exposed for who she really was kept teetering at the back of her mind, reminding her that her decision to come here could end up sending her to the guillotine.

"Put me down."

"Why so prickly? I'm just trying to be friendly," Arban said, his full lips twisting into a sneer. He raised her a little higher into the air. "Thought I'd help get you a better view, so you know what the air up here smells like." He laughed, and his cronies followed suit.

Ying's wrist moved imperceptibly, and the rivet of her fan slid into her palm. The small but lethal bamboo darts hidden within their barrels were poised and ready.

"Fucha Arban," a stern voice rang out.

Ying pushed her fan back up her sleeve.

Arban immediately set Ying back down, bending stiffly at the waist in a reluctant bow. "Beile-ye," he greeted, though there was no hint of respect in his tone whatsoever. Even when he had straightened himself up again, there was no ounce of humility in his eyes.

If Ye-yang noticed the insubordination in the man's attitude, he showed no signs of it. He walked closer and stood beside Ying.

"Aihui Min is here on my account," Ye-yang said coolly, "and I don't quite appreciate you manhandling him in that manner."

"Manhandling?" Arban snorted. "Surely a bit of banter and roughhousing is normal. We're just getting acquainted, that's all. When the second beile arrives, you can ask him what he thinks—I'm sure he'll agree that this is all in the name of good fun."

"I'm sure he will."

Ying caught a momentary flash of irritation in Ye-yang's eyes, but it was gone in a blink. The gray pools regained their usual stillness, as if a pebble had never struck the surface. Her fan slid down once again, but a gentle tap on her wrist by Ye-yang stopped her from sending a flurry of arrows into Arban's annoying face.

"Don't," he said at a volume that only she could hear. "Come with me." He turned and walked back toward the front of the hall.

Ying shot Arban a defiant glare, then pushed past him and followed behind Ye-yang. They stopped when they were out of earshot from the other candidates.

"There are far worse than Arban out there. Are you going to school them all?" Ye-yang warned. He reached for her sleeve and pulled out her modified fan, and Ying startled at his fingertips brushing against her skin. "I'm taking this for safekeeping. You can get it back when you can control your own emotions better."

"Give it back to me! You have no right," Ying retorted.

Ye-yang swiftly slotted it up his own sleeve and moved his hands behind his back. "I think you'll find that I have the right to do many things," he said. "I had the right to order Arban beheaded back there."

Ying searched the beile's composed expression for any sign that he was joking, but there was none. "Why didn't you, then?" she said weakly.

"Because one move can win you the battle but lose you the war," he replied. His gaze softened. "Go back to your position, and don't do anything else that could draw unnecessary attention to yourself. You don't want to be the first candidate to be kicked out before the trial has even started."

Ying opened her mouth to argue, but on second thought clamped it shut when she saw the other three beiles and a few guild masters enter the hall. She swiveled on the balls of her feet and stormed back to Chang-en, taking a detour to avoid Arban and his motley crew.

"What happened? You okay?" Chang-en asked when she rejoined the line.

"Nothing. I'm fine," Ying replied stiffly. She stared at Ye-yang's left sleeve, where her precious fan lay confiscated. I'll get it back soon, she swore. Then she turned toward Arban, eyes narrowing dangerously. And then I'll put a few holes in that face.

One of the guild masters walked toward a raised platform at the front of the hall. He was a skinny man with a pallid complexion and shallow eyes framed by a pair of downward-pointing brows that made it seem like he wore a perpetual frown. As he reached the platform, a short flight of wooden steps unfolded from behind a hidden panel with a series of sharp, rhythmic clicks, which he swiftly stepped up. The other masters were seated on the left, on stately chairs carved from zitan wood, all with solemn expressions on their faces. The beiles were seated to the right—and had just been served tea.

"Candidates," the master started, "I trust you have all settled in well. I am Master Gerel and I oversee the administration of the entire trial. As Grand Master Quorin said in his address earlier, we have strict rules and high expectations within the guild, and mediocrity is not tolerated here." He unfurled a scroll he had been holding and started reciting a long list of rules and regulations, his monotonous voice echoing across the expanse of the hall like a dull gong.

"Why are there two empty chairs?" Ying whispered to Chang-en. She assumed that one of the empty chairs belonged to Master Gerel, but the other one?

Chang-en shrugged his gangly shoulders. "Shh, Master Gerel is staring at us."

The master was indeed staring—glaring—their way. He reminded her of the proud eagles back on Huarin. Maybe it was the way the bridge of his large nose curved on his narrow face.

"You will take lessons in Design, Materials, Construction, History, and Strategy. Each of these areas will be taught by one guild master. I teach History." Gerel recited the names of the other guild masters, who nodded their heads in acknowledgment when mentioned. "…and last of all is Master Lianshu"—he paused, glancing toward the empty chair with a tinge of exasperation appearing in his eyes—"who teaches Strategy. You will not begin Strategy lessons until after the first test, if you pass. Mastery of all five areas is a prerequisite to becoming a good engineer, so I expect all of you to put in your fullest effort in every lesson. As I said before—"

"Mediocrity is not tolerated," Ying and Chang-en whispered the rest of his sentence in unison. Gerel had repeated that phrase at least five times during his monologue. Ying pressed her palm against her mouth to stifle a laugh, while Chang-en tipped the right corner of his lips in a lopsided grin. A loud harrumph from the guild master wiped the smiles off their faces.

She looked toward the empty chairs again. One belonged to Master Gerel, and apparently the other belonged to Lianshu, Master of Strategy, but where was he? His absence weighed uneasily on Ying's mind, the first sign of something amiss in this stern and foreboding place.

Guild trial aside, she needed to start searching for answers within these shadowy guild walls. There were clues that led to her father's killer hiding somewhere. Looming large in her mind was the letter from her brother's cupboard, stamped with the guild motto, and the parchment in her father's journal, with the notes from his collaborator. She would start there. Their handwriting would give them away—as long as Ying had the opportunity to observe the guild members.

"The first test of the apprenticeship trial will be in two months' time—the trial of the mind," Gerel continued. "It will be a written examination. There will be only one question, and you will have a day to put together your responses. This is a test of patience and diligence."

"An entire day to answer one question?" Ying arched an eyebrow.

"You!" Master Gerel pointed one knobbly finger straight at her. "What is your name? Were you not listening when I went through the rules of the guild? When a master is speaking, you are to listen quietly."

Ying took a step forward and bowed. "Aihui Min," she answered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disrupt anything."

A string of whispers went around the hall the moment she reported her name. Master Gerel stiffened visibly, and disconcerted frowns appeared on the faces of the other guild masters.

"Ye-yang, isn't that your boy?" the second beile's voice boomed across the hall, interrupting the awkward pause. Erden was leaning forward in his seat, studying her the way a predator would its prey. "You never said he came from the Aihui clan. Trying to pull a fast one on us?"

Ying was starting to regret using her clan name. She hadn't expected her father to be as prominent a figure in Fei as he evidently was. It was drawing far more attention to her than she liked.

"Nobody asked," Ye-yang replied, his face expressionless as always, "and I didn't think it worth mentioning. I met him by chance when we stopped on Muci to refuel."

"You're expecting us to believe that?" Erden laughed. "This is why you volunteered to go to the Juwan mines! You had this up your sleeve all along. You knew that the High Commander would preside over the final test, so you went out of your way to plant this fellow here."

Ying couldn't understand how her clan—the unremarkable Aihuis of Huarin—would be of concern to the High Commander in any way. Why was the second beile making it sound as if Ye-yang had nominated her for some hidden agenda?

Erden was still smiling, but she saw only animosity in his eyes. She rubbed her fingers against her clammy palms as she waited for Ye-yang to reply.

"Erden, that's enough," the first beile said. He raised his cup to his lips and took a sip of tea. "You're making a scene in front of everyone. If your candidate is good enough, then it doesn't matter who the competition is, and if he's not, then the both of you might as well go home instead of wasting everyone else's time." He shifted his gaze toward Ying, eyes narrowing. "I heard that Aihui Shan-jin had one grown son who recently took over as clan chief. Never knew he had another…"

Ying stiffened. She had assumed that no one in Fei would know much about her family situation, but if she was proven wrong, the first beile could execute her for lying to enter the guild. No one would bat an eyelid.

The moment seemed to drag as she waited for the guillotine to fall. She didn't even dare look toward Ye-yang for help, in fear that the slightest movement would expose her.

Fortunately, Ye-lu did not probe. He returned his attentions to his tea. "Master Gerel, please continue," he said, waving the guild master along and ending the debate.

Erden leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, face reddened with the embarrassment of having been told to shut up so publicly. He glanced sideways at Ye-yang, but the fourth beile's head was bowed as he nonchalantly turned the jade ring on his index finger.

Since she had arrived in Fei, Ying had come to learn of some of the political undercurrents that simmered within the Antaran High Command from the matrons who worked in Ye-yang's kitchen. Since the High Commander had yet to name an heir, a tug-of-war had begun between the most likely candidates. The guild's apprenticeship trial was one such battleground—and the beiles were warring behind their feigned pleasantries. In this battle, she was seen as Ye-yang's sword.

What would the other beiles say if they knew that this "sword" was in fact a girl?

Gerel cleared his throat, his frosty gaze resting upon Ying for a moment. Then he looked back down at his scroll and continued reciting his speech.

Ying kept her eyes glued to her fur-lined leather boots for the rest of the spiel, trying to meld with the stone floor. She could still hear murmurs passing between the other candidates—probably about her. She had barely begun to discover her father's legacy and already she had a target plastered to her back.

The words that Ye-yang had said to her suddenly floated to the forefront of her mind.

"Trust me when I say they will try to intimidate you with all they have, and they will want to beat you down."

His words had come from personal experience.

Her gaze drifted toward him, blinking back when their eyes met. It was barely noticeable—but he smiled.