The Hidden Blade (18 page)

On the anniversary of Mother’s passing, Da-ren came and summoned Ying-ying and Amah before him.

“She is not a child anymore.” As usual, Da-ren addressed Amah, as if Ying-ying weren’t there. “Two females living alone—it is not a safe or desirable arrangement for the long term.”

Ying-ying raised her head in surprise. The arrangement had lasted a year, long-term enough in her view. And he had never before said anything about its suitability or lack thereof. Unless…

His wife had died two months ago. The dowager empress’s favorite cousin had been a demanding and jealous woman. But now that she was gone…

Da-ren lifted the lid of his teacup and took a sip. “It’s time you came to live with me.”

Ying-ying was stunned. Was he acknowledging her existence at last? The bond they shared via their love for Mother?

Amah curtsied. “Da-ren’s kindness is boundless. We hardly know how to express our gratitude. But I fear it would inconvenience you too much. And we are lowly, uncouth beings, hardly suitable for the exalted life in your esteemed residence.”

“No more uncouth than some who have lived under my roof,” Da-ren replied. “I will not compel you. But I believe you will see the wisdom of my preference.”

In other words, they would be complying with his wishes in short order.

They bowed and curtsied him off, Ying-ying all afluster.

Amah caught her in her bedroom, flinging clothes into a big trunk. “What are you doing?” Amah asked coldly.

“Packing.” Ying-ying almost danced as she tossed in another handkerchief.

“We are not going anywhere.”

Ying-ying stared at Amah. Amah
had
to politely decline Da-ren’s offer. That was how one spoke during social discourse. An invitation must be extended again and again before it was gratefully accepted. But surely Amah could not refuse in the end. “Da-ren wants us to go.”

“You won’t like living in his household. There will be many rules. You will chafe, untrammeled creature that you are.”

Ying-ying didn’t like that characterization at all. She preferred to think of herself as her mother’s daughter, graceful and beautifully comported. “There have always been rules in this house too, and I’ve done just fine.”

“We won’t be able to practice freely.”

“Then we’ll be more careful.”

“I hear Da-ren has bratty sons, spoiled by their late mother. They will pester you.”

“Only if they can catch me.” Ying-ying scooped up an armful of blouses.

The look Amah gave her was full of both pity and alarm. “Well, in that case, you may go. But I shan’t be going with you.”

That brought Ying-ying to a complete standstill. “What?”

“You heard me,” Amah said. “I won’t be going with you.”

“Of course you have to come with me.”

“No,” Amah’s said resolutely. “I will not go into Da-ren’s household. If you want to remain with me, you remain with me. If you want to live with him, you live with him. You cannot have both.”

Ying-ying’s voice rose. “Why? What’s wrong with Da-ren’s household?”

“I have no need to explain it to you.”

Ying-ying set down the stack of blouses in her hands, struck by a stray thought. “Does this have anything to do with your disappearances at night?”

Amah’s expression changed. “Don’t ask such questions.”

“I didn’t—for two years I’ve kept my mouth shut. But if you are going to force me to choose between you and Da-ren, then I must know why.”

Amah shook her head. She often shook her head at Ying-ying—more when Ying-ying had been younger—but this time it didn’t feel like exasperation or resignation on her part. Rather, Amah seemed simply…unhappy.

“One of these days I am going to find out. So you had better tell me now,” said Ying-ying.

Amah was not the only one who could be implacable.

Amah exhaled. “Fine. I will tell you. But you will not repeat what is said here. Do you understand?”

All at once, Ying-ying felt sick to her stomach. Did she really want to know, after all?
Dig long enough and you’ll always find things you wish you hadn’t
, Amah had once told her. Was she about learn something that she would wish to unlearn as soon as she’d heard it?

She nodded slowly, making her promise of silence.

“It was at Da-ren’s residence that I was injured,” said Amah.

Ying-ying gaped at her, remembering the jade tablet that had fallen from her shirt all those years ago. “What were you doing there?”

“It doesn’t matter. The point is that I fought someone inside Da-ren’s residence, someone who most likely lived there.”

Da-ren had martial-arts instructors for his sons, just as he had Confucian masters for them. It wasn’t so surprising that someone who lived there had the skill to fight—and injure—Amah.

It was only dismaying to wonder what she must have been up to. Ying-ying would not deny it: She considered herself a bit above the rules. After all, they weren’t exactly ordinary women leading ordinary lives. But then, neither were they engaged in criminal activities.

Or so she had believed.

Hoped.

“It was too dark for me to see him, and he couldn’t have seen my face,” continued Amah. “But we battled once. If we were to clash again, within three exchanges we would recognize each other.”

“But why would you want to fight him again?” Ying-ying’s voice came out thin and shrill.

“I don’t. But you don’t suppose I was the only one injured that night, do you? I dealt him a heavy blow too. If he realized who I was, do you think he would stand by and do nothing? ” Amah sighed. “You see now why I can’t go there?

“You are not a small child anymore. By your age, many girls are already married and living under their in-laws’ roofs, with no one to care for them except themselves. Move to Da-ren’s, if you want. In the long term, he is the better choice. Even if he falls out of favor at court, he is still a prince of the blood, still a man who commands respect wherever he goes. Whereas I…”

Amah trailed off. After a moment she said, “What are you still doing here? Dinner doesn’t cook itself.”

That night Ying-ying couldn’t sleep.

She wanted so much to be useful to Da-ren. Were she in his household, she could become the daughter he never had: listening to him after he’d had a long, trying day, playing games of chess with him to help him relax, and accompanying him when he went to sweep Mother’s grave.

But could she really go without Amah?

She wanted to think of herself as capable and grown-up, but she’d never been a day without Amah’s protection. And the thought of being alone, of facing the entire world by herself, made her quake inside.

She was at last dozing when she heard the sound of running feet on distant roof tiles. More than one set of feet. She jerked awake. Either there were two night thieves in the neighborhood at the same time or…

Someone skilled in the art of lightness was successfully following Amah home.

She crept to the window and opened it a crack—the small, thin mother-of-pearl squares set into the window frame let in light during the day, but weren’t exactly transparent. A masked person leaped down from the roof into the courtyard, rolled to a standing position, and immediately ran under the nearest walkway. Amah. She crouched down in the darkness and waited. An instant later, another black-clad, masked person jumped into the courtyard. A man this time, by the looks of it.

Ying-ying leaped back from the window. Wildly she looked about the room. But there were no real weapons. The swords, the steel fans, and even the poles were always put back in their secret places under the storeroom
kang
. She grabbed a handful of copper coins that she had been using to practice extinguishing candles at ten paces.

In the courtyard, Amah fired a burst of needles, barely visible in the light of the half-moon, at the man. He cartwheeled to the left. Amah flung a second cluster, forcing him right, while she launched a third stream to catch him in the middle. He leaped high in the air, somersaulted, and landed without a scratch.

“Is this all you can do, mending my shirt?” He laughed coldly.

The next moment he unsheathed a cruel-looking broadsword only a little shorter than Ying-ying and bounded headlong onto the shadowy walkway where Amah had hidden herself. Ying-ying squinted and saw two flashes—Amah had pulled out her twin swords.

The weapons chinked, clanged, and sometimes braced in silence while the two contested their strength. One moment Amah would jump onto the low balustrade to attack her opponent from a greater height; the next they were circling a pillar. It was obvious Amah hoped to stay under the walkways—she had the advantage of knowing the courtyard better in the dark. But it was equally obvious that her enemy was cunning. He continually framed his thrusts and hacks to force her out in the open, where it was brighter, and where, other than the willow tree, there was nothing for her to hide behind.

Amah’s quickness astonished Ying-ying. Her swords slashed and wheeled like the wings of an iron eagle. The man, however, was as agile and skillful as she.

And stronger.

Ying-ying shook. She wanted to help, but she didn’t know whether she would make matters worse.

They were now in the courtyard. The man wielded his broadsword freely, no more worries about it being stuck in a window frame or a pillar. Every opportunity he had, he swung against Amah’s left side, her weaker side. The crush of metal on metal jarred Ying-ying’s eardrums. The coins in her hands jangled.

The coins.

His next downward stroke sent Amah’s left-hand sword flying.

Silently, Ying-ying came out her door.

Amah saw her. She fought with renewed vigor, leading with her footwork so that the man had his back to Ying-ying.

Ying-ying closed her eyes tight for a moment. Then she opened them wide and flicked her first coin. It caught the man squarely on the shoulder of his sword arm, right on the spot. His arm sagged, the broadsword falling from his hand. Without waiting, Ying-ying launched two more, hitting him on either side of his lower back, partially disabling his legs.

Amah kicked him in the abdomen. He staggered back. Ying-ying struck him along points on his thighs and calves. He fell with a loud thump. Ying-ying sank to her own knees, breathing heavily, trying to remember in which room they kept the ropes.

But to her horror, Amah advanced on the man and drove her sword through his heart. The man groaned and jerked, his right foot twisting and shaking as if possessed. After what seemed to be an eternity, Amah pulled her sword out and wiped the darkly stained blade on the man’s tunic.

Ying-ying’s mouth open and closed uselessly. When she finally found her voice, her scream came out as no more than a vehement whisper. “Why did you kill him? I thought you taught me not to kill.”

“I taught you not to kill lightly,” Amah answered coldly, even though her breaths, too, came in short bursts. “He is a bounty hunter. If I didn’t kill him, he’d have turned me in.”

A bounty hunter? Ying-ying’s head spun. “There is a bounty on you? Why is there a bounty on you? Are you a…”

Amah waited, as if daring her to complete her sentence.

“You
are
a gambler, aren’t you?” Ying-ying’s voice rose with her anger. She had heard talk of what inveterate gamblers did. They’d sell their wives and children. They’d even sell their mothers. What was a little thievery then? “You steal things so you can gamble. And you got caught tonight.”

Amah exhaled heavily. “I always said you were a clever girl.”

“Not clever enough to know not to take up with you!” Ying-ying shot back.

Amah laughed bitterly. “Of course I’m a fool for gambling. I don’t need you to tell me that. But stealing? I forgot to tell you. It’s what we do, those of us who belong to the Order of the Shadowless Goddesses. We are women who have no family, no husbands, no children. We don’t farm and we don’t embroider. How do you think we survive?”

Ying-ying was speechless for a second. “You never told me I was joining a band of common thieves.”

Amah stopped laughing. She let go of her sword. It fell to the paving stone with a clang. For a moment she stood motionless. Then she came toward Ying-ying. Ying-ying cringed a little, expecting to be hit. But Amah only knelt down and made to cup Ying-ying’s face in her blood-spattered hands. Ying-ying recoiled.

Amah pulled back. Suddenly she looked much older. “You didn’t. I may have become a common thief, but that’s my own fault.”

She slumped to her haunches. For a long time silence reigned. And when Amah spoke again, her voice was as Ying-ying had never heard it before, soft, almost dreamy. “You’ve never seen our secret abode in Mount Hua in the south. Such a beautiful place. Clouds floating in valleys, green-and-black peaks, waterfalls thin as threads that disappear into the mist. The locals built a shrine to us halfway up the mountain. Because when we sold what we stole—and we stole only rare and beautiful things worthy of our skills—we kept a small portion for ourselves and gave all the rest to those in need on the plains and the foothills, especially the women. They really believed we were benevolent goddesses.”