4

Inside the walls of the Imperial City, daily life was going on much as it always did—peacefully. The huge city, nearly thirty square miles of streets laid out in perfect grids, was a bastion of civilization. In stark contrast to the dusty, loud, and somewhat chaotic nature of the trading garrison, the city looked every bit the cosmopolitan center it had come to be. The citizens who made the Imperial City their home took pride in the markets that bustled with international traders. Temples could be found in nearly every section of the city, their presence a calming reminder of the ancestors who watched over the people and put their trust and power in the Emperor. Boulevards were lined with elegant estates, and city planners had made sure that green parks were prominent, adding to the sense of serenity. Boat-filled canals and harbors broke up the otherwise lush landscape.

In the northwest corner, looking over the city from atop a hill, stood the Imperial Palace. Home to the Emperor, it was the grandest building in the entire city. White and gold, it looked as if it had been freshly painted that very morning. Brightly colored birds flew over its gate, landing to nest in the branches of the many trees that surrounded the building. From a distance or up close, the palace was made to inspire peace and confidence.

And it did both. Usually.

Inside the throne room, the Chancellor looked up at the Emperor, who sat on his throne, his face unreadable. He felt, as he always did in the massive space, dwarfed and a bit insignificant. But he knew that he wasn’t. After decades of working at the Emperor’s side, he was the man’s most trusted advisor. Which meant he knew that the news he was about to deliver was going to upset the Emperor greatly.

Taking a deep breath and bowing his head, the Chancellor stepped forward. “Your Majesty,” he began, hoping his voice didn’t sound as shaky as he felt, “six of our northern garrisons along the Silk Road have fallen in a coordinated attack.” The dozens of official scribes who surrounded the leader kept their heads down, but the Chancellor saw them shift nervously on their feet. The Emperor himself remained silent, his body in shadow. The Chancellor went on. “All trade in the northern region has been disrupted.”

“And my citizens?” the Emperor asked, his voice low.

“Slaughtered,” the Chancellor replied. “This soldier is the only survivor.” He nodded to a young man who was kneeling nearby. Even from a distance, the Chancellor could see the guard’s face was drawn and pale. What he had seen at the garrison had been, in his own words, nightmarish. He had spoken of a winged witch and fierce warriors. Even just thinking about it made the hairs on the Chancellor’s arms rise. “I fear more attacks will follow.”

Standing up, the Emperor stepped out of the shadows. While not a towering figure, the Emperor exuded power nonetheless. His eyes were bright and wise, and only a few age lines could be seen despite the responsibility he carried. Even though the news had clearly pained him, the Emperor remained calm. It was that trait, among many others, that made him such a beloved leader.

“Who is responsible?” he asked.

The answer stuck in the Chancellor’s throat as he felt the Emperor’s gaze on him. It was nearly impossible for him to hide his emotions from the other man. “Rourans, Your Majesty,” he said at last, the words barely a whisper.

But they were loud enough. A wave of shock swept across the room as the scribes began to whisper among themselves.

The Emperor ignored them. “Who leads them?” he asked.

“He calls himself Böri Khan,” the Chancellor answered.

“I killed Böri Khan,” the Emperor said, his voice beginning to sound strained.

“His son, Your Majesty.”

The Emperor shook his head. The Chancellor knew what he was thinking. There was no way that was possible. How could a child of the man he had personally killed manage to resurrect an entire army? He had spent years working to make sure the Rouran forces would never rise again. He had nearly lost his life dozens of times and yet now they were back? He shook his head again, struggling to control his breathing, which was starting to grow ragged. “They were destroyed,” he said, his voice loud, the sound echoing off the walls of the throne room. “I ask again: How is it possible?”

Before the Chancellor could respond, a small voice rose up. Looking over in surprise, the Chancellor saw that the lone survivor of the garrison attack had gotten to his feet. “You may speak,” the Chancellor said to the guard.

“Böri Khan fights alongside a witch,” the guard said.

This time, no one tried to hold back their gasps. The sound filled the room. This was terrible news.

“There is no place for witches in this kingdom!” the Chancellor shouted. “Sorcery was outlawed over a hundred years ago.” His outburst surprised even himself. The Chancellor had honed his skills at keeping his emotions hidden. But witches? Witches made his blood boil.

“And yet,” the guard said, with the slightest shrug of his shoulders, “it is her skill that leads the Rouran army to victory.”

“How do you know this?” the Emperor asked, stepping forward and causing his guards and scribes to scurry after him. Moving farther into the throne room, the Emperor seemed to grow larger. And despite his own chancellor’s obvious anger, the Emperor remained calm.

“I only know what I saw with my own eyes,” the guard answered. “The witch is powerful.”

For a long moment, the Emperor stood still, his face betraying nothing. But watching him, the Chancellor knew the man’s mind was busy. There was no denying it. The Rourans were back, with a new leader. A leader who, like his father, wanted nothing more than to destroy the Empire. And this time, the Rouran had the help of a powerful witch. The Chancellor didn’t need a priestess to tell him what these signs meant. They meant chaos. They meant war. They meant an end to the peace the Emperor had worked so hard to achieve.

As if hearing his chancellor—and friend’s—thoughts, the Emperor lifted his eyes. He looked toward the distant window and the Empire on display beyond. “We are not afraid of dark magic,” he said. “We will destroy this Rouran army—and their witch.” As he went on, the Emperor’s voice grew louder, stronger. “Here is my decree: We will raise a mighty army. Every family will supply one man. We will protect our beloved people and crush these murderers.”

His decree complete, the scribes around him frantically wrote down his words. It would be their job to deliver his decree to the people of the Empire. And as it was decided, no family would be allowed to object. The Emperor would have his army.

Watching the court bustle into frantic motion at the Emperor’s decree, the young guard who had narrowly escaped the Rourans moved toward the exit. With a nod to the Chancellor, who was in the middle of speaking to several scribes at once and barely acknowledged him, the guard made his way through the long throne room and out into the hall.

As he moved along, his shoulders straightened. His head, which he had kept bowed the entire time he had been in the presence of the Emperor, rose. Stride by stride, his gait began to change. By the time he reached the palace exit and had made his way onto the busy streets, he was walking swiftly, with no sign of the injuries inflicted by the Rourans.

People of all nationalities passed by him, some nodding at his uniform, a few young women even smiling slightly. But he paid them no heed. As he turned down an alley, his pace eased. Reaching up a hand, he removed a pin that had been hidden behind his ear and let it drop to the ground. As he walked, more pins fell around his feet. Soon the ground was littered with the pins—along with the guard’s unconscious body. Standing above it, no longer in need of the man’s form, stood the witch. Xianniang stretched, happy to be back in her own shape. Then, with a careless glance at the guard who had unwittingly just helped her cause, she ran.

Faster and faster her footsteps came and then, with a cry, she leapt. As her body lifted into the air, it once again transformed. Only this time, instead of the guard, she became a giant, graceful hawk. As she soared up and over the city, Xianniang let out a triumphant caw. Böri Khan would be pleased. She had seen the flash of fear in the Emperor’s eyes when she had mentioned the warrior’s name. Raising an army of civilians was just what Böri Khan had hoped for. Leave the villages empty of their strongest men. It would make taking them over all the easier.