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“We’ll do it either way,” Commander Wei replied. “Part of the treaty Empress Jade and the other rulers hope Mistress Vy will sign calls for the complete destruction of her supplies. I’ll be very much surprised if she agrees to even a compromise.”
“Well, of course she won’t,” Bao said, annoyed, and they all looked at him. He turned red under their collective attention, but drew himself up in the saddle. “Black spice is her life’s work and her family’s legacy. If you get rid of it all and decimate her supply of flowers, she won’t have anything left, and we’ll never know if she might have had a treatment for bloodpox.”
“It wouldn’t matter to me,” the Commander said slowly, “if black spice cured death. Even if evidence came out that it could treat disease, I care most about the proof of its harm: the intense addiction it causes, the way people turn against their own families, and the devastation it has wreaked upon the economy, with good Feng Lu gold and silver flowing into the Gray City’s coffers.”
Wren placed a calming hand on his arm. “The drug may have medicinal benefits, yes; no one is arguing with you there,” she told Bao. “But it has done much more harm than good, and the rulers of Feng Lu—Jade included—are hesitant to allow the continued production of something that has sent so many families into ruin and populated the work camps with orphans.”
“Have you given Mistress Vy a chance to show her research?” Bao challenged her, and Lan stared at him, astonished by how confrontational he was being. “Would any of you listen even if you were shown conclusiveproof that the drug could help, too? What if, gods forbid, the bloodpox turned into an epidemic and you destroyed the only treatment?”
“You’re a physician, Bao,” Wren said calmly. “You should know there is no miracle cure. I’ve seen enough death and illness in my time with the Crimson Army to understand that. Has black spice ever been rumored to get rid of the bloodpox completely?”
Bao shook his head.
As Lady Yen tactfully changed the subject, Lan glanced at Bao. She pitied him, wondering if the idea of being Mistress Vy’s son had made him feel obligated to be loyal to the woman already. “I think you had a good point,” she told him in a soft voice, so the others wouldn’t hear. “But it seems the decision has been made already, and the Commander hates anything to do with black spice, which is why he didn’t listen to your defense of the Gray City.”
“I wasn’t defending the Gray City.”
“It sounded like you were.”
Bao clenched his jaw. “I was trying to think like a physician and be open-minded to remedies we don’t know about yet, just like Master Huynh taught me.”
She bristled at his rude tone. “Like the Commander said, theydoknow about black spice. And they know it’s harmful.”
“Oh, what do you know about it?” he demanded, so loudly that the others stopped conversing and stared. “What business is it of yours? Let me think what I want to and stop trying to change my mind. Stop worrying about me so much. I am tired of being your responsibility.”
Lan yanked her mare to a stop, furious. “You’retired? You’re sick of how I save your life, each and every single time you fade?” she demanded. A part of her wanted to stay calm and control herself—Bao was upset about the curse and his ties to Mistress Vy—but the other part of her hadsnapped. She was done being understanding. “If you’re so determined to be unpleasant and ungrateful, perhaps I ought to go home and let Commander Wei take care of you and your stupid spell. Shall we see how well that works?”
As she spoke, her horse tossed its head and stamped its feet, alarmed by her loud tone. Annoyed, Lan dug her heels into the animal’s side to urge it on, the way Wren had shown her. But in her inexperience, she must have done it too hard, because the mare took off at a gallop.
Lan heard the others shouting, but her limbs were frozen with terror and refused to obey her. She held on to the horse’s mane for dear life as the world rocked beneath her and the grasslands and sky flew by in a manic whirl of gold and blue. Her braid came undone, with loose strands of long hair whipping at her face, and all she could think of was how slovenly she would look to her mother, if Lady Vu were here to see her die in such a spectacular fashion.
Hoofbeats thundered behind her and then a figure appeared. Through the dark curtain of her hair, Lan felt rather than saw someone grab her reins and yank back. Her horse tossed its head again, but stopped abruptly. The sudden halt sent Lan flying from the saddle and into a graceless heap in the trampled grass. She lay still with the wind knocked out of her, her elbow and knee on the left side stiff and sore from their sudden contact with the ground.
“Lan!” Her rescuer dismounted and bent down to her. It was Bao, kneeling beside her on the grass, his face stricken. “Are you all right?”
She gasped in a few shaky breaths. Her stomach felt like it was still racing ahead and hadn’t stopped when the horse had. “I’m still alive.”
“She’s fine! Go on without us; we’ll catch up,” Bao shouted to the others. Lan heard Commander Wei yell something back, but couldn’tdistinguish the words with the ringing in her ears. Bao waved at him, then turned back to Lan. “You didn’t seem to fallveryhard—”
“Oh, yes,” she said, struggling to sit up. Smears of dirt covered both knees and one side of her tunic, but she suspected her pride was wounded more than anything else. “Why stop at just a few insults? Go ahead and tell me how weak I am for being hurt by this little fall.”
“I was going to say that I still want to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself,” he said, looking abashed. He reached tentatively for her arm, but she snatched it away.
“Stop pretending like you care, Bao. You would prefer that I had broken my neck, because it seems death is the only way you’ll ever forgive me.” Lan twisted away from him and watched their group ride past. Wren and Lady Yen lifted their hands and she waved back. “I’m sick of apologizing. I’m sick of your insults and petty remarks, and I’m sick of you holding one mistake over my head for the rest of my life.”
For a moment, there was only silence, punctuated by Bao still trying to catch his breath.
“Why are you breathing like that whenI’mthe one who fell?” Lan turned back to see him massaging his neck again. “What happened to you? Where’s the flute?”
He gestured to the sack still attached to his horse, coughing. “When you took off on the horse,” he said in a strained voice, “I had the same sensation of suffocating as when Wren took the flute away. Like hands around my neck, blocking my air. That didn’t happen last night, when you were in a completely different room. I think the spell is...”
“Progressing? Changing somehow?” she asked, and Bao nodded, still coughing. “And you don’t fade so quickly anymore. We’ve been riding for hours and you’ve still got your form. So I’m the only one who can keep you from turning into a spirit, and now I’m also the only one you needto stay close to—besides the flute—or die of suffocation. And you sayyou’rethe one who’s tired of being my responsibility?”
“Lan,” he said determinedly, drawing out her name, and she hid her surprise. “I shouldn’t have said that, or even thought it. I’m sorry for being awful to you. I’ve tried not to be, but that doesn’t excuse what slips out.”
Lan angled a glance at him. “You’ve said something like this before. You told me you needed time. But we’re stuck together now, because like it or not, you would succumb to the spell if I weren’t here. You would be a stick of bamboo already if not for me.”
He rubbed his face, his tired eyes on the horizon. “I know. I’m a bit of a mess right now.”
