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“It’s awful,” Lan whispered. “I can’t believe Vy didn’t even try to compromise. She put her city and all of her people in danger, and for what?”
Huong’s lips thinned. “My sister always prided herself on never being tempted to use the drug herself. But she is addicted to it, in her own way. The obsession took root in her mind... inallof their minds, everyone in my family. And nothing will pull that poisoned root out.” She touchedLan’s shoulder. “Come on, this way. Bao may still be somewhere inside Vy’s house.”
They dashed down the slope in the direction of the sewer, and Lan realized that the house—the grand stone building she had seen atop the hill—had been built directly over the dungeon where they had been. They had never left the building at all; she and Bao had been in the same place. Her hand found the blood-red charm at her neck as Huong led her up a shallower slope. The woman’s energy seemed to grow higher the longer she was out of the iron cell.
“We’re near the kitchens,” the witch panted. “The windows are always left open.”
Lan saw two bamboo panels pushed outward as they approached the building, letting out clouds of fragrant steam. Just as they fled past the window, a pair of round eyes looked out at them. A servant girl of about fifteen stood over a huge pot of soup. She paused in the middle of wiping her sweaty face to stare back at Lan. “What are you doing?” she cried, so loudly that three others—a woman holding a vegetable knife and two men plucking feathers from chickens—gathered around her to look at Lan and Huong.
“I’m... I’m just...” Lan stammered, unable to come up with a story. But it turned out she didn’t need to, because the young girl’s eyes crossed and she fell to the floor in a dead faint. The woman rushed over and met the same fate, dropping to her knees as her knife clattered harmlessly away, and then the two men followed in a great whirlwind of chicken feathers. Lan spun to see Huong’s gleeful smile.
“It’s a simple trick,” the witch assured her as they hurried through the kitchen.
“I can’t believe they were cooking in the middle of a battle.”
“My older sister is in a constant state of denial,” Huong panted, asthey raced out of the corridor and down a set of stone stairs. “And as much as she claims to love her people, they suffer because of it. I’m sure there are maids airing out the beds, too, like nothing will happen.”
They returned to the dungeon beneath Vy’s house and searched the cells, all of which were empty, to Lan’s surprise and relief. She recognized the one from which they had escaped when she saw the metal grate carelessly tossed to one side. “Maybe Bao and Lord Nguyen are in the bedchambers upstairs,” she said hopefully.
In the corridor, they came face-to-face with two guards: a muscular woman and a bearded man holding a sword. The witch closed her eyes and concentrated, but unlike the people in the kitchen, the guards were unaffected by her magic and advancing fast.
“He’s carrying iron, and she must be wearing it somewhere on her person. A clever precaution from Vy,” Huong muttered, then shut her eyes and focused again.
“What are you two doing up here?” roared the female guard. But before she could get any closer to them, an enormous blue-and-white porcelain vase slipped off a nearby table and crashed into her head, sending her sprawling on the ground. Her companion dodged the shards and tackled Huong to the floor. The witch shrieked in pain as he wrenched her arm.
The vase had knocked over a chair, breaking off a few of the legs. Lan hurried over and seized one. “I’m sorry!” she shrieked at the male guard before swinging the chair leg into his face. It knocked him off the witch, giving Huong enough time to regain her concentration and send the rest of the heavy chair right at his head.
“Do you apologize to everyone you attack?” the witch asked, as they stood surveying the damage: two crumpled bodies, a shattered chair, and a mess of priceless porcelain.
“I don’t make a habit of knocking people out with furniture,” Lan retorted.
Footsteps sounded down the opposite corridor. Huong seized Lan and propelled her up another flight of stairs. “We’ll have to split up and look into each bedchamber. I’ll do this side,” the witch said breathlessly. “Shout if you see anyone. Or apologize and then hit them.”
Lan grimaced at the broken chair leg in her hand and ran from door to door. Her heart leapt with every handle she turned, hoping to see Bao safe and well, but all of the rooms were empty, including the one with the yellow silk bed where Vy had put her at first. She heard a cry at the end of the corridor and turned to see the witch fighting off a pair of maids.
“I’m fine!” Huong shouted, when Lan ran to help her. “Go check that door!”
Obediently, Lan pushed open the final bedchamber and saw Lord Nguyen lying prone on the bed. “Wake up, my lord!” she cried, shaking his shoulder, but he only mumbled and rolled onto his side. She looked around desperately and saw a pitcher half-full of water, which she tossed at his face. The nobleman sat bolt upright, sputtering.
“This is preposterous treatment!” he shouted, and then he saw Lan and calmed down. “Oh, it’s you, Miss Vu. Are you all right? What’s happened?”
Huong came into the room. “There’s no time to explain,” she said, looking harried. “One of the maids got away and she’s calling for help. We have to gonow.”
Lan helped Lord Nguyen to his feet, and he wiped his bald head, looking a bit dazed. “Bao’s not here,” she said anxiously. “Where do you think Vy is keeping him?”
“I have an idea. Let’s go.” The witch led them to a bedchamber acrossthe hall, shutting the door behind them. An enormous crimson rug covered the floor of the entire room, and there were books and priceless figurines on shining wood tables, but Huong seemed to be most interested in an oil painting that hung on the wall. It depicted a desert scene.
“Who is this woman?” Lord Nguyen asked Lan. He had a steadily growing purple bruise on his forehead, where Vy’s guards had knocked him out earlier.
Lan gave him a brief explanation as Huong continued studying the painting. She wondered if the witch had gone a little mad until she saw her press on an almost imperceptible button on the frame of the painting. The wall on which the artwork hung slid backward several inches, and the witch began pushing it with all her strength. Lord Nguyen and Lan jumped forward to help, revealing a secret passageway.
“My ancestors built this house in the style of the Imperial Palace,” Huong said, panting as they all got in and pushed the wall back in place. “And so they imitated the Emperors of Feng Lu by installing nooks and crannies all over. This one leads below the garden and into the infirmary. I think that’s where my sister may be hiding out with Bao.”
“Your sister is insane,” Lord Nguyen puffed, wiping the sweat from his face as they ran. “She can’t possibly believe that she’ll win this battle.”
Outside, they heard another massive explosion. The passageway trembled, shaking dust and cobwebs onto them. “Not this battle, perhaps, but possibly the war,” Huong said darkly, and at the nobleman’s puzzled expression, Lan explained about the ships.
“Let’s hope Lady Yen gets to the Commander, then,” he said.
