Chapter 1
Tang Dynasty China, 759 A.D.
The shop was exactly as Chen had imagined it. The cabinets were fashioned from dark, polished cherrywood. The counter kept meticulously clean. He stepped up to it and a shadow moved in the back room. A shape through the beaded curtain.
The Yao family sold paper. They had a mill and purchased logs transported down the Great River from forests west of there. All these things Chen knew from so many stories, told over so many days. More details than he remembered of his very own family, which he’d left behind to serve in Governor Li’s army when he was little more than a boy. Chen was no longer a common soldier, of rank too insignificant to mention. He was a trained swordsman and a trusted bodyguard who would die to protect his master.
As Yao Ru Shan had been. Once.
The curtain at the back of the shop parted. A middle-aged man appeared and greeted Chen with proper deference, but it was the figure still beyond the curtain that held Chen’s attention. The young woman sat at her desk with a brush in hand. He only had one glance before the strands fell back in place. The wooden beads tapped together in muted harmony.
He had already memorized the curve of her neck and the perfect angle of her wrist as she bent over her writing. From across the room, filtered through the beaded barrier, there was nothing more to see but form and shape. But the shape of her was enough to capture his thoughts.
The clerk bowed behind the counter. “Honored sir, what can we do for you?”
“I am looking for Master Yao Hui-Rong.”
At that, the woman stood. Chen watched her shadow approach from the corner of his eye. Before the clerk could answer, the curtain parted once again.
“Yao Hui-Rong is my father.”
And now she became more than an elegant silhouette. More than a name he had repeated to himself in the dark.
“Lady Yao.”
Chen greeted her, palm to fist, head bowed. In the moment before he lowered his eyes, he’d already taken in more than was polite. She resembled her brother and she didn’t. Her features were strong, but tempered. Her hair was coiled tight and fixed with ebony pins. Her mouth was small and curved, the only part of her that could be considered soft. Ru Shan called her River.
When Chen straightened, River wasn’t looking at him. Instead her gaze had fixed onto the sword at his side.
“I apologize. My father is ill.” Her voice sounded strained. She must have noted it, because when she spoke again it was forcibly clearer. “If you have any news…”
This was harder than he thought it would be. “It is of the utmost importance I speak to him directly.”
She looked to the clerk and then back to him. Her robe was blue, nearly black, like the fading twilight. The collar of it closed high around her throat. It was unnecessarily austere, he found himself thinking.
“Then I can take you to him. If you can watch the shop, Liao?” She turned uncertainly to the clerk, who nodded.
River came around the counter to stand deliberately apart from him. “My manners are nowhere to be found. Your name?”
“Wei Chen. I served with your brother in the military governor’s first battalion.”
“I’m Yao Ru Jiang,” she murmured.
Jiang . River. He’d always thought it sounded pretty. “An honor,” he replied.
He waited for her to recognize his name, but she averted her eyes as she started past. Perhaps it was too much to hope. Too needful. The clerk Liao bowed once, as an afterthought, and then followed them with his eyes as Chen followed River out into the street.
“Our house is outside of town,” she explained.
He knew that as well. Ru Shan had told him of this town, the mill, and of his younger sister. Chen had devoured every word and used the images to fill in empty moments and empty spaces within. He’d never thought that he would have to use this knowledge to hunt down his comrade, the brother of his heart.
“My horse is at the stable,” he
Tang Dynasty China, 759 A.D.
The shop was exactly as Chen had imagined it. The cabinets were fashioned from dark, polished cherrywood. The counter kept meticulously clean. He stepped up to it and a shadow moved in the back room. A shape through the beaded curtain.
The Yao family sold paper. They had a mill and purchased logs transported down the Great River from forests west of there. All these things Chen knew from so many stories, told over so many days. More details than he remembered of his very own family, which he’d left behind to serve in Governor Li’s army when he was little more than a boy. Chen was no longer a common soldier, of rank too insignificant to mention. He was a trained swordsman and a trusted bodyguard who would die to protect his master.
As Yao Ru Shan had been. Once.
The curtain at the back of the shop parted. A middle-aged man appeared and greeted Chen with proper deference, but it was the figure still beyond the curtain that held Chen’s attention. The young woman sat at her desk with a brush in hand. He only had one glance before the strands fell back in place. The wooden beads tapped together in muted harmony.
He had already memorized the curve of her neck and the perfect angle of her wrist as she bent over her writing. From across the room, filtered through the beaded barrier, there was nothing more to see but form and shape. But the shape of her was enough to capture his thoughts.
The clerk bowed behind the counter. “Honored sir, what can we do for you?”
“I am looking for Master Yao Hui-Rong.”
At that, the woman stood. Chen watched her shadow approach from the corner of his eye. Before the clerk could answer, the curtain parted once again.
“Yao Hui-Rong is my father.”
And now she became more than an elegant silhouette. More than a name he had repeated to himself in the dark.
“Lady Yao.”
Chen greeted her, palm to fist, head bowed. In the moment before he lowered his eyes, he’d already taken in more than was polite. She resembled her brother and she didn’t. Her features were strong, but tempered. Her hair was coiled tight and fixed with ebony pins. Her mouth was small and curved, the only part of her that could be considered soft. Ru Shan called her River.
When Chen straightened, River wasn’t looking at him. Instead her gaze had fixed onto the sword at his side.
“I apologize. My father is ill.” Her voice sounded strained. She must have noted it, because when she spoke again it was forcibly clearer. “If you have any news…”
This was harder than he thought it would be. “It is of the utmost importance I speak to him directly.”
She looked to the clerk and then back to him. Her robe was blue, nearly black, like the fading twilight. The collar of it closed high around her throat. It was unnecessarily austere, he found himself thinking.
“Then I can take you to him. If you can watch the shop, Liao?” She turned uncertainly to the clerk, who nodded.
River came around the counter to stand deliberately apart from him. “My manners are nowhere to be found. Your name?”
“Wei Chen. I served with your brother in the military governor’s first battalion.”
“I’m Yao Ru Jiang,” she murmured.
Jiang . River. He’d always thought it sounded pretty. “An honor,” he replied.
He waited for her to recognize his name, but she averted her eyes as she started past. Perhaps it was too much to hope. Too needful. The clerk Liao bowed once, as an afterthought, and then followed them with his eyes as Chen followed River out into the street.
“Our house is outside of town,” she explained.
He knew that as well. Ru Shan had told him of this town, the mill, and of his younger sister. Chen had devoured every word and used the images to fill in empty moments and empty spaces within. He’d never thought that he would have to use this knowledge to hunt down his comrade, the brother of his heart.
“My horse is at the stable,” he
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