However, I am making progress on the writing front! Here's the latest unedited chapter of A Cup of Conflict.
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A member of the imperial household banged a gong with a huge hammer before anyone from the schools of philosophy could make a comment or ask a question about Master Quan’s demise. The guests immediately quieted before the last echoes of the instrument died.
“His Imperial Highness, Crown Prince Po and his wife Lady Shi Hua invite you to join them for the evening meal!” the household staff cried out.
The walls next us slid apart to reveal a larger, ornate dining room. The walls were covered in lacquered panels. Swatches of silk hung at intervals. Imperial guards stood at every other panel.
Po and Shi Hua were already seated at the head of humungous wooden tables arranged in a narrow U. Captains Huizhong and Mateqai stood at attention behind their charges. The arrangement was reminiscent of a Temple convocation on a much larger scale. Except I had no clue of where to sit since Luc and I were the only clergy present.
Follow Duke Mengchang, Shi Hua whispered silently inside my mind.
Thank you, my lady, I responded as the duke subtly gestured for us to follow him.
Stop being so formal, Anthea, she chided. It’s silent speech.
Except thoughts can become deeds, I responded. I can’t make a mistake while in Jing.
The empress-to-be giggled silently, her mental voice girlish in nature. Deep down, I pitied the young woman. She would have been an excellent leader of a Temple of Light in any place in the world.
She would have been an excellent leader anywhere.
Was that why the Twelve had seen fit to condemn her to a throne in the middle of the fight to save the human race from extinction?
And then it registered where the duke was leading us.
He stopped at the bend to the left of Shi Hua and bowed to us. “High Brother.” He gestured at the chair closest to Shi Hua. “Chief Justice.” He indicated the chair to Luc’s left.
A glance at the other dinner guests hinted that we should remain standing. Yin Li had taught us a bit about Jing etiquette during our voyage across the Peaceful Sea, but we didn’t have much chance to practice the formalities on the journey from the coast to the capital. I was grateful for the pointers in the middle of the welcome dinner.
Once all the guests were in their places, Po rose to his feet. “Thank you for coming my friends. Please be seated.”
No one moved until he lowered himself to his throne-like chair. Then as one the rest of the guests sat. Luc handed his crutches to Warden Yar. Much attention was on him with a whisper of surprise emanating from those people who hadn’t met him yet as he maneuvered in front of his assigned chair and sat.
I didn’t have to look behind me to feel our wardens take places between the imperial guards behind us. We weren’t the only ones with security personnel, but there was only one guard for each noble and their family. From Yin Li’s lessons, this was highly unusual.
What was Po’s purpose in allowing his nobles to bring guards to his table? To reassure them? Or to test the noble’s loyalty by seeing if they would use their own people against him?
Po struck a smaller gold gong next to him. On that cue, servant paraded into the dining room with huge steaming bowls. They ladled what smelled like a savory soup into the bowls in front of the guests.
I surreptitiously watched the other guests. As I’d hoped, Master Ma and those who had been within hearing range of my revelation concerning Master Quan’s death passed along the tidbit to the other diners. Many of the Jing nobles and sorcerers glanced at me. Some with speculative expressions. Others with worry. But a token few eyed me with suspicion.
I think your plan is working too well. Luc pretended to focus on his soup.
I’m not trying to kill two geese with a single sling stone, I chided. But I do believe the murders of Master Quan and Emperor Chengzhou are connected.
That’s assuming Po is correct the School of Sorcery was behind his father’s condition. Luc turned to Shi Hua and answered her question. “I believe this is the best meal I’ve eaten since we left Orrin.”
“What do you think of our cuisine, Lady Justice,” the man seated to my right asked in careful and heavily accented Issuran.
“Thank you for the effort to learn my language…” I examined him as I smiled. I hadn’t been introduced to him by Duke Mengchang. Like most Jing men, he wore his hair in a top knot with jewels dangling from the tips of his moustache.
“Lord Jia Hao.” He inclined his head.
I switched to the Jing tongue. “A pleasure to meet you, my lord. If you don’t mind, may we please use your own language for this dinner. I do not wish to disrespect the crown prince.”
Jia Hao nodded politely. “As you wish, Lady Justice.”
“And to answer your initial question, I enjoy trying new delicacies.” I dipped the ceramic spoon into the hot soup and tasted the broth and meat. “This is delicious. What is it? I don’t recognize the meat.”
“Turtle soup.” He ate a spoonful from his own bowl. “It’s considered good luck.” He leaned closer. “The palace cook will probably serve swallow’s nest soup next Rest Day. A very rare delicacy that’s only made during the Spring Rituals.” He smiled. “Which is why most heirs to the throne schedule their coronations for this time of year.”
“I don’t think he chose this time of year on purpose,” I murmured.
“No, he didn’t.” Jia Hao stared at his bowl. “That’s one thing the crown prince and I have in common.”
A hint of grief leaked from the lord. I hesitated a moment before I said, “He never believed he’d be in this position with the births of his nephews.”
“And I never believed my sister would die on the same day as her husband and children,” he said sadly.
Air caught in my lungs, but I forced out the words. “Your sister was the former empress?”
“Yes.” Jia Hao met my horrified stare with his own glare. “And I’ll do anything to make her murderers pay.”
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