Page 23 of A Forgery of Fate

My voice trailed off. Footsteps thumped up the stairs,and in a moment of chilling prescience, the hairs prickled on the back of my neck.

“What’s wrong?” asked Gaari.

Thump thump. Thump thump.

I squeezed my scroll into my knapsack. “Get out of here, Gaari. Go!”

No sooner did I speak than the beaded curtain swept open with a tinkle, revealing five men in white sashes. I recognized the one with sideburns and cursed.

“There she is!” he shouted. “Get the old man too.”

“Nine Hells of Tamra,” Gaari muttered. “This is your third rule?”

I didn’t get to respond. Gaari grabbed my hand, and together we barreled toward the back stairs. The entire restaurant shook as we scrambled down. Madam Yargui’s men were smashing the chairs and tables, and customers were screaming as they fled. It was pandemonium.

Just my luck, more of Yargui’s men awaited me downstairs.

“Go!” Gaari hissed as the men advanced. “There’s an exit in the kitchen. Take it.”

Tangyor had joined Gaari’s side, along with two more waiters.

Any other time, I would’ve stayed to fight. But Fal neededme.

I ducked between the waiters and dashed into the kitchen. It was abandoned, pots still boiling and knives still out. As I scanned for the exit, I heard the chilling beats of a slow clap.

Dread unfolded in the pit of my stomach. It was Puhkan, Madam Yargui’s second-in-command.

He was leaning against the only exit, wide green sleevesneatly folded back, and not a hair out of place. Madam Yargui’s gentle assassin, he was called. A more deceptive name had never been given.

“You’ve grown up, Truyan,” he remarked. His tone was courteous, a mask for what I knew to be his true nature. “Remember me?”

How could I forget the man who’d torn my sisters and me from our home? I could still taste the persimmon I’d been eating when he’d smashed down our door in the middle of the day, how its sweetness had soured in my mouth when he’d grabbed Mama and held her at knifepoint, declaring that our house now belonged to Madam Yargui.

Yes, I remembered.

He was older now, his skin not quite as tight about his eyes. But his black hair was slicked into a familiar tail down his back, and I remembered the disk of jade swinging around his neck. He’d threatened to strangle Nomi with the cord if she didn’t stop screaming.

“I thought I had until sundown,” I said. Behind my back, I reached for a cleaver. I gripped it tightly. “Why are youhere?”

“I hear you’re an artist,” Puhkan said, skimming by the question. “Imagine my surprise to learn you were doing honest work, Truyan. Apprenticing with a painter, perhaps even applying to a school. But wait. That’s not the path you chose, is it?” He snickered. “Like mother, like daughter, it seems. Both cheats.”

I shuddered. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw that lovely sister of yours—Falina, is it? She was trying to run away, against my mistress’s explicit instructions. Madam is displeased with this breach.”

Oh gods. “If you hurt her…”

“You aren’t in the position to make threats. Your sister is unharmed, so long as you do as I say. Now, drop the knife.”

I dropped the knife.

“That’s a good girl.” Puhkan kicked the cleaver away. We both knew he didn’t need it to best me in a fight. He advanced toward me, his jade necklace swinging. “Madam Yargui asked me to send a message: The price for your sister’s freedom has gone up. Now she requires fifty thousand jens.”

I balked. “My sister’s not worth fifty thousand jens.”

“She is to you,” Puhkan said cruelly, and the truth of it cut deep. No matter how much Fal and I fought, I’d scrounge amillionjens to save her if I had to. “But since you say so, Madam Yargui will take both your sisters.” He cocked his head. “I hear the little one likes to read.”

If only I hadn’t given up my cleaver, I would have taken a good swing at Puhkan’s face. I bit down on my lip, so hard I tasted blood. “I’ll need more time.”

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