Page 10 of A Song to Drown Rivers
Goujian’s brows rose. “Oh, I forget: You were once like them too, weren’t you, Fanli?”
Surprise flickered through me. What exactly did he mean by that? Fanli’s expression remained impassive, yet his spine stiffened. Before he could reply, Goujian had already moved on—to me.
“Could they really be taught within ten weeks? You know we do not have much time left, and I have waited too long for this.” The gleam in his eyes was almost crazed. “We’d promised the Wu the tributes would arrive before midwinter—if we fail to deliver, the little trust we’ve built up will go to waste. We cannot afford that.”
“It is enough time, I guarantee it,” Fanli said.
“Well, you are certainly right about her,” Goujian said, examining me closely, as one would a well-forged sword. I resisted the urge to jerk away. This was the king, after all. And I would have to endure far more in the Wu Kingdom. “Sheisquite captivating. With proper training… Fuchai won’t stand a chance.” The soft vehemence with which he spoke Fuchai’s name startled me.
Goujian saw, and smiled again. “What is your name?”
“Xishi,” I said, even though it was not actually my real name, but the one everyone in my village had given me. Somehow, it felt most fitting. Then, remembering too late: “Your Majesty.”
“Xishi,” he repeated. “A pretty name. Tell me, Xishi, what is your opinion of the Wu?”
I might not yet have received any official training, but I saw the answer ablaze in those dark, hawklike eyes. Besides, I did not have to think up a lie; I needed only to remember the blood gurgling in my sister’s throat, her tiny hands reaching for me as the soldier drove the sword deeper into her flesh. When Susu died, it’d felt as though the whole universe had been tipped off-balance. Here was the chance to restore it. “I hate them,” I said quietly. “They are monsters, raised on violence and trickery. I wish only to bring the kingdom to its knees.”
King Goujian nodded, satisfied, and said to Fanli, “She is perfect.”
The cottage was empty, save for the quiet, shadowlike presence of a maidservant, who retreated into the kitchens upon our arrival, and the far noisier presence of a guard our age. He had told me his name, though I had forgotten it just as quickly, too distracted by everything else that was happening. If I was to become a spy, I would have to learn to pay better attention. The guard kept up a rapid stream of chatter as he led us to our rooms in the eastern wing.
“I take it you’ve met the king already?” he asked.
My straw sandals padded over the smooth floors after him, which were made of a wood so dark I could see my reflection blurred in it, like the surface of water. The halls here were much wider, and there was not a single crack or leak to be found in the walls.
“We have,” I said.
He glanced back over his shoulder, a sly, conspiratorial look on his face. He reminded me a little of a fox, with his arched brows and crooked grin. “What do you think?”
I hesitated. I had watched the king leave moments earlier, yet I couldn’t be sure where this guard’s loyalties lay, how these relationships worked. He seemed to serve Fanli, who served Goujian; surely that meant he was working for King Goujian, too?
Yet while all this raced through my mind, along with all the vague replies I could give, Zhengdan had already responded.
“In complete honesty? Rather disappointing.”
My next step faltered, but she went on:
“I expected him to be more… well, kingly.”
To both my shock and relief, the guard did not immediately execute her on the spot. Instead, he laughed, the sound muffled by his hand, as if he were sharing a secret with the both of us. “Interesting. What would you define askingly? A carriage of gold? A crown on his head? A line of servants waiting at his disposal?”
Zhengdan shrugged. As much as I admired her brazen courage, sometimes it was also a great source of my concern. “To me, he does not look so different from a common man.”
“But haven’t you heard?” The guard’s smile tugged higher on one side, and he made a dramatic show of looking around us—though we were the only people in these halls—before continuing in a whisper, “He insists on living like a common man too. It’s said that he sleeps on brushwood, and hangs a piece of gallbladder in his room, from which he drinks every night. He also refuses to indulge in any form of luxury, even when they are offered to him on opened hands. All this, so he will not forget Kuaiji.”
“Gallbladder?” Zhengdan repeated, her eyebrows drawing together.
“Kuaiji?” I said with shallow recognition. It was the fallen city where Goujian had been forced to surrender to the Wu soldiers. Still, the way the guard spoke of it suggested at another story there, something even more shameful than a military defeat.
The guard merely winked. “If you two would prefer not to lose your head to a very sharp and expensive sword, I’d advise that you don’t mention Kuaiji in Goujian’s presence, should you see him again.”
“But what happened there?” I asked.
“Oh, that’s not for me to say.” The guard paused outside a wide doorway, seeming to enjoy the suspense, or just the attention. “Perhaps Fanli will be so generous as to tell you the details, when he is in an agreeable mood.”
“And when will that be?”
“Most likely never,” the guard said, laughing. “I’ve known him since I was fifteen, and the advisor is many things: noble, strategic, judicious, too intelligent for his own good. But agreeable is unfortunately not one of them.”
