Page 24

CHAPTER 24

SUNHO

The Under World

Wolryudang, Seventh Ward

THE NEXT MORNING, Sunho joined Tag in the courtyard outside the teahouse, where he’d pulled away the tarp to reveal a small aircraft beneath. The silver-haired boy stood with his hands in his pockets, staring at the machine with a crease between his brows. It was squat and rather ugly with a blunt nose and propellors on either side. The patchwork hull on first glance appeared shabby, but Sunho noticed the careful welding of each of the parts, slotted into place like puzzle pieces. It looked like it could comfortably carry two people. Four would be overcrowded, but it wasn’t impossible.

“Will it fly?” Sunho asked.

“In theory. After I get the last of the parts.” Tag reached down to pick up a lantern, pulling at the strap of his satchel as he turned toward Sunho. “Are you ready?”

Sunho looked to the upper floor of the teahouse where the flame of a candle flickered in Ren’s window.

He tore his gaze away to find Tag watching him, his brow lifted slightly.

“I’m ready,” Sunho said, turning his face to hide the flush in his cheeks.

They exited the courtyard the same way Sunho and Ren had come through the night before. The grandmother on the mat was in the same spot, though she’d switched out the bean sprouts for a deck of red playing cards.

While Tag bowed to her, she didn’t look up, moving a card from one pile to another.

As they passed the pawnshop where Sunho had stopped to ask for directions, he searched for the girl who’d sold Ren the blue flower, thinking to surprise her with another, but was disappointed to find the street empty.

Out on the main road, Tag slowed to a halt. A large crowd had created a blockage through which Sareniyan patrol guards shouldered, grabbing people at random and thrusting a scroll with a sketch beneath their noses.

Sunho knew without seeing the scroll who they were searching for. Cursing, he turned his back on the guards, only to find Tag studying him.

He hadn’t told Tag and Yurhee the whole truth about Ren. He didn’t think they would turn her in; as rebels, they would want to help whoever the Sareniyan guard was after. But Ren’s secret was worlds-altering—the risk in helping them might be too great, even for them.

“You two! Hold it right there.”

Sunho reached for his sword, but Tag stayed his hand with a slight shake of his head.

Two guards jogged over, one with a scroll that she quickly unraveled. “Have you seen this girl?”

The sketch was different than the one back at Bo Dan’s. While that drawing had been a vague rendering, this was more detailed, depicting a girl with hair falling out of a messy braid and a heart-shaped face. Ren.

“No,” Tag said flatly. “I haven’t seen her.” Sunho had to exert effort not to react to the guards, or to Tag. He must have recognized Ren; the likeness was almost a perfect match.

“What about you?” the second guard asked.

“I haven’t, either.” Sunho winced at how unnatural he sounded.

The guard frowned. “She was seen in the company of a swordsman.” Her eyes darted to the shoulder bag that carried Sunho’s sword.

“She’s pretty,” Tag said, leaning closer to the drawing. His voice had lost that flat edge. He sounded curious, eager even. “Who is she?”

The guard’s attention shifted to Tag. “None of your business.”

“Is there a reward?” Tag asked. “How much?”

Her expression turned to disgust. “One hundred for a tip, ten thousand if it leads to an arrest.”

“She’s a criminal, then.” Tag reached out as if to take the scroll, and the guard snatched it away.

“Damn street kids,” she cursed. “Only interested in fleecing coins.” The guards turned from them, pulling new people to interrogate from the crowd.

Once out of earshot, Tag nodded at Sunho. “Follow me. I know another way.” They retraced their steps, turning down the alley behind the pawnshop.

Crouching beside a sewer hole, Tag lifted the plate. A fetid, hot breeze wafted up from the darkness.

“I wanted to avoid this,” he said with a grimace.

Sunho climbed through first, dropping several feet and landing in murky, foul-smelling liquid that splashed up to his knees.

A few seconds later, Tag landed beside him. Holding his lantern aloft, he peered down at his compass. “We need to go east.” According to the compass, east led directly into a wall. “North, it is.”

They pushed forward through the murky water. Tag handed him a spare rag, which Sunho wrapped around the bottom half of his face to keep out some of the overwhelming stench.

Sunho had gone into the sewers once before for a job. The network of tunnels had no logical layout but branched off into seemingly random directions, many with dead ends. The Under World at least had order; the sewers were a labyrinth. If it weren’t for his ability to see in the dark, he might have turned back.

Tag, for his part, appeared unbothered. His gaze didn’t dart to the shadows cast by the lantern but remained focused straight ahead.

They’d walked for a few minutes in silence, when Tag said, “You’re a bad liar.”

Sunho grimaced. It was Tag’s quick thinking that had gotten them out of trouble. He’d managed to reduce them to street kids not worth a second glance.

Sunho caught Tag’s eye. “Thanks for what you did back there.” When Tag didn’t immediately respond, he added, “I didn’t think you could talk that much.”

Tag snorted. “When you hang out with Yurhee, you learn to talk your way out of things.”

Sunho laughed. He glanced at Tag to find him smiling softly.

Sunho hadn’t known what to make of Tag when they first met. He rarely interacted with boys his own age, and Tag was taciturn. But in their short time together, Sunho was starting to get the impression that the smaller boy had a protective nature, and that he was softhearted.

“We’ll have to be more careful,” Tag said, “now that we know Sareniyan guards are looking for your friend.”

“Aren’t you curious why they’re looking for her?” Tag was perceptive, a street kid in the most positive sense. He likely had his own theories but was waiting for Sunho to tell him the truth.

Tag didn’t answer Sunho for some time. They’d gone about a half mile in silence when he stopped, lifting his lantern. The warm glow illuminated the wall where someone had painted a mural onto the cement. The painting depicted a pair of white wings, outstretched on either side.

“The wings of Sareniya,” Sunho said. He couldn’t mask the bitterness in his voice. Those wings had symbolized unquestionable authority and unmitigated suffering for so many years of his life.

“On first glance,” Tag said, “but look closer. The wings of the empire are separate. These are connected at the bottom.”

Sunho followed his gaze to the base of the wings where a perfect sphere had been drawn, connecting the two.

“You can find these throughout the city,” Tag said. “The people who leave them worshipped the celestial maiden as a deity and blame her death for the troubles that have plagued the Sareniyans and the Under World. In the story they tell, one day the heir to the Floating World will return, bringing with her magic that will heal both worlds.”

He lowered his lantern, and they left the mural behind, traveling farther into the sewers.

“There’s a rumor going around,” Tag continued, in that same measured tone that seemed to be his natural way of speaking. “Mostly in the Outer Ring, though I hear it’s reaching the ears of those in Mid City and the Core, that the light that appeared in the east was a sign of that return, that the princess who the general claimed perished in the storm is, in fact, alive and is on her way back to reclaim her throne.”

“What do you think?” Sunho asked.

“I think… the general must feel threatened by such a rumor, enough to send guards all over the city looking for a girl.”

Sunho stopped walking.

Tag did as well, turning to face him. “I didn’t make the connection until I saw that picture. Yurhee and I… we have our own goals. Grand destinies aren’t really our thing. But you don’t have to worry about either of us getting in your way, and though it might not be much, we’ll help as best we can.”

Sunho experienced an odd, almost painful feeling in his chest, like his heart was expanding. “Why?” he asked.

“Yurhee has a soft spot for you,” Tag said simply.

“Because I’m closed off and emotionally inaccessible,” Sunho said, remembering how Yurhee had described him outside the gates of the ninth ward mithril factory.

Tag chuckled softly, then he tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “There’s a change in you. Yurhee and I noticed it last night. You’re… softer, more open. If Ren’s the reason for the change…” Tag shrugged. “Then more cause for us to help her, to help you both.”

Sunho felt at a loss for words. If what Tag was saying was true, then Yurhee and Tag were sheltering them, protecting them for him . Because, for some reason, they’d taken a liking to him. It made Sunho feel humbled.

He could admit, though he was too embarrassed to say so at the moment, that he liked them, too.

“Though I am curious how the two of you even met,” Tag said.

“A Sareniyan captain hired me to find her,” Sunho said. “Though I was never told who she was. I was supposed to protect her from those who’d been sent to kill her. The reward was… considerable.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” he said. “She doesn’t want anything to do with the Floating World. I don’t know about rumors or stories or grand destinies, but Ren only wants to save her uncle. It’s complicated, but I decided not to turn her in to the captain. I want to help her.”

“So,” Tag said, after a long pause, “you were sent after the prize but decided to keep it for yourself.”

Sunho frowned. “I just told you I wasn’t turning her in.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

It took Sunho a full minute to realize what Tag was implying. “It’s not like that,” he mumbled. “We’re friends. Like you and Yurhee.”

Tag’s voice was thoughtful when he responded, “I don’t think it’s like Yurhee and me.”

As they neared the fourth ward, a loud, scratching sound echoed from deep within the tunnel.

“Did you hear that?” Sunho asked, just as the sound stopped.

“Maybe it was a rat,” Tag said, though he didn’t appear to believe his own words.

They stood in silence, listening, but whatever creature had made the sound was gone.

“These sewers stretch beneath the entire city,” Tag said. “Sometimes people hear strange noises from below. Let’s go. We should be nearing the exit.”

They left the sewers through a large pipe that trickled foul water into a ditch. Sunho unwound the rag from his mouth, grimacing at the tepid air, which wasn’t much of an improvement.

Tag had already set off at a brisk pace, heading toward a blur of crimson lights in the distance.

“Who are we meeting?” Sunho asked, catching up.

“A woman Yurhee and I’ve known for a few years now. She trades in stolen machinery. Her crew breaks into Sareniyan bases in the inner circle and strips them of parts.”

Sunho shrugged his sword bag from his shoulder, pushing back its hood. He wanted the handle within easy reach. The Madang District had a reputation. Most of the mercenaries who’d been on the train had originated here. He’d never visited before, not wanting to draw the attention of the local gangsters.

Sunho’s first impression of the district was how red it was. Crimson lanterns hung from the eaves of every building they passed. Sunho tensed as a group of guards walked by, but they paid them little attention, liquor sour on their breaths.

“This way,” Tag said, stepping over the threshold of the largest of the buildings. As Sunho followed, he read the placard that ran across the top: The House of Night-Blooming Flowers .

It was a place for entertainment—that was clear as soon as they entered the first courtyard, where patrons seated on silk cushions laughed and caroused while thinly clad performers danced provocatively on a raised platform. From there, they traveled a short pathway to another courtyard packed with people gambling, roughhousing, and partaking liberally from tables spread with sweetmeats and gourd-shaped jugs of rice wine.

Tag’s contact ran her business from a building at the back of the house. They found her seated on a velvet cushion behind a low wooden table. Smoke drifted toward them from the lit pipe she held in her hand, her elbow balanced on one bent knee, her skirt having slid away to reveal ankle-high socks. Her jacket was thrown across her shoulders like a cape.

“Well, if it isn’t Tag,” she said at their approach. “Where’s Yurhee?” She sounded disappointed. “And who’s your friend?”

“Yurhee couldn’t make it. You have the part?” Tag didn’t waste time, clearly impatient to get out of the fourth ward.

“Getting this wasn’t an easy task.” The woman looked down at her nails. “It’ll cost you.”

“I brought the amount we agreed upon.” He reached into his satchel, pulling out five strands of a hundred coins each.

The woman clicked her tongue. “I’m afraid the price went up since last we spoke. One of my girls was caught while stripping parts. She’s in the stockades now, won’t be out for another month.”

Tag scowled. “That’s not my fault.”

“Still, one less thief is bad for business.”

Tag ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “How much more?”

“Double.”

“Double!” Tag stepped forward, as did a woman who’d stood back in the shadows, reaching for a weapon at her waist. Sunho did as well, on instinct, though he didn’t draw his sword.

“You wouldn’t fleece Yurhee if she were here,” Tag growled.

“That’s not true,” the woman said, blowing out a smoke ring that perfectly blew past Tag’s head, clipping the tips of his ears. “She’s pretty, but I’m an equal-opportunity cheat.”

Tag stepped back. “Help me with this at least,” he said. “We’re looking for someone. A child.”

The dealer raised a single brow. “If you’re asking me where he is, then he can’t be anywhere good.”

“He was taken a few weeks ago, from the fifth ward.”

“What’s his name?”

Tag glanced at Sunho.

“Haru,” Sunho said.

“Haru, Haru…” The woman sucked her teeth. “Do we know a Haru?” she asked her bodyguard.

“Wasn’t one of the boys in the Small Ring named Haru?”

“Oh.”

“Small Ring?” Sunho repeated, his heart racing. He didn’t recognize the name.

“Follow the shouts.” The dealer blew another smoke ring. “You’ll find it soon enough.”

THE SMALL RING wasn’t in the House of Night-Blooming Flowers. Heeding the dealer’s words, they followed the noise to a courtyard at the edge of the district, what was once the grounds of an old textile factory, now abandoned.

Sunho understood what the Small Ring was the moment he heard the first pulpy thwack of fist meeting flesh, followed by a roar of jeers and shouts.

Men and women shouted from the sidelines, exchanging coins with a bookie who called out bets. Crouched around the ring were children, the girls in rags, boys shirtless, their backs splattered in red paint with a single character denoting an animal. Rat, Ox, Tiger…

As Sunho took in the scene, a young boy was shoved into the ring, the character Rooster slashed across his back.

Haru.