To help with the large cast of characters,
I have put together a spoiler-free Dramatis Personae
Ban Lo Sonen endured the tense silence in his carriage as it carried him back to his father’s estate. Tense because, as usual, his wife made repeated efforts to speak to him or to pry into his private thoughts and he was forced to ignore her.
Nă Nen2 was a small woman with long chestnut hair and pale cheeks that glowed rosy pink even in the carriage’s dim lantern light. Her thin brows were down-turned and her large eyes always shone when she looked at him, as if she was constantly on the verge of tears. He found himself treating her delicately, in spite of his indifference. A thing which required energy and care so he resented it and he resented her.
As the wife of a clerk and the daughter-in-law of still another clerk, Nă Nen had no social obligation to dress herself in finery. Still, her brown silk golt was elegantly made and embroidered all over with tiny white flowers. Her own handiwork, he assumed. Over this she wore a thick velvet coat of pale violet which suited her complexion and shone amber in the lantern light. He sat beside her in the small carriage, with her warmth and the sweet fragrance of her perfume distracting his already unsettled mind. Once, she reached out to hold his arm, but he flinched away from her outstretched fingers.
Tucking her small hands into the sleeves of her velvet coat, she said, “You were longer in leaving the Palace today.”
Despite the fact that she had not meant it, he heard in this an accusation.
“I was summoned to speak to the king,” he answered sharply.
She stared at him with her large eyes. “Meet with the king?”
“I cannot tell you what about.”
“Of course, I know you—”
“I do not know why you insisted on coming with me.” Reaching over he pulled one of her hands from her sleeve and squeezed her icy fingers. “I cannot concentrate on my duties if I am forced to care for a sick wife. You’ve seen how distracted it has made my father to care for my mother.”
Nă Nen pulled her hand away and slipped it back inside her sleeve. With a bow of her head she said, “I’m sorry, my lord. Next time I will stay at the estate. Perhaps I can do more to care for mother and lessen the burden on father.”
“Yes,” he answered, distracted. “You probably can.”
Ban Lo’s father was waiting just inside the estate’s gate. Wrapped in a wool cloak, pacing furiously across the paving stones, he appeared to have been waiting for his son since he had arrived home. When he and Nă Nen stepped inside and the servants closed the gate behind them, he stopped in his tracks and turned his flashing eyes upon them.
“Ah, you’re back,” he said, as if he hadn’t been waiting for them. Then he turned to his daughter-in-law and added, “Your mother-in-law has been asking for you. Perhaps you should go to her.”
Nă Nen bowed delicately to her husband and quickly went inside, moving so smoothly that she almost seemed to float. Ban Lo watched her go. The maids of the household brightened when they saw her, and then closed the door after she had stepped inside.
Balo had also turned to watch her go, his hands clasped behind his back. Turning back to his son he said, almost in passing, “I see your wife is still not with child.”
Ban Lo tensed and clamped his jaw shut tightly lest his foul mood cause a slip of the tongue.
“How many years have you been married and not even one baby. The first of the three who came before you was born a year after your mother and I were married. Do I need to send for physicians?”
Ban Lo bowed slightly. “It is my own matter, father. I will handle it.”
“See that you do. There is already talk among the other courtiers. My only son still without any children of his own. It’s embarrassing.”
“I’m sorry, father.”
“I know she isn’t the one you wanted. But because of her we were able—”
“I know, father.”
Balo twisted his lips into something like a thoughtful grimace as he studied his son.
“Anyway,” he said at last and Ban Lo turned slightly to avoid making eye contact. “Anyway, you were summoned by the king.”
“Yes, father.”
“And what did the king want, my boy? Stand up straight, will you, by the Ădol.”
Ban Lo pushed his shoulders back and took a few steps to the side. He was never sure which was more likely to irritate his father, that he was slouching or that he was much taller than him when he wasn’t. Standing a ways from him seemed to mask the latter.
“His Majesty has begun to grow annoyed at the frequent absences of my master and—”
“Your what?” Balo interrupted.
Ban Lo took a quiet breath and bowed. “He has begun to notice that the Minister of Defense might not be capable of doing his duties any longer.”
Balo nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, that’s to be expected. It doesn’t matter anyway, his time is almost finished.” Then he offered his son a thin, forced smile. “And then you will be able to take his place as we planned. Yes, all is going well. What else did he say?”
“He suspected that I had manufactured the report you wrote about the Lăsoth House.”
“The one about their issues at the border?”
Ban Lo nodded and his father grunted.
“He probably knows by now that half the things that are stamped with the seal of that senile old bastard were written by me. Not that he can do anything about it.”
“I think he was trying to protect Bo Han Lăsoth, given that he is his brother-in-law.”
“Well, he can’t,” Balo snapped. “The Housemaster of Lăsoth is a fool. By the time I have destroyed his House he won’t even know what happened. The cleverness of the Lăsoth House has long been dead. Did the fool defend himself?”
“Bo Han Lăsoth?”
“Yes, him.”
“No. He admitted that the report was true. But the king didn’t seem concerned. He seems to have a great deal of faith in Bo Han Lăsoth.”
“He is also a fool. The only sense in this city is here in this estate.”
Ban Lo looked away, unsure if he should go on. His father was in a mood and he worried that telling him the rest of what the king had said would anger him even more.
“What is it?” Balo asked. “Was there more?”
Ban Lo licked his lips. He did not notice that his shoulders had rolled forward again and he was slouching.
“Straighten your back, damn you. What else did the king say?”
“I do not know why, exactly, but he was asking about the royal officers.”
Balo narrowed his eyes and walked closer to his son. “What about them?”
“He seemed to think that they were your idea. He seemed to be trying to ask me this without being direct.”
“Was there anyone else there when he asked you this?”
“No. Just… that servant. The woman.”
“And what did you say?”
“Nothing. I answered as you told me to answer.”
“Very good.” He turned and took several steps in the other direction before stopping and staring up at the afternoon sky. “You’re sure he said nothing about Osa Gate?”
“Osa Gate, father?”
“Yes. Think carefully.”
“I’m sure, father. He never mentioned it.”
“Or Ko Gŏth Enlin?”
“The king’s Iron Hand? No, he never mentioned him.”
Balo nodded and his shoulders seemed to relax. “Very good,” he said again.
“Why would he have spoken to me of the Iron Hand? Is there something I should know?”
Turning, Balo said, “We need to watch Osa Gate very closely.”
“‘We’?”
“I am not sure I trust Ko Gŏth Enlin. His behavior these last weeks has been most strange.”
“These last weeks?” Ban Lo stared at his father in open shock. “You’ve been in communication with the royal officer at Osa Gate?”
Balo looked at him evenly. “And if I have?”
“Father, I am responsible for the royal officer at Osa Gate. That was my—”
“And if it was? This plan has been in motion for over a decade. There are some parts of it that I only trust myself to oversee. Or is your pride too great for that?”
Ban Lo took a sharp breath, exhaling a crisp white cloud of steam in the chill afternoon air. “You have put me in my position so that I can help you. But still you treat me like a child.”
Balo laughed lightly and then glanced back at the door through which Nă Nen had entered the residence. “Perhaps if you started acting like a man I would treat you like one.”
Ban Lo, struggling to maintain his composure, turned to leave and make his way to his residence. But his father called him back.
“Will you not even visit your own mother?” he said, his lips curled into a twisted smile.
His anger only contained in his throbbing chest, Ban Lo pushed past his smiling father and then through the doors of his parents’ residence, startling the maids who bowed as he entered and then timidly watched him march down the narrow corridor to his mother’s bedchamber with his shoes still on.
Pushing open the thin wooden door he found the dimly lit room where his mother had been confined to her bed for weeks. He knew that his father believed she would not survive this illness. Ban Lo thought in that moment that his father was probably disappointed at how tightly she clung to life.
The room was at the center of the residence and so had no windows except the thin colored panes in the wall that overlooked the corridor. Colorful frescoes covered the walls in flowers, as if the room was actually a garden, an illusion that was aided by the presence of several bouquets of silk flowers which his mother had made herself, a hobby she used to occupy herself during the long, dark winter months.
Her bed stood at the center of the room, adjacent to a large porcelain stove that had been painted with vines. Flues sent the heat into the bed’s stone base. The entire room was stiflingly hot.
Nă Nen sat on a small cushioned bench by the bedside. Her embroidered brown silk shone in the light of dozens of candles and her long, loose hair seemed to be woven with gold. She was leaning on the bed, her face very close to her mother-in-law, their hands clasped together in a knot of small, delicate fingers.
Her maid stood nearby, smiling warmly at the scene.
When Ban Lo entered, his mother looked up with a start. Her hair, like her son’s was light brown, though hers was streaked with white. Her fine face was ashen, her eyes bloodshot and weak, and her thin body trembled as she tried to sit up. Nă Nen stood and held her hands to help her.
“My son,” his mother said, her tired eyes shining. “It is good of you to visit me when you are so busy.”
The sight of her pale and haggard face and her thin, shivering body made him even angrier and he struggled to control his temper. Everywhere he turned in this wretched estate he found only misery. Offering her a stiff bow he said, “I am busy, mother. And we must go now.”
His mother tried to conceal her disappointment with a pained smile. “Oh, do leave Nă Nen here, she is such a comfort to me.”
Nă Nen turned to her husband. “I would like to stay,” she said timidly.
“I said we are leaving.” And he turned to go.
“But—”
Turning back, Ban Lo took his wife by the arm and pulled her away from his mother’s bedside. Their hands were still joined and his mother would not let go, so the force of Ban Lo’s motion pulled her from her bed.
She cried out, and Nă Nen gasped, but Ban Lo did not let go of her. His heart trembled in his hot chest when he saw his mother struggle to pull herself back into her bed. But then her maid was there lifting her gently and soothing her as she struggled to catch her breath.
Ban Lo gave another bow and then, turning, pulled his wife from the room.
As nightfall spread blackly over the capital, Balo stole from his estate in secret and made his way to the Palace.
The wall that surrounded and contained the royal woods had been scorched by the fire and the gate itself had had to be repaired. But the repairs were poor and the entire Spring Courtyard — together with its little forest — was empty by the king’s order.
Or, Balo thought with a grimace, by her order.
It had once been easy to meet with her there. A pathway from the queen consort’s residence led to the same little forest and had not been walled given that, at the time the Spring Courtyard had been built there was no queen consort and access to her residence had been forbidden to all. An oversight, Balo knew, that she had facilitated.
Balo knew that no one else in the Palace knew of that pathway. No one, of course, but her. In the past, that was how they had met; she would take the queen’s passage to the gate and he would take his black carriage to the wall.
But it had been weeks since she had arranged a meeting. By their agreement only she could summon him. He was not permitted to call for her. Ever since the attack and the fire he had waited, but no word had come.
He was tired of waiting. For some weeks now he had begun to fear that Éna Lí, having achieved her goal of control over the Palace House, was casting him aside. And, like it or not, he still needed her in order to maintain control over the king and ensure his plan’s success. He had no choice but to seek her out, especially now.
Balo left the blacked-out carriage some ways from the avenue that led to the Palace’s back wall and went the rest of the way on foot. He wasn’t sure what his plan was. Would he enter the Palace using the queen’s passageway and find Éna Lí? Did he hope to spy on her, or even confront her?
Before he could determine his own mind, he was distracted by the sudden awareness that he was not the only person walking to the back of the Palace. Before him, at quite a distance, walked another figure. A man, by the size of him, wearing a black cloak with the hood drawn low. He walked with purpose to the very same spot where Éna Lí had once instructed him to meet her. Balo tucked himself behind a large oak and watched with rapt attention, curiosity mingled with anger.
The cloaked figure knocked once and then waited, just as Balo usually did. And in time the little wooden door next to the fire-scarred gates opened soundlessly.
And there she stood.
Éna Lí’s black silk gleamed in the moonlight. Her pale face glowed as she smiled and offered a bow. It seemed that the procedure was precisely the same with this stranger as it had been with him all these long months.
Straining, he tried to hear them, but not even a single word of their whispered conversation reached his ears. They spoke for several minutes; Balo’s legs seemed about to cramp.
He noticed presently that she seemed to treat this cloaked stranger with greater affection that she did him. She touched his arm and clasped his hand. Once, just as they were about to part, she reached out one hand and touched his shadowed face. Then the man took her hand and kissed it and she smiled as she watched him go.
Balo tried to see who it was as he left. But the man was very careful and Balo didn’t want to risk moving from his hiding spot. Éna Lí watched until the figure was gone, then she leaned against the Palace wall and stared up at the moon for some time. Balo watched as her lips moved, as if she was uttering some prayer. Then she went back inside and closed the little door.
It was then, when the cloaked figure was long gone and right after Éna Lí had disappeared, that Balo came out. He rushed to the little door and knocked as he always had. The door opened quickly, as if she’d been waiting for her visitor to come back. Her honey-sweet smile disappeared as soon as she saw Balo.
“I had worried you were perhaps unwell,” he said evenly, clasping his hands behind his back. “I am relieved that you were here to answer.”
“How long have you been here?” she demanded. He found himself feeling pleased at her anxiety and decided it might be better not to reveal that he had seen her visitor.
“I’ve only just arrived,” he said. “Were you expecting me? Perhaps my son forgot to give me a message.”
She collected herself quickly. The smile returned to her porcelain face, her white teeth shining in the moonlight. She gathered her thin cloak around her shoulders, covering the black silk.
“You wish to speak with me?” she said, her voice warm and musical.
“I have for some time. Ever since you did what you did.”
She smiled coyly and tilted her head. “Whatever can you mean?”
“Don’t play with me, Éna Lí. We both know you were the one who sent word to the Housemaster of Orin Han, who then sent his pet mercenaries into the Palace, of all the unthinkable things. We both know that you were the one who ordered the attack on the princes. And that you did so in my name.”
Her smile remained unchanged. “My lord,” she said, her voice almost purring. “It is my duty to anticipate the desires of my master.”
“Your master,” he scoffed. “You know I wanted the prince alive. I cannot control a king who has no heir. I cannot put a prince on the throne when he is dead.”
She blinked her large eyes. “I have heard that he is still alive. Perhaps there is hope yet. Is he not on his way to Osa Gate? Do you not control Osa Gate, or are you still having some troubles with Ko Gŏth Enlin?”
“Stop meddling in matters that do not concern you,” he snapped. “I will handle the prince. If you ever send another order to Orin Han in my name, I will end our relationship in the most absolute way possible.”
She blinked again, with sweetly feigned ignorance that enraged him.
Leaning forward he added, “Do not forget which of us is the servant and which the master.”
Stepping back inside the Palace, Éna Lí closed and tightly locked the wooden door. A girl stood nearby waiting, a look of concern on her round little face.
“How dare he speak to you like that, my lady,” she said.
Éna Lí made a soothing sound and stroked the girl’s cheek.
“Never mind him,” she said. “He is a buffoon, but he is still quite useful.”
“But do you think he can really save the last prince?”
Éna Lí laughed lightly. “Of course not. Táno Gín has never failed a mission. He will see the prince dead or that mad fool in Orin Han will put an end to his pathetic brother.” She took the girl’s hand and patted it gently. “No, my dear, despite all the futile efforts of Balo Sonen, soon the last little prince will be dead.”
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For readers who, like me, miss Min La and So Ga, don’t worry: we’re returning to them next chapter.
Nee-yah-NEN
Na Nen is more than what her husband thinks her to be. The patience and skill to embroider is fearsome, and I assure you she is more clever than he gives her credit for.
I love how even the chapters without So Ga and Min La in them end with them probably dying soon.