The Immortal Words (The Grave Kingdom), стр. 93

what he’d set out to achieve. Not satisfaction that his reward had been what he’d demanded. Instead, he felt a bitter resentment festering deep in his heart. He was a king in name only, more chaperone than ruler, beholden to the rules of Fusang. He had an overseer, a man whose authority eclipsed his own. A blind king who should still owe him an enormous sum of money from his stay at Wangfujing in years gone by.

They had to wait for a space on the quay to open, and Budai sat on the bench, his stomach churning with the sour feeling of resentment. He hadn’t wanted to be in attendance at the royal wedding. Just thinking of the marriage of pale Bingmei to King Rowen filled him with disgust, and not just because she had the winter sickness. She’d achieved her every dream, from restoring her grandfather’s ensign to joining forces with the most powerful man in the world. Budai hated them both, even though he’d been given his own land again because of the meiwood weapons he’d been forced to provide General Tzu’s army. His lips curled back into a snarl.

At long last, the junk sidled up to the quay and the ropes secured it. A plank was scooted across the deck, and Budai rose from the bench. On the quay, he saw a military company wearing the insignia of General Tzu. It was the badge of the phoenix now.

After Budai crossed the plank, he was greeted by an officer.

“Welcome back to Wangfujing,” said the officer. “My name is Pangxie. I am the captain of the palace guard assigned to serve you.”

Budai recognized the name. He was one of General Tzu’s most trusted officers. Which meant that General Tzu didn’t trust Budai at all. The resentment burned even more. But he gave the officer an ingratiating smile.

“Thank you, Pangxie,” he said. “How has the populace received the news of my return?”

The officer’s expression was enigmatic. “I think the populace is most concerned whether you will reinstate some of your . . . older customs. Taxation primarily is their concern.”

Budai was stung by the reproach. Yes, his taxes had been strong, but they had made Wangfujing strong.

“I hope you have assured them that I will do nothing against the vassalage oath I took in Fusang,” he said. Together they started walking down the quay, escorted by a half-dozen soldiers carrying meiwood spears. Dragons were still a threat throughout the kingdoms, and watchmen were posted on rooftops with longbows and meiwood arrows, watching the skies.

“Of course, my lord. Your steward has also returned to serve you. Guanjia had been serving in the court of Sajinau but requested the honor of serving you once again.”

“Guanjia?” Budai said in surprise. “Truly?” That was the best news he’d heard in a while.

“He’s taken charge of the preparations of the palace in honor of your return. I hope you are pleased by his arrangements.”

Budai passed several vendors who sold skewered scorpions. Some things did not change, including one of the delicacies of Wangfujing. He saw some of the vendors glance at him and quickly look away. His resentment chafed inside him.

“I’m grateful, Pangxie. Guanjia has always been a trusted servant. He knows my moods better than anyone.” He looked over at one of the arched bridges as they passed, seeing an armed soldier standing at the apex, his gaze observing the crowds as well as the skies. “Have there been any sightings of the Qiangdao who refused to take the oath?”

“None, my lord. All of those who dwelled in Wangfujing took the oath. Their weapons were buried on a trail leading to the mountains. There’s an old abandoned quonsuun up there, I’ve heard.”

“It won’t be abandoned for long,” Budai murmured, thinking of Kunmia.

“Pardon?”

“It’s nothing.” He had no further questions to ask, and so they walked in silence the rest of the way to the Frog Palace. When he saw the doors, a sense of nostalgia overcame him. There were two soldiers stationed there, and they stomped to attention as he approached, and then they opened the door. Upon entering, he smelled his gardens and glanced at the well nestled inside them. He’d longed to take a drink from it, having hated the tepid waters of Sihui with a fiery displeasure.

Standing before the palace was Guanjia, who bowed to him on his knees, forehead touching the pavement. The other servants, seeing what he did, mimicked his action and they, too, bowed low.

Pangxie gave the show a look of annoyance. Budai wondered how long it would take before he could get the officer transferred elsewhere.

“Welcome home, my lord,” Guanjia said, rising to greet him. His smile . . . was it genuine? Or was he like so many others, wanting to say what others wished to hear?

“We meet again, Guanjia. What is the state of the accounts?”

“The coffers are nearly empty, my lord. Much has been spent preparing the palace for your sudden return. It is not . . . it is not as splendid as it once was. Most of the riches were shipped to Fusang to rebuild the broken kingdoms.”

Of course. Rowen was dripping in wealth now. Wealth he couldn’t even see.

“It will take time to restore Wangfujing to its former fame,” Budai said. Pangxie followed them into the palace. Budai breathed through his nose, and it smelled strange, foreign even. He had longed to return, to reclaim what had formerly been his.

“You must be weary from your journey,” Guanjia said. “I thought you might wish to rest and . . . recover.” The subtle pause meant he’d arranged for a woman as well. Guanjia had always anticipated his needs.

“I am weary. Captain, I appreciate you preparing the guard for my return. I am fatigued and will rest. See to your other duties, and we will meet again at supper?”

“As you will, my lord,” said Pangxie, bowing only slightly.

Guanjia said nothing else until they reached Budai’s bedroom. He gave his master a knowing look, offered an ingratiating smile, and opened the door for