"The rat was a sneaky little thing. It whispered sweet nothings into the bull's ear as it ferried the rat across lakes and plains, marshes and bogs, until they reached the finish line. Then, with vigor, the rat hopped off the bull's horn and landed first place. It was crowned the first guardian of the Zodiac."

The Twelve Guardians of the Zodiac—An Erdense folktale

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Duke's Bay only operated at night, when the Imperials had sunk into their soft, feathery beds and the guards had retired to their barracks, singing about handsome damsels in distress and the woes of their jobs. When the night was high, and the brilliant lanterns had burned low, slavers crowded the square where public executions took place. Oftentimes, fights broke out, the floor splatted bloody. The slavers wrecked so much havoc the Imperials sent soldiers for peacekeeping.

Hidden by my muslin hat, I slipped into the converging crowd. Most were men, and they cast me strange looks as I brushed past them and toward the front-most row, getting a clear glimpse of the platform.

Bao was there. A necklace of fat pearls strained around his budging neck, and he was dressed in heavy blue silks with tiger prints. He held a whip made from horsehair as thick as my wrist. Seeing him strut across the platform and lash the whip in empty air made my skin crawl, and the scars underneath Qara's face itched.

I yearned for my scalpel hidden underneath my shirt. I had discarded my leather pouch and bundled the essentials in silk. In retrospect, I was glad it was beyond my reach. Blood would spill if I held my best weapon in a place full of savages.

"What do you have for us?" A man shouted. "Give us something pretty!

Standing next to him was a woman with too much makeup. Her round face was white from multiple coats of powder, and her plump lips were painted red. Her hair was held up in a familiar Jade City fashion—long hair gathered into one thick braid and wound around the head, where it was finished with tens of tasseled pins.

Mama Ruga.

She hadn't changed one bit. Biyu once jokingly told me Mama Ruga looked like a hippotamus which learned to speak. He wasn't wrong. Every inch of Mama Ruga resembled one—from her large nose to her huge teeth to the hairy mole on her chin.

"My clients want something fresh." Mama Ruga drew a feathery fan from her sleeve. "I hope you have something exquisite for me."

Bao laughed. "All in good hands, folks. My scouts have reached Oghul-qaisah, and they've brought in several of their most charming ladies. Your clients are going to love them."

"The second prince wants new whores too," another man added. "Spare some of your Oghul-qaisah treasures for the Imperials as well." He waved his jade pendant in the air, showing everyone, he was from the Jade Palace.

I made a mental mark on him. I must ensure I was sold to him.

Mama Ruga spat. "Pah. That eel-eating scoundrel can rot for all I care. I make sure my girls get paid. The Imperials kill the girls after they've had merry with them. These girls are better off with me."

I snorted. The girls sold to the Pavilion were only paid one Copper Credit per client, which Mama Ruga confiscated for rent, food, and clothes. At the end of the day, no one could amass enough Credits for a Visa, and were forced to live in the Pavilion until they were deemed too old and loused to be used as pleasure-girls anymore.

I'd rather be killed by the Imperials than to be used over and over again by this demon.

Several horses drawing carts trotted toward the torch-lit platform. Fury thundered through me as I saw every cart was full of humans, bound and gagged. Most were women, and a few were children. I recognized the tawny-skinned people of Oghul-qaisah—their wide, beautiful eyes, thick eyebrows and lips. Squeezed in between them were the Erdenese women, all petrified with fear.

I remembered what helplessness felt like—not knowing where you'd be sold to, or whether you'd see the sunrise again. It dug a hole in your stomach, clinging harder and harder, until a bottomless pit was formed, one where hope was continuously suctioned out until you were hollow.

My nails dug into my palms, cutting painful crescents in the soft flesh.

If I was given the powers of an Imperial, I would buy all of them and set them free.

"The treasure is here!" Bao hollered, and the crowd erupted into cheers. Many of the men ran forward so eagerly they had to be restrained by Bao's guards.

Bile roiled in my stomach, the sour taste burning the back of my throat. These men were no different from animals.

Several of Bao's man dragged the Oghul-qaisahi from the first cart and tossed them onto the platform. One of them cried, and Bao slapped her across the face.

My nostrils flared. Son of a pig.

The woman whimpered but fell silent as Bao raised his hand again.

"Women from Oghul-qaisah!" Bao brandished his whip toward the women. "Let's sell this lot, shall we? Bidding price starts at one-hundred Golden Credits."

"Two-hundred," Mama Ruga shouted at once.

"I bid two-hundred and fifty," the man from the Jade Palace said.

"Three-hundred!" shouted another.

The Oghul-qaisahi huddled together on the stage, reaching for each other through their chained hands. I could do nothing but to pity them. The Oghul-qaisahi did not speak a lick of Erdenese. To be torn from their families and sold in a foreign land was a terrifying experience for them. That was true, raw fear.

"Three-hundred and fifty!"

Madam Ruga stomped her feet. "Five-hundred!"

Bao's scarlet face turned even more vibrant, as though all the blood in his body had surged to his face. "We have five-hundred!" he yelled. "Is there anyone here who would like to beat this lady here?"

The crowd murmured, considering their options. I could already read their minds—there were so many others waiting to be sold, why waste so much money on the first batch?

"Nobody?" Bao's voice was tinged with a bit of regret. He probably wanted a hefty sum of a thousand for the Oghul-qaisahi. "Sold!"

The slavers dragged the women off the platform and proceeded with the next cart of women. I kept my eye on the hunched man from the Imperial Palace throughout the bidding. He bid the highest for the Erdenese women, and he accumulated more than thirty slaves at the end of the auction.

The crowd dispersed at twilight. While Bao gathered money from his clients, I slipped toward the pen holding the women bound for the Jade Palace. The slavers were nowhere in sight, presumably busy loading the other carts with slaves.

Most of the women were clustered in groups, except for one, an Oghul-qaisah. She leaned against a wooden pole, shaking and murmuring prayers under her breath.

I took off my hat and approached the woman.

"Hello."

The woman merely stared at me out of her huge, terrified eyes. I whipped out my scalpel and cut the ropes binding the woman's wrists and feet and yanked off her gag.

"Run," I said. "Don't let them see you."

"Shurkra," she whispered, climbed over the pen, and darted away without a backward glance.

I must hurry. I slid my scalpel underneath my shirt and tied up my feet before I stuffed the gag into my mouth. Tying my own hands was the hardest, as I didn't have my teeth to help.

The slavers returned as soon as I managed to tie a loose knot on my wrists.

"Come on," one of them barked. "Off to the Jade Palace you go."

My heart pounded as the slavers squeezed us into a cart. One of the slavers noticed the loose knot on my wrists, frowned, and tightened it.

"Don't even think of escaping," he said. "I'll kill you."

I would have laughed if it wasn't for the wad of dirty cloth in my mouth. The irony: I was throwing myself back into slavery.

As the cart jerked into motion, I stared at the beginnings of sunrise, wondering whether I had made the right choice.

But you're going to kill the crown prince, no? the little voice in my head reassured me.

The creaks of the wooden wheels and the soft whimpers of the other women were the only sounds in the disturbing silence. I looked at the sky.

Mama believed that when a person died, they would be judged by King Yama, the Overlord of Eighteen Hells. He sat on his throne of bones where Ox-Head and Horse-Face, his faithful scribes would read out every single good and evil deed committed by the dead person. After listening, King Yama would decide whether the person would transcend to the Nine Heavens or fall into the Eighteen Hells.

I was certain Papa, Mama, and Zhenjin were in the Nine Heavens, laughing as they enjoyed a meal together under the many cherry-blossoms trees and listening to the merry larks twittering from silver branches. If anyone deserved the Nine Heavens, it was my family, and those who died from exploitation.

What about you? My inner voice asked. Do you think you'll see them in the Nine Heavens?

I already knew the answer. I had lied and swindled, stolen and cheated. My every action was another stroke on the Kitchen God's scroll, who would then pass it to King Yama. Soon, as the crown prince's bloody head thudded against the floor, a scarlet mark would stain their paper scroll, sealing my fate. I would become another denizen of Eighteen Hells, doomed to scream in the ever-burning fires and the glowing mountains of blades.

I bit my lip. But who cared? I was going to save Zichuan Theater. If there was one last good thing I could do, it would be saving my friends from an unjust death. Then, I would wreak havoc in the Imperial household. With the crown prince dead and the nation fallen into the hands of a lesser prince, there was bound to be chaos. With the line of ascension disrupted, I could finally bring justice to those abused by the Imperials.

And for myself.

As the last of twilight blighted and the morn burst through the mountains, the ghostly spires of the Jade Palace crept into sight. Like spears rising through thinning fog, the Jade Palace was more foreboding than ever.

The iron-cast gates swung inward as the cart made its way into the Palace. Then, with a resonating, metallic 'clang!', the gates swung shut, trapping me behind its shadow.

I was back where everything started.