Oracle Bone by Lydia Kwa

Author:Lydia Kwa
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781551527000
Publisher: Arsenal Pulp Press
Published: 2017-09-27T04:00:00+00:00

At the market, Qilan and Ling bought a small bamboo funnel of piping-hot roasted horse chestnuts and ate them as they made their way toward Prosperity Tavern.

Ling paused in the square, remembering the auction three-and-a-half years ago. It had been in the heat of summer, and the stench of greed soaked the air. She wasn’t sure whom she was more afraid of now—Shan Hu or herself. Deep inside her, there still existed the tremor of that frightened, angry child she had been. But she was strong now. She made up her mind: She wasn’t going to use any spells or magic but would rely on her wits and skills to fight Shan Hu. Ling shifted her weight left to right and back. She savoured the taste of chestnuts in her mouth, then took a few gulps of water from the gourd she carried on her belt. The water was cold, and it made her shiver.

Only steps away, ostentatious red lanterns bedecked the eaves of Prosperity Tavern, their candlelight flickering in the light breeze. It had stopped snowing. Overhead there was a half moon, and Venus hung close to it.

Qilan studied Ling’s face. Sometimes, words were unnecessary; they simply understood each other implicitly. Qilan tilted her head in the direction of the tavern. “Let’s have a proper meal before the scoundrel arrives.”

The inn was impressively large and spacious, its three floors festooned with large red lanterns that hung from the eaves at every corner of the hexagonal space. All the windows were covered in yellow silk, reducing the draughts, and the coal braziers kept the place nicely heated. Customers were rowdily enjoying themselves, toasting one another, playing drinking games. The fragrance of various delectable foods wafted in the air, making Qilan’s nose start to twitch with anticipation as she strode up the stairs to the top floor.

In contrast to the lower two floors, the dining area on the third floor was small and had only seven tables instead of thirty. Two of those were taken by customers; three at one and two at another. The tables were placed away from the staircase at the back of the room, and there was a door in one corner. Private rooms, thought Ling.

Qilan picked a table near the window. They took off their robes, hats, and scarves, and warmed themselves at the closest brazier. When the spritely, fresh-faced waiter arrived at their table, they could see he was unable to hide his surprise. He gawked at Qilan’s elaborate hairstyle, so unlike that of peasant women yet not the style worn by a woman of the upper class. He eyed her up and down, took in the ordinary riding clothes, the exquisite glow of her dark-brown skin, the large eyes that were slightly drawn up at the edges.

Qilan ordered a flask of hot wine, chicken in hot sesame oil sauce, and eggs fried with preserved mustard roots. “Bring three cups for the wine,” she instructed the waiter.

The food came quickly and they set to eating and drinking.

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