Shuli Go Stories Vol. 3: The Stories They Tell

Part 8

Surprisingly, it was An, who had lost the most to Zu's scheming, that vetoed paying a late night visit to him with a dagger between her teeth.

"We kill him, we can never come back to the city again, if we even make it out alive," she said, two days later in Lian's room. "Forget the city, we can't even come to this Kingdom, most likely. And I like it here. Besides, if we kill him, we won't get any money."

"Fuck money," Yaling responded, "look at your hand."

An's smallest finger had become infected, and the doctor they'd taken her to had instructed the only way she could avoid losing the whole hand was to cut off the finger. They'd taken it in one chop, and An had barely even grunted. Compared to having the fingernail removed under the curse, the pain was minimal.

"I can still use it at least, and I was never going to win any contest for 'most beautiful hands' anyway. Zu will pay for my finger, but not with his life. I want my slave island."

"But Zu didn't promise us anything – he was counting on the Empress' money. Zu's rich," Lian said, "but not slave island rich."

"Maybe not, but we didn't all just walk out with Wamaian gold one day, did we?"

And there was the thing Lian had been ignoring – the truth that her gold had separated her from her friends in some way. If worse came to worse, Lian could always move back to Three Paths and live out her days in the hotel she owned. Or to any of the other cities in which she owned businesses and homes. An didn't have that choice. Not that An was especially poor – and Yaling only ever lacked money because she couldn't help but spend everything as soon as she earned it – but she didn't have a safety net, and each year she grew older, was a year her decision not to marry would hang over her larger and larger. She wanted a rich husband without the husband, and Lian couldn't fault her for that.

"Ok, fine. But we don't take his shit. We're getting paid, and paid well. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Yaling and An both nodded.

They walked back in to Zu's estate without an appointment or care. Lian happily acted as the muscle to push security out of the way where necessary, before they kicked in the door to Zu's office. Lian drew her Shuli Go sword and waved it at the security rushing up behind them, ready to fight if need be. It was Yaling who spoke first. "Mister Zu, I believe we have some things to discuss."

Zu, sitting behind his desk and hunched over a number of papers – a confused and terrified retinue of hangers-on to each of his sides – laughed. The news of Prefect Tai's death had spread quickly, but none of the newspapers or criers could agree on what had caused it. Zu, obviously, had a better idea than most.

"Yes," he agreed, "yes we do. Please, come in."

He waved off the security behind the women, and then ordered chairs and refreshments be brought in for the four of them.

"I see our mission was a success," he said as he sipped his tea, smiling the whole time.

"Our mission?" An was incredulous. "I thought our mission was to retrieve the Book of Dragons."

"Hmm... perhaps you're right. My mission. My mission was to see Prefect Tai dead. Your mission was to recover a book that doesn't exist."

Lian couldn't help herself. She chuckled. "I knew it. All that show and all those stories, just to get us to go in there and do your dirty work for you?"

"So you knew the book wasn't in there?" An was confused.

"My dear," Zu replied, "there's no such thing as the Book of Dragons. Your friend here was quite correct."