I covered my eyes to block the sight of the comet, but in my mind I could see it was like a sword, a mighty blade of fury Heaven used to pierce the heart of the kingdom.
What evil would befall us? A poor harvest? A flood? A drought?
I shut the doors and went back to my pallet.
The chamber was silent. Then someone whispered in the dark, “This is a bad omen.”
“Do you think the Emperor will cancel the ceremony?” another asked.
“It seems unlikely,” the Xu Girl said. “The date of the ceremony was chosen last year, and it would be difficult to change it.”
“So I will still see everyone, then.” The girl sighed with relief.
I rolled on my side, tucking my hand under my head. But I was not ready to sleep yet. Because I just realized an opportunity had presented itself.
I knew what I must do.
? ? ?
On the day of Taizi’s ceremony, I left the Yeting Court with the other palace ladies, passed the Inner Court, crossed the Chengtian Gate, and arrived at the Outer Palace, where the ministers conducted their daily work. When I had first entered the court two years before, I was inside the carriage and did not realize how vast the palace was, but since then, I had gotten an idea of its immensity. When we left the Yeting Court, it was at dawn, but by the time we reached the Altar House, the sun was hanging on the top of the trees, and I was tired, my legs sore from walking.
“This way, this way.” The palace’s Gold Bird Guards directed us across from the yard in front of the Altar House. Wearing maroon capes and shining breastplates, they looked stern, their eyes scanning here and there. Since the comet, rumors suggesting that the Emperor was unfit to rule had swirled about the palace, and I had heard the news of insurgence from the northern border. It was an important day today, and with all the imperial family members and ministers gathering, the guards had to be extremely vigilant.
We were ordered to stay in a corridor at the end of the yard, perhaps the least favorable place to watch the ceremony. In front of me stood many court ministers, imperial members, Taoist priests, and ladies dressed in different colors of gowns. Jewel might have been among them, but I could not find her. I was still angry, and for many nights I had thought about how to confront her. But to do so would be stupid. There was no point letting her know my anger, since she had the Emperor’s ear. In fact, I must play coy when speaking to her, as though nothing had happened between us.
Standing on tiptoes, I searched for the Emperor, who sat on a raised platform in the center of the massive yard before the Altar House.
He wore a bejeweled mortarboard on his head, a splendid golden robe with rectangular sleeves draped to the floor, and two swords at his waist. He looked different from the dark man dozing on his stool all those months ago. If the man I met in his chamber were a naked cat, the one in formal attire resembled a true tiger. He looked larger, more solemn, more distant, and more frightening.
What could I do to attract his attention?
Taizi, the Crown Prince, cloaked in bright yellow ceremonial regalia, walked to each minister and thanked them for their presence. He had a deep voice that seemed to echo in his chest, and his tone was short and precise.
I recognized that voice. He was the man in the Forbidden Park who had shouted for Pheasant. When he talked to the ministers near me, I studied him. He was the tallest, most robust man I had ever seen. His neck was thick, his shoulders wide, and he towered over the other people by a head. Each time he approached a minister, he cracked his knuckles and then bowed. He also seemed to be uncomfortable in his regalia; each time he rose, he pulled at his sleeves and frowned.
I had heard stories about him. The firstborn of the Emperor and the late Empress Wende, he was twenty years old. He had grown up in the military camp when his father and his grandfather were warring against the Sui Dynasty. A mighty wrestler, Taizi had never lost a bout since he was nine years of age, and I would have said he was built more for wrestling than for ruling.
“He would make a fine ruler,” a lady in a blue gown near me said.
“Not so loud.” An old lady with her hair shaped in Cloudy Chignon elbowed her. “The spies are everywhere.”
I fell on my heels and turned to her. Who would object to Taizi’s rule? “Whose spies?”
“Oh.” The old lady coughed and glanced at me. “I know who you are. You gave the Emperor a riddle. Very clever. You were summoned.”
I smiled to let her know I meant no harm. “Yes, and I may never be summoned again. Who are you worried about, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Ah, I should not say this, but have you noticed the Emperor’s uncle?” The old lady pointed at an old man holding a cane. Clearly most revered for his age and rank, the Uncle stood among a group of ministers with high hats who bowed constantly as he spoke, his finger stabbing in the air.