A Thousand Burning Masks

Chapter Three

How dare you? How dare you ignore the suffering of the people when you promised to protect us from harm? You retreated to the heavens for thousands of years only to return when some fool claimed to have a High Immortal's face in possession. Yet, you disregard all the prayers and pleas of the slaves. Do you have any idea how many people have been tortured and killed at the hands of the Imperials?

Biyu burst into the room and started gathering the jewelry caskets into his arms. "We need to hit the road. Now."

I dropped the last of my jewelry into the casket and attached my veil, so he couldn't see my red eyes. I dropped the memory of my futile cries inside, too, and only said, "I was distracted. Sorry." Then, I fastened the metal lock.

He arched an eyebrow at me. "You've been acting really strange ever since you got back from the teahouse."

"No one believed I saw a High Immortal. Everyone in this damn city runs the other way whenever I try to talk to them."

"If I was a stranger, I would run away too. No one would want to incite the Immortals' wrath."

Biyu might have been at my side for years, but sometimes, he just couldn't understand how I felt. He viewed the world through a lens of such vivid colors, and I through smoked glass. He wasn't as bitter as I was, or maybe he just he hid his pain better than I did. But no matter what our differences were, it still hurt that he didn't trust my words.

"Even my best friend doesn't believe me."

Biyu dropped a casket. "You know that I trust you with my life."

"So, you do believe me?"

"I do. I have utter faith in the Tales and you. But now, we must leave. The performance is tomorrow, and Mr. Long wants us to settle down in the Jade Palace tonight."

"Can we not go?"

"Imperial orders." Biyu shrugged. "You know how it is."

I checked the room one last time and left the inn.

Zichuan Theater's twenty carriages stood waiting outside. Shu, our Facechanging mentor and the theater's second-in-command, hobbled from carriage to carriage, counting our people, checking whether the carriages were secured to the horses while yelling instructions at the top of his voice.

I found my carriage at the end of the line. It was an old thing, held together by the barest of nails and creaky wooden wheels which squeaked and screeched its way all around Erden. Mr. Long had promised to buy us new paint for the carriage, but he'd been caught up in preparations, and must have forgotten. I added a mental note to remind Mr. Long after our performance at the Jade Palace.

Don't you mean, if you survive the Jade Palace? A snide little voice at the back of my head corrected me.

I brushed the voice aside and stepped into the carriage.

Upon entering, I was hit by the crystal grommets Biyu had hung from the ceiling and the faint fragrance of lavender. Pooj was curled up in a cushion basket, the bowl of meat next to him was empty. He lifted his head and meowed as I sank into the larger cushion and propped my feet up.

"Hey Pooj," I said. "Did you have fun with Mila?"

Pooj meowed again, just as Biyu entered the carriage with a scowl on his face.

"That's my seat."

"Not anymore. You drive."

"No, we had a deal. I drove all the way to the Jade City. It's your turn."