Leaving Chengdu was like waking up from a dream. The vassals, their guests, and the twenty mounted palace guards wound up the gently sloping spiral path to the rim of the impact crater. Then, gingerly, they crossed the narrow bridges spanning the terrifying chasms of the rippled landscape until they finally arrived at the outer concentric ring of hills. The terrain there was more forgiving. They approached the Cuiyin Forest.

  "Say goodbye to the sunlight," Mahintha said. "Stay close. Watch for snakes; the top predator in the forest is the snow leopard. We only have twelve hours of light in the lanterns, so we must double our pace to reach the Yangtze."

  The Cuiyin Forest was Xina's biggest and most ancient woodland. Giant bamboos, wild ginkgoes, and pine trees grew with no space between them for a man to pass. Everywhere, twisted, gnarled cypress trees forced themselves into any available space, sharing ancient secrets. In the past, the forest had been impenetrable. To connect the north and south, the Emperor had embarked on a grand scheme to cut a path through the woods. It took centuries to tunnel out this wide path—wide enough for four horses abreast, like a long, narrow ribbon running the uncountable distance from the Sichuan province to the Yangtze River.

  Mahintha planned to cross the Yangtze at Yichang, where an Emperor of a previous dynasty had built a stone bridge extending over a scenic bend in the river. The LianYubao Monastery was built over the stone bridge. They spent the night at the monastery. Seeing the night sky full of stars was enchanting for the travelers, as they had been in near-total darkness for twelve hours. Even the faint light of stars seemed like a treat for their light starved eyes.

  The following morning, before the light showed, Mahintha led them up the stony path to where the corridor began again. This part of the corridor was carved out by another emperor of yet another Dynasty. In the dark, the Kharak instinct was to rely on their horses, as the animals see better in the dark than men. When it was pitch black, they performed headcounts to make sure no one had been ambushed. They kept close to their mounts. When the horses grew giddy, they doubled their pace and stayed near the caravans. Even in the total absence of light, the eyes of a snow leopard reflecting unseen light could occasionally be glimpsed in the shadows.

  They eventually arrived at the Chaan Monastery, built on a stone bridge above the Hanshui River by yet another emperor of another dynasty. Xina was indeed ancient and sacred; empires came and went, but the stones remained. The monks served them a good dinner and a hearty breakfast. Then, they walked up the stony path in the early morning light and entered the final stretch of the Cuiyin Corridor. It had taken five dynasties and endless wars to carve out the Cuiyin Corridorbut it connects the North and South of Xina seamlessly.

  After a few hours in the dark, a ray of light peeped into the corridor ahead. Simultaneously, the vassals, their guests, and the guards sighed at the sight. Seeing light streaming in with golden translucency, the company cheered! The landscape began to change, becoming flatter as the forest came to an abrupt end. Emerging from the woods, the vassals shielded their eyes from a sun that seemed harsh after days in the emerald gloom.

  As evening fell, Zhenjin walked through the main city squares, the air thick with the smell of roasting meat and the sounds of an impromptu Xinese theater troupe. In the middle of the crowded plaza, he spotted a woman. Even in common clothes, she sat with a regal stillness.

  Tara Bai.

  He headed in her direction. She sensed him instantly. She stood up, looked at him, and bolted. Zhenjin hurried forward, but in his haste, he crashed into a passing waiter. His hood was jerked back.

  "Wait!" he called out.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  "Zhenjin!" gasped the waiter, dropping his tray. "Khazan!"

  "Zhenjin?" shrieked the ladies at the nearby tables. The name rippled through the square like wildfire. "Khazan Zhenjin!"

  Zhenjin didn't wait to sign autographs. He took off after Tara Bai. Behind him, the waiter and a dozen admiring ladies followed. "Wait... please!"

  Zhenjin was a trained warrior who had tracked predators through the Gobi, yet Tara Bai evaded him with spectral grace. The more he chased, the more she slipped through the shadows. Finally, the crowd of admirers tired and fell back, but Tara Bai kept on. He doubled his effort, his lungs burning. They sped past the town's border until she reached the edge of a dark forest. Suddenly, she spun around, her face a mask of fury.

  "Your Highness, wait!" Zhenjin panted.

  She didn't wait. She delivered lightning-fast strikes. Zhenjin parried a combination jab, then a roundhouse kick.

  "Let me explain!" he tried between breaths as he deflected a flurry of punches.

  "Why are you following me? Who sent you?" she demanded. An upper-cut, a straight punch, and a lethal reverse elbow strike followed. Zhenjin parried a front kick that hit him squarely in the chest, but he wasn't ready for what came next. Tara Bai launched herself into the air, delivering a devastating flying kick that connected with the side of his head.

  The world went black.

  The vassals picked up their pace. They had struggled in the dark, but now the weather was perfect for riding. Terraces of rice stretched as far as the eye could see. It was duck season; silence was required. A frightened duck would not lay eggs, and every grain went to feed an empty mouth. The vassals walked their horses on the Emperor’s farm road.

  "Strange," thought Urduja. "I am homesick for Xanadu. I dreaded it once, yet I now consider it home."

  The flat lands were perfect for wheat, rye, and sorghum. The Emperor grew these cash crops to send to all corners of the Middle Kingdom. There was no noisy banter or careless roughhousing in the Field of the Lord. As the vassals clipped through the fields, there was discipline in their speed and silence. Mahintha told the younger vassals to ride ahead and alert Temple Master Mod of their arrival. Freed at last to let their horses run, Cheongsun and the Tawalesi girls sped off.

  When Zhenjin came to, he found himself stretched out on the floor of a warm, silk-lined ger. His head throbbed in rhythm with his heartbeat.

  "My Khazan," Tara Bai's voice was soft now. "It was not my intention to knock you out, but I have been evading assassins for months."

  "I thought you were in trouble," Zhenjin groaned, rubbing his jaw. "I came to rescue you. But perhaps it is I who needs rescuing."

  "I need your help, Khazan," she said solemnly. "I need sanctuary. Temporary sanctuary."

  "I shall protect you with my life," Zhenjin replied, trying to sit up. "But right now, every muscle in my body hurts. I usually help women cross the street, but I think you've actually crippled me. Do you travel alone, Lady? There are ruffians on this road worse than me."

  "I don't travel alone," she said with a small smile. "And I pity any man who tries to attack me."

  Suddenly, the light in the ger shifted. Zhenjin became aware of nine shadows standing against the felt walls. They were tall, imposing, and draped in robes that seemed to swallow the candlelight.

  "Akbar's Nine Advisers," Zhenjin realized. "The Wizards."

  "It was hard to shake you off," said a tall, blue-robed wizard. "We almost gave up. I was conjuring a lightning bolt to frizzle your nervous system, but the Queen took pity on you."

  "I see," Zhenjin muttered.

  "You evaded her right roundhouse, though," the wizard added with a chuckle. "That was a good move. That flying kick has killed an elephant."

  "Your friends are here," Tara Bai interjected. "The spicer Dong Fen and a man claiming to be you. I almost had the impersonator killed."

  "They were only trying to protect me," Zhenjin said.

  They stepped out of the ger into a clearing where a long table had been assembled. Dong Fen had outdone himself: turkey, wild boar, and piles of dark barley bread. Huaizong and Tan Po looked at Zhenjin with wide, worried eyes. They had just come from the Bantala Spa, smelling of cedar and steam.

  "Everything fine, Khazan?" asked Tan Po, eyeing Zhenjin's bruised face.

  "I ache," Zhenjin confessed simply.

  "Here, let me help you," Tara Bai said, reaching out a hand to steady him.

  Zhenjin flinched back instinctively, a look of pure dread on his face. "No! Please... don't touch me."

  Dong Fen and the others looked away, trying to suppress their laughter, but Huaizong and Tan Po couldn't hold back. Their laughter echoed through the woods.