of Ky?n’s name made my stomach twist. “What will you do with him, sir?”
“Transfer him out of the bureau, but not yet. For now we must focus on Yongjusa Temple.”
“And Officer Shim?” I asked. “Will you tell him what we learned?”
“Of course.” A faint smile passed over his lips. “I trust that man with my life.”
I bowed my head, holding back the words, And you can trust me with your life too.
NINE
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, I bound my breasts with practiced quickness, tighter than was necessary to hide the slight fullness. The sign of womanhood, of vulnerability. I had seen the way some officers and visiting gentlemen stared at the maids, some even groping and stealing kisses.
I wanted to be noticed, but not in that way.
Once I finished dressing, I picked up an iron club, which had a rope hanging from its gilt-brass handle. I tied this onto my sash belt, then looked around the room, hoping to find a reason to linger a moment longer. My eyes strayed to the door, and reluctance gnawed at me. At the far corner of my mind, a thought had burned for days, and now it surfaced, looming dark beyond the door. The answers waiting for us might turn out to be ones we wished we’d never discovered …
The deep, rumbling boom of the great bell fractured the early morning stillness. Snatching my satgat off the hook and donning it, I stepped out and hurried through the courtyards. Inspector Han had instructed me to wait by the main gate when the curfew was lifted.
“Seol!”
A male voice startled me as I stepped out onto the street. I turned and saw a stable boy pulling a shaggy white pony my way. It was Terror, the beast that had tried to save us from the tiger on Mount Inwang.
“I was told to bring this troublemaker out.” He transferred the reins into my hand. “I hear you’re leaving the capital. Going with the inspector?”
“We’re heading to Suwon.”
“That is not far. The Fox Mountain Pass is halfway there—I think that’s him.”
He looked to a gentleman on horseback, his face shadowed by the wide brim of his hat. His military robe was of forest-green silk, and a pleated skirt swathed his trousers. Silver tigers embroidered his sleeves. I could tell it was Inspector Han only by the sword he wore, its black scabbard encrusted with seven gold dots for the Seven Stars Spirit, an ancient deity of fortune. Not that the inspector was a man of superstition; a true Confucian did not believe in ghosts and spirits, only the here and now.
As he drew up to me, I noticed the manservant riding behind—a tanned young man in a sleeveless gray robe over a white tunic. I had seen him at the bureau a few times before in passing. He couldn’t have been much older than me. Inspector Han told him to fetch a scroll on the writing table of his office. With the speed of a quick-footed deer, the servant leapt off his horse and sped into the bureau, and within a few blinks of my eyes, he returned, proffering the scroll to his master with two hands.
Inspector Han tucked the scroll into his robe, then steered his sleek horse around. “Are you ready, Damo Seol?”
“Yes, sir.” I climbed onto Terror, my stomach clenching. I feared she would toss me off her saddle again, but to my relief, she was unusually calm as we rode down the streets of Hanyang, past the stalls and shops.
By now, I knew my way around the capital well enough that I could easily point people in the direction they wanted to go. Looking for brassware? At the intersection of Jongno Street turn north, past the silk shop to your right. Looking for honey, rice, and fruits? You will find it at the far west end. Or perhaps you are looking for an expensive gift? Visit the jewelers at the southeast corner of the intersection, or travel farther east to the silver and jade merchant shops.
I had come to know the capital so well, yet it grew more frightening to me day by day.
“What’s your name?”
I glanced at the young servant, now riding alongside me. I wasn’t in the mood to talk, but I also wasn’t good at ignoring people. “Seol.”
“As in snowflake?”
“As in storyteller.”
“My name’s Ryun, and it means ‘one who is kindhearted.’”
We crossed over the Cheonggye Stream, where women gathered, ladling water into pails and rolling laundry into hard bundles, which they pounded