By the hundredth time my knees hit the floor, sweat dripped into my eyes, and the sounds of my breathing and the showering rain were all that filled the shadowy servants’ quarter.
I did not know to whom I was praying, or if my pleas had any weight, for I had no altar and no temple. But I continued. Hundred one kowtow, hundred two, hundred three …
My prayer rose silently from my lips. If you want to protect Inspector Han, this is your last chance to stop me.
Afterward, I lay on the bare floor, my knees throbbing. I watched the cloud of incense and wondered whose ears my prayers had reached, if the heavens even cared. Then I lifted my head, just a bit, as an unexpected image moved in the corner of my mind. Lady Kang and her tobacco.
I scrambled up to my feet. Suddenly, I could sense it—a deep knowledge—that she would help me out of the wilderness. The gods might ignore me, but she would not.
* * *
I donned my straw hat, wrapped myself in a straw cloak, and stepped out. Wet wind spit against me as I journeyed north. Mud splashed onto my skirt, brown speckles against gray cotton. I shouldered my way past the sparse crowd of mostly bareheaded peasants, then reached the outskirt of the Northern District. The weight of the rain pounding down on my hat eased up as I stepped into the shelter of the roofed gate.
I knocked on the door, waited, then knocked two more times. At last the door creaked open, revealing a pale-faced gatekeeper.
“I wish for private audience with Lady Kang,” I said.
“What?”
The rain had drowned out my voice, so, loudly this time, I repeated, “I wish for private audience with Lady Kang! Tell her that my name is Seol!”
Soon I was following a servant through interlinking courtyards until we arrived before the main pavilion. The maid announced me in. The chamber was shadowy and dry, making me realize how drenched I was—my face, my sleeves, half my skirt. The gusting rain creaked the hanji-screened windows.
Lady Kang untied her gentleman’s hat and placed it down on the low-legged table before her. Damp strands of her hair clung to her temple like dark seaweed washed onto the beach. I must have arrived at the mansion shortly after her return from some journey, dressed as a man like the first time we’d met. Perhaps transporting illegal books again?
“It has been so long since I last saw you, Seol.”
“More than a month, mistress,” I replied.
“I heard of Scholar Ahn’s death.”
I licked my lips, unnerved by the memory of the drowned man. “He was murdered.”
“Was it the same killer, do you think?”
I bowed my head. The killer was still out there, his eyes fixed on the next target, and there was no one around me who could answer my questions—except perhaps for Lady Kang. There was no time for me to hesitate.
“I know you are…” I swallowed, then forced out the word, “Catholic.”
The corner of her lips flinched. “You say the word ‘Catholic’ as one might say the word ‘traitor.’”
“Begging your pardon, mistress,” I whispered, my pulse hammering.
“It is not a secret. No need to look so frightened. I was imprisoned during the roundup of Catholics in 1791 but was soon released. After divorcing my husband, I moved here to Hanyang and began leading the Heretical Virgin Troupe. Another scandal. So you see, it is hard to keep my faith a secret.”
Heretical Virgin Troupe. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until Lady Kang said, “Your face is red. And your lips are twitching, like you have more to say. What is it?”
“In a letter, Lady O expressed her desire to join this troupe. So you must have been close to her. Very close.” My back stiffened as I rushed to add, “I won’t tell anyone about this connection.”
She laid her elbow on the table, and her eyes watched me with a shocking stillness. “I trust you. I do not wish to be involved in the investigation, Seol. I have enough troubles to keep me up at night.”
“I understand…” I took in a deep, calming breath. “Mistress, do all Catholics wear a cross pendant?”
She withdrew her necklace. Hanging from the beaded string was a silver figure of a half-naked man pinned to a cross. “Not all wear this,” she said. “But I wear it to remind myself that knowledge demands change. I cannot live as I used to live now that I have