Over the bureau, the moon was bright, and clouds flowed across the spread-out sky. Senior Officer Shim then stepped out of the main gate to stand by Inspector Han’s side, soon joined by Commander Yi on horseback. The horse let out an echoing neigh.
The autumn wind howled; paper lamps hanging from eaves swayed.
Hooves clopping, and again, the loud, echoing cry of the horse.
Horse. I frowned at this word, paced around it in my mind, until another creature appeared by its side. Dragon.
And suddenly scattered pieces shifted into place.
The necklace discovered in Lady O’s hand. The wooden horse-dragon pendant discovered near the place of her death, the same in design as Councillor Ch’oi’s jade piece. All a mere coincidence, possibly. But there was one point that bothered me.
I edged along the wall, closer to the corner. I looked across the dirt path and watched the shadows cast by torchlight stretch and shudder in the wind. Officer Shim, his cheeks so drawn, his eyes like black hollows under the brim of his police hat. All I knew was that he was an illegitimate son, and now also a friend who had betrayed Inspector Han—for what? Had Shim really exposed his comrade merely because he felt bad? Soldiers were known to cover each other’s most heinous crimes in the name of loyalty. So what else had pushed Shim into confessing? It had to do with Councillor Ch’oi somehow. There had to be a connection there—a reason as to why the councillor, of all people, had stepped in and convinced Commander Yi to release Shim. They must have formed a deal … but over what?
I retreated into the shadows and pressed my back against the wall, wondering wildly what could have lured Senior Officer Shim and the councillor into one scheme. Then it hit me. Shim was illegitimate, and I remembered being told that his father had adopted a nephew as his heir, just as Councillor Ch’oi had done. What if this was not a coincidence? What if they were related by blood, and the councillor had known of their ties? How would he have used this to his advantage?
Muscles tightened in my shoulders as I pressed my knuckle to my lips, to keep myself from cursing aloud as emotions roared; of panic, bewilderment, though mostly waves of trepidation that left me edgy.
Seol-ah, came my sister’s reproachful voice. This kind of suspicion will kill you.
A cold prickling sensation warned me that Sister was right; this path would lead me onto a mountain ridged with crumbling, skull-crushing cliffs and ankle-breaking burrows. Not only was a police officer possibly involved in the killings, but a government official, too. Yet I had no intention of backing away, and this left me with only one question.
What should I do next?
NINETEEN
ONCE, ROYAL SOLDIERS docked on Heuksan Island and marched to my neighbor’s hut. His sentence had changed from banishment to execution. Without weeping or trembling, he changed into his best robe, then bowed four times to the east in the direction of Changdeok Palace, expressing gratitude to the king for not shamefully beheading him. Then he sipped the bowl of arsenic poison, melting his innards into a mouthful of blood, which he coughed out, dying a painful death.
Was it possible for Inspector Han to die in such a way? Would he permit his life to end? The man I’d feared had always been just that—a man. Not a god. Commander Yi could crush him like a worm if he so wished.
Following the sound of murmuring voices, I arrived at the east side of the wall enclosing Inspector Han’s residence. The wall was only two heads higher than me. With a leap, I managed to grab onto the ledge, which was capped with black tiles. I hoisted myself up onto my elbows and peered into what looked to be the men’s quarter—the place where men discussed social matters, wrote poems, played instruments like the geomungo—for it was located near the outer wing of the compound. At the center was a pavilion guarded by officers, positioned in all four directions.
My muscles burned, struggling to hold up my weight, but I couldn’t let myself look away. Something bad was going to happen to the inspector. At any moment a soldier might arrive with poison in a porcelain bowl, and I would have to yell out “Stop!” for I was no longer certain of Inspector Han’s guilt.
She is dead, she is dead, Inspector Han had wept on the night