Thoughts of the unknown evidence gave the magistrate no peace.

  He paced the room, cracked jokes and giggled at dinner at random, drawing a raised eyebrow from Envoy Zhao, and could not sit still. Great Prince Seojin did not honor them with his presence this time, and the magistrate did not know whether to take it as a bad sign.

  Adviser Fang left the table early, citing a headache; Envoy Zhao was openly courting the magistrate’s wife; Great Prince Dojun entertained the table with witticisms. Magistrate Kwon tried to call his wife to order, reminding her that there were maids and gisaeng to pour tea for guests. He miscalculated there as well, because Envoy Zhao brazenly and confidently declared that he preferred this woman. Great Prince Dojun smiled sunnily in his turn and suggested that the respected magistrate make use of the gisaeng’s services tonight — swap for the evening, so to speak.

  Magistrate Kwon found no reply, flushed, apologized, and left the table. And took with him one of the capital wenches, since that was expected.

  “You are hurting me, daegam,” the gisaeng said in a melodious, thin voice as soon as they were out the door. “I will follow you myself, if that is the Great Prince’s order.”

  The magistrate caught himself and released the arm by which he had been holding her elbow.

  “So without an order you would not even look at me?” he sneered. “Who cares about a petty provincial official when princes are about?”

  “I do not consider you a petty official, daegam,” the gisaeng coquettishly tugged at her thin sleeve. Pale pink silk blended with her skin, making one think of delicate bare arms. “You have maintained order in a border province for many years. That takes skill and great effort. But I am from the palace — I cannot attend to guests without an order. Allow me to say that I sympathize with the situation with your wife. A very, very unpleasant and difficult position.”

  “See, even you can understand,” the magistrate began to calm; her words hit the mark. “What is your name?”

  “Jade Butterfly, daegam,” the gisaeng dipped into a graceful half-bow. “Would you like wine? Or perhaps I could sing for you?”

  “If the great ones do not wish to see us, we will amuse ourselves,” Magistrate Kwon waved her along, inviting the gisaeng to follow. “I need to speak with Adviser Fang. See that our cups do not empty.”

  “As you command, daegam,” the gisaeng trailed after him in small steps.

  As the magistrate expected, Adviser Fang had used a headache as a pretext to leave early. He welcomed female company, but asked whether Jade Butterfly spoke Chinese. Magistrate Kwon translated the question.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “They do not teach Chinese in kiban houses,” the gisaeng lowered her eyes. “But I know two Chinese dances and play the Chinese flute, the dizi, a little. If the gentlemen wish to listen…”

  “Perhaps later,” Magistrate Kwon waved it off. The gisaeng was right — they did not study Confucius in the kiban. “Just make sure we always have wine.”

  “As you command, daegam,” the gisaeng smiled politely and, with a practiced gesture, lifted the white porcelain ewer.

  The magistrate and Adviser Fang exchanged some idle remarks about the weather, speculated about the meaning behind the absence of Great Prince Seojin from dinner, and even compared the wine to last year’s.

  The magistrate recalled his steward’s idea of bringing in the missing carts of goods by bypassing the magistracy and shared it with the adviser. Adviser Fang nodded thoughtfully. Both were preoccupied with the question of the evidence at the magistracy, and both carefully avoided it. But when the adviser’s bodyguard entered the room, the silence cracked and began to seep with impatient anxiety.

  “Did it work?” Adviser Fang straightened and lifted his chin. The bodyguard loomed over them like a mountain; the room immediately felt smaller. Magistrate Kwon thought he caught a nauseating smell of blood.

  “Did you manage to find them?” The magistrate cared most about the unknown evidence and the letter. During the day the brute had said he would take them from the magistracy. Had he kept his word?

  “We will have to change plans,” the Mongol’s face twisted, becoming even more repulsive than usual. An old scar pulled the skin on his face into thick ridges. “What is she doing here?”

  All eyes turned to the gisaeng. She bowed politely to the bodyguard and began filling a third cup with wine.

  “She is serving us,” Adviser Fang waved it off. “What happened?”

  Smiling, the gisaeng offered the cup to the bodyguard. He squinted, then, without removing his gloves, seized the cup and upended it down his throat.

  “More,” he demanded. The girl refilled the cup. “Do you understand what I am saying?”

  The gisaeng continued to smile, waiting with the ewer in her hands.

  “She does not speak Chinese,” Magistrate Kwon cut in.

  “Really?” The Mongol leaned close to her face, staring into her eyes. “It would be interesting to hear how she screams if we tie her to a post and pull her skirt over her head. What do you think, how many men like me has she had? She is so slender — she’d split on my cock!”

  Magistrate Kwon choked. Such coarseness stunned him. Even Adviser Fang flushed.

  “Did the wine displease the master?” the gisaeng asked in a gentle voice, looking at the magistrate. “I can add honey to make it sweeter.”

  “She d-does not speak Chinese,” Magistrate Kwon repeated, stammering.

  “Yes, perhaps,” the Mongol straightened and rolled his shoulders. “Fine. There was an ambush at the magistracy. If this is the magistrate’s doing…”

  “An ambush?” Magistrate Kwon gaped. “How? Who dared?”

  “I assume one of the princes. The uniforms were of the royal guard,” the Mongol ground his teeth and drained the second cup. “I do not know what they want with a dead dog, but listen to what we will do now.”

  “What?” the magistrate and the adviser exchanged wary glances.

  “We will divert attention from one piece of carrion by tossing them another,” the Mongol’s ugly face split into a broad smile.