Jeannie Lin - The Sword Dancer

He hit the edge and his stomach plummeted just as something closed over his wrist, stopping his fall. Han looked up, stunned.

It was the sword dancer. Her feet were braced against the raised edge and the muscles of her arms strained against his weight as he dangled partially over the street below. Their gazes locked. It was only a moment, a blink, a breath. Her eyes were black and luminous beneath the dark lining of make-up. They narrowed on him in challenge.

She let go of him and was again in flight. Han hoisted himself back on to the rooftop and struggled to his feet. The dancer slipped over the edge, but rather than dropping to the street, she hung by the grip of her fingers and swung into an open window that wasn’t much larger than she was.

Her training had made her as surefooted and daring as a cat. Han suspected it was more than just acrobatics or dance. He leapt on to a lower rooftop, then searched around, found a wagon below and landed in back among sacks of grain.

This was now familiar territory. In his head, he’d mapped out the area and tracked the dancer’s speed and direction. Sure enough, he caught up to her as she darted behind a shop. Earthen walls rose high on either side of them. Longxu appeared at the far end of the alley with his hook and rope in hand.

The dancer paused mid-step. Han seized the opportunity and grabbed her, clamping both arms around her torso. She was strong for her size, long-limbed and wiry, and she fought like a wild animal in his grasp.

‘I won’t hurt you,’ he said through his teeth.

Her knuckles caught the bridge of his nose in a bright flash of pain, but he held on and managed to wrestle her arms down.

She was breathing hard, her body tense. She twisted around to look at him. ‘I haven’t done anything.’

‘You ran,’ he pointed out.

‘You were chasing me!’ she snapped.

She had fled the moment the thief-catchers had made themselves known. It made her immediately suspicious.

Han had her trapped against his chest and, now that she was turned, their position disturbingly resembled a lovers’ embrace except that every muscle in her was coiled and ready to break free at the first opportunity.

‘Huh, you should split the reward money with me.’ Longxu shoved the hook back into his belt and approached. ‘I helped you capture her.’

Han tore his gaze away from the dancer. ‘Hardly.’

‘What? The great Zheng Hao Han is too exalted to share?’

The dancer stilled. Her gaze moving over his face as if seeing him for the first time. ‘Thief-catcher Han?’ she asked incredulously.

‘That is how I’m known,’ he replied.

Apparently he’d made a name for himself, though not any name his family would be proud of. Han shifted his grip, taking a hold of the dancer’s wrist and locking it behind her back. This time she didn’t resist.

‘He can’t be Zheng Hao Han,’ she said in a biting tone as he marched her back towards the municipal hall. ‘Thief-catcher Han goes after notorious murderers and villains.’

Han did feel quite the bully. She was slight of build and deceptively delicate in his grasp, but she was no ordinary dancer. She’d been formally trained in the fighting arts, which meant she deserved some respect … and caution.

The village municipal hall was a single building not much larger than the tavern. A clerk sat at a desk. He unrolled a scroll as Han approached. ‘The suspect’s name?’

‘Wen Li Feng,’ the dancer said.

The clerk looked her over with morbid interest. She glared back at him and he shrank back, writing down her name quickly.

‘There were several others brought in as well. But we only have two holding cells here.’

The prison was built much like a stable with a separate pen for prisoners and vents cut into the walls for light and air. Infractions were punished swiftly and there was no need to hold prisoners for any length of time. The constable relied on shackles and other heavy restraints to keep prisoners in line.

Han clamoed irons over the dancer’s wrists, forgoing the cangue, a heavy board which was locked around the neck to trap a prisoner’s head. She was a woman after all. Tomorrow she would be transported to Taining where the crime had occurred.

‘You’ve been trained,’ he said, meeting her eyes. ‘Who is your shifu?’

‘I have no master.’

Her reply was spoken without emotion, but something flickered beneath the calm surface of her face.

‘I don’t believe you,’ he said.

‘It’s all for show, thief-catcher. A dance.’

It wasn’t just the skill with which she wielded a sword that had him convinced otherwise. The inner calm and confidence she exuded during their battle and the subsequent chase didn’t come without discipline.

‘Are you arresting me because of the sword?’ she asked. ‘It was fake, as you must know.’

‘I’m arresting you on suspicion of theft.’

‘I’m not a thief,’ she stated evenly.

‘Then you’ll be found innocent and released.’

She arched an eyebrow at him. ‘Do you really think that is how the tribunal works?’

Not many realised it, but Han had more knowledge of how the judicial halls operated than he had use for. The dancer wasn’t acting guilty, but she wasn’t quite acting innocent either. Not that it was his place to determine guilt or innocence. That was for the magistrate in Taining to decide.

The constable had finished transferring the other prisoners into a single cell. The dancer was the lone female who had been captured. Han had a feeling the others were harmless performers, but Wen Li Feng was something very different.

She’d fought ruthlessly, as if her life depended on it. But when he’d lost his balance on the rooftop, when she could have made her escape, she had reached out to stop his fall instead. That debt hung over him and he didn’t quite know what to do with it.

Han wasn’t one to be swayed by the pleas or protests of his targets. He caught the criminals and brought them in. Yet the sword dancer was neither pleading nor protesting. His last vision was of her looking around the holding cell, her hands weighted down by thick chains that appeared grotesque and imposing over such a graceful figure.

Li Feng lowered herself to the floor of the prison cell, leaning her back against one wall. The floor was packed dirt and there was a bucket in the corner that she preferred to stay away from.

Her instinct was to get up, to move even if there was nothing to be accomplished by it. Fighting against the urge, she closed her eyes. She tried to breathe in deeply and then out, circulating the energy as shifu had taught her. Trying to stay calm. To stay focused.

It wasn’t working.

Li Feng raised her knees and laid her head down upon them. By nature, she didn’t like small spaces. She had grown up on a mountainside, away from the confines of the city.

She had been right to leave Bao Yang and his band of rebels. There was a time when she had thought she fit in perfectly among them. That they were the only people who would ever accept someone like her.

Shifu had taken care of Li Feng after finding her in hiding and alone in the woods, but he had always treated her like his disciple rather than a daughter. It suited her fine to call him shifu , to respectfully refer to him as her master, because she already had a mother and a father. They had been taken from her by force.

Maybe that was why she had been charmed so easily into Bao Yang’s cause as well as his bed. Two years ago, she had just left the isolation of Mount Wudang to venture back into civilisation. In her heart, she had always dreamed of one day finding her family, or at least discovering what had happened to them. She had been too young to remember anything but fleeing with her mother’s hand clasped around hers. Mother had told her to hide. Li Feng remembered they had been running, but she couldn’t remember why. She also remembered the men with the swords who were chasing them.