Surprisingly, it was An, who had lost the most to Zu’s scheming, that vetoed paying a late night visit to him with a dagger between her teeth.

“We kill him, we can never come back to the city again, if we even make it out alive,” she said, two days later in Lian’s room. “Forget the city, we can’t even come to this Kingdom, most likely. And I like it here. Besides, if we kill him, we won’t get any money.”

“Fuck money,” Yaling responded, “look at your hand.”

An’s smallest finger had become infected, and the doctor they’d taken her to had instructed the only way she could avoid losing the whole hand was to cut off the finger. They’d taken it in one chop, and An had barely even grunted. Compared to having the fingernail removed under the curse, the pain was minimal.

“I can still use it at least, and I was never going to win any contest for ‘most beautiful hands’ anyway. Zu will pay for my finger, but not with his life. I want my slave island.”

“But Zu didn’t promise us anything – he was counting on the Empress’ money. Zu’s rich,” Lian said, “but not slave island rich.”

“Maybe not, but we didn’t all just walk out with Wamaian gold one day, did we?”

And there was the thing Lian had been ignoring – the truth that her gold had separated her from her friends in some way. If worse came to worse, Lian could always move back to Three Paths and live out her days in the hotel she owned. Or to any of the other cities in which she owned businesses and homes. An didn’t have that choice. Not that An was especially poor – and Yaling only ever lacked money because she couldn’t help but spend everything as soon as she earned it – but she didn’t have a safety net, and each year she grew older, was a year her decision not to marry would hang over her larger and larger. She wanted a rich husband without the husband, and Lian couldn’t fault her for that.

“Ok, fine. But we don’t take his shit. We’re getting paid, and paid well. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Yaling and An both nodded.

They walked back in to Zu’s estate without an appointment or care. Lian happily acted as the muscle to push security out of the way where necessary, before they kicked in the door to Zu’s office. Lian drew her Shuli Go sword and waved it at the security rushing up behind them, ready to fight if need be. It was Yaling who spoke first. “Mister Zu, I believe we have some things to discuss.”

Zu, sitting behind his desk and hunched over a number of papers – a confused and terrified retinue of hangers-on to each of his sides – laughed. The news of Prefect Tai’s death had spread quickly, but none of the newspapers or criers could agree on what had caused it. Zu, obviously, had a better idea than most.

“Yes,” he agreed, “yes we do. Please, come in.”

He waved off the security behind the women, and then ordered chairs and refreshments be brought in for the four of them.

“I see our mission was a success,” he said as he sipped his tea, smiling the whole time.

“Our mission?” An was incredulous. “I thought our mission was to retrieve the Book of Dragons.”

“Hmm… perhaps you’re right. My mission. My mission was to see Prefect Tai dead. Your mission was to recover a book that doesn’t exist.”

Lian couldn’t help herself. She chuckled. “I knew it. All that show and all those stories, just to get us to go in there and do your dirty work for you?”

“So you knew the book wasn’t in there?” An was confused.

“My dear,” Zu replied, “there’s no such thing as the Book of Dragons. Your friend here was quite correct.”

“So you enchanted a protection over a nothing piece of paper?” Yaling asked.

“Well the paper wasn’t nothing. I really did buy it five years ago. And it did survive a fire, but only after I set it on fire to make sure I got my money’s worth on the spell. Which was quite expensive, I have to say. I almost wasn’t sure it was worthwhile, but I figured eventually I may eventually require the services of a Shuli Go, who would see through an outright lie with ease. I never truly lied to you, you see.” Zu shook his head and chuckled. “I’m glad I paid extra for the spell, actually.”

“The professors at the Encyclopaedia Institute?” Lian asked.

“Confirmed that yes, it was a piece of paper written in gold ink, and that yes, the Book of Dragons doesn’t exist.”

“And the conjoining?” An asked.

“A slice off an apple I had tossed into his courtyard. Would point you in the right direction, but wouldn’t be much help after that.”

“Did you know anything about what he was doing in there? With the Book of Terrors?” Yaling asked.

“I had some idea. And I have to say, the way you killed him was just perfect. It’s all rumor and conjecture, and nobody inside his office can say a thing. Now I can place the rumor that he was planting sleeper agents across the Empire – which I’m pretty sure he actually was. Madam Zhao, you were an officer of the law: what’s the punishment for attempting to overthrow the Empire?”

“Death. For you, and three generations in every direction.”

“That’s right. There won’t be a Tai in a thousand miles with a claim to his prefecture. And I just happen to have completed all the necessary paperwork to be considered for just that post.”

“That was your game?” An was incredulous. “You wanted to be the Prefect? But you’re a gangster.”

“Who better to rid the prefecture of organized crime? I already speak the language of the criminal. I can learn the language of the bureaucrat. And it’s my belief that communication is a much better path to peace than inquiries and witch-hunts.”

“You already sound like a fucking politician.” Lian spat.

Zu laughed. “Yes, I suppose I always had it in me.”

“Enough,” An stamped her foot. “We have to talk about rewards.”

“Hmm…” Zu cupped his chin in his hand. “Yes, I thought you might ask about that.”

“I’m not asking,” An menaced.

“Well,” Zu lifted his shoulders, “as I recall, I promised you half the profit from the sale of the book. Since there’s no book, I don’t see any profit that I can possibly share.”

“A book you knew didn’t exist.” Yaling replied fiercely.

“That may be, but our agreement was very clear. No book, no profit, no sharing.”

“Our agreement was not clear,” An explained, trying very hard to be rational but the anger seeping through her voice, “because you did not explain the realities of the situation to us. That makes the agreement useless.”

“Well if we have no agreement,” Zu spread his hands wide, “then what reason would I offer you anything?”

An and Yaling groaned in exasperation, then continued to try and argue with him. But Lian saw something in the middle aged man: a sliver of the old pickpocket peeking through the scars on his face – scars he was trying desperately to hide, to mask in pretty words. Lian knew the politician in Zu could respond to words for days, but the gangster in him would respond to something else entirely.

“Zu,” Lian said, standing up and placing her hand on her Wamaian sword – at her waist, better and easier to draw in small distances. “You’re going to pay us each 25 gold pieces for our work. And then you’re going to pay An 25 more gold pieces for the finger she lost doing your dirty work.” She paused. “This is not a negotiation. This is me telling you what’s going to happen. And if you consider it a negotiation in any way, I only need to tell you that It took me three steps to get onto that desk and cut your magic piece of bullshit paper. It will take me two to cut your head off your shoulders.”

Zu’s face narrowed and his grin grew sinister. Lian had succeeded at drawing out the young thief from the aging politician. “That would not be very wise of you,” he threatened.

“You forget, I was tortured by Tai for three days in ways that are a million times worse than anything you’ve dreamt. I’m not scared of your chicken-shit men and their bamboo spikes. Plus, you’ll be dead. Which will make the whole experience worthwhile.”

An and Yaling held their breath, while Zu and Lian stared at each other. It was theater of course – Lian was terrified of Zu’s torture chambers – but she knew she was asking a reasonable sum. And she knew that in his heart, Zu was a complete asshole. And assholes like him only responded to one thing. Violence, and the threat of it.

Zu blinked first. “A hundred gold, you say? I’m not sure I even have that much in all my accounts at the moment…”

“I don’t care. Borrow it if you have to. You’re about to come into a lot of money as the Prefect of Liangyong. You won’t have trouble paying off the debt.”

Zu leaned back in his chair, seeming to evaluate the situation, but Lian knew she’d beaten him already. Whether he saw through her bluff or not, didn’t matter. He respected the possibility that she might kill him. And that was enough.

“Fine, a deal.” He stood up and bowed to the women in the formal fashion of a completed business transaction. They each rose and bowed in return.

“We are staying at the Xiaoyang. You can send the money there.”

“Very well. And thank you for doing such an excellent job.”

Lian looked at An and Yaling, ushering them out of the room before anything could go wrong. But An had one final question for Zu.

“How did you know we’d kill him, once we were inside?”

“I didn’t. I knew Tai was a very paranoid man though, and that you’d likely have a chance.”

“And if we didn’t? If we just brought the Book of Terrors back?”

“Then I’d probably have you killed before you walked in here, and sold the book for a profit.”

An experienced the same rage that Lian had in Tai’s dungeon, but there was no magic spell to hold back the vibrations through her body. Lian ushered her out before she could draw a dagger and get them all killed.