Shortly after Yun's departure, the heavens began to shed drops of icy rain, rain that soaked straight though my new heavy cloak and chilled me to the core. Cold and paranoid, I ducked into a narrow side street that I calculated would lead me straight to the town's exit while avoiding its larger crowds. A miscalculation as it turned out, by any measure.

The street, which was already relatively empty, cleared completely of people as the rain raged stronger. I was left to run by myself to the pitter patter of heaven's tears.

Suddenly, I halted.

Chancing to look up, I realized with a start that I wasn't alone as I had thought. Several steps ahead there stood a tall, lone figure under a large umbrella. Half-blinded by the relentless downpour, I was just able to make out dark robes embroidered with gold thread.

Gold thread . . . my heart sank. Who but a royal would dare wear gold? They've found me after all. The wedding will proceed, or I'll be taken back to that hell, or I'll be put to death.

Then again, I thought with a flutter of hope, perhaps he hadn't spotted me. He, whoever he may be, stood with his back towards me, as if waiting for something or someone. I made an about-face, planning to slink back the way I came.

Too late. Coming up from behind was another group of men, their footsteps previously masked by the rain. I counted five at least, and in a moment they would catch up to me. Already I heard one cry, Stop right there! You're outnumbered.

I hesitated—forward or back? dead ends both ways—then made a split second decision. Just as the man with the gold threaded robe turned to face me, I leapt up to him and thrust my dagger against his throat, knocking his umbrella from his hand.

"Don't move," I whispered, fear quelling the tremor in my voice, lending me strength. "Call off your men, and I'll let you go."

My hostage tensed, but when he looked down at me, he appeared faintly surprised. It was a feeling I shared, for I realized that I recognized him. Wasn't he precisely the man from this morning, the man with the magnificent horse? Could this man be associated with the Queen, I wondered, when I had never before set eyes on him in the capital. We stared at each other in silence while we tread the momentary impasse.

"Who are you?" he finally asked in a low, commanding voice.

Shouldn't that be my question? But this calmed me a fraction: if he didn't know who I was, then he couldn't be after me. Continuing to fake my bravado, I growled, "You don't need to know. Look, just call off your henchmen, and I'll let you go on your way."

Brief confusion flashed across his handsome faces. He replied dryly, "They're not with me."

"What?"

"They're local thieves after my money. They've stalked me all day, so I led them here to teach them a lesson. I gather now that you're not with them. Look, if you let me go now, you're free to go. They don't want anything to do with you."

But they were already upon us, cornering us in a small semi circle. I saw at once that the man spoke the truth. These men who surrounded us--boys, really--were nothing more than village brutes, common to all small towns. They couldn't have had anything to do the elegant man I held at knife point, whose robes were made of silk.

Their leader, a fat youth of about 20, waddled up to us with a sly smile and said to me, "Little boy, I don't know where you came from, but this man's ours. We've had our eye on him all day. Finder's keepers. Besides, he isn't worth much all on his own. We're holding onto him until his friend at the inn hands over the ransom. You give him over now and we won't harm you."

Ironically, the more he elaborated, the more relieved I felt. They weren't after me! All they wanted was money, and not even my money at that. I was safe. I almost laughed.

But now, as my mind cleared from the fog of anxiety, I began to wonder if it was so wise to hand my captive over without much of a fight. Would these simple bandits actually let me go, or would they kill me to shut me up? From their dark, sinister expressions, the latter was not out of the question.

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I turned to my prisoner and whispered, "Just trust me."

His face, which never lost its solemnity, nevertheless betrayed a glimmer of amusement.

The thief grew impatient and whined: "Well, are you handing him over or not?"

I cleared my throat. "Yes, of course sir. I hardly dare compete with you. I'll hand it over at once. But look, here I've got him at knifepoint; that's why he isn't moving. If I just let him go, surely he'll draw his sword and slaughter me; indeed, perhaps even slaughter you!"

The fleshy youth eyed me suspiciously. "Well, then what do you propose, boy?"

"You come here and I'll hand you my dagger. Then you'll have him without any trouble and I'll be on my way."

He hesitated, peering at the sword that hung at the man's waist. His underlings, however, were easily convinced and they cried for him to proceed. The boy's right, they called out. Why risk the captive's escape? Besides, what can this little pipsqueak do even if he were lying? We'd crush him!

Persuaded by his comrades, the leader crept forward and reached for my dagger. "You're right boy," he slurred, "Now hand over that dagger. That's right, in my hand here—"

I obeyed, plunging the dagger into his outstretched palm, eliciting a piercing scream. While he was crippled by the pain, I plucked the blade back out and held it at his neck, restraining his useless hands behind his back in an iron grasp.

Thank goodness Yun had taught me a few moves back in the day.

I turned to his dumbfounded gang and shouted, "If you don't want him to die, you'd best leave us now. That's right, scatter, or else I'll kill him!"

The boys looked at each other in bewilderment. Two even made to step forward, no doubt thinking they could overpower tiny me. But they hesitated at the last minute, in part due to the pleading whimpers of their leader and in part, no doubt, due to the fact that the dark robed man now stood free and had unsheathed his sharp sword a few inches. Its metal glinted in the moonlight like a menace.

All right, all right, they said, slowly backing away. Just don't hurt him. A strange brotherhood of small town thieves, more noble than all those hollow alliances of aristocrats. They scattered in the wind.

After they had gone for a few minutes, a whine: "You can let me go now, can't you?"

I considered my prisoner contemplatively. Soaked and bloody, crippled in one hand, he certainly seemed harmless. But just as a precaution...I thrust the dagger in his right shoulder and twisted. Another scream. He won't be able to use that arm for a good few weeks. Sobbing into the folds of his flesh, he crawled away into the maze of shadows.

Heaving a small sigh of relief, I too hurried to leave. The episode had delayed my return to the temple by a good half hour, and as the adrenaline seeped out of my body, I was filled with a deep, cold exhaustion.

But before I had walked two steps, I was detained by a strong grasp. The man in the gold threaded robe stared down at me with furrowed brows. "You didn't have to cripple his arm," he accused quietly. Somehow, though he was as soaked as I, he lost none of his regal authority.

I tried to wrench my arm free, to no avail, though in the process, my hair tie finally gave way and my long, soaked strands fell wildly around my face. "He was going to kidnap you and kill me," I cried through clattering teeth, strangely near tears. I just wanted to go home, to my little sanctuary in the forest, so why couldn't he understand: "Just let me go, won't you? He'll be fine in a month or so."

I saw his eyes widen, then soften. "You're a gi—"

A sharp sword swung between us, forcing him to let go of me. He avoided the piercing blade with an elegant half turn. Not everyone would have been able to avoid that lightening quick slice; here was a skilled fighter. Yet he had allowed me to hold him at dagger point without protest . . .

I, on the other hand, was immediately captured.

"Yun," I whispered, following into a familiar embrace.

With me in his arms, Zhao Yun jumped safely to a low roof on one the side of the street. The worry in his pretty grey eyes was unmistakeable. What happened, are you hurt, who's this man, he asked all in a jumble. Too tired to respond, I merely shook my head, trembling from the cold.

Meanwhile, the man with the gold-threaded robe stared up at us and demanded, "Who are you? Name yourselves."

"No one you need to know," Zhao Yun replied coldly. "Forget this ever happened. It's for the best." Before the man could say anything more, Zhao Yun had already begun a quick sprint across the rooftops and we soon left the man behind, along with my nightmarish encounter in the dark alley.

When I looked back once more, I saw the man staring after us with his serious, solemn gaze. I was struck by the thought that here was a relentless man, that he always finds the answers he wants.

Time would prove me right.

***

Back at the temple, I shed my wet cloak and baked myself by the small fire that Yun built, refusing to respond to his myriad questions except to say I was fine.

"Did you find out who was following us?" I asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

He looked taken aback, surprised I had even remembered. Evading my eyes, he said, "I was mistaken. There was no one."

I hummed in feigned nonchalance, the wheels in my head beginning to turn. I felt, surely, that he was hiding something.