Page 92 of The Immortal’s Mark

Chapter 16

Street Food and Poor Decisions

Chapter 644: In which our heroine discovers that teaching an emperor to be ordinary is harder than killing one.

Day four on the road to Jiangzhou, and I’ve made a terrible discovery.

The road to the southern provinces winds through farmland and forest, past villages too small to have names and market towns that spring up where rivers cross roads. We’ve been traveling as what we’re pretending to be—a merchant and his wife, headed south to investigate tea suppliers. The cover is thin but functional. Nobody looks twice at a well-dressed couple with a yowling cat in a basket and opinions about trade routes.

Well. Almost nobody.

The cover would work better if the merchant half of our arrangement could manage basic commerce.

Which brings me to my terrible discovery.

The emperor of the realm cannot haggle.

I mean, I suspected. When you’ve spent your entire life having people bow and scrape and provide, you probably don’t develop strong opinions about the fair market price of rice. But I’d hoped. Foolishly. Optimistically. Like an idiot.

The market town of Huang’an spreads around us in cheerful chaos—the kind of place that exists because two roads cross and everyone needs somewhere to stop for the night. Not important enough for garrison troops. Not wealthy enough for silk merchants. Just people, living, in the messy way people live when empires aren’t paying attention.

I’d sent him for rice. One task. Purchase rice. Bring back rice. Even children manage this.

“What happened?” I ask, staring at his empty hands.

He’s standing in the middle of the market square looking genuinely bewildered, which is an expression I’ve never seen on an emperor’s face before. It’s doing something strange to my chest. I ignore it.

“I told the merchant I required rice.”

“And?”

“He asked how much I was willing to pay.” Ren pauses. Something flickers across his face—not quite embarrassment, but close. On anyone else it would be mortification. On him it’s this tiny fracture in the imperial composure, barely visible unless you know what to look for.

I know what to look for.

“I said whatever it costs.”

“Oh no.”

“He seemed distressed. He kept bowing. I believe I frightened him.”

“You believe—” I stop. Take a breath. Remember that throttling the man I’m supposed to be protecting would defeat the purpose of this entire journey. “Of course you frightened him. You walked up to a rice merchant and basically told him you have unlimited money and no opinions. He probably thought you were testing him. Some kind of secret inspector. A noble looking for an excuse to have his family executed.”

Ren considers this with the same gravity he probably brings to border disputes. “That does explain the trembling.”

From somewhere inside Ren’s collar—specifically, from the tiny dragon who has spent this entire journey tucked against his chest and radiating displeasure about everything—a voice like dry leaves scraping stone: “Perhaps you should have specified that you are merely awkward, little flame. It would have been more believable than whatever that was.”

Ren’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “Your observations are not helpful.”

“They are rarely meant to be.”

“Stay here,” I tell him. “Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t look at anyone. Just—stand there and look ordinary.”

“I am uncertain how to accomplish that.”

“I know. That’s the problem.”

I head back to the merchant’s stall. The poor man is still vibrating with anxiety, convinced he’s somehow offended a traveling noble and his entire family is about to be executed for the crime of asking a reasonable question about rice.