Yi Ho was hurrying to return to the Magistrate’s house as quickly as possible. The weather was uncooperative; snow had begun falling again, persistently trying to creep up his sleeves. At least he had renewed the talisman that morning, so there was no need to worry about that until evening.

  He had only a dozen steps left to go when a maid rushed toward him. It seemed she had been sheltering from the weather in the doorway and had been waiting specifically for him.

  “Your Highness!” the girl cried, throwing herself at his feet right in the middle of the street. “Please, hear me out! Help me!”

  “Yes?” Yi Ho bent toward her. “What has happened?”

  The fact that she had waited for him outside the house hinted at problems with her master, matters she would not dare mention indoors.

  Or it could have been an ambush. But the street remained deserted; even the wandering vendors had hidden from the ever-falling snow. Only the ghost that had followed him from the Magistrate’s office hovered a few steps behind for no clear reason.

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  “Please, help Clay Pot,” she sobbed openly. “He meant no harm, he is just a foolish boy. Save him, Your Highness!”

  “I understand nothing,” Yi Ho frowned. “Get up, brush yourself off, and explain properly what has happened.”

  The girl rose from her knees, sniffling and still staring at the ground.

  “He is my friend, Clay Pot. He is a hunter,” the maid sniffed. “He acted foolishly, and now those Manchus are chasing him. Help us, please! They will kill him, and he…”

  “Why would the Manchus chase a hunter?” Yi Ho raised an eyebrow. “Did he shoot someone?”

  The maid shook her head and wiped her face with her sleeve.

  “He was in the mountains, saw something beautiful, and stole it. He is foolish! Let him be judged by our laws, let them beat him with sticks, as long as he lives. Help us!” she pleaded desperately.

  The Manchus were hunting a man who had stolen something beautiful? Yi Ho leaned closer to the maid’s ear.

  “And this little thing would not happen to be golden, would it?” he asked quietly.

  The maid recoiled, staring at him with wide, frightened eyes.

  “How do you know?” she whispered.

  “Take an umbrella and lead me to him,” Yi Ho ordered. This was an opportunity too remarkable to ignore.

  “An umbrella?” the maid repeated in surprise.

  “It is snowing,” the prince pointed out. “Hurry.”