Yi Yun straightened his shoulders and seemed to see everything around him anew. He could hesitate no longer; his word had become law.

  “Is it not time to conclude this ceremony, Envoy Zhao?” he asked. They both knew he meant the apprehension of the criminals. It was time to call them to account.

  “Yes, a long road lies ahead of us,” Prince Rui replied with a smile, narrowing his eyes, and Yi Yun recognized that smile. Deceptively benevolent, it foretold ruin and destruction for his enemies. “With the embassy, the annual offerings to the divine Emperor — a token of mutual respect between our peoples — depart to Great Qing. What a magnificent sight our caravan makes, does it not? Twenty-eight carts line the streets of Anju, ready to continue their journey.”

  The joy in the crowd subsided. Ornate speeches could not make people forget that these gifts were in truth tribute to a conqueror. They were the sweat of the people, taxes squeezed from their families. At least this time the embassy was not carrying young women off into slavery.

  The elevated mood visibly faded, but Prince Rui did not hurry to remedy it.

  “Perhaps I misheard Envoy Zhao,” Yi Yun finally said, delivering a phrase prepared in advance. Hyun was meant to say it, but now this role seemed to have passed to him together with the unexpected title. “Joseon is a modest country, and our wealth is not as great as it once was. I am flattered by Envoy Zhao’s words about twenty-eight carts, yet for the sake of accuracy I must note that in truth the King of Joseon presents the Emperor of Great Qing with only a paltry twenty-three carts of gifts.”

  “That accords with the embassy records,” Prince Rui nodded gravely, smoothing his mustache. “And yet there are twenty-eight carts standing in the street. Perhaps you will enlighten me as to the origin of the extra five?”

  A tense murmur rose in the crowd. Standing with his face toward the magistracy gates, Yi Yun saw the magistrate’s steward hurry away, only for the guards warned in advance to cross their spears and bar his escape.

  “I conducted an investigation and can satisfy the envoy’s curiosity,” Yi Yun raised his voice so it carried to every corner of the wide courtyard. Magistrate Kwon, who had until then been standing on the steps, went pale and began to look around nervously. “These five carts are not royal gifts. They are contraband, the payment for pills smuggled from the Qing Empire, known as Hwangu. The criminals used them to poison the king’s subjects. The contents of an embassy caravan are not inspected at the border, and the criminals exploited this for their harmful trade. Such a scheme would have been impossible without the assistance of subjects of the Emperor. Therefore I ask for the cooperation of Envoy Zhao, who is eyes and ears of the Emperor, to conclude this investigation and punish the guilty!”

  “This is a serious accusation, Crown Prince,” Prince Rui said, drawing his brows together sternly, though Yi Yun saw lively sparks dancing in his eyes. “Do you have evidence to support it?”

  To their shared surprise, shouts rang out from the crowd.

  “It’s Magistrate Kwon!”

  “Seize the magistrate!”

  It seemed that townspeople and servants who for many years had helped haul goods into warehouses and had witnessed what was happening had finally understood it. Their testimony was worth taking after the arrest of the principal culprits.

  “The investigation of this crime was conducted by Secret Royal Inspector Baek Jae-sung. The criminals killed him, fearing he would expose their deeds. However he left a report,” Yi Yun said, producing a scroll from his sleeve and presenting it to Prince Rui with both hands. “It contains details and the names of the criminals. The crime was committed on Joseon soil against Joseon subjects. I wish to arrest all involved and submit them to the royal court.”

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  Yi Yun had written the inspector’s report under his dictation through the entire second half of the night.

  After the prince had set up a makeshift memorial tablet for him and left an offering of a small pile of rice cakes, inspector Baek was able to recover his memory and found satiety. He was horrified by his own coarse behavior and begged forgiveness repeatedly. In the end, to comfort him, Yi Yun agreed to “become his brush” and record the results of his final investigation.

  Thus he learned many details of the affair, and in the morning showed the fair copy of the scroll to Hyun and the regent. All agreed it would be a fitting addition to their performance, and now Yi Yun formally handed the scroll to Prince Rui.

  “Some of the criminals are subjects of the Emperor,” Prince Rui declared, not even pretending to glance at the scroll before passing it to a servant. “I cannot agree to their arrest by Joseon’s royal guard. By concluding peace, the Qing Empire assumed obligations toward its younger brother. I will not allow criminals from Qing to burden Joseon further. Subjects of the Emperor will be seized by the warriors of the White Banner.”

  With these words, Prince Rui raised his hand and opened a white fan. This was the signal awaited by soldiers hidden among the people. The crowd surged, cries erupting on all sides. In addition to the four principal culprits, all those who had traveled with the embassy for more than two years were to be detained. Prince Rui insisted that they be questioned to identify anyone who might have known of or participated in the smuggling.

  All members of Magistrate Kwon’s family and household were also seized. The magistrate himself began to tremble, fled down the steps, and fell at Yi Yun’s feet.

  “They forced me, forced me!” he wailed through tears. “Please understand, they forced me! I did not kill the inspector, I swear!”

  “You will tell that to the interrogator,” Yi Yun cut him off coldly. Magistrate Kwon had remained in his post for fifteen years, against all laws and custom. He must have had a patron higher up, and Yi Yun intended to unravel that story.

  Adviser Fang was seized without difficulty. Two disguised Manchu soldiers bound him with ropes as he stood pale as chalk, neither resisting nor begging for mercy. Then he was dragged to the cleared center of the courtyard and thrown at Prince Rui’s feet.

  “Wretched dog,” Prince Rui hissed. “You are a disgrace to the Empire, a gadfly alighting on the hem of the imperial robes. How dared you betray the trust of the Son of Heaven?”

  “The trust of the Son of Heaven?” the adviser repeated faintly, then suddenly burst into laughter. “The trust of a ten-year-old boy who dares not take a single step without the prince-regent’s permission?! No. He did not appoint me envoy, and he will not be the one to kill me.”

  Prince Rui’s nostrils flared dangerously. He kicked the kneeling adviser in the face, sending him sprawling, blood pouring from his broken mouth.

  “You should have been killed on the spot, filth,” Prince Rui said with disgust. Instead, he bent down, wound the adviser’s thin braid around his fist, and yanked his head up. “But disrespect toward the Emperor does not deserve a quick and simple death.”

  “My patron will destroy you, Envoy Zhao,” every word was accompanied by a babble of blood mixed with saliva, the adviser continued to laugh like a madman. “You, your masters, the boy — all of you, barbarians. Real power lies with him. There is none more powerful in the Great Ming than the Teacher!”

  “Is that so?” Prince Rui’s voice turned to ice, and Yi Yun thought he might turn the madman’s neck or crush his skull with his bare hands. “Shall I tell you a secret?”

  The regent pulled the adviser closer, muscles bulging beneath his silk sleeves, leaned to his ear, and whispered something. The mad laughter stopped at once, the adviser’s eyes bulged. Yi Yun turned away from the unpleasant scene with a faint smile. He could guess what exact secret Prince Rui had shared with the poor man.

  Guards and soldiers herded the bound prisoners and seated them in the middle of the courtyard. Some were terrified and confused, others wailed and begged for mercy. The magistrate’s wife and daughter sobbed.

  “One is missing,” Hyun said quietly, touching Yi Yun’s sleeve.

  The newly appointed Crown Prince surveyed the captives once more. The magistrate, his family, the steward, assorted servants, Adviser Fang now silent at last, a dozen frail embassy clerks… None of them was taller than Yi Yun himself. The Mongol bodyguard of the adviser had vanished while all attention had been drawn to the raving madman.

  Had they lost the night assassin?