Queen Dusshela, Queen Gitarji—I must leave you to search for Devi Tara Bai. She is heading east on the North Imperial Highway."

  "Find her, Zhenjin," Gitarji replied firmly. "We can manage on our own."

  "I will leave the palace guard here for your protection," Zhenjin promised. He turned to the younger heirs, his expression softening but serious. "Urduja, Cheongsun—I leave the two Queens with you. You must protect them. You are still both young warriors, but your lessons are complete."

  "Yes, my Khazan," they replied in unison, bowing deeply, honored by the mission Zhenjin had entrusted to them.

  Huaizong, Tan Po, and Do?an were already mounted. Zhenjin swung into his saddle and signaled. The four horses took off, their hooves pounding the smooth paths of the garden. Within moments, they had vanished into the morning mist.

  Cheongsun and Urduja turned back to the caravans, readying the Palace Guards for the next leg of the journey home. As they worked, Urduja glanced toward the dust cloud left by the horses.

  "Why did Zhenjin head North, Urduja?" asked Liwanag.

  "They are looking for Devi Tara Bai," Urduja replied.

  "Another surrender to the suttee?" Uddiawan asked quietly.

  "I think she is a Queen," Urduja noted.

  "That makes three Queens in Khublai's harem," Cheongsun remarked, a shadow of a mustache and beard now visible on his maturing face. "How happy do you think the Great Khan is going to be?"

  "So?" Urduja shrugged.

  "Well, Khublai can't exactly sleep with any of them... but he has to feed them and house them," Cheongsun smirked.

  "He feeds and houses me," snapped Urduja.

  "You're different. You're a vassal," Cheongsun countered. "The Harem is a different institution altogether. It's a viper's nest."

  "Khublai will recognize them as useful allies," Urduja argued.

  "Men never see women as allies," Cheongsun said, his voice dropping an octave. "Especially men like Khublai."

  "I don't believe I'm hearing this from you," Urduja rolled her eyes.

  "You girls live in a bubble," Cheongsun teased. "Zhenjin has always protected you."

  Urduja turned to the older woman. "Uddiawan, is that right?"

  "Let's get on with the day, my children," Uddiawan replied, pushing them toward the horses with a chuckle. "History is rarely written by those who stay behind to argue. Everybody ready, Cheongsun? Urduja? All set?" Mahintha asked. "We proceed to Chengdu."

  When the three-armed Star Maiden, Tiān Nu, impacted the earth and buried her heart at Chengdu, she hit the ground so hard it created concentric ripples in the landscape. The outer ripples were gently sloping hills; the inner ripples rose into higher hills. The rim of the impact crater consisted of steep cliffs and vertical rock columns ending in sharp, pointed peaks. Unlike most modern Xinese cities, Chengdu was not built on a square grid. It sat at a high elevation, within the basin of the impact crater. The Xinese called it the Sunken Garden.

  In the center of the basin was the classic hallmark of an impact crater: the peak ring, or the Féng Huán. In Chengdu, this set of steep hills over the buried heart of the Star Maiden was the most incredible real estate. These steep hills and rock towers sat in a clear lake with an obsidian floor. Light reflected in this lake, and on some days, the Féng Huán became a shimmering display of brilliance.

  The Light Festival of the Star Maiden Tiān Nu takes place over the autumn equinox. Once a year, the brocaders celebrate the arrival of the Star Maiden and pray for her return. Then they prepare for the light display at the Star Maiden's Lake, where her heart lies.

  But Chengdu isn't just about teligious rites and lights; it is a remarkable gift of the celestial gods. Chengdu is also the Queen of Brocades. The very finest silks are made there. It is that special combination of light and minerals on the floor of the basin that gives the silk its transparency. Because it is organic, it has a liquid coating that is waterproof. These were the cocoons Tanda of the Manlilikha desired.

  "There are many kinds of silk, my Mutya," Mahintha told her. "This is the silk you are looking for. It is transparent and waterproof. It can catch the wind, and it is stronger when wet."

  To enter the impact rim of Chengdu, one had to spiral down to the basin floor. The views were breathtaking. However, getting into the basin itself from the outer ripples was not simple. At first, the terrain was gentle, but as one moved toward the Sunken Garden, the land rose and the hills steepened. Some trails through the rippled landscape were only wide enough for a single horse to walk between steep cliffs. Narrow suspended bridges spanned deep chasms. Finally, they broke through the impact rim onto the inner side of the basin—a spiral road with a gentle slope, wide enough for two riders or a caravan to travel without fear of hurtling to the bottom.

  "Where do they grow the worms?" Urduja asked.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "In the hills created when the land rippled," Mahintha answered. "The steeper the hillside, the higher the grade of silkworm. The most prized cocoons are those on the hillsides of the Féng Huán—worms that drink only water from the Obsidian Lake."

  "Who lives there?" asked Urduja.

  "No one now," Mahintha related. "But in the old days, a man named Can Cong, the King of Silkworms, emerged from the heart of the Star Maiden. Like Bathala, the Star Maiden left her people. Those who were not brocaders left for the modern cities standardized during the Han Period. Only the most devoted brocaders stayed—those born with the special gift of being three-armed. This was both a gift and a curse of the Star Maiden. These children were taken to Chengdu to reside in the Palace of Dreams. These Chosen Children are pampered like royals. The Xinese call them Tiān Shi. From the moment they are brought here as toddlers, they are initiated. They wear the best silk, eat the finest food, and listen to the best music. They will never want, and their families receive great remuneration. But that child can never leave the 'glass bowl.' Now, only the Emperor’s sericulturist may enter."

  "The Tiān Nu left her people?" Urduja asked.

  "That is what happens when you disobey your gods," Mahintha said. "Dusshela's Dwarka... the weapons of Lord Arjun... the Austronesians... people are noisy, too many, or too greedy. They displeased their god Bathala. So he sank the kingdom, and all you have left are little rocks. You are disparate. The Tawalesi, the Gascari, and the Sunda—even the Sahul, though many say no one lives there. They are divided by the Kalaliman, which few can cross. Am I right?"

  "I will cross it," Urduja said. "I will cross it," Tala added. "I will cross it," Liwanag echoed.

  "I've crossed it before; I'll do it again," Uddiawan asserted. "It's like your civil service exam. If you can't handle rough seas in your outrigger, you aren't Austronesian."

  "I have crossed," offered Zalir thoughtfully.

  "You?" There was a collective gasp from the Tawalesi.

  “Yes.” Zalir nodded. The Madjapahit royals were quiet. “I was born on Sunda, but my elders fought and they lost. They got into their outriggers and landed on the eastern side of Malaygascar. When I was banished by King Hayam, I crossed the equator again.”

  Urduja rode up to the side of Queen Gitarja’s caravan, where Zalir sat with the driver. "So you are a member of the Brotherhood?"

  Zalir nodded. The entire retinue—Mahintha, Dusshela, Sumita, and the mounted guards—were all listening intently.

  "Did you write the Sumpah’t Panata?" Urduja asked.

  Zalir nodded and sighed. “I was the principal author.”

  “You could not have written it alone,” Uddiawan said.

  “I was the principal author. I believe in a maritime empire. Empires need not a big chunk of land like mainland Asia. It is possible. I believe even though Sunda and Sahul are broken, we can maintain separate island kingdoms.”

  “The four Datus will fight to the finish; they will never stop fighting," Uddiawan said. "And Durjana is Sundanese too, like you, Zalir. The Datus just exported their fight to Malaygascar.”

  “Yes. It seems so.”

  “I am the Batang Mutya.” Asserts Urduja

  “I am aware,” Zalir replied.

  “The Sumpah Palapa means nothing to me, as we don’t produce spice. But the Panata—the idea that we need not fight—is revolutionary. You are a Sundanese saying peace is the way. For Austronesians to stop fighting is not a popular position to take, but I like that.”

  "Thank you, Urduja. That means a lot to me." Zalir reversed his right fist and gently thumped his chest over his heart. It was the classic Austronesian gesture—meaning "with all my heart," or "so earnest I would die for it."

  Urduja returned the gesture.

  “And yet, you are the reason the fight was brought to the Gascari,” Uddiawan added.

  “There are many things I regret,” Zalir sighed.

  “I’d like to cross the Equator,” Cheongsun said.

  “Of course you’re coming with me,” said Urduja. The Tawalesi girls loved Cheongsun like a brother.

  "You're going to have to take all of us, little one," Mahintha said, echoing Zhenjin.

  "We will do it," Urduja said with determination.

  "So these hills are full of silkworms?" Urduja asked.

  "Full. But these hills also listen. There are no sentries at the gates, but the minute you step onto this rippled landscape, the Ba hear you. The hills resonate. Few dare to pass, especially as the climb becomes more demanding."

  "Who are the Ba?" asked Urduja.

  "They are the guardians of the Tiān Shi," Mahintha said. "And the Shu are their servants. The Chosen Children, or the Tiān Shi, never want for anything, but they can never leave the glass bowl. They are too precious to the Empire."

  "In a strange way, it reminds me of home... because of its natural outer wall," Gitarja observed. "But the walls of Ambohiby are not smooth like this."

  "I have long wanted to see Chengdu," Dusshela added. "It is even more marvelous than the stories."

  Everyone who entered Chengdu was altered by the experience. Their jaws dropped as they entered the "Emerald City." The vassals and their guests spent the evening at the glass bowl, watching the sky mirrored by the floor. As the sun set, the sky and the floor became one—an endless expanse where the stars twinkled at their feet, making them feel as if they were flying. In that state of suspended animation among the stars the fell asleep and woke up to a technicolor morning.

  After a hearty breakfast provided by their hosts, the Shu, they departed for the Cuiyin Corridor.

  "Tara Bai is traveling toward Hohhot, Khazan," Do?an reported as they neared the city.

  "If we enter Hohhot, many will recognize you, Khazan," Tan Po warned.

  "If she is traveling incognito, we will give her disguise away just by being near her. And I can only imagine Sambodji has assassins after her."

  "I'm sure of it," Zhenjin said, pulling his horse to a halt. "Huaizong... you ride in with Do?an and Tan Po. Stay at the Changhelang District. Put on my armor. Tell them that you are me. And for the sake of the Empire, don't ruin my reputation while you're at it. Disguise is paramount."

  Huaizong grinned, happily donning Zhenjin's ceremonial helmet and breastplate. To look the part of a humble traveler, Zhenjin took Tan Po's hooded monk's cloak. His royal finery was packed away.

  As the "Prince" and his entourage entered Hohhot, the real Zhenjin walked into the main market, a shadow beneath a coarse brown hood. He knocked at the side door of a small shop.

  The shopkeeper gasped, recognizing the eyes beneath the hood. "My Khazan! Welcome. Please, sit. Let us have tea; the kettle boils."

  As the steam rose from the cups, Dong Fen looked at his guest. "You are here alone, Khazan, and hooded in the rags of a monk..."

  "I'm looking for Devi Tara Bai."

  "The news says she is dead, Khazan. Is she truly here?"

  "I believe so. Do?an's birds tracked her this way."

  "Where are you staying, my Khazan?"

  "Huaizong is at the Bantala Inn in Changhelang with Tan Po and Do?an. He is disguised as me."

  "A wise ruse! I shall send the 'Prince' some spices. I have Blue Lotus, dried Kharkasus Rose..."

  "Thank you, Dong Fen. Send plenty; Mahintha will appreciate it when we reunite. But be careful—Huaizong is playing a role. Advise your runner to speak only to 'Khazan Zhenjin.' Can you find accommodations for me discreetly?"

  "I have a room upstairs, my Khazan. Not fit for a Khan, but very discreet," offered Dong Fen.

  "That is the best," Zhenjin said, pleased.