The following morning in Hohhot, Dong Fen proved himself more than a spicer; he was a master of logistics. He provided fresh, spirited horses for the entire company. For Do?an, Huaizong, Tan Po, and Zhenjin, there were practical traveling kits, including a heavy satchel for the absent Mahintha. For the lady, he presented a small, shimmering glass phial of patchouli, and for the Nine Wizards, he offered carved boxes of the finest ceremonial tea.

  "To keep the mind sharp when the world grows blurred," Dong Fen whispered as the wizards accepted the gifts with silent nods.

  Their destination was Ulaanqab, the final bastion before the Great Wall. Its main street was a straight, uncompromising line leading directly to the Eastern Gate of the Empire. Within this city sat an "enclave within an enclave"—the Forbidden City of Ulaanqab. Here, the five Temple Monks processed the endless scrolls of those seeking an audience with the Great Khan.

  Of course, one never truly meets the Khan there; he was usually found at the Opera House, surrounded by poets and generals. At best, a traveler might meet Master Tenger, but even that required a mountain of paperwork. Ulaanqab was not a city of trade or perfume; it was a massive, efficient machine for processing human ambition.

  "He wants us to go through the Lion Gate?" Tan Po asked, eyeing the map. "A mad dash up the main road to Badaling?"

  "There must be another way," Do?an grumbled. "Every wrestler in the city wants to challenge Zhenjin, and every woman is smitten with him. We'll be swamped before we reach the bridge."

  "We could disguise him," Tara Bai suggested, a playful glint in her eyes.

  "Are we truly afraid of gymnasium aspirants and love-struck ladies?" Huaizong asked with a grin.

  "No," Tan Po countered. "But a frantic dash attracts the wrong kind of attention. At the drawbridge, his face is as recognizable as the sun. There is another entry further north, though it is a long trek."

  Zhenjin shook his head, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "We brave Ulaanqab. The sooner we get the Devi Tara Bai behind the Great Wall, the better. Let's rumble."

  The "rumble" began the moment they crossed the threshold. Despite their hoods, the ripple of recognition was instantaneous. Protocol was absolute here: horses were not allowed in the inner processing zone. As they dismounted, messengers were already sprinting toward the office of Sky Master Tenger to announce the Prince's arrival.

  They were immediately intercepted by the servants of the millionaire Xinfu, who insisted they stay at the Xingfu House—a towering mansion a stone's throw from the Quanshan Grand Theatre. Xinfu himself rushed out, his silk robes rustling. "My Khazan! Welcome to my humble abode!" he gushed, bowing so low his forehead nearly touched the cobblestones.

  "Thank you, Xinfu," Zhenjin replied, maintaining his royal mask. "May I introduce my guest, the Lady Sobeknefaru."

  Tara Bai offered a regal smile. "Oh! My beautiful lady, my house is honored!" Xinfu turned to the others. "And of course, Prince Huaizong and Master Tan Po! Such handsome men!"

  As they were ushered into the massive house, Zhenjin noticed with a start that Do?an and the Nine Wizards had vanished into the crowds as if they had never existed.

  Zhenjin and "Lady Sobeknefaru" were settled into the top-floor suite—a sun-drenched gallery of cushions and silk.

  "Where are the Nine Wizards?" Zhenjin asked, pacing the room while Tara Bai relaxed.

  "I like this pampered life," she murmured. There was a sharp, dangerous glint in her eye that terrified him more than her flying kick ever could. "I could get used to this."

  "I've seen you fight," Zhenjin said under his breath. "You'll tire of cushions soon enough."

  "That is what the last man said," she replied softly.

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  Zhenjin stopped pacing. He stepped forward, meeting her gaze as a fellow warrior. "Did you love him?"

  "Yes."

  "And the wizards? Where are they?"

  "Somewhere nearby," she said, her voice turning serious. "I must return to Sindhu eventually, Khazan. I carry the heir of Akbar within me."

  Zhenjin went still. "I see."

  "I have sent word to Lahore and Agra of my condition," she continued. "Despite my pleas, the war has not stopped. The Lords Jahangir and Jahan are out to avenge their father, and this war is being waged in my name. They intend to install me on the Rajput throne."

  "Is that what you want?"

  Tara Bai looked toward the Great Wall. "I am alive, and this child is alive, because of those nine wizards. My life was spared by a King's mercy... for myself, I prefer a quiet life. But my son? Perhaps he has another calling. I will not deny him his birthright."

  Zhenjin nodded slowly. "I'll leave you here with your... absentee advisers." He paused at the door. "And I'm sorry about the name. I couldn't think of anything else."

  "Sobeknefaru," she tasted the name, smiling. "It has a certain... ancient power to it."

  Meanwhile, Mahintha sent Cheongsun and the Tawalesi girls ahead to Baoding to inform Temple Master Mod of the arrival of the vassals. The younger vassals galloped ahead, glad to break from the grueling darkness of the Cuiyin Corridor.

  The farm roads of the Emperor were wide, smooth, and well-maintained. Mahintha, Uddiawan, Dusshela, and Sumita stayed with the caravans housing the Madjapahit and Chola royals, along with twenty palace guards. They arrived at Baoding before nightfall. Temple Master Mod met them at the gate and joined them for dinner.

  At a nearby table, two queens sat together, dressed to hide their true identities. Most bureaucrats were familiar with Mahintha, but they did not suspect his glamorous guests were Queen Gitarji and Queen Dusshela.

  Back in Ulaanqab, the Xingfu mansion was a hive of activity. Couturiers rushed in and out TaraBai’s suite. By evening, a gown of cobalt-blue silk had been fashioned for Tara Bai’s presentation as Zhenjin's consort.

  Zhenjin gathered his inner circle. "Huaizong, you must perform tonight. Keep the public's attention on the stage while I spirit the Devi away. We need our horses ready."

  From the shadows, a wizard stepped forward. "I shall manage the horses, Khazan."

  Zhenjin jumped. "Donkey's ass! You startled me. But I have been wondering about this opera... could you use your arts to make the experience... memorable?"

  "Magic?" the wizard asked with a dry smile. "Oh, yes. I believe we can provide a distraction that will rivet every eye in the city to that stage." He vanished back into the stone.

  "Are there any more wizards in the walls?" asked Tan Po. Silence followed.

  That night, Zhenjin, Huaizong, and Tan Po dressed in their finest—purple changshans and leather maguas embroidered in gold. Tara Bai looked every inch the enchanting royal in cobalt blue and white fur.

  I will playfully purr", she winks at Zhenjin.

  Huaizong and Tan Po sigh. "She's breathtakingly beautiful." Huaizong whispers in dreamlike state

  "Thank God I'm a monk!" An exclamation TanPo will make many times in his lifelong friendship with Huaizong.

  Tonight, the theater would be their battlefield.

  As evening fell, the Grand Opera House of Ulaanqab filled. Master Tenger walked in, a striking figure dressed entirely in lethal white. He stood before his assigned seat as Xinfu and the city's millionaires filed in, followed by the ranks of stone-faced bureaucrats.When the house was packed, Zhenjin and "Queen Sobeknefaru" made their entrance to thunderous applause.

  On stage, Huaizong and Tan Po began with popular songs, weaving a spell of normalcy. Then, the rhythm shifted to a militaristic beat. Thick, multicolored smoke rose from the stage. Tan Po hammered out a rumbling pulse as blinding lights burst from the rafters.

  Through the smoke, a Dragon arose—a conjuration of the Nine Wizards so terrifyingly real that its roar shook the foundations. Lightning crackled within the hall. Panic exploded. The audience scrambled for the doors, overturning seats and trampling silk robes. In the middle of the bedlam, the dragon let out one final cry and vanished.

  As the smoke cleared, the Opera House was a ruin of splintered wood. Tan Po was on his knees at the feet of a trembling Master Tengur. Zhenjin and the Queen were gone.

  "Where is Zhenjin?" Tenger hissed, his white robes stained with soot.

  "Behind the Great Wall, Master," Tan Po replied quietly.

  We could not risk having her identified," Huaizong added.

  Tengur's eyes narrowed. "She is not Queen Sobeknefaru. Who is she?"

  "The Devi Tara Bai," Huaizong confessed

  "The Devi Tara Bai..." Tenger whispered, the weight of the political catastrophe sinking in. He looked down at Tan Po and, in a fit of cold rage, slapped him hard across the face.

  Tan Po a Kharak warrior,born in the saddle, took the blow without flinching. Though Tenger was small and old, his authority was absolute. Huaizong winced, closing his eyes as the strike landed.

  "Master Tenger, I made him do it!" Huaizong asserted, stepping forward.

  "Keep out of this, Prince. Or I shall strike him again! " Tenger snapped. He pointed a shaking finger at Tan Po. "You will scrub the temple floor for the next ninety days. You will do all the laundry. Every single sheet."

  "Yes, Master Tenger," Tan Po replied in humility.

  "Is there anything more?" Tenger threatened.

  "The Devi Tara Bai is with child," Tan Po mumbled.

  Pak! Tenger slapped Tan Po again. "Akbar's heir."

  Pak! The distraction had worked. The Queen was safe. The price of sanctuary was tallied in temple chores