The Dead King's Understudy

Wei Liang was not a thief. He was an actor who occasionally relocated things that did not belong to him. There was a difference. He had simply never been able to explain it clearly to a judge. Tonight the thing he had relocated was a jade figurine the size of his fist, carved in the likeness of Emperor Zhen Kailong, and worth more money than Wei Liang would see in four lifetimes. It was currently sitting in his boot. He was currently hanging off the side of the imperial palace by three fingers and a prayer. "This is fine," he whispered to himself. "Completely fine. Very normal evening." The wind disagreed and pushed him sideways. Fourteen feet below, the courtyard stones were wet and hard and extremely unforgiving. Two guards crossed the far end with their backs turned. Wei Liang watched them. Counted his breaths. One. Two. Three. He reached for the drainage pipe beside him. The pipe made a sound like a dying animal. Then it fell off the wall entirely and crashed into the courtyard below with the kind of noise that ends careers. Both guards spun around. Wei Liang dropped. He hit the ground, rolled, came up running and made it exactly twelve steps before something the size of a small building stepped out of a doorway and he ran directly into it. The building grabbed him by the collar. Wei Liang looked up at the largest palace guard he had ever seen in his life. "Running somewhere?" the guard said. The jade figurine chose this exact moment to slide out of his boot, spin across the wet stones and stop directly under the torchlight like it was presenting itself for arrest. Everyone stared at it. "Hm," said the guard. --- The dungeon was cold, dark and smelled like regret. Wei Liang sat on the stone floor with his wrists bound and conducted a quiet inventory of his situation. *Assets:* his brain. His mouth. His ability to become whoever a situation needed him to be. *Liabilities:* everything else. Trial at dawn. One sentence for stealing from the imperial palace. Not the reading kind. He was going to die over a jade figurine. His life was genuinely embarrassing. "First time?" said a voice. The cell next door held a young man about his age, sitting relaxed against the wall like he was at a teahouse and not a dungeon. Well dressed under the dirt. Dark, easy eyes. A cup of wine that Wei Liang had absolutely no explanation for. "How do you have wine?" Wei Liang said. "I asked nicely." "You asked a dungeon guard nicely." "And tipped well." The man swirled his cup. "First time here?" "Is it obvious?" "You're still sitting up straight. Veterans slouch." He tilted his head. "What are you in for?" "Relocating imperial property." "Theft." "That's reductive." The man smiled. It was a comfortable smile. Too comfortable for someone in a dungeon. The smile of a person who knew something you didn't and found it quietly entertaining. Something about it made Wei Liang's skin prickle. "Wei Liang," the man said. Not a question. Wei Liang went very still. "I didn't tell you my name." "No," the man agreed pleasantly. "You didn't." He finished his wine. Set the cup down. Folded his hands. "Get some sleep," he said. "Tomorrow will be very interesting for you." "How do you kn….." But the man had closed his eyes. And no matter what Wei Liang said after that he didn't open them again. --- Wei Liang did not sleep. By the time grey light crept under the dungeon door he had invented and destroyed fourteen escape plans and was working on a fifteenth that mostly involved talking very fast and hoping for the best. Then the door opened. Not a guard. Not the warden. A woman. She walked in like she owned the dungeon which Wei Liang suspected she might legally might. Fifty or so. Silver streaked hair. Storm grey robes. Eyes that looked at him the way a craftsperson looks at raw material. She stopped at his cell. I looked at him for a long time. Wei Liang looked back. He had learned early that in any silence the first person to speak lost. She spoke first. But it didn't feel like losing. "My name is Lady Shen Wei," she said. "Head of the Imperial Council. I am here because we have a problem that requires your very specific talents." "I'm an actor." "I know exactly what you are. Stand up." He stood. Not because she told him. Because something in her voice said whatever came next was going to be the most important conversation of his life. She looked at him for one more long moment. Then — "Emperor Zhen Kailong is dead." The dungeon went completely silent. "He died four hours ago," she continued. "Nobody knows. Nobody can know. Not for thirty days." She held his gaze. "And you — a street actor who looks just enough like him in the right light — are going to sit on his throne until the peace treaty is signed." Wei Liang stared at her. "Or," she said simply, "you die at dawn. Your choice." He opened his mouth. I closed it. I opened it again. "I want that in writing," he said. Lady Shen Wei almost smiled. Almost. He turned to look at the cell next door to say something, anything, to the one witness to this insane moment. The cell was empty. The wine cup was gone. The man had vanished. Without using the door.