But the grandmother’s eyes were fixed on the seashore. Even from the island, she could see the land rear toward the sky and the tall buildings collapse and crumble as if made of sand. Above the thunderous destruction, she could hear screams and shrieks, and when the old woman closed her eyes, the salt water on her face was not only from the ocean waves.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the roars began to quiet and the old woman raised her head. The baby began to whimper, and slowly, the old woman loosened her hold on the Iron Rod.

As soon as she no longer touched the metal, the Iron Rod began to shrink. It grew smaller and smaller until it seemed nothing more than a blade of grass. The old woman reached down and saw the Iron Rod was now a needle, fine and delicate. Silently, she threw the needle into the sea. A wave surged upward to catch it, and as it did, another wave pushed the rowboat toward the island, making it drift straight to her.

The old woman returned to the city. But it could not be called a city, for it was, as the dragon had predicted, destroyed. The few who had survived crawled out to cry at her feet. “Forgive us,” they sobbed. “We should have listened to you.” The old woman wept with them, finding no solace in having been right, for her son-in-law was among the dead.

After burying her son-in-law, the old woman left the city. People treated her as a prophet or a sage, and she knew she was neither. All she wished was to raise her granddaughter, so small and precious, away from harm and she remembered a mountain she had visited in her youth.

“There,” the old woman said to the baby in her arms. “That is where I will keep you safe.”

So they went to the mountain. And there, on the mountain whose top seemed to touch the moon, the old woman found peace and contentment. For her grandchild grew up protected and away from danger, and the only wish the old woman had was for that to never change.

“And did it?” the stonecutter asked, his keen eyes looking at Amah in sympathy.

“Stories cannot tell all,” she said, and shrugged with heaviness, and the stonecutter saw her eyes suddenly haunted with worry.

“I disagree,” the stonecutter said, his hand reaching to pat Amah’s. “I think stories tell everything.”

CHAPTER 20

How could this be happening to him? His breath could snap trees, his strength could hold up the earth! He was the Black Tortoise of Winter! The heavens and the sea honored him! He, the indestructible, the mighty!

But he felt the force on his back from the enormous—what was it? What was pinning him down, pressing on him with so much weight that he could not move? What could be so heavy that he, the great Black Tortoise, the strongest of all beasts, could not lift it?

His limbs struck outward, tearing into nothingness. He craned his neck and snapped at the unseen object, his breath creating a crackling of ice on his shell.

He tried again to rise, but his arms and legs only sank into a slippery smoothness, like a deep silk pillow swallowing his limbs.

Who would dare do this to him? Who would dare insult him this way? Who would be this foolish, this arrogant, this devious, this… mad?

Not a beast. Not an immortal. Only a human.

Did this human not know that the Black Tortoise was forever? Oh, how he would make this human pay! For all eternity, the human would regret making the Black Tortoise of Winter so… so…

Helpless.

CHAPTER 21

BaiMa galloped through the gates of the City of Bright Moonlight. With Lady Meng as a companion, they had easily found shelter for the evening, and they had been riding most of the day. The wind and snow had howled around them, whipping the trees as well as their faces. So even BaiMa was eager when the city began to swell in the distance. The grand palace rose above the rest of the city like a mountain, the thick snow lying on its tiered roofs like heavy clouds. With a triumphant yell from Yishan, BaiMa had flown toward the city.

The stone lions that flanked either side of the gates were wearing wigs and beards of snow, and they grinned as the horse passed through. The lions were the only ones with smiles, however, as all the other inhabitants of the city just stared at them with awe or horror—Pinmei was not sure which.

Almost wordlessly, people jumped out of their way, and Lady Meng did not even have to slow the horse. The common stone houses and the white snow were a gray blur, and BaiMa’s hooves on the black brick road made a metallic noise, almost like the clinking of coins. Ahead, Pinmei saw a dull crimson barrier that stretched for miles. That’s the wall around the palace grounds, Pinmei thought, remembering Amah’s stories. That’s the Inner City and everything else is the Outer City. It’s supposed to be like a city inside a city.

“A walled city for the king of Bright Moonlight, the Vast Wall for the emperor,” Yishan said in a mocking tone. “Rulers love walls, don’t they?”

“Halt!” a voice, harsh and commanding, rang out above the sound of BaiMa’s striking hooves.

Lady Meng pulled the horse to a stop, and Pinmei turned to see two guards on either side of the gate of the Inner City, neither of whom she had noticed before.

“I am here to see the king,” Lady Meng said with the aristocratic dignity of an empress. From the corner of her eye, Pinmei saw Lady Meng nudge Yishan with her elbow, a warning for silence.

“The king is not seeing anyone,” the guard said. Even though he was supposed to be the king’s guard, his helmet had the emblem of the emperor—the face of a snarling tiger, the metal already turning green.

“He will see me,” Lady Meng said. She pushed down the hood of her cloak and looked directly at him, letting the full force of her beauty and rank pour upon him like a waterfall. Indeed, the guard looked dazed and overwhelmed, and Pinmei suddenly realized how even a hero who would not be stopped by the fear of turning into ice could be slowed by a beautiful woman.

“Well, maybe—” the guard began to stammer.

“We aren’t supposed to let anyone into the Inner City,” the other guard cut in.

Lady Meng shifted her gaze, tossing her hair so it made a black cloud above them. Tiny jewels of snow sparkled around her.

“I am not ‘anyone,’ ” she said with regal authority.

“No… yes…” the second guard said, equally bewildered by Lady Meng. “It’s just the king—”