Julia Defiant Read online

  ALSO BY CATHERINE EGAN

  * * *

  Julia Vanishes

  THIS IS A BORZOI BOOK PUBLISHED BY ALFRED A. KNOPF

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2017 by Catherine Egan

  Cover photographs copyright © 2017 by Gustavo Marx (girl), Pascal Kiszon/Getty Images (background)

  Map copyright © 2017 by Robert Lazzaretti

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

  Knopf, Borzoi Books, and the colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

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  Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at RHTeachersLibrarians.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

  ISBN 9780553533354 (trade) — ISBN 9780553533361 (lib. bdg.) — ebook ISBN 9780553533378

  Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.

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  Contents

  Cover

  Also by Catherine Egan

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Map

  People, Places, and Things

  Excerpt

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-one

  Thirty-two

  Thirty-three

  Thirty-four

  Thirty-five

  Thirty-six

  Thirty-seven

  Thirty-eight

  Thirty-nine

  Forty

  Forty-one

  Forty-two

  Forty-three

  Forty-four

  Forty-five

  Forty-six

  Forty-seven

  Forty-eight

  Forty-nine

  Fifty

  Fifty-one

  Fifty-two

  Fifty-three

  Fifty-four

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  For David—it can’t have been easy being the littlest, or captive to my relentless story making, but every story of mine is still for you

  Detail left

  Detail right

  Ammi: A witch; Julia and Benedek’s mother

  Professor Baranyi: A scholar, once jailed for heretical writings, now employed by (and devoted to) Mrs. Och

  Benedek: Julia’s brother

  Bianka: A witch; Theo’s mother

  Casimir (Lan Camshe): One of the Xianren, seeking to reassemble all three parts of The Book of Disruption

  Csilla: An actress turned con artist; Gregor’s lover; a member of Esme’s gang

  Esme: A Spira City crime boss, now employed by Mrs. Och

  Count Fournier: A Fraynish aristocrat living in Tianshi; Lady Laroche’s nephew

  Frederick: A brilliant young student; Professor Baranyi’s assistant

  Gangzi: The elected leader of the Shou-shu Council

  Gennady (Zor Gen): The youngest of the Xianren, imprisoned by Casimir; Theo’s father

  Gregor: An ex-aristocrat con man working for Esme; Csilla’s lover; a drunk

  Agoston Horthy: The prime minister of Frayne

  Jun: An able spy; Count Fournier’s associate

  Ko Dan: One of the Shou-shu monks; a famous witch

  Lady Laroche: A witch; the head of the Sidhar Coven in Frayne

  Lidari: A general of the Gethin; Marike’s associate

  Ling: A smart young woman from Tianshi; Benedek’s girlfriend; Mei’s sister

  Marike: A witch; the first Phar and founder of the Eshriki Empire

  Mei: Ling’s sister; Wyn’s lover

  Mrs. Och (Och Farya): The eldest of the Xianren, trying to keep Theo (and the third fragment of The Book of Disruption) out of the hands of her brother Casimir

  Pia: Casimir’s terrifying assassin, sent to Yongguo to find Theo…and Julia

  Si Tan: The grand librarian of Yongguo, a position second only to the emperor’s

  Lord Skaal: A dignitary from Frayne; an associate of Agoston Horthy

  Theo: The toddler son of Bianka and Gennady, with a fragment of The Book of Disruption bound to his essence

  Wyn: An orphan and a crook; Esme’s adopted son; Julia’s ex-lover

  Zara: A Fraynish girl hiding in the Shou-shu Monastery

  The Ankh-nu: A double-spouted clay pot made to transfer the essence of a living being from one body to another

  The Book of Disruption: The first written magic and origin of magic in the world, said to have been written by Feo, spirit of fire, and broken into three pieces by the other elemental spirits

  The Eshriki Empire: A powerful witch empire three thousand years ago whose rulers called themselves the Phars

  The Gethin: An army of creatures brought into the world from Kahge and given physical form by Marike, the first Eshriki Phar

  Kahge: A magic-infused reflection, shadow, or image imprint of the natural world created when The Book of Disruption was split into three

  The Lorian Uprising: An unsuccessful revolution in Frayne eighteen years ago aimed at replacing King Zey with his more moderate brother, Roparzh

  The Ru: The elite warriors who guard the Imperial Gardens

  The Shou-shu Monastery: A monastery in Tianshi, capital city of Yongguo, currently led by a monk named Gangzi

  The Sidhar Coven: A Fraynish coven of witches—of which Julia’s mother, Ammi, was part—involved in the Lorian Uprising

  The Xianren: The immortal siblings, sometimes allies and sometimes enemies, each charged with protecting a portion of The Book of Disruption: Casimir (Lan Camshe), Gennady (Zor Gen), and Mrs. Och (Och Farya)

  Above the wasted plains of the earth, after the battle was done, Haizea, goddess of vengeance, and Tisis, goddess of mercy, stood side by side and argued over which of them was needed.

  “I will give the vanquished strength,” said Haizea. “Look, down there, a young mother—her dress torn open, her husband dead. She kneels before the body of her murdered child. I will give her my whirlwind so that she might strike back at those who stole her joy.”

  “And then?” said Tisis. “Enslaved to the whirlwind, will she tear other children from their mothers, will she pillage and murder also? The enmity between these people cannot be brought to an end with vengeance. I will bring her my cup and let her drink. In mercy and forgiveness may she find peace, and give peace to future generations.”

  “Some things cannot be forgiven,” said Haizea.

  “Some things cannot be avenged,” said Tisis.

  “Then what good are we?” asked Haizea. “Why do they call for us and call for us, in times of war and in times of peace?”

  The two goddesses went down to the pl
ain, where the bodies of the dead and the dying lay strewn. Tisis offered her cup to those who would drink, and to those who would strike back a hundredfold, Haizea gave her whirlwind. Then they came to the young mother they had argued over. She knelt in the dirt and looked up at them, her dark eyes reflecting their blazing glory. They told her: “Choose.”

  When did I first go over a wall that was meant to keep me out? I don’t even remember. I’ve spent my life scaling walls. I’ve made a career out of what used to be just mischief—going where I am not supposed to go, seeing what I am not supposed to see, being someone I’m not. It has taken me farther from home than I’d ever imagined. This is a fine wall, tall and strong and tiled on top, and this is my third time going over it.

  The sun set an hour ago, and the streets are already empty. I take a rope with a five-pronged hook at the end of it from my bag and step back a few paces, eyeing the wall and measuring the rope out. Then I give the hook a whirl and toss it up. It flies neatly, scraping against the stone on the other side and catching on the tiles at the top. I tug to make sure it’s firm and then walk up the wall, hand over hand along the rope. Straddling the top of the wall, I coil the rope around the hooked head and tuck it back into my bag.

  From here I can see the whole city, the broad, paved streets and peaked rooftops surrounding the Imperial Gardens at the center. This is Tianshi, capital of Yongguo, seat of the greatest empire the world has ever known. Within these walls, in the northwest of the city, lies the Shou-shu Monastery, famous for its bronze bells and long-lived monks. It is a maze of dark temples and alleys around the Main Hall—almost like a miniature version of the city itself.

  If I look east, I can see all the way to the Dongshui Triangle, the slum where my brother is hiding out with my ex-lover. I ate supper with them last night, and Wyn was in a poor mood. He’d had too much to drink and called me unforgiving, which seemed funny at the time.

  I shoulder the bag with the hook in it and slide both my legs over to the monastery side of the wall. I’ve thought a great deal about forgiveness and what is forgivable. Still, I’ve yet to tell him I forgive you, because even though I have, he wouldn’t understand. When Wyn talks about forgiveness, he means having me back in his bed. It means something different to me. It means everything to me. It’s why I’m here, ten thousand miles from home, dropping from this wall onto the gravel path below.

  Getting here was no small matter. We crossed half the world in two months, by ship and by train, by horse and by camel, by riverboat and by donkey cart and on foot. We saw wonders I never knew existed: the white palace floating on the lake in Beru, built for the king’s favorite concubine; the spiraling rock formations in the Loshi Desert; the Kastahor Mountains, cloaked in ice.

  One evening, a few weeks into our journey, I found my brother, Benedek, sitting on the cooling desert sand, watching the sun setting behind the Eshriki Pyramids. Our tents and camels were just out of sight, over a dune. He smiled up at me and said something in Yongwen. This was Professor Baranyi’s rule, that we speak only Yongwen on the journey, and if he ever tired of giving us lessons on steamships or in bedsits, he didn’t show it. But I was having none of it here, alone with Benedek. To my chagrin, he’d proved a much more adept student than me.

  “Can we just speak bleeding Fraynish for once?”

  “You need the practice.”

  “Well, I don’t want to practice with you.”

  It was always a relief to be alone with him—really, with any of my own crew, but with Dek in particular. It was the only time I could be at ease. The rest of them—well, we were careful with each other, and I was conscious every moment of trying to win their trust, if not their friendship, and conscious too that they could never really trust me. Not after what I’d done.

  “I was saying that they’re remarkable,” said Dek, gesturing at the pyramids with his good arm. “You know, the part we see is just the very tip of the pyramid, poking above the sand. The rest, underneath the ground, is absolutely vast.”

  “Really?” I said, startled.

  “No.” He snorted. “Pea brain.”

  I punched him on the shoulder.

  “Do you know what Mrs. Och said yesterday when she saw them?”

  “What?”

  “She said, ‘I remember when they built those.’ ”

  He laughed. The sun sank behind the pyramids, the golden light that suffused the clouds and the sand and the pyramids themselves deepening to crimson. He asked me, almost casually: “Do you suppose they’ll forgive you if you find him?”

  He didn’t need to explain who he meant by they or by him. But the question took me aback all the same. He’d clearly been waiting for a moment alone with me to ask.

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “Will you forgive yourself?”

  “No.”

  “I wish you could.”

  “If wishes were horses,” I said, shrugging it off, and he let it go. We watched the light fade in silence.

  The truth is that the question of forgiveness fuels my days and plagues my nights. Goodness was not something I gave much thought to until I relinquished any possible claim to it. Am I evil, as Frederick once suggested? There is no way to remake the past. The very best I can strive for, the work of every day now, is to be a good person who once did an evil thing.

  If atonement also happens to be fun, well, that is just good luck. I land on the path and set off at a light jog behind the monastery library. The monks retire to their sleeping quarters at sundown, so I don’t need to worry about running into anybody. In my pocket, I have a wrinkled copy of the monastery map that Mrs. Och obtained for me. I’ve looked around enough to know it is inaccurate. Tonight’s task is to fill in the gaps. If some parts of the monastery are secret, unmapped, it’s a fair guess that that’s where I ought to be looking.

  I make my way through the southern end of the monastery, avoiding the Treasury, the only place where guards are posted both day and night—not monks either, but proper imperial guards. There are three hundred–plus monks here, and they all look much the same to me, with their crimson robes and shaved heads, their gaunt, hungry faces. I am looking for one man: Ko Dan. This is complicated, since I don’t know what he looks like or anything else about him besides his name and the fact that a year and a half ago he worked a terrible magic that needs undoing. Perhaps most important, I don’t know that he’ll want to be found.

  The monastery buildings are made of ancient wood from Yongguo’s northern forests, where the trees are black as pitch and a hundred feet tall. The rooftops are bright blue tile, though in the dark, they look as black as the wood. I turn right at the west wall, passing the sleeping quarters, several minor temples, the broad road leading to the Main Hall, and the elaborate Garden of the Elements, behind which lies a well-tended vegetable plot and a small house with a light flickering inside.

  Three nights in a row, when the rest of the monastery is dark, there has been this one light. Through the window I see the same old man sitting at his desk, writing. His face is wrinkled as a prune. He writes very quickly, as if agitated, page after page. He is wearing the crimson robe that all the monks wear, but he has a long braid down the back of his shaved head and a golden medallion on his chest.

  When I told Mrs. Och and Frederick about the old man, they agreed it was probably Gangzi, elected leader of the Shou-shu Council. Anyone seeking to enter the monastery must obtain special permission from Gangzi, and my understanding is that this permission is so special it is never actually granted. Not even the emperor can come here unless Gangzi says so; the monastery is under Yongguo’s protection but not its jurisdiction. Women are expressly forbidden to enter under any circumstances, and I admit that just sweetens the job, as far as I’m concerned. For all that, it is easy enough to get in. Just a wall, and no guards besides those at the Treasury. Only the wrath of the empire and magic-using monks to worry about if I get caught, and I never get caught. Well—hardly ever.

  The prune-f
aced man folds the paper, addresses it, seals it with wax, and adds it to a bamboo basket nearly overflowing with letters. He dips his brush and sets about writing the next one. I’d like to get my hands on one of those letters and see what he’s frantically writing about night after night, but I daren’t enter the little house while he’s there. I leave him to his work.

  The Hall of Abnegation (Frederick’s translation) stretches the entire length of the northernmost wall. I pause between the hall and the swallow coop, tilting the map in my hand so I can catch a little of the moonlight to see by, when the ground shifts right in front of me. I step back against the wall of the swallow coop, stifling my cry of surprise.

  A flagstone rises up from the path and is eased aside soundlessly. A shadow emerges from the ground, fluid and swift. The shadow replaces the flagstone without a scrape or a clink and slips away from me, down the alley. Talk about luck. I follow, heart galloping now with the thrill of the chase, even though I don’t know who or what I’m chasing yet.

  We come to a wall about twice my height. Walls within walls within walls in this city. The shadow goes up and over it like a spider. I make a quick circuit of the wall. It forms a rectangle, fewer than two hundred paces right around, and there is a painted door facing south—locked. The wall is roughly made, the stones uneven enough that I can clamber up them easily, if not as smoothly as the shadow I’m stalking. I fling my leg over the top, lying flat to look down on the courtyard below.