2 Trickster

As summer reaches its last stretch, Songak turns into dazzling hues. Blues deepen, flowers ripen into fruits and grains and a hint of metallic luster taints itself into greeneries. The capital of Goryeo, bustles with preparations for approaching Jungyangjeol - the festival of double nines and the return of a victorious force.

In a busy capital, engrossed with upcoming festivities nobody notices if a youth slipped by, cheering a circus act here, dunking under a storyteller's hut there - taking a swing or two of the chrysanthemum wine that the town boasted of. Even if the youth did have rather clear skin or a pair of very fine eyes.

"Wasted on a ragamuffin," sniffled one spinster to another, as the said youth skipped past them, while they browsed through greeting card parchment. And ragamuffin was indeed an appropriate description for the rakish youth who had the nerve to acknowledge their comment with the most insolent of grins. The spinsters titter at his behavior watching him kick up dust along the marketplace as he trotted on.

Straightening the rough collar of her borrowed disguise Seol ducked into a shade, grinning to herself. Yong, her younger brother had access to the most amazing methods of sneaking off, and often enough he could be persuaded into indulging her. And so on that eve of Jungyangjeol found Seol out in the busy streets of the capital - dressed in the drub grab of a village peasant boy and a matching pair of eyes widened in true awe of every unfamiliarity that surrounded her.

Nobody gave her a second look. So far, nothing could have been more successful.

"If you get caught," Yong had literally wiped his sleeves as he declared. "We've simply never met."

Oh, how many nights would Yong have stolen so? Seol thinks rather enviously. It was difficult not to resent Yong for all his privileges, if one had not been so aware of the responsibilities that came with those perks. No, Seol did not truly wish herself in her brother's shoes. He was welcome to all the hard work, she thinks further, with a zealous grin, she had other important things to do.

She had watched the return parade from the city tower, packed into a corner with other rowdy boys from the streets, listening to their boastful dreams of joining the forces someday, earning honor for their names. Everybody had wanted to be noticed by the generals as they rode in, no matter how weary those battle worn men had looked. In the resulting chaos, Seol had lost her footing, missed the chance to see the best of parade herself and ended up entirely clueless as to where the disbanded soldiers from north had gone.

It had taken her a good part of the evening to finally sniff her way up the stairs of this particular tavern. Catching bits and pieces of information on the marketplace grapevine. Those two spinsters from the parchment shop had been the most useful, tattering about the general Kang's left side profile as he rode - "that beast of a horse - single handedly!"

Seol curbs the urge to roll her eyes at that. Of cause he rides well, he is a Kang.

"Wish, he wasn't base-born," one of those women had the nerve to rattle, forgetting she looked like a stuffed duck herself. "Such elegant genestock - wasted!" They had proceeded to squeal at length about his silver eyes next, wondering in an airheaded manner why the queen did not have those misty - morning eyes of Kang clan.

"Well they are not that closely related," one had perched the other with an all knowing air. "And even his imperial majesty is a distant cousin, even though he doesn't have those eyes!"

The older woman craned her neck around for a bit, fishing for chances of overhearing. Seol wasn't certain if she wanted to avoid being heard or wanted to be heard for certain.

"They say it's a sign of witches, you know?" Her voice had dropped into a dramatic whisper. "Those silver eyes. Kangs have witch blood in them."

Witch blood or not, Seol stiffens, realizing that the said silver eyes had found her, there was no escaping those eyes. Scuffling for cover, she turns away pretending to be interested in the storyteller vexing poetically over the emperor's supposed first love. She rolls her shoulders, uncomfortably aware of that gaze burning at her back.

Surely, Yong's disguise could not be that flimsy?

"My lord!" One of the soldiers cries - easily drowning the pathetic moaning of the storyteller. Seriously, Seol reflects disdainfully, if her imperial father was privy to these latest epic versions of his youth heads would be rolling. "One last drink - let me pour you one last cup my lord."

"Pour - pour," Seol mutters under her breath. This close to winning her wager, she would rather mentally cheer the inebriated fellow for indulging others. Instead however, someone tapped on her shoulder.

"Fancy running into you here - mama*." Those silver eyes are barely lowered as Kang Seo regards her with the briefest possible bows. Seol splatters the sip of chrysanthemum wine she had taken, her eyes narrowing. Intoxication had deepened the silver of his eyes into a shade of cool steel. Maybe, if she played her cards right, she could deny all knowledge of this encounter.

"Highness? Who?" She deepens her voice as convincingly as possible. "You are mistaking me for somebody else - lord general." A hiccup, to add another level of conviction. "Well into cups are you?"

Kang Seo frowns.

"Hmm -" he seems to consider her position and reaches out for the flagon of wine by her elbow. The motion brings their faces closer and Seol finds color rising to her cheeks. "A terrible mistake indeed."

"Aye," she trails off, still holding his gaze. "A terrible -" hiccup - a real one this time. " - mistake."

Seo bites back a smile, knowing perfectly that any indication of amusement would only encourage this reckless behavior.

"Don't think this is your first cup," he comments offhandedly. Seol blinks, coming into that realization herself.

"Second - I think. Or third maybe?" She wiped her eyes with her wrist, trying to focus on the count. "It was too boring to just watch and I've been here for hours - hey, does that mean I won the wager? That an entire evening gone you failed to spot me?"

Seo shakes his head, his mouth twitching.

"I spotted you in the guard tower itself, hanging by the railing for dear life. It's been a decade mama, when will this wager of yours end?"

Seol springs up and the ground rolls beneath her. Seo reaches out to steady her by the elbow. She looks at him over her upturned nose, steadying herself by gripping the table for support and brushing off his offered hand.

"When I win of cause!" She says swingingly. Seo rises to his feet following her and takes hold of the back of her rough collar instead.

"You need air," his voice broke no arguments, as he steers her out into the terrace made up of wooden planks. Seol shakes her head in protest and stops because it makes the sight of Seo swim before her. "That liquor is meant for soldiers unlike the refined wine of the palace."

Seol makes a face, turning away to observe the streets. The evening is deepening into nightfall and ocher light spills from the lanterns hanging overhead. Her cheeks prick against the icy fingers of the wind.

"It's not going to happen," Seo says softly after a moment. "That wager," he explains in answer to her questioning tilt of head. "You will not win. I will always know you, no matter the disguise."

**

Glossary:

Songak : Capital of Goryeo

Jungyangjeol: The celebration on the ninth day of the ninth month of Lunar calendar

Mama: An honorific, loosely translating into something like "Your Highness."