The Magnolia Sword Page 21

  Kedan rubs his temples. “Twenty li or thereabouts.”

  Kai turns to me. “Hua xiong-di, what would you do now?”

  I swallow. “I would wait until morning—if we had time. But since we don’t, I would cross this chasm as soon as possible.”

  He nods. “So would I. And if anyone wishes to wait until morning, you may.”

  Kedan and Yu immediately declare that they will come with us. Sounding squeaky, Tuxi joins the chorus a second later.

  “All right, then, ropes out,” says the princeling. “This is where we leave our horses and everything that isn’t essential.”

  Kedan descends first, coming back up three times before he finds a viable way down.

  “It’s not as deep as I feared,” he shouts from below. “Only about the height of ten men.”

  Plenty enough for a fall to break a leg—or a neck.

  Yu and I climb down next, the princeling and Tuxi last. The bottom of the chasm is pitted but dry. We scale the opposite rock face without too much trouble—if one doesn’t count Tuxi nearly falling off twice—and come up the other side.

  Kedan sets a strenuous pace, but nobody complains. We go down and up a series of gullies, big and small. Twenty li isn’t a negligible distance. On a flat stretch I can probably cover it in twice the time of a meal, but this is not a flat stretch. After I lose count of the number of gullies we cross through, I begin to wonder how much distance we have covered as the arrow flies. What if all we’ve done is five li? Or worse, three?

  The sky is turning pale when we trudge up the last hill to the Wall. Here at least the Wall is working as it ought to: A line of soldiers awaits us on top, bows drawn.

  “Who goes there?” shouts their lieutenant.

  Kai sighs and holds his hand out toward Tuxi. Kai’s own pass is enough to get the lieutenant and his men to stand aside, but we need a great deal more than that, and we need everything right away and without questions asked.

  Tuxi hesitates before handing over a pass. Kai brandishes it. “This is His Royal Highness, Prince Anzhong of Luoyang. His Royal Highness is here on official business. You are to immediately welcome us and provide our company with everything we will requisition.”

  The lieutenant’s mouth opens and closes a few times. “May I—may this humble lackey request to see the imperial pass a little more closely?” he asks in a trembling voice.

  Kai walks several paces forward.

  The lieutenant kneels. Despite my fatigue, I almost laugh aloud, because he disappears behind the crenellations of the Wall.

  Realizing his mistake, the lieutenant rises hurriedly. “My most abject apologies to His Royal Highness. We weren’t expecting his august presence.”

  “Forgiven,” says Kai. “Now catch these ropes and help us up.”

  Atop the Wall, we learn that only the lieutenant arrived at this spot by riding. The princeling sends him off to fetch more horses without delay. We five sit down with our backs against the parapet. Kedan seems stunned by the revelation of Tuxi’s true identity, but too exhausted to say anything. Yu appears no less flabbergasted.

  Tuxi just looks spectacularly embarrassed to be the center of so much attention. The soldiers gape at him and his lackeys, sitting on the paving stones like a gaggle of peasants. After a while, the lieutenant brings horses, food, and water. He also brings his garrison commander, who apologizes profusely for not having been there to welcome us in person, as if commanders typically patrol the Wall first thing in the morning.

  Kai, speaking for Tuxi, thanks the commander and apologizes that we cannot stay to enjoy his hospitality. He does, however, take the time to ask about possible breaks in the Wall. “I hear that sometimes walls do not extend over ravines and such. Are there any such ruptures between here and Futian Pass?”

  The commander assures him that the Wall runs as smoothly as an imperial road all the way to the pass. Kai then asks about the distance remaining, the number of garrisons in between, and the best place to leave the Wall to reach the capital in haste.

  The commander answers all the questions. Kai relays a series of instructions and thanks him again. The commander pays his obeisance once more to His Royal Highness.

  We mount and rush off.

  We ride as fast as we can but not as fast as we’d like.

  The top of the Wall is in good repair. But as the Wall takes the contour of the landscape, winding along sharp crests and precipitous drops, we keep coming across stairs in the steepest stretches. The garrison’s horses are trained to handle stairs, but for the sake of our own necks, Kai requires us to dismount each time and walk our steeds.

  At one point, guiding my horse down yet another set of steps, I happen to look up toward the south. For days we’ve been stuck with a limited sight line, deep inside valleys and ravines, but now I feel as if I’m standing on top of the world. Under a bright sun the mountains stretch endlessly into the distance, green spurs and ridges gradually fading into lilac-blue shadows against the edge of the sky.

  I sigh softly at this vast, beautiful panorama before returning my attention to the road under my feet.

  At the next garrison we requisition fresh horses. At the garrison after that, the same thing, except this is where Tuxi leaves us for the imperial road—and the capital—to present our case against Lord Sang to his father.

  He forestalls Yu, Kedan, and me when we are about to sink to our knees. “No, no, please, my brothers. Please let us not have that.”

  Instead, he salutes us and one by one takes us by the arms, his hands remaining on Kedan perhaps a fraction of a moment longer. Then he enfolds the princeling in an embrace. “Look after yourself, Kai di. Be safe.”

  The princeling hugs him hard. “Same for you, Xi xiong. Be careful going into the center of the web.”

  And then it’s just the four of us.

  “Let’s go,” says the princeling. “We have no time to lose.”

  Late in the morning we arrive at Futian Pass. Our request for a private audience with the commander is promptly granted. Commander Wu and Kai have met once, when the commander was in the capital the year before. He obviously thinks well of Kai. Still, as our conversation progresses, he becomes increasingly incredulous.

  “Captain Helou has betrayed us? Captain Helou?”

  “He and a number of Rouran riders will come through here? And take control of this pass so tens of thousands of Rouran fighters can advance toward the capital?”

  “And you want us to—Your Highness, please forgive this mediocre old soldier. Did I hear Your Highness correctly?”

  To which His Highness smiles slightly and answers, “Yes, Commander Wu, you heard me perfectly well. I intend to kill all of you.”

  Kai and I stand on the ramparts, watching the rising dust cloud in the distance. The Rouran’s Dayuan horses must have traveled a great distance, possibly without much rest since the morning before. Still they run briskly and tirelessly. At this pace they will be here in the time of a cup of tea.

  My hand grips the hilt of my sword, now worn on my hip. My heart beats so hard it hurts. And I very nearly see double when I stare too long at those who are fast arriving.

  “I told you that I saw your father when I was in the South,” says Kai.

  I blink repeatedly before his words penetrate the thick dread in my head. Yes, he told me. His hired pleasure craft went past our house on Lake Tai. And that was the first time he learned that Father had been paralyzed in the duel.

  I turn toward him. “Yes?”

  “When I decided not to call on your father in person, I had the pleasure craft steer toward open water. In the distance a small boat shot shoreward. As chaotic and preoccupied as my mind was at that moment, I couldn’t help noticing its swiftness.

  “The boat was punted by a young woman in a peach-colored overrobe. At first I paid attention solely to her technique, wondering how she achieved such spectacular speed. It was only as the boat drew near that I saw she was as lovely as Lake Tai itself.”


  I hold my breath. Is he speaking of … of … ?

  “Just then the boat slowed to a drift. It was the type with a covered middle. The young woman ducked under the covered portion and drew the curtains. A short while later, a young man emerged.”

  “So you knew from the very beginning!”

  He turns toward me at last. His gaze, stark yet fierce, reminds me of how he looked the day we first met at the encampment. I know him better now. This is him keeping his fear in check. This is his strength and fortitude fighting through.

  “Later I learned from the referees that your father lost a child not long after the duel, one of a pair of twins. They thought it was the daughter who perished. But I knew that it was the daughter I would meet someday, in the guise of her brother.

  “I feared you no less, but I—” He takes a deep breath. “But I kept thinking of the young woman on the boat. I wanted to see her again. And I wished with a futile intensity that we weren’t headed for a fateful clash. That we could have met under other circumstances.”

  Pain and sweetness both pierce my heart. “So you arranged our three meetings.”

  And how I hoarded those memories.

  “But when news of the Rouran attacks came, I thought I’d seen the last of you. Imagine my shock and …” He smiles slightly. “Imagine my shock—and elation—when you marched onto that training ground to challenge Captain Helou.”

  My lips quiver when I smile back. We’ve had so little time together—and very possibly none left. “Only because I thought I’d be safe if I stuck to you.”

  “That’s the reason I didn’t ask you to come with us beyond the Wall. But I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you did.”

  I have wondered why, quiet and reticent as he can be, he has told me so much about himself. Now I know: He does not believe we will survive our mission. And what he confessed just now is further confirmation that while we are exceptionally fortunate to have made it this far, we are still hurtling headlong toward our final fight in this world.

  I let go of the hilt of my sword and take his hand. “At this moment, I don’t wish to be anywhere else.”

  Our eyes meet.

  His gaze turns ever starker, ever fiercer. “And here comes Captain Helou.”

  Perhaps it is because my head is full of us, of secret yearnings that are no longer so secret. Perhaps it’s because, despite my brave words, I do wish we were anywhere else but here—gliding across Lake Tai on a painted boat, playing go while a spring breeze ruffles our hair, or walking down a busy street in the capital, stopping to buy a freshly made sesame bing.

  Whatever the reason, when I look upon Captain Helou, instead of paralyzing fear, I feel only consternation. He does not need to do this. He does not need to bring war to the Central Plain. There have been two centuries of it. And as a result of what he intends, the North could splinter again into dozens of warring factions and suffer two more centuries of upheaval.

  Earlier I meant to smile at Captain Helou—part of the reason I felt sick to my stomach. But now I won’t. What he is doing—and what we are doing—is no smiling matter.

  “Your Highness. Hua xiong-di.” He squints up at us, his voice even but suspicious. We must be the last people he expected to find here, where he plans to let in the Rouran.

  “You made good time, Captain,” I say. “We’ve already secured the place for you. Let me come down and open the gate.”

  The gate isn’t visible from the north. An invading force would see only a negligible fort bestriding the Wall. But there is a gap between the part of the fort that protrudes north of the Wall and the Wall itself. One must come into the gap—the length of a short corridor—and reach the very end of it before entering, because not only does the gate face the south, it opens toward the dead end, rather than the other side.

  When I unbar the door, Captain Helou is already waiting, his hand on the hilt of his broadsword. My hand, hidden from view, grips my own sword. I say, “I don’t need to let you in, if all I want is to kill you.”

  With an upward tilt of my chin, I guide his attention to Kai, who is standing almost directly above him and could have easily shot him with an arrow.

  “You could torture me for information,” Captain Helou says.

  I roll my eyes. “You think you know something that His Highness doesn’t? Lord Sang isn’t at the top of the pecking order. There is someone he answers to—and that august personage speaks to His Highness directly. We have no need to fish for information from a lackey like you.”

  Captain Helou hesitates another moment, then his hand leaves his broadsword. “In that case, my gratitude to His Highness and to Hua xiong-di.”

  His horse just manages to squeeze in and then has to turn itself around in a tiny space before walking down a stone passage to a courtyard at the back of the fort. I stay in place as the other riders, all hard-looking Rouran fighters, bring their horses in the same way. I keep my face impassive, but my knees quake. When the fighters have all come through, I secure the door and walk behind them into the courtyard, where Kai is now standing.

  Captain Helou must have already made his obeisance, for he is asking tentatively, “And Your Highness, if you don’t mind me inquiring, is His Grace directing this whole operation?”

  Kai is as aloof as I have ever seen him. “That isn’t something you need to know, Captain.”

  “Forgive this humble soldier, Your Highness. But Your Highness, where are the men of this garrison?”

  My turn to speak. “Captain, why do you bother His Highness with so many questions? I already told you we took care of this place.”

  “But—but this place had eighty soldiers.”

  “And in the South, my forefathers are famous for their powerful, fast-acting, yet practically undetectable poisons. Eighty men are easy enough to dispatch, Captain, when seventy-five die on their own.”

  I step closer, so he can see me better. There are splatters of blood on my clothes. Specks on the princeling’s too, if one looks closely.

  “I thought—I thought—I must have been mistaken in thinking that Hua xiong-di isn’t so used to actual combat.”

  So he remembers my cowardice before the bandits. “That was for the benefit of Master Yu, so that he wouldn’t become suspicious. You will recall that the night the beacon tower was lit, Master Yu singled out His Highness, Bai, and me for questioning. Impeccable instincts he had. Too impeccable.”

  “So … Hua xiong-di was never a stranger to His Highness?”

  “I first came across Hua xiong-di years ago,” says Kai, “at the edge of Lake Tai.”

  “But what has been done with the bodies of the men?”

  I sigh. “Come with me, Captain.”

  We climb up. The fort overhangs a gully to the south. The drop from the bloodstained ramparts to the bottom of the gully is the height of eight men. The gully is full of bodies that have been dumped in a heap. Most lie facedown, but the man on top stares at the sky, his helmet askew, his mouth wide open.

  Captain Helou glances at me. “Hua xiong-di and His Highness moved this many bodies?”

  “Hardly. I saved a pair of strong, stupid soldiers for the job. Pushed them over while they inspected their handiwork at the end.”

  Lightning fast, he whips his bow off his back, nocks an arrow, and fires. The arrow buries itself deep in the chest of the man at the top of the heap. The corpse, of course, reacts not at all.

  “Why not fire a few more?” I say. “I hear that in war, whenever there’s a sizable pile of bodies, there’s usually someone still alive lumped in with the dead.”

  Captain Helou clears his throat in embarrassment. “That will not be necessary. Hua xiong-di, please forgive my action. And there is no need to mention it to His Highness.”

  “You are lucky, Captain, that His Highness appreciates underlings who can think for themselves. A different master could have you lashed. Now, if you are satisfied, shall we set out for the capital? I’d offer you some hospitality, but a
t the moment nothing in this fort is safe to eat or drink.”

  This clearly disappoints Captain Helou. But he must be relieved that the task of securing the fort is already behind him, because he only murmurs, “We will make do with our rations and find water on our way.”

  “I assume you have already chosen the men you will leave behind to hold the fort for Yucheng Khan?”

  “Yes. Four of them will remain behind.”

  “Good. His Highness and I will take two of those Dayuan horses.”

  “Yes, Hua xiong-di,” says Captain Helou, more deferential now. Slightly fearful, even, before the remorseless poisoner of the South.

  Maintaining my bored expression, I gesture him toward the steps that will take us down. “When do you expect we will reach the capital, Captain?”

  “Before midnight, certainly.”

  “And Yucheng Khan?”

  “By first light, at the latest. I will have the men I leave behind here send up sky lanterns to signal our success as soon as it’s dark enough.”

  I nod. “Good. Speak to your men, make sure they know what to do, and let’s go.”

  Having the men of the fort lie at the bottom of the gully was my idea. But Yu quickly pointed out that Captain Helou would not be so easily convinced, and we had better make some dummies from straw and blankets in case he decided to throw a stone at the bodies or worse.

  Here, fate came to our aid, as tragedy had struck the fort only the night before. One of the guards, trying to impress his fellows, had climbed on the rampart to do some tricks and slipped off. So we had an actual corpse on hand.

  Several chickens at the fort met their end so we would have blood to smear on the rampart, on our clothes, and on some of the soldiers who would be playing dead. There were only twenty soldiers in the pile, lying on sacks of provisions brought down to make the pile look bigger, with stuffed pairs of trousers and boots artfully arranged to achieve the proper number of legs and feet. On top of the soldiers we arranged the dummies, and on top of the dummies we placed the actual dead man.