The Magnolia Sword

by Thomas, Sherry

  What? Is the princeling abandoning me to the wolves? But I don’t dare look at him. I can only hope that my face isn’t awash in fear and perspiration.

  “Yes, Your Highness.” Yu bows and turns to the rest of us. “Captain Helou, Kedan xiong-di, Tuxi xiong-di, please come here.”

  The three men go to him.

  “The four of us left the mess hall together, returned to the barracks, and did not leave again until we heard the commotion. I hold us innocent of this crime.”

  I would be more surprised that the princeling hasn’t been declared innocent by virtue of who he is if my distress weren’t pitching headlong into panic.

  “Hua xiong-di, you left the company first, before the end of supper. Your Highness, you were next, departing from the commander’s table. Bai xiong-di, you came back to the barracks with us, but went out soon thereafter. I didn’t see any of you until well after the beacon was lit. Each of you needs to give an account of your whereabouts.”

  “I was in the privy,” Bai answers immediately. “Travel makes me constipated. So I was there some time.”

  If he is telling the truth, then I can’t also claim to have been there.

  My stomach roils. I can barely speak. “I was attending His Highness.”

  “And I was writing letters while Hua xiong-di attended me,” he says half-dismissively, as if it’s something so ordinary it’s barely worth mentioning.

  My knees nearly buckle under a sudden avalanche of relief. I exhale and hold absolutely still. Kedan raises a brow at what the princeling said, but his is the only such reaction.

  Yu steps forward and lowers himself to one knee. “If you would, Your Highness, your hands.”

  The princeling holds them out.

  Yu takes a sniff. “Ink.” He rises. “Hua xiong-di, yours.”

  I extend my hands out and up.

  “Cold water,” declares Yu after a moment. “Bai xiong-di, your turn.”

  Bai chuckles. “Master Yu, you’ll embarrass me. You’ll say you smell my bowels.”

  Yu also smiles. “I’m not looking forward to it, but that will be good for you. Shall we?”

  Bai raises his hands. Yu leans in. Then Bai, lightning-fast, pokes at Yu’s eyes. Yu must have been prepared for that, because he catches Bai’s wrist and twists it. Bai grunts in pain but slashes down with his other hand at Yu’s neck.

  Yu lets go of his wrist and aims a kick squarely at Bai’s solar plexus. Bai flies backward and lands on the platform. Captain Helou and the princeling rush forward and hold him down. Yu grabs his hand and at last has a sniff.

  “Fire,” he pronounces.

  “Tie him up and take him to my room,” commands the princeling. “I will need to question him.”

  Yu and Captain Helou truss up Bai and escort him out, the princeling following close behind. This sequence of events takes place so fast that Tuxi, Kedan, and I remain in place and stare at one another for some time.

  “So . . . what will happen to Bai?” I ask when I recover my power of speech.

  Tuxi slashes his palm toward the back of his neck. “He must be a Rouran agent, setting off a false alarm like that. Imagine if it happens again and again. Then no one will care in the least when a beacon is lit for a real invasion.”

  I sit down on the edge of the sleeping platform, my knees giving out after all. “So how do we tell garrisons along the Wall that this is a false alarm?”

  Tuxi shakes his head. “Riders and pigeons, I suppose. I hope this isn’t a strategy to empty out a nearby garrison and attack it.”

  It feels like a lifetime since I left home—a lifetime in which everything I once knew has been upended. And I have been so wrapped up in my own turmoil that the war, the reason I left home in the first place, receded to a distant non-concern.

  But now it is taking over my life again.

  Kedan slaps Tuxi’s arm. “Why so much truth, Tuxi xiong? Hua xiong-di is still young. Go easy on him.” He nudges my boot with his own, reminding me that my feet are still frozen inside. “Tell us about yourself and His Highness.”

  Tuxi returns a slap on Kedan’s chest. “Don’t be so nosy. Why are you asking after His Highness’s business?”

  Kedan is undeterred. “His Highness picked Hua xiong-di out from a crowd of thousands. He’s been sleeping next to Hua xiong-di during our travels. And just now he had Hua xiong-di attend him in his room. Don’t you think he harbors some ­special affection for you, Hua xiong-di?”

  A sharp pain pulses in my heart. What I have felt for my opponent, in both his incarnations, I have felt for no one else. But that he does not despise me is miraculous enough. There can never be special affection, just as there can never be different circumstances. “Kedan xiong is approaching this from the wrong angle. His Highness is younger than everyone here except me. I’m the one he can treat however he likes without being accused of disrespecting his elders. So of course when he wants someone to pour tea or grind ink, the chore falls to me.”

  As an excuse, that is . . . not bad.

  Kedan shakes his head. “Maybe Hua xiong-di is too young to understand such things.”

  I wave a hand. “Not so young I can’t tell the difference between ‘You, come here and serve me’ and”—I speak in a slow, flirtatious tone—“‘You, come here and serve me.’”

  Kedan whistles and laughs. “All right, all right. I guess we don’t have to worry about you being too innocent.”

  Tuxi shakes his head, but he doesn’t seem annoyed, only slightly exasperated. He brings out a small cloth bundle from his bag and extracts a paper chessboard and equally thin game pieces made of bamboo bark. “I’ll bet none of us can sleep now. But it isn’t wise to leave this room either. Let’s play a few matches.”

  I wish we could speak more of the events of the night. I hardly know Bai. But I am staggered that someone so close to me—at least in physical proximity for the past few days—has done so much to undermine the usefulness of the Wall. What about the potential consequences to the princeling? Will he not be held responsible for the actions of one of his men? And what will that mean for our little group?

  Specifically, will I still be welcome to stay here when everyone else leaves?

  “All right, let’s play,” I say.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  We finish three games before Captain Helou returns. But he doesn’t have any real intelligence to impart—he was not invited to witness the interrogation. All he can tell us is that the soldiers have scoured the area inside and outside the Wall and found no evidence of any Rouran military presence.

  Another match is played, which lasts longer than the previous three combined—Captain Helou is a more deliberate player. Then Yu enters and requests that we go to sleep. He might be a servant, but he has such innate authority that we obey immediately, and no one dares to demand of him what he knows, not even Kedan.

  The lamps are out for quite some time before one last person climbs onto the platform beside me. The princeling. Has he extracted any answers from Bai? Has Bai already been executed? Will we never mention him again?

  I fear that I might dream of Bai being beheaded. But when I bolt upright, breathing hard, it is from a dream of a huge centipede crawling out of Bai’s eye socket.

  Next to me, a dark silhouette also sits up. Have I ­awakened the princeling, or has he not fallen asleep yet? He does not move, nor does he speak. But sitting in his silent company, listening to his soft, slow breaths, I begin to feel less unsettled. After some more time, I yawn and lie back down.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  In the morning, I’m relieved not to see Bai’s severed head hanging from the parapet.

  The princeling, Yu, and Captain Helou are not at breakfast. Kedan becomes restless for news, so I ask him and Tuxi to train with me. We stop as soon as we spy the princeling and Captain Helou emerging into the bailey.

/>   Almost immediately Captain Helou bows to the princeling, who inclines his head and murmurs a few words. Then Captain Helou straightens, spins on his heels, and heads in the direction of the stables. Kedan rushes after him.

  The princeling is stopped by one of the garrison com­mander’s lieutenants. By the time he joins Tuxi and me, Kedan is also back, looking crestfallen.

  “Tuxi xiong, Kedan xiong, please make ready to leave,” says the princeling. “Hua xiong-di, let’s take a walk.”

  Kedan, despite his dejectedness, manages to waggle his brows at me. I roll my eyes, but something in me shifts as I recall the solace I derived from the princeling’s silent company during the night.

  The solace that he offered me, I now realize.

  We walk out of the front gate of the fort.

  “Bai is my uncle’s man,” says the princeling.

  A chill crawls down my spine. Is he telling me what I think he is?

  “My uncle holds a command near the southern border. Bai arrived at my father’s place with a letter bearing my uncle’s seal. I have convinced the garrison commander to have Bai transported back to my father. But en route there will be an opportunity for him to escape.”

  He wants to see which way Bai runs. Or more importantly, to whom.

  “Master Yu will follow him—he’s skillful enough to do that without being detected and canny enough to handle just about any situation. Captain Helou I’ve tasked with carrying the news to my father. He’ll need men like Captain Helou at his side if my worst suspicions come to pass.”

  My stomach flips. “What are your worst suspicions, Your Highness?”

  He passes a finger over the faded scar on his forehead, an absent gesture. “You don’t need to worry about that, Hua xiong-di. The commander has heard glowing reports of your martial prowess, and I have vouched for your loyalty and trustworthiness. He is happy to have you stay here and be an asset to the garrison, as you planned to do in the first place.”

  “I—I see.” I remember my manners. “My unending gratitude to Your Highness.”

  “Hua xiong-di may not thank me in the end.” He is silent for some time. “Do you remember asking me why my father would send me on a dangerous mission outside the Wall?”

  I nod.

  “My father has never admitted it, but I believe that by deploying me here, a thousand li from the nearest Rouran attack, he probably did think he was doing something akin to stowing me at the central granary. But the events of last night have shown this to be a hollow assumption. I no longer believe that this stretch of the Wall is any safer than its counterparts farther east and west. In fact —” He stops abruptly and takes a breath. “I shouldn’t speculate too much. Just be careful, Hua xiong-di.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek. “You too, Your Highness.”

  He smiles briefly. “Perhaps we will meet again. If I recall correctly, after the war, we have an appointment to keep.”

  I knew before we set out from the capital that this is where we would part ways. But now that it is happening, I’m suddenly stunned, as if I learned of his departure just this moment and had no time to prepare myself.

  I bow low and salute, not wanting him to see how difficult I find this farewell. “I wish Your Highness many successes on this expedition. May your return be as swift as your departure.”

  “Take care, Hua xiong-di.”

  He sets a hand on my shoulder, a fleeting touch, and walks away.

  I remain in the same spot. Below me, the grassland undulates, green and beautiful under brilliant sunlight. Yet in the blink of an eye, it could be overrun with men and gears of war, marching south.

  A cold dread falls drop by drop into my heart.

  Perhaps we will meet again, he said.

  But most likely we won’t.

  “What’s the meaning of this, Hua xiong-di? Why are you not coming with us?”

  Kedan.

  When I first heard his footsteps, my heart leaped wildly. In that too-brief moment, I believed that the princeling had come back. That he had changed his mind and would remain at the fort. That even if the fort was no longer the haven we first thought it to be, we’d still be safe here. Together.

  Until I realized that the gait was too heavy and impatient to be his.

  “I was only ever going to travel this far and no farther,” I tell Kedan.

  He doesn’t look angry, only befuddled. “His Highness said that. But we are brothers, aren’t we, all of us?”

  I blink. What can I say to this kind of naïve sincerity? One of us proved himself a traitor only last night. And I am nobody’s brother, ever.

  “Tuxi xiong speaks many tongues and I am an exceptional tracker, if I do say so myself. But we are not fighters of your caliber, Hua xiong-di. And this is a time that calls for fighters.”

  I scoff bitterly. “You’ve seen what happens to me when I’m faced with real danger.”

  “That means nothing. The first time I came face-to-face with a full-grown tiger, I fainted. My relatives make fun of me over that to this day. And then they have to admit that I’ve become a much better hunter and tracker than they have ever been.”

  I only shake my head.

  “But you are so good, Hua xiong-di. What greater joy can a man have than to put his hard-honed skills to use? Here you will be buried, a knife in the dirt. But out there you will be like a dragon that descends from the clouds, all power and invincibility.”

  I shake my head some more.

  Kedan looks at me as if I am a child who refuses to listen to reason, his natural affection mingled with both frustration and disappointment. “Aren’t you concerned for His Highness? He’s barely older than you, but the burden he carries is as heavy as mountains.”

  “I met His Highness only six days ago.”

  “And he has treated Hua xiong-di with the greatest courtesy—not to mention that day he put himself at risk so that you could get to your horse in time.”

  I clench my hand into a fist. Will Kedan now remind me that he too leaped in to save me from the bandits? That I also owe him my life?

  But he only sighs at my continued silence, looking as dispirited as he did at Captain Helou’s departure. “If Hua xiong-di’s mind is made up, then let me not talk on and on. Hua xiong-di, take care. Perhaps someday we will meet again.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The sun shines. The grassland sways in the restless wind from the north. In the fort, soldiers practice their fighting formations, stamping their feet and shouting “Forward!” in unison. Out here, I am hunched over, my hands tucked inside my sleeves, alone with the cold, hard weight of my decisions.

  I have chosen well. Indisputably, I have chosen well. Before I left home, I made three separate promises that I would return. Heading north of the Wall would break all those promises.

  But I do not feel the satisfaction of having chosen well. Instead I feel pricked by a thousand needles.

  I did not lie about the fort being my final destination. I never pledged that I would continue beyond this point. Although I do owe Kedan and the princeling a debt of gratitude for coming to my aid with the bandits, I owe my family a far greater ­obligation—to keep myself away from danger.

  Why, then, am I ashamed again? Why am I more frustrated and disappointed than Kedan? Why do I feel as if I’ve damaged some wholly indispensable part of myself?

  I pace back and forth. The wind flogs my ears and ­threatens to undo my topknot, but I barely feel anything except the stinging sensation in my heart.

  I have been trained in the art of violence, long considered the domain of men. I have experience in dressing and moving like a man. But otherwise I have been raised as a woman, taught to do as I am told and leave all the greater decisions in life, all the larger concerns under the sky, to those who know better.

  To men.

  Father
never instructed me in yiqi, the code of honor and brotherhood that governs righteous conduct for men. A woman is not expected to be righteous. She is expected to serve her father, then her husband. And to bear children, the more sons the better, in the hope that someday, one of her sons will achieve such worldly stature that he—or his wife, more likely—will be able to care for her as she deserves to be cared for, after a lifetime of seeing to the needs of others.

  A woman’s conduct is judged almost entirely on her chastity, obedience, and self-effacement. By these standards, I have done well. Other than my own blood relations, and until I left home on this journey, I have rarely interacted with members of the opposite sex. I have undertaken years of arduous training because my father wished it. And while I desperately want to win the duel so that Father will see me as me, and not as the replacement he tries to pass off as his son, I have asked for no special recognition for years of sweat, tears, and toil.

  These narrow standards for women, however, do not apply at all to my current situation. Nor can I judge myself as a man, since I am not one. But what if I look at myself as a . . . person, a person with skills that some consider helpful, even if I myself have deemed those skills less than reliable?

  The thing is, I do not need to be taught yiqi. Brotherhood might be unique to men, but loyalty, devotion to friends, and a sense of fairness are not. They are the precise reasons I became a conscript in Dabao’s place. I could never have been at peace with myself knowing that it was within my power to do something for Auntie Xia and Dabao and not to have done it. Even Father did not argue with that.

  It’s strange to think of men as my friends, but that is what Tuxi and Kedan have become. As for the princeling, I owe him much—too much, when I consider the blood debt between our families.

  Everything Tuxi said about Bai’s trickery implied a danger that was close and imminent. What the princeling said, and chose not to say, confirmed it. Kedan’s dismay that I am abandoning the company only further underscores the truth behind his words: This is a time that calls for fighters.

  And I can no more bid them farewell here than I could have stood by and watched as Auntie Xia walked Dabao to his conscription.