The Magnolia Sword

by Thomas, Sherry

  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 at 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.

  Commander Wu sent out scouts. We of the princeling’s company took a brief, much-needed nap while his men rehearsed getting into the heap formation. Soldiers from forts we had passed earlier began arriving. The princeling had requested reinforcements, but specified that they must not come marching in columns—only in pairs, spaced well apart, as if they were simply patrolling the Wall.

  When the first
scout returned, reporting that Captain Helou had been sighted, the body heap was constructed. Yu hid himself in the fort and everyone else, including Kedan, disappeared into the mountains.

  And that is how things stand as the princeling and I depart with Captain Helou and his Rouran escort, all of us now dressed in imperial uniforms.

  I barely manage not to groan as I swing myself into the saddle. Every part of my body aches, and my head teems with all the ways everything could go wrong. The remaining Rouran fighters might discover Yu and slaughter him before he can let in our reinforcements. The men in the heap might make some sound or movement that gets them noticed and spoil the entire plan. Or everything might go off without a hitch, but—and this worries me most of all—because our numbers are so few compared to the incoming Rouran, Yucheng Khan and his followers might overpower the fort’s defenses and come through anyway.

  I would have preferred never to light the sky lanterns. But Captain Helou will check. And if the sky lanterns do not rise, he will know that something has gone wrong at Futian Pass. In which case, all his suspicions would roar to the fore, and the princeling and I would find ourselves in a fight for our lives.

  We are taking an enormous gamble, and I’m not at all sure that luck will tilt our way. But Kai successfully argued that Lord Sang has worked with such meticulous cunning, unless he in fact shows his hand, we could not convince the emperor that his favorite—indeed, beloved—advisor has turned against him.

  So now, we ride. The path leading from Futian Pass to the imperial road isn’t awful, but we proceed at such a pace that I’m always just short of crying out in alarm, as my mount descends with the speed of a darting deer.

  We slow down a little when it becomes completely dark. And sure enough, Captain Helou begins to look back frequently. Whenever he does so, the princeling and I do likewise. The third time we turn around, a handful of sky lanterns rise from Futian Pass into the night—stars that sway and twirl on the wind.

  How close are the Rouran forces? Are they already at the gate, breaking it down? Will they have archers? Will they have ladders and grappling hooks to ascend the Wall? And how long can our defenders hold out?

  My heart seizes at the peril Yu and Kedan will be in. Will they outlive this night? Will any of us outlive this night?

  But all I can do is hold on to my seat and let my Dayuan horse carry me swiftly down the hills toward the imperial road.

  Toward the capital.

  As we ride, my anxieties shift to Tuxi, who was so apprehensive about his task. Has he arrived in the capital yet? Has he spoken to the emperor? Does the emperor believe him? Or does the emperor instead punish him for going beyond the Wall without leave?

  To my surprise, just before we reach the imperial road, Captain Helou calls for a stop. “Let the horses rest for a bit.”

  The horses, these amazing, amazing horses, seem fresher than any of the riders. I wonder if Captain Helou, faced with the enormity of what he is about to do, needs a moment to collect himself. Or at least to put it off ever so slightly further into the future.

  I pull him aside. “We didn’t secure Futian Pass just to help you, Captain,” I say without preamble. We are well past the hour for preambles.

  Suspicion, mixed with exhaustion, emanates from him. “What do you mean, Hua xiong-di?”

  I carry on with the scenario Kai and I have constructed, in which Lord Sang isn’t the architect behind the Rouran invasion but only a lieutenant to the actual mastermind—Kai being another trusted lieutenant, perhaps more trusted than Lord Sang. “I mean Lord Sang may not be proceeding as he has been instructed. Were you ever aware that he had someone else to answer to?”

  “No.”

  “Well, neither was Yucheng Khan. And that might present a problem, don’t you think? After our glorious deeds tonight, when the time comes to distribute honors and rewards, the one who deserves the most accolades is at risk of being left out.”

  “I—I see.”

  Probably the last thing Captain Helou expects, as he fights his own trepidation, is to be thrown into the middle of a territorial dispute on which important man has contributed more to treason. But that’s what’s so good about this lie. He has made a career as a soldier; if nothing else, he understands the scramble for glory.

  “His Highness and I will be on hand to make sure that Lord Sang does not claim more than his share of credit. Lord Sang, of course, does not need to know that we are there.”

  Captain Helou is silent, pondering my request, which verges on an order.

  “Your work here will not be disputed,” I assure him. “Your reward is certain. In fact, your reward will be all the ampler, when we get our fair share.” I pause and let my words sink in. “Do you understand me—and His Highness—Captain Helou?”

  After a long moment, he says, “Yes, Hua xiong-di, I do.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  When I return to Kai, he tilts his head in Captain Helou’s direction.

  I nod. We—he, especially—need Captain Helou not to direct Lord Sang’s attention our way.

  “You are very good at this,” he says softly.

  At deception, he means. Perhaps I am better than some, but every woman has a great deal of experience presenting herself as someone other than who she is, since no girl is ever everything the world wants her to be.

  But if Captain Helou said yes only so that I would stop pestering him, if he means to inform Lord Sang about us once he sees his master . . .

  I turn my mind aside. This might be the last opportunity I have to speak to Kai, and I don’t want to waste any more time on Captain Helou or Lord Sang or how we are all going to meet our end.

  But I don’t know what to say.

  Kai sighs. “According to the monks, it takes five hundred years of karmic cultivation for two people to share a journey, a thousand to share a pillow. If that’s correct, we must already have at least fifteen hundred years of karmic ties between us.”

  I haven’t heard of the saying, but I’m pretty sure the monks weren’t referring to the way we shared a pillow, with five other men snoring on the same platform. I smile a little. “Fifteen hundred years—that’s thirty lifetimes?”

  “I think so,” he murmurs. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

  “I . . . I don’t know.”

  “I do. Next lifetime, let’s not waste years upon years. Let’s be friends from the very beginning.”

  Tears sting my eyes. “Where should we meet in the next lifetime? In the South or the North?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Anywhere under the sky.”

  “Let’s go!” calls Captain Helou.

  Our hour has come.

  “All right,” I say. “Next lifetime, I’ll expect to have met you when I turn five.”

  “I’ll be there when we’re three.”

  We laugh. Then he is walking toward his horse. I wipe the corners of my eyes and swing back into the saddle.

  Now to our fate—and the fate of this country.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  A pass from Lord Sang, brandished by Captain Helou, gets us through the checkpoints without any fuss.

  Thirty li on the imperial road go by in a blur. As the city walls materialize in the distance, lit by torches and lanterns, my heart thuds uncontrollably. I lower my gaze so that I see only what lies directly in front of me.

  At the city gate, someone is waiting for Captain Helou. I tense, fearing it will be Lord Sang himself. But it’s only a senior gate guard, with a sealed message. Captain Helou thanks the man, reads the message, and rides on. Kai pulls his helmet low and enters the capital unrecognized.

  It’s late, but not so deep into the night that the entire city is dark. Though the streets are empty except for night watchmen walking in pairs, here and there we pass a window lit from within.

  We ride past places that seem vaguely
familiar, and now the streets are even wider and smoother. We skirt a large square. On the other side of the square, high, crenellated walls loom, with large, lamp-lit gates, and behind them, roofs rising like mountain ridges against the night sky.

  Are we approaching the palace?

  We are, but not from the front. Even at the back of the palace, the arched entrance at the center is reserved only for the emperor himself. Kai may be of sufficient stature to use the smaller gates immediately to either side, but officially the highest-­ranking man in our party is Captain Helou, and we go to a gate that is second from the center.

  The two palace guards stationed there greet Captain Helou quietly, but with familiarity and respect. I have no idea how often Captain Helou comes to the palace, but I suddenly wonder whether these are real palace guards or Lord Sang’s men in palace guard uniforms, disguised as we ourselves are.

  We are about to ride through the gate—is it really so easy to gain admittance into the imperial palace?—when another guard, an older man in a fancier uniform, appears.

  “Who are these people? Why are we letting anyone in so late?”

  One of the guards salutes, bending from the waist. “Lieutenant Tufulu, this is Captain Helou. He just came back from the Wall with urgent news. But the central commandery forces have left, so he needs to see Lord Sang, who is visiting with Captain Chekun tonight.”

  “He can come inside by himself and wait here for someone to inform Lord Sang. And why is Lord Sang still here so late? Captain Chekun should know better than that.” Lieutenant Tufulu sends a disdainful glance our way. “The rest of you wait outside.”

  He turns to leave, but pivots back to the guards. “And who are you two? Why have I never seen either of you before?”

  The guard laughs incredulously. “Lieutenant, how can that be? Why, we —”

  A dagger flashes and buries itself to the hilt in Lieutenant Tufulu’s chest. Another in his back. Lieutenant Tufulu’s eyes widen, then he stumbles and falls.

  Blood roars in my head. But I do not make any sound. I do not even look at the dead man as we ride past.