Portal of a Thousand Worlds

by Duncan, Dave

  Eventually, Verdant pushed away her bowl and went to the nursery in search of comfort. White Petal was walking Silkworm, who was having trouble staying awake so he could keep up his yelling. She looked even wearier than he did.

  “I’ll take him for a while.” Verdant laid him on her shoulder—despite his continual colic, he was growing like a mushroom and weighed as much as a full sack of rice. He fell silent, knowing that this was not the one who fed him. Patting him and crooning softly, Verdant wandered out the back, meaning to tell Walnut Shell to abandon his hopes of a romantic voyage, but Walnut Shell wasn’t there. Nor were the horses, so Plum Blossom was taking no chances, and now there was no question that Verdant was a prisoner.

  She decided to go around to the front and sum up the new guards Plum Blossom had mentioned. Turning the corner of the house, she caught sight of a pillar of black smoke behind the gates. It looked close, but it meant that the Jade Swan had steam up and would be leaving soon. There were two men on the gate, both new to her, both armed with swords, and they stared at her as if daring her to try to run past them. Fools! Did they imagine she would try to run away in a house robe? She wanted to howl with frustration.

  As if it agreed, the world roared. The gates swung open of their own accord and then fell down. Verdant fell, too, twisting to avoid crushing her child, then rolling on top of him to shield him from the hail of roof tiles shattering as they hit the paving. He screamed right in her ear but she could barely hear him over the almighty din. The ground roiled like a soup pot. The guardhouse collapsed as if built of bean curd. One gatepost broke in half; the other sank into the ground; trees were thrashing; the wall collapsing in a stately dance. She could not think for the excruciating noise or breathe for the dust.

  The racket ended so suddenly she would have thought she had gone deaf had Silkworm not been providing ample evidence to the contrary. She sat up, feeling bruises but nothing worse, no broken bones. She hugged him and made comforting noises, but her head was spinning. She couldn’t think.

  The fog of dust was thinning. The once-smooth yard looked like paintings of the sea. The house had gone, fallen into an amazingly flat heap of rubbish. The forbidding boundary wall had gone, as had the guards, the other walls, and the other houses, but although she should have had a clear view down to the town, the town had vanished. There were no buildings in sight anywhere, only mounds of rubble and trees, some leaning at strange angles. As the rest of the dust settled, smoke trails began to coil upward.

  No one was emerging from the ruins of the guardhouse beside the gate. But beyond the bamboo garden—where minutes ago there had been a wall, a street, and more houses, now was only wreckage. She could see Walnut Shell, manfully wrestling with two terrified horses, clinging to their cheek straps, and spending more time in the air than he did with his feet on the ground. He had been bringing them around to meet her, as instructed.

  Verdant struggled to her feet, hearing faint screams coming from the rubble of stone, mud, and timber that had been the house. Plum Blossom appeared, limping badly and holding one arm as if it were broken. A few weeping servants trailed behind her.

  “Nice to be alive, isn’t it?” Plum Blossom said. She waited, then said, “Isn’t it?”

  “You’re hurt.”

  “I noticed. Broke my collarbone. Can you tie a sling?”

  “No.”

  “It’s not hard. But don’t worry about me. Get out of here while you have the chance.”

  “What?”

  Plum Blossom came close and peered into Verdant’s eyes. Her own face was painted with dust, streaked with blood. “Pull yourself together! You’re gaping like a fish.”

  No one spoke to Verdant like that. She opened her mouth and then closed it again. Maybe there was truth in it. Silkworm needed her.

  “I’m all right.”

  “Good. Then take those horses before somebody else does. And ride! Follow the Wilderness Road. Silky’s at a hilltop fort called Goat Haven, about a half a day’s ride west. Got that—Goat Haven? You can’t stay here.”

  “His nurse! I need—”

  “She’s dead. A roof beam flattened her. I saw. Lord Silk Hand, remember? And Prince Luminous Aspect. Repeat what I just told you.”

  “Goat Haven, Lord Silk Hand, Prince Luminous Aspect.”

  “Well done. Now go!”

  Verdant spared a glance for Walnut Shell, who was now managing to keep all ten feet on the ground most of the time, although the horses were still rolling their eyes and shivering like leaves in a hailstorm.

  “Go!” Plum Blossom insisted again. “Even if the ship is still afloat, it’ll soon be swamped by all the people trying to get on it. You can’t even get to it if all the roads are blocked. Refugees will come here soon and take the horses. Go! Oh, I wish I had a free hand to slap you.”

  “Yes,” Verdant said, abandoning efforts to comfort Silkworm. “Come, darling, we’ll go and find Daddy.”

  Her clothes, the gold, the pistol, all the rags for Silkworm—all were buried under the house. She hurried along the bizarrely lumpy driveway and clambered over the rubble of the wall. She knew enough to approach the spooked horses gently. Painted with sweat and dust, Walnut Shell flashed his toothy smile at her. He had certainly proved that his muscles were genuine.

  “Go to the ship now, lady?”

  “Help me up!” But he daren’t let go of the horses.

  She looked around desperately for a safe place to lay the sobbing Silkworm and found one. Then she went back to Walnut Shell, took the knife from his belt, and slit the back hem of her robe. She replaced the knife, ripped the silk as high as she could, then went to retrieve her child.

  “I’m really looking forward to getting those legs wrapped around me,” Walnut Shell said.

  She should have stuck the knife in his chest, not his belt. She fashioned a sling from Silkworm’s blanket and somehow she managed to mount a terrified horse while cradling a terrified baby. Now what? Walls everywhere had collapsed, so the road was littered with rubble. The smoke rising from the town did not include the Jade Swan’s black plume, so it had either sunk or been swamped, and in any case, it was out of reach as an escape. People were wandering blankly, some heading down to the town, others in the opposite direction, and one or two already carrying loot. Plum Blossom had been right. Desperate people were dangerous.

  “Out of town,” she commanded. Escape the looters first. But not in search of Silky. Oh no! She knew what he had intended to do to gain possession of Goat Haven, and she would have no part of it. If she couldn’t take a boat down the river, she could still ride that way. It would take longer, but she must head home to Wedlock.

  The gently rolling hills above Cherish were too stony for cultivation, but good ranch country. In a few places, the ground had cracked or slid, but the going was fairly easy. Houses had collapsed, herds had scattered, and the surly mounted guards who normally harassed strangers were far too busy to bother Verdant and her escort. Silkworm went to sleep within minutes, which made her wonder why she had never thought of trying to carry him on horseback before.

  Her own shock had begun to wear off. As her mind cleared, she felt the stirring of hope that she had escaped from her monstrous captor. Behind her, the remains of the town still burned. The distant river was muddy brown and littered with debris. Walnut Shell refused to push the horses any faster than a walk, but even that slow pace was carrying her ever closer to home and safety. Let her father have the money, whatever was left of it! All that mattered was safety for her son and herself. And soon, maybe another child.

  Her rosy daydream crumbled when Walnut Shell, who mostly rode in silence, suddenly pointed and said, “Look, lady!” He was pointing straight ahead. “Little River.”

  She saw a wide valley and a tributary joining the Jade. Although much narrower, it was a frothy brown torrent, and even from there she could see that it w
as laden with debris. “It doesn’t look very little to me.”

  “That’s its name, Little River. But it isn’t, not today.”

  “How do we cross?”

  He shrugged his big shoulders. “Bridge is down, see?”

  “You mean we’ll have to ford it?” That would be dangerous, especially so soon after the earthquake, when the water would be full of debris, either floating or unseen on the bed.

  “Can’t, not here. Have to go upstream, long way upstream.”

  Idiot! She should have realized that traveling along a riverbank was not as easy as sailing on the river itself. She wondered about the Wilderness Road, whether it was equally impassable. Even life with Silky would be better than being trapped in the ruins of Cherish. No, it was too early to give up.

  “Then we go upstream,” she said. At that moment, Silkworm wakened and began to cry. This time, he had reason, for he needed to be changed and fed.

  Later, there was a brief aftershock. The horses panicked, but somehow Verdant managed to stay on and keep hold of Silkworm. Walnut Shell rode alongside and caught hold of her mount’s bridle, bringing it under control again.

  He had been staying well clear of any sign of living people. Two horses were too valuable to risk, he said. But suddenly she realized that he was heading to the remains of what might have been a family home, not far from the river. Now it was a heap of mud, timber, and roof tiles; the barn was badly canted, but still a recognizable building, and the paddock rails had survived.

  “Horses need to rest and eat,” he said. “There’s water here.”

  There was no goat, though, and Silkworm desperately needed milk from somewhere. While Walnut Shell tended to the horses—removing their tack, loosing them in the paddock, and fetching hay—Verdant cleaned her child as best she could, and wet a corner of his blanket at the pump, so he could at least have something to suck. He wanted a nipple, but he was either too tired or already too weak to do more than whimper. She laid him on the softest-looking patch of grass she could see, and sank down beside him. She was bone weary and worried that Walnut Shell would no longer accept her orders if he didn’t like them. Why should he? She didn’t even have money to offer him now.

  Walnut Shell came over to join her, sitting on the far side from Silkworm. He inspected the piteous morsel.

  “It’ll die in a day or two.”

  “No!”

  “Yes. Might be kinder to settle it now.” The stableman leaned over her and closed his great hand around the baby’s tiny throat. Verdant screamed and tried to hit him. He laughed, and pushed her down so he could lie on top of her.

  “I am with child!” she protested.

  “Then I’ll make it twins. I don’t like that husband of yours, lady—that snooty Gray Helper prancing around, putting on airs, pretending to be a great lord.”

  She didn’t like his breath, nor his face so close to her. He was heavier than Silky.

  “I don’t suppose he would like you if he saw you like this.”

  “But he’s not here, is he? That’s why I’m going to fuck his wife for him now. I’m going to fuck her long and hard. And if you don’t cooperate, that’ll be just fine, too. Now take your clothes off.” He moved off her.

  She did as she was told. Distant Cloud had been clumsy; Silky had been greedy. Walnut Shell liked to be rough, and he laughed every time she cried out or protested. Plum Blossom had not been lying when she said he was long on stamina. His hands were rough as rasps.

  When she reached for her clothes, he roused himself to block her and said he was going to go for triplets.

  It was almost dark before he was satisfied. Sore, battered, and utterly humiliated, she just lay there as he dressed and walked away. But when she heard him calming the horses, she realized that he was quite capable of riding off into the night, taking them both, and leaving her there to die. She scrambled into her clothes, snatched up Silkworm, and hobbled over to the paddock.

  To her relief, he let her mount up, and they rode off together.

  “Small way upstream from here’s a village called Tutu,” he said. “I was born there, but telling them so won’t make them any friendlier.”

  “We’re going to stay there tonight?”

  “You are, and your stinky brat, too.”

  Tutu was in ruins. Some of the debris was still burning and people were wandering like sleepwalkers through the mess, perhaps looking for anything worth saving.

  Walnut Shell reined in a short walk away. “Desperate people,” he growled. “Dangerous.”

  “My baby needs milk.”

  He laughed. “You can ask. You may have to pay the same sort of fee you paid me. Now get down.” He had caught hold of her reins.

  “You’re not going to leave me!”

  “Oh yes I am. Do it!”

  He rode away into the dusk. Having no choice, she began to plod in the direction of the village. This morning she had been rich, and now she was literally a beggar. Who was going to worry about some anonymous murdered stranger on a day like this? She owned nothing but a tattered robe, shoes, one blanket, and a doomed baby. But even the odious Walnut Shell had praised her body while abusing it, so perhaps some man would take pity on her. Food was never overly plentiful in the spring, and famine must be very likely now, with all the warehouses in ruins.

  She was seen before she reached the ruins. Half a dozen men and a few women lined up to scowl at her approach, but then one couple came forward to meet her. The woman was short and plump, and she had already opened her robe to display milk-swollen breasts. Oh yes! Eagerly, Verdant moved toward her, but the man stepped between them.

  Older than the woman, short but wiry, hardened by toil, he regarded the offered baby sourly. “Boy or girl?” he growled.

  “Boy.”

  His nod of satisfaction implied that he would have plucked a girl away from his wife’s nipple and discarded her. Heaven had taken his child and now offered him another, which would be acceptable only if Heaven had replaced a daughter with a more valuable son.

  “I am very hungry,” Verdant said, despising the beggar’s whine in her voice.

  “And we have very little. You work for me?”

  “Feed me and my child and I’ll do anything you want,” she said.

  Chapter 8

  The fraudulent Son of the Sun was dining with Snow Lily, the Pearl Concubine, supping delicacies out of exquisite Fourth Dynasty porcelain bowls. Outside in the twilight, Nightingale Moon hung above the skyline like a silver smile, promising that spring was here, even in Heart of the World. With a small orchestra warbling discreetly at the far end of the hall, Butterfly Sword savored the romantic moment, although it added to his torment. He was desperate to welcome Snow Lily back to the imperial bed, but Court Astrologer had not yet determined an auspicious evening for their reunion. No doubt the Empress Mother was masterminding this so that Butterfly Sword would impregnate a few of his other concubines first.

  He was certain that Snow Lily was as eager as he was, but this evening she seemed upset about something else. He would not pry; she would tell him when she was ready.

  “How can it be,” he asked, “that I rule all of the world that counts and yet my food is always cold? It makes no difference where in the palace I eat.”

  Her dimples flickered into view for an instant. “I expect they only have one kitchen worthy of your service. And after it arrives, it must be sampled by the tasters.”

  “At least we do have food.” Had not the Humble Teacher said, Count your blessings to be happy and your troubles to be sad? “Two years of bad weather have punished crops everywhere. And now the earthquake!”

  Being privy to many, if not all, state secrets, he knew that millions of his supposed subjects were growing hungrier by the day—homeless and starving. He was supposed to be their father, and yet he could do nothing!
r />   It was easy enough to blame misfortune on last year’s broom stars, but knowing the cause of last month’s earthquake did not find a cure. Day by day, news came dribbling in: news of entire cities so flattened that it was impossible to tell that there had ever been cities there, news of floods and landslides, of bridges fallen and canal locks shattered, fires, rivers half-choked with bodies. The worst destruction seemed to have been in Shashi, but some had extended well to the north, into Nanling and Wanrong. The lack of real news yet from south of the Jade River was itself very bad news.

  One thing was certain: The Bamboo Banner would be drawing strength from this disaster, preaching that the Eleventh Dynasty had lost the mandate of Heaven. The Empress Mother herself seemed almost convinced of that now, half-terrified of what her own actions might have provoked. When Butterfly Sword had pointed out that the Banner would have to cross all that devastated country to meet the army, she had allowed herself to be relieved by this comfort, even though it came from her puppet, whom she preferred to regard as an ignorant lummox.

  Snow Lily dropped her gaze. “Your Majesty flatters me by sharing confidences.” She gave him titles in private only when she was unhappy.

  “You are the only one I can share them with.” He wrapped one of her hands in one of his much greater ones. “You already know the greatest secret of all. I trust your discretion, and if the she-dragon did not, we should never have met.”

  “It is so hard! We have nothing to do in the concubine quarters except laze around all day and gossip. I am always frightened that I will let slip something I am not supposed to know.”

  “Then I will not burden you with any more state business,” he promised. She had given him a child, he had given her a title; the other women probably picked on her mercilessly.

  She pouted. “Sweet Melody is in labor.”

  So that was the problem! “I wish her well.”

  “I don’t. I hate her. I wouldn’t mind Devotion. She’s nice. But if Melody gives you a first son, you will appoint her Empress.”