The Magnolia Sword

by Sherry Thomas

  I scour my brain. Nothing. Confronted with Kedan’s pain, I draw a complete blank on appropriate things to say.

  And then I see my mistake: Inappropriateness is the only way forward.

  “Remember what you said about the special affection His Highness feels for me?”

  Kedan shifts in place. Good, I’m getting a reaction.

  “You were right. Last night he held me tight and whispered into my ear.”

  Kedan stares at me, then glances surreptitiously at Kai, still deep in conversation with Tuxi. He proceeds to study my face with an almost humorous concentration. “Nooo,” comes his conclusion. “He would never do that.”

  But underneath the denial there is definitely a twitch of hope.

  I lower my voice. “Oh, he did. Embraced me so hard I could scarcely breathe. Touched my face too.”

  Kedan’s jaw drops. He casts another look at our austere leader. “Him?”

  “I know, right? Such a cold fish by the looks of him.”

  Kedan shakes his head. “You are jesting, Hua xiong-di.”

  I point my right index finger at the sky. “I swear on the Heaven above.”

  “Don’t swear idly. There’ll be consequences.”

  “If you don’t believe me, ask Master Yu. He saw us.”

  Kedan’s jaw drops farther than it did last time. “Master Yu would have given you such a lecture that you wouldn’t even have dared to look at him today.”

  Finally I burst out laughing.

  “I knew you were joking,” said Kedan, both relieved and clearly disappointed.

  “I’m not. It really happened. I just didn’t tell you the circumstances.”

  I describe for him, in as vivid detail as I can, our fear that we were about to be caught and our last-ditch effort at portraying ourselves as nothing more than a pair of amorous Rouran fighters. Neglecting to mention, of course, my own turbulent reactions.

  Kedan listens with scandalized delight. When I finish, he blinks a few times, and then bumps his shoulder into mine. “I was right, Hua xiong-di. Trust me, if it had been me down there with him, he would never have done that. Not even if we were about to be chopped to pieces by a horde of Rouran fighters.”

  There is a hint of a smile in his voice.

  “I don’t know. Should we go ask him?”

  Kedan sucks in a breath. “For that, Master Yu will beat you.”

  “Not if His Highness stands in front of me and shouts, ‘If you are going to beat Hua xiong-di, you have to use the rod on me first!’”

  This time Kedan does smile. “I didn’t guess it in the beginning, but Hua xiong-di is a brat.”

  “Better watch what you say about His Highness’s beloved.

  Or Master Yu will beat you.”

  Kedan laughs softly. At the sound, both Kai and Tuxi look toward us, astonished. Which only makes Kedan’s mirth spill over even more. When he finally gets himself under control, we sit for some time in companionable silence.

  I have accomplished my aim: All I wanted was for him to feel like himself again, however briefly. But after a little more hesitation, I say, “Speaking of special affection, Kedan xiong, I think Tuxi xiong has been really worried about you.”

  “Hush. Don’t go around spreading rumors,” he says, but without any real heat to his words.

  I say no more, giving him time to chew on the idea.

  Sure enough, a while later, he says, “Tuxi xiong is far too superior a man for me. I mean, have you seen his handwriting? It’s as handsome as any great calligrapher’s. He’s so learned and I’m not even literate.”

  “Illiteracy isn’t a permanent condition. We are all born illiterate. I can teach you to read right now.”

  But Kedan shakes his head. “I don’t know what he can possibly see in me.”

  I roll my eyes. “We men are shallow. You know this—you are as shallow as the rest of us. Of course Tuxi xiong is besotted by your outstanding beauty.”

  His beauty isn’t quite as outstanding as Kai’s, but he has an adorable face, especially when he laughs. Kedan shakes his head again, but he is blushing, the color spreading all the way to his ears.

  I give him a slap on the back. “His Highness is watching us. I’d better go do something else before he decides to beat you for taking me away.”

  This earns me another smile. “Let’s by all means avoid that sort of trouble. And by the way, Hua xiong-di, you’re a good man.”

  I smile back at him. “That I am, my brother. I’m nothing if not a good man.”

  Not long after, Yu gets up from his nap. Kedan approaches him. The two speak briefly, then Kedan walks away toward the southern end of the valley.

  The princeling, Tuxi, and Yu confer for some time. After that, as I expected, Tuxi seeks me out.

  “Where did Kedan xiong go?” I ask.

  “Master Yu says he asked for permission to go for a walk. Said he’d be grateful if he could range farther afield for a bit.”

  I sigh. “Did you ask him about Captain Helou?”

  “I did. He said he stopped hoping long ago that Captain Helou would return his affections, but he thought that it was all right to engage in one-sided hero worship, since Captain Helou seemed destined for greatness.”

  That potential for greatness might yet blossom if Captain Helou’s side prevails. Greatness tends to be measured only by the height, breadth, and duration of power achieved, with little attention paid to the suffering incurred in that achievement.

  I look in the direction in which Kedan disappeared. Most of the ridges and spurs we have encountered in this mountain range have a roughly north-south orientation. But the southern end of this particular valley runs into a sharp slope that cuts crosswise, a rocky surface with its share of stubborn shrubs and small, twisty trees. Kedan was ambling across the slope earlier, easy and graceful in his progress, but now he is no longer in sight.

  I wonder if I’ll ever see anything but lean, sparsely clad mountains again. But I’d be content with this less-than-ravishing panorama if it meant I wouldn’t need to go anywhere near Captain Helou and his master. I inhale the clean, cold air, thankful to be still safe.

  For now.

  “So what did Hua xiong-di do to cheer Kedan xiong-di up like that?” asks Tuxi.

  Aha, the question I’ve been expecting.

  I grin. “Gossip.”

  Kai commanded me never to call Tuxi by anything but the name he gave us—never even to think of him as anything but Tuxi. At first I thought it would be difficult. But the opposite is true: I keep forgetting his extraordinary background because he is still the same kind, sincere, and slightly diffident man I first met, still the same good, comfortable friend.

  “Gossip?” he says uncertainly.

  “Yes. Kedan xiong enjoys scandalous news, so I was telling him … stories.”

  “Oh.” Tuxi looks crestfallen. “I don’t know that much gossip. No wonder I couldn’t make him feel better. Kedan xiong-di clearly responds to someone more fun, like you.”

  I tsk. “You are too hard on yourself, Tuxi xiong. If anything, Kedan xiong is in awe of you. He feels inferior next to your erudition and penmanship.”

  And he will drop dead if he ever learns that Tuxi’s father is the emperor of the North.

  “Really? You don’t think he finds me boring? Or … awkward?”

  “No. And if you ever get the chance, teach him to read and write.”

  Tuxi brightens. “You think he’d like that?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Tuxi’s expression turns dreamy, as if he can already see the two of them seated at a desk, the four treasures of the study spread before them. Then he says shyly, “I do know some gossip. Court gossip, mostly.”

  I smile. “Regale Kedan xiong, then, when you teach him.”

  “I think I will.” He takes a deep breath. “If we ever get the chance.”

  I take a nap too. At dusk I wake up, groggy and disoriented. My body is stiff, but unlike the first few times I slept o
n the ground, I barely noticed how uncomfortable my bed was: I’ve never been so deprived of sleep in my life and fell supremely unconscious as soon as I lay down.

  Tuxi is keeping watch; Kai, like me, is slowly sitting up from a nap. In the distance, Kedan approaches. He’s too far away for me to make out his features in the deepening dark, but his gait evinces a bit of bounce and jauntiness. I glance at Tuxi, who sits a few paces from me; he looks both nervous and hopeful.

  But they do not get an opportunity to speak alone. As soon as Kedan reaches us, Yu distributes food, and the topic turns to our next course of action.

  “Your Highness,” says Tuxi, “I know you are against my going down to the Rouran encampment. But I feel I should attempt it in case I learn something important.”

  “No,” says Kai instantly. “Besides, it’s too late. You can’t cross the ravine when it’s this dark. You could break your neck going either down or up.”

  “But Master Yu knows a more straightforward way into the encampment.”

  “No.” Kai stands up. “And I’ll hear no more of it.”

  Tuxi leaps to his feet. “But there is still so much we don’t know. The signal you mentioned, for example, that Lord Sang means to send when the royal duke and his men have left the capital. If we don’t know what kind of signal he’ll use, then how will our side know what to watch for?”

  “If Tuxi xiong goes, then I’ll go too, to help keep him safe,” says Kedan quietly.

  We are all on our feet now. I glance at Kai, unsure what I should say or do.

  Yu bows. “With your permission, Your Highness, I will also accompany Master Tuxi, since I was the one who inadvertently gave him the idea.”

  Kai sighs in exasperation. “At this rate, all five of us will be going down to the Rouran encampment. Is the specific nature of the signal worth the risk?”

  I cringe at the thought of repeating the trip from last night. Real danger or no, the fright alone probably took several years off my life.

  And then I see something in the southern sky and an even worse fear sears my spine.

  “Brothers.” I manage to push the word past my suddenly closing throat. “We will not need to find out what the signal is. Look behind you. That’s it!”

  We do not have a clear line of sight to the Central Plain because the slope that cuts across the southern end of our valley is just high enough to block the view. But there is a gap at the top of the slope, and through that gap, a golden nimbus shines in the night sky. When I squint, the nimbus resolves into hundreds if not thousands of pinpoints of light.

  “Sky lanterns!” cries Kedan softly.

  Tuxi rubs his eyes. “Surely they weren’t launched from the capital itself!”

  “No, but if the forces of the central commandery marched out earlier in the day, there would have been plenty of time for Lord Sang to send a rider to a town close to the border.” Kai’s voice is grim. “If those sky lanterns had been stowed earlier, the rider could pretend to be an imperial messenger and order the town’s residents to light the lanterns—an entreaty to Heaven above to protect us from the Rouran.”

  “Or maybe Lord Sang found an actual imperial messenger willing to do his bidding,” I mutter.

  “So what do we do?” asks Tuxi, his voice shaking just a little. “This is too soon. Even the Rouran weren’t expecting to head out so quickly, were they? Your Highness, Hua xiong-di, you said they thought they’d have to hold out for some time.”

  And Captain Helou went so far as to counsel them to slaughter their horses, if they ran out of stores.

  Before Kai or I can say anything, cries erupt from the Rouran encampment. They have seen it too—the signal they were waiting for.

  “Don’t we need to go right now, so we can get ahead of the Rouran?” I ask. My voice doesn’t shake, but my fingers do. I grip the edge of my cape.

  Kai swears. “There is no way we can get ahead of the Rouran. Their vanguard will be riding out now. By the time we exit this valley—and remember, we’ll have to take a more circuitous route—we’ll be caught between their vanguard and their main column. Not a good place to be.”

  “Let’s not go in that direction, then,” says Kedan. “I didn’t just take a walk to clear my head. I also wanted to see whether we could leave to the south. From the bottom that ridge looks impossible for horses, but halfway up, I found a fissure that cuts across to the other side. And that side has a path leading south—I could see the Wall in the distance.”

  “But even if we get to the Wall, there won’t be a road that leads directly to Futian Pass,” points out Tuxi. “We will have to go in the opposite direction, probably, until we can join an imperial road.”

  I blink. “But there is a road that leads directly to Futian Pass. The Wall itself goes there. And last I saw, two can ride side by side on the top.”

  Silence.

  Then Tuxi grabs me and lifts me bodily. “Hua xiong-di, just for that, the court owes you a reward of five thousand mu of land.” He sets me down and looks around. “Well, what are we waiting for? Shall we go?”

  Our gazes are fixed on Kai.

  He exhales. “Yes, let’s go.”

  We do not leave immediately: The princeling wants to make sure that the Rouran vanguard takes the route we assume they will—north out of the encampment, then along the edge of the plateau to the nearest pass—and not a southerly course that would lead them far too close to us.

  Yu busies himself seeing to the horses. Tuxi pulls Kedan aside, probably to inquire if the latter feels any better. Or who knows? Perhaps there is no time like now to share some court gossip.

  I sidle up to Kai, who is pulling daggers out of what seems like a dozen hidden places and checking them.

  “Give me one,” I say.

  He does. The dagger is small, from hilt to tip barely longer than my forearm. I test its weight and balance, then stow it in my boot. “Scared?”

  “When I saw the sky lanterns, I thought I had become a ghost then and there.”

  His honesty only makes him braver in my eyes.

  “You, Hua xiong-di?”

  “I’m so scared the backs of my knees are perspiring—in this weather.”

  It’s getting too dark to see his features, but I hear his smile. “You know what they say: That which is near vermilion becomes red; that which is near ink becomes black. You may blame your cowardliness on me.”

  “I do so unreservedly.”

  We both laugh a little.

  And then I admit my real fear. “I hope I won’t freeze again, when it’s time to fight.”

  “You won’t,” he says simply. “I don’t look forward to fighting, but I do look forward to fighting alongside you, Hua Mulan.”

  We proceed on foot, leading our horses. Kedan has the vision of a cat. In the dark he advances without fear or hesitation, calling back from time to time for us to watch out for a sudden dip or a boulder in our way. The Rouran vanguard has already departed—to the north, easily verified by an ear to the ground—and their main column will soon follow.

  The entrance to the fissure Kedan mentioned is hidden behind an outcrop. I catch a glimpse of small, cold stars just before we enter the passage. It is so narrow that at one point I worry my horse won’t fit through. It does, thankfully, but I stop anyway: Behind me I do not hear Yu’s footsteps, only his agitated breathing.

  I lead my horse forward to where the passage widens a little, then squeeze past the horse to reach Yu, who is leaning with his back against one side of the fissure. To my ears, his breaths sound as loud as bellows.

  “Are you all right, Master Yu?”

  “I’m—I didn’t anticipate that this space would be so constricted—and so long.”

  His answer doesn’t make sense. But there is a well-trained princeling who has spent his life in terror of me, so anyone can be afraid of anything.

  “How about we get you on your horse and I’ll attach a rope to your horse’s bridle so I can lead both our horses along?”
/>   “All right,” he agrees, still breathing heavily.

  We catch up to our companions, who have stopped to wait for us, and soon find ourselves on the other side of the ridge. The sky lanterns are long gone. The starlight is only bright enough to make the terrain ahead seem treacherous and impenetrable.

  But Kedan, sure-footed and confident, starts down the hill.

  And we follow.

  The moon rises, providing enough illumination for us to mount and ride. We are in a long valley not very different from the one we rode in after leaving the border garrison. The floor of the valley is even, almost smooth, and the grass is already noticeably thicker than on the plateau. Trampled underfoot, it releases a fragrance that makes me think of spring outings in the South, to take in the sight of peach and apricot trees in full blossom.

  The ease of our progress makes me nervous. I catch up to Kai. “If this route is as good as it appears to be, why isn’t it used more? In thousands of years, surely someone must have come upon it, even if the entrance is a little hard to spot.”

  “Eh, I hear that, Hua xiong-di,” answers Kedan from ahead. “Yes, our road will probably drop off a cliff—that’s why we are proceeding very carefully. But for a while yet we should be fine. A good long while, I hope.”

  “Well, Hua xiong-di, you heard him,” says Kai.

  I turn around in my saddle. “Tuxi xiong, did you hear that? How about another thousand mu of land for me if I have to go over cliffs?”

  “Let me petition the court the next time I’m in the capital,” says Tuxi, with exaggerated seriousness.

  We all laugh.

  But nobody laughs a little past midnight, when we stand at the edge of a seemingly bottomless chasm. Five hundred paces along its edge in either direction do not bring us any closer to a better route. Even Kedan, with his ability to see at night, cannot tell us where the canyon ends or at least tapers off.

  He swears volubly and with great wrath.

  After he falls silent, Kai asks, “Kedan xiong, you said you saw the Wall in the distance during your walk. How far do you think we are from the Wall now?”