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.
Beyond the wall of the palace lies a long, narrow space paved in granite and lit with a few lanterns, their light dim but sufficient. We dismount. Captain Helou once again consults the message he received at the city gate and marches us east.
A short time later, near an alley that looks very much like the ones I saw in the royal duke’s residence, except wider and with higher walls, we are met by a man who herds us forward.
As we approach the gate of a courtyard, another man walks out. Even before I see his face, I know he must be Lord Sang. I have not forgotten the distinctive jangling of his jeweled chain.
Captain Helou goes down on one knee. “My lord.”
I doubt Lord Sang would recognize me even if he saw me in broad daylight, but I keep my gaze averted. Beside me, Kai does likewise.
“You have worked hard, Captain,” says Lord Sang softly. “Is the pass secured?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“And is the khan’s representative with you?”
A Rouran fighter steps forward and says, in stiff but passable Chinese, “I am Anake. Our khan sends his greetings. He will be at the city gate in the morning.”
“It will be the pleasure of three lifetimes to see Rouran banners flow through the streets of this city,” replies Lord Sang smoothly. “Now, to our task.”
We have taken no more than ten steps when a man comes running. “My lord, the emperor has left his own dwelling for the crown prince’s. The men aren’t sure what to do.”
Lord Sang does not sound pleased. “So late? Why is he visiting the crown prince?”
“I’m not sure, my lord. The crown prince’s condition grew worse yesterday and today. Maybe … maybe …”
Maybe he won’t last the night? The man is obviously forbidden to speculate on the likely mortality of as exalted a personage as the crown prince, but is that what he means to convey?
“Tell the men to follow the emperor to the crown prince’s.
They are to be anywhere that he is.”
Does this mean that the guards outside the emperor’s personal residence, within the palace, have all been replaced by Lord Sang’s men? How many of them are there? Counting Lord Sang, Kai and I are already outnumbered five to one.
“Yes, my lord.” The man takes off running.
We, on the other hand, set off at a leisurely pace, which makes me feel as if ants are crawling all over me. Screams keep rising to my throat. My hand is so tight on my sword that my wrist is in agony. And I can barely keep myself from turning around and sprinting in the opposite direction.
The only thing that keeps me going is the knowledge that Kai is in the throes of the same terror, and he is putting one foot in front of the other.
We go down a long, narrow alley, cross a stone bridge that arches over a small stream, and pass through a garden in which all the trees and ornamental rock hills appear intent and sinister.
Once, we are stopped by guards who are not Lord Sang’s men. Without any hurry, Lord Sang tells the guards that Captain Helou has just returned from the Wall with news that must reach the emperor without delay. We are allowed to continue: Not only is Lord Sang a familiar figure in these parts, but he is also holding a pass from Captain Chekun, the head of palace security, which the guards dare not challenge.
I expect to be assaulted by the bitter smell of simmering medicinal herbs as we step into the crown prince’s courtyard. Instead, I smell incense. There is one guard at the gate and another stationed by the house, which is situated against the north wall of the enclosure.
Lord Sang shows Captain Chekun’s pass. “I have urgent news from the front. Where is His Imperial Majesty?”
Judging by the gate guard’s puzzled expression and his uncertain glance at all the men in soldiers’ uniforms, he must think the proceedings at least somewhat irregular. Nevertheless, he bows and answers, “He is with the crown prince, your lordship.”
Footsteps, distant but fast approaching—Lord Sang’s men, running over from the emperor’s private residence.
Lord Sang sounds more pleased as he says, “Announce me.” The guard, after a long moment of hesitation, goes to the house and kneels outside the door. “Begging Your Imperial Majesty’s instruction—Lord Sang implores to be received.”
“It is late,” comes the voice of a man. “What is the matter?”
“Urgent news from the front, Your Imperial Majesty,” answers the guard.
His Imperial Majesty sighs. “Let him in, then.”
I swallow a whimper. There are too many of them and too few of us. We should have incapacitated Captain Helou and all his men while we were at Futian Pass. That way Yucheng Khan wouldn’t have received the signal to proceed, and Lord Sang, for all his scheming, would have no Rouran army to back him up.
But here we are, and the emperor’s life is in our hands.
Lord Sang signals for his men to advance. At the door he declares, “Your Imperial Majesty, your servant Sang offers his greetings.”
“Enter,” says the emperor wearily.
Anake, the Rouran khan’s representative, follows Lord Sang, but both the guard from the courtyard gate and the guard who was already at the door move to block him.
“Only Lord Sang,” they say in unison.
Anake reaches out two enormous hands and pinches the guards on either side of their necks. The guards drop in place, and Anake enters. My legs feel as if they have been stuffed with cotton. At any point, they could fold under and I’d collapse in a heap.
Lord Sang’s men, the counterfeit guards who were stationed outside the emperor’s private residence, have now arrived and are busy taking up positions in the courtyard. I count at least fifteen men.
> I squint. Is that a large gong standing in a corner of the courtyard? The strong lingering scent of incense suddenly makes sense: A temple rite has been performed here recently for the crown prince, in the hope of banishing his illness by supernatural means.
Still more men pour in. Kai and I are now outnumbered twenty to one. We exchange a glance. His is stark with both fear and resolve; I can only pray that I will not disgrace either myself or my family.
I don’t know how, with my wobbly limbs, I manage to step over not one but two high thresholds, but now I’m inside a reception room. A man sits behind a low table at the head of the room, nursing what appears to be a small, shallow bowl of wine. He is in his late forties, dressed simply in black, slightly portly, slightly round-shouldered.
The emperor looks up from his wine. “Lord Sang. What news from the front brings you here so late?”
I’ve never been near an imperial court before, but I’m certain that under normal circumstances, Lord Sang would have already knelt in greeting. Tonight he remains standing, his back as straight as a sword’s edge. “Enemies beyond count have converged on Futian Pass, which is barely a guard tower. The pass will soon be overrun, and the Rouran will be in the capital by morning.”
The emperor takes a sip of wine and sighs. “The central commandery forces have gone off to fight enemies at the ends of the Wall. But now I learn that my real enemies have always been closer to home.”
He looks grim. Somewhere in his eyes, there is a trace of heartbreak, that a favorite advisor and friend has betrayed his trust. But he is not puzzled by Lord Sang’s lack of deference or confused by the appearance of so many armed soldiers where they do not belong.
I let out the breath I’ve been holding. Tuxi has spoken to his father.
“My son gave me an account of events at the Wall and in the Rouran encampment.”
Lord Sang draws back a little, as if in surprise. Like most everyone else, he had no knowledge that a imperial prince ventured outside the Wall.
“To think that however briefly, my doubt fell on my trusty cousin,” continues the emperor. “It is deep treachery indeed, Lord Sang, to place your minions under the royal duke’s command.”
The Magnolia Sword Page 22