The Shifu Cloth (The Chronicles of Eirie 4)

by Prue Batten

Even to her own ears her voice sounded querulous but before she had time to pull herself together and before anyone could answer her, a huge thrumming sounded from behind them, persistent and voluble.

  ‘It is the temple drums.’ Ming Xao’s horse worried at its bit and he stroked the animal’s neck. ‘Not the morning ones, either. It is the alarm. They have found my letter.’

  Loud horns sounded and Xuan replied.

  ‘I think they have found Lu, sire. I shall explain when we are safe. Look you, the bridge.’

  Isabella dragged her horse around. The bridge hung across the chasm. Strong stone stanchions at either end supported great hauciers strung across the ravine, two the size of a man’s handgrip – one at a man’s height, the other at foot level. In between, it was as if a giant had laced rope as a net, a protective wall, but one through which the air below could be seen. The bridge was paved in wooden planks, jammed together to give the illusion of solidity.

  ‘Lord, go! Go! It is safe. You next, Lady Ibo, and I shall follow.’

  Ming Xao needed no urging. He pushed his horse onto the bridge and began to walk, the structure remaining steady.

  The guards’ voices could be heard shouting, along with the shrill sound of the hunting horns and the pounding of the temple drums. By now, the whole of the Han would be awake and aware that something was awry.

  ‘Hurry, Lady! Go!’

  The trader pushed up against Isabella’s horse and it took a step onto the bridge.

  Isabella looked to each side, at the ravine stretching away and at the apparent delicacy of the bridge that slung like a hammock between edges. Her stomach rose into her mouth and she looked down over the sides, saw the maelstrom water as it churned and bit back on itself, pounding against rocky outcrops and sending a damp spray into the air. A cold fear crept up her legs, and into her hands and shoulders, which began to shake.

  ‘I can’t,’ she called to whoever would listen. ‘I can’t.’

  Ming Xao had reached the other side and called to her.

  ‘Ibo. This was your idea. I believed in you. You have to. If you are caught, they will never believe that I acted wilfully. They will think that you trapped me and that Xuan, Chi Nü and yourself are in league. You would all be beheaded. It would not matter what I said. Ride forward, you will be safe.’

  ‘Look at His Excellence.’ Xuan spoke above the stampeding noise of the river and their pursuers. ‘Keep your eyes fixed on him and let your horse move forward. I will be right on your tail and nothing will go wrong. Nothing ever has. Ride, I beg you.’

  ‘Lady Ibo,’ Chi Nü spoke. ‘Have faith.’

  Have faith.

  Isabella closed her eyes and shook her head slightly and then her gaze once again fastened on Ming Xao. The dawn light flashed on the lens of his spectacles and she thought of Veniche, of boats and her own home and with a huge breath she dug in her heels and sent her horse forward. Never once did Ming Xao’s gaze falter, he just spoke quietly, encouraging her, and then her horse had stepped onto firm ground. She pushed the animal as far as she could to the other side of the clearing away from the drop and watched as Xuan moved off the bridge. Within a moment, the bridge had vanished, leaving nothing but that cruel drop.

  ‘Get into the cover of the forest, quickly, before they see us.’ Xuan pushed past her and led the way into the shadowy fir trees. The companions all gazed back at the far copse, at the milling guards who waited for the bridge to re-form.

  But nothing happened.

  ‘Why isn’t it allowing them to cross?’ Isabella whispered

  ‘The bridge is enchanted. A gift from the Celestials, lifetimes ago. It gives us time, that is all. But being a gift from the spirits, it will not remain obdurate for long. Am I right, Lady Chi Nü? We must make haste and get to the Great Wall before messages are sent.’

  ‘Messages sent how?’

  Isabella pushed her horse next to Ming Xao’s and the troop proceeded along a shaded trail that led ever uphill.

  ‘They have beacons and will light them. But they must get to them first. Xuan, we must gallop.’

  ‘Agreed, Lord.’

  Xuan began to canter, Chi sitting lightly behind and when the track opened out a little more, they all began to gallop, the horses straining on the incline. Winding in and out of trees, they eventually achieved a knoll where they could look back, no smoke yet, and look forward, far into the distance.

  ‘There’s the Great Wall.’

  Ming Xao pointed and Isabella’s breath sucked in. An enormous structure snaked in either direction, like the serpentine loops of a giant dragon. At perfectly regular intervals, crenellated watchtowers stood guard. A giant set of gates tantalised and behind the wall perched a mountain of some height, covered in trails of snow and cobwebs of mist.

  ‘Still no smoke, come on, we might be able to make it. But trot, keep calm, act as though everything is normal. Lord, the gate guards know me, shall you allow me to talk us through?’

  ‘Of course, but how do you plan to explain the women. I have menswear that I intend the Lady Ibo to use. There is enough for the Lady Chi as well. I thought…’

  ‘Then let them, so much the easier. But we have minutes to do this. I can’t understand why the smoke hasn’t begun.’

  Isabella flew off her horse and grabbed clothes from Ming Xao. She was so close to freedom she could suck it into her nostrils, and caring little if the men watched, she ripped off her tunic and flung on a masculine black robe. She pulled her bun up high under the black cap Ming Xao provided and pulled on plain black leather boots. Xuan had helped Chi down and Isabella tore off her outer garments, replacing them with the exact same version of her own clothes. Within moments the hapless Celestial was back in the saddle, whilst Isabella jumped into her own. Leading Chi at a trot, Xuan urged the others to follow and he explained with barely a loss of breath that he would say they were on a mission to the Raj, that he led the young man because he was ill and he believed a Raji could heal him, that he showed exceptional promise as a trader before the unkind illness that had taken his sight away. As for Isabella and Ming Xao, they were traders heading to the markets outside.

  ‘I am trusted here. I pass through regularly and they will hardly doubt me.’

  Xuan jogged easily as he spoke. The sky had darkened to a miserable grey and as they entered the gate precinct, a shower of rain began, quickly turning to sleet.

  ‘The spirits are on our side. The smoke will hardly show.’

  *

  A guard ran out of his watch-house and Xuan began a fast paced discussion. Each bent their head against the sleety onslaught and Ming Xao pulled out a cloak and flung it over himself. Isabella felt in her own saddlebag and pulled out one for herself and then reached forward into Chi’s tack and flung a cloak over the Celestial. With hoods cowled against the weather, and the guard chafing to get back to the warmth of his stove, he slapped Xuan on the back and yelled to the gatekeepers to unbolt the great iron doors.

  They rode through without fuss, their heads bent against the icy blast, Xuan jumping behind his charge with a cheery word to the gatekeepers and the guard. They started to canter immediately they were through.

  ‘I told them we needed to make haste to the first inn before the weather came down from the mountain. And I said I wasn’t going to trudge alongside to do it. If they didn’t tell the Master, I would bring them a gift of gold from the Raj. They asked what the noise was that had drifted on the wind and I told them the city celebrated the first day of the imperial marriage preparations.’

  *

  Isabella could say nothing yet.

  She was so full of relief, of excitement that she could barely think of the ramifications of what the companions had done. Time enough for that when they reached shelter, but all she knew now was that she was free.

  She tapped her horse’s sides and shot past the others.

  ‘Come on,’ she yelled. ‘Let’s go.’

  Chapter Twenty

  Nicholas

/>   ‘It is a mad idea, isn’t it?’

  Poli sat with his back to a rock in front of a fire, staring at the entrance to the pass.

  You think? It’s a given.

  ‘I am not sure how to proceed. Except to say one thing – if we go through the Vale, Nicholas, we are going to rely on your Other skills for our lives.’

  A wasp and a breeze are hardly lifesaving. No pressure then, my friend.

  ‘Have you tried to mesmer yet?’

  Nicholas took a deep breath. He could barely see Poli’s face in the flaring shadows cast by the fire.

  ‘Aine, you have! What happened?’ Poli shuffled over and pushed Nicholas’s shoulder. ‘Tell me.’

  Nicholas pulled a wry face.

  ‘Write it.’

  ‘Mesmered breeze, remember mountain edge?’

  ‘You did that?’

  Nicholas nodded. He chose not to reprise the wasp incident.

  Small pickings.

  ‘Do something now.’ Poli vibrated with anticipation. ‘Nicholas, do it. This is just what we need.’

  Nicholas hated being put in such a position. It tested him more than he wanted. But his goal was Isabella and if they must make haste in the quickest way, then he knew the Vale must be dealt with and must be dealt with by him. He drew his hand across the night air, a slight movement of bare significance. Poli would have been hard put to see it in the darkness. Then he quickly wrote a note and passed it to his companion.

  ‘Heard something.’

  Poli pushed his hands against the ground to lever himself up. But his lower half remained immobile, frozen, and he almost toppled sideways. He tried again, pushing harder, but his legs would not shift.

  ‘You didn’t hear a thing, did you? This is a test, I’m stuck to the ground. This is wonderful,’ he chortled. ‘I do believe we might be on our way.’ He clapped Nicholas’s shoulder. ‘Right, you can change me back now.’

  Nicholas waved his hand and gasped, a look of concern on his face. He opened his eyes wide and then shook his head.

  ‘You can’t? Bloody hell, man, what do you mean you can’t?’ Poli shoved Nicholas hard. Nicholas jumped up and walked away, Poli’s distraught voice trailing after him. ‘Aine, you jumped up excuse for an Other! What am I bloody well going to do?’

  But Nicholas turned round, his face creased from the laughter he wasn’t able to vocalise and Poli’s voice dwindled as a hand was once again moved and life flooded back to the static limbs.

  ‘You little shit.’ Poli jumped up and scruffed Nicholas. ‘You bloody little shit! I ought to beat you to a pulp.’ He grinned. ‘But this is too exciting, too marvellous. We’re in, Nico my boy! The Vale is ours for the taking.’

  Nicholas’s smile faded as they both nestled into their blankets and coats by the fire. He thought Poli was being overly confident. Nothing is ever as it seems with the Others, least of all enchantment and he had heard enough of Gallivant’s and Jasper’s stories to know. Awareness was all, prescience, caution. Whatever it took. He lay awake and listened to the mountain breeze moaning through the bottle-necked pass and thought of Isabella.

  Somewhere not so far, Isabella, is where you are. Do you know how much I have missed you and your irreverent humour, your lack of constraint? Aine, I would settle for some of that egotism right now, just to have you back in our fold. The men Isabella, your coterie – they have pined for you as if they had been tainted by a veela. But life goes on. They have married or met new loves. Funny when you think on it. You who turned them away so often may come back to no one but me, your cousin-brother. You will have no one, I will have no one and we will grow old together.

  He thought of Isabella’s beautiful face, her vibrant nature, and realised what a waste it would be. She could have been someone’s wife, even a babe’s mother and now a year of her life had wasted away as people moved on. A year of his own life wasted as well.

  He had never been deeply attracted to any woman of his acquaintance in the Pymm Archipelago. There was such a huge disparity between those he met and the strong women within his own family: Ebba, Adelina and Isabella. And lately he’d had no interest or care in the future beyond the obsessive search for his sister-cousin – to make things right.

  He stared across the coals at Poli. Occasionally, the breeze teased a deep orange glow from the fire and Poli’s face would be lit. His symmetric features were once again in repose, it was what Nicholas noticed most. A face filled with frank and honest enjoyment of life, barely a line to represent any negative quality.

  You would like him, Isabella. He makes those suitors of yours look pasty, as if they still wait for their beards to grow. And I owe him a life. Do you know that?

  Sleep stayed away as thoughts stepped through the pathways of his mind. They were mostly welcome thoughts and he realised that Poli’s assurance infected him. That he could, almost, believe anything was possible. Poli had simply broken the chains that bound Nicholas in sadness and guilt.

  How is it that a mortal can do this when Phelim and Gallivant who are Other, could not?

  He rubbed his jaw and slid further into the blanket.

  ‘Because they were too close to a problem that suffocated them as much as it suffocated you,’ he could hear the Moonlady say, almost as if she sat next to him. He knew it was true. The fresh wind that was Poli’s objectivity had blown them forward, blown him onward on his course as well, and he chafed to be through the other side of the Vale and on the home stretch to Farthest North by Northwest.

  Yawning, he closed his eyes.

  *

  Cold crept into his bones and an incipient feeling of unease, tearing the fog of sleep away from his mind. He opened his eyes and immediately noticed the fire was out and that they lay in a fine covering of snow. The surrounds had the stillness that only a snowfall can bring, a deathly quiet as if something had smothered life.

  He realised it was a nervous expectation that caused his disquiet and he went to the horses to check they were warm enough. Poli had been adamant that they travel with some barding on the horses and Nicholas who had argued, was now glad for the animals. He slipped his hand under the quilted caparisons and felt warmth and comfort and could have stayed leaning against the horses quite happily to warm himself.

  The dawn light was weak, almost dark, and he decided that they should move before more snow fell, before they became even colder and perhaps before their optimism of the previous night died.

  Already his own felt weak at the knees. He hoped if they entered the Vale at dawn, what was traditionally a safe hour when the good spirits of the world harried the bad away, that they may make safe and unremarkable passage. He shook Poli’s shoulder and as was the man’s want, he jumped up almost without waking, hand drawing his dagger and an aggressive crouch in his body. Nicholas pointed to the horses which he had loaded, and then to the bottleneck pass.

  ‘Earlier rather than later?’ Poli croaked. ‘Safer you think?’

  Nicholas nodded and moved to his mount, springing on board, buttoning his coat and offering a plea to Aine, the Moonlady, the Fates…and to Phelim and the shade of his own father. Returning from the bushes, Poli jumped on his own horse.

  ‘Nervous?’ he asked.

  Nicholas made no move to acquiesce, but between he and Poli passed a feeling of comradeship, the kind that soldiers feel before a battle, an understanding, a knowledge that they would have each other’s backs no matter what.

  *

  They began to enter the pass. Its bottleneck arched over them and the smooth rock walls pressed in. The wind, what Nicholas assumed was a welkin wind and what the Rajis called a kizmet, moaned around them and set the hairs on his arms and neck quivering. He looked behind, feeling a presence but there was nothing. Poli groaned, he too experiencing the sense of malaise that bit like a dog the minute they entered the pass. With each step their mounts took, a despondency settled.

  It feels like grief, like what I felt when Ebba died, when Jasper died. What I have felt since Isa
bella vanished.

  But in a second he realised how much Poli had ameliorated that feeling.

  But not now. It has returned. Does he feel it?

  ‘I feel a great sadness,’ Poli said. ‘I felt the same when my father died. When my mother died, as if I could never again laugh or even live. It’s so heavy.’ He turned around and looked at Nicholas and his face had sagged, his eyes bereft. ‘Is this an enchantment, Nicholas? Do you feel it as well?’

  Nicholas tapped his chest and nodded.

  An enchantment, Poli. Ignore it.

  But so hard when the bereavement was so deep that he, Nicholas, wanted to stop his horse, dismount and just bury his head in his arms as if he grieved for all the world.

  For all the world? It’s not true.

  A chink of light entered his maudlin thoughts.

  Truth.

  He recalled the Moonlady’s words: ‘Do not be diverted by anything but the truth.’

  He pushed on through the muck and mire of sadness, the mortal side of him weighed down whilst that part of him that railed at being Other wondered what to do to protect them both. He looked up through the bottleneck to an early morning sky that was grey and mottled with dark snowcloud. He swept his hand in an arc and watched the heavens thin, the dappled cloud parting so that a dawn sunbeam, weak to be sure, dropped down through the narrow neck to illuminate the way.

  He heard Poli’s breath suck in as his head came up, hands tightening on the reins, his back straightening as if a relentless pressure had been eased.

  ‘We must trot on, get out of here. It’s suffocating.’

  Poli dug in his heels. The animals, themselves previously flat and listless, had pricked their ears at the sunbeam and now chased it as it lead them winding through the strange chamber. They climbed up, the horses snorting and all the while the light streamed in front of them. Nicholas wondered how long the pass was and how many mortals must have tried to travel through over the hundreds of years since that awful day in the Vale – mortals who had succumbed to numbing grief and depression and who had taken their own lives in the belief that there was nothing to live for. He looked for signs of previous travellers along the sides of the pass, but it was almost as if it were swept clean.