“Mmm,” Rachel burst out, surprising me. “This is the best meal I’ve ever had.”
Yin was beaming with pride, watching like a mother lion as we were revived by the baked eel. It took several minutes for me to notice something. She wasn’t eating.
“What’s the matter with it?” Aunt Hilda barked at the girl, for she had caught my train of thought.
Yin, who was sitting very upright some distance from us, her back resting against a towering spruce tree, shook her head.
“Why don’t you eat, child?” Aunt Hilda pressed.
For answer Yin took a bun out of her bag and began to slowly chew. Of course, more dumplings! Probably made of vegetarian tofu. Her face wore a distant look—and even Aunt Hilda knew not to badger her.
While the others were eating I wandered off into the forest to find a quiet spot. I was gone some time, returning through a screen of broad-leaved bushes. I caught my name and instinctively stilled my footsteps. Rachel had gone over to join Yin. They were talking about me. They couldn’t see me, but I could see them clearly through the mist of leaves.
“You must be able to see something.” Rachel said. “Anything? Is Kit going to be all right? Please.”
Yin didn’t reply, but the look on her face made me choke. I leaned against a tree for an instant and then emerged out of the shrubs. They both jumped up—guiltily almost. But what had they to feel guilty about? It was not their fault.
It was time to move on. Yin insisted we stamp down the embers of our fire and cover it with dirt and leaves. She didn’t want to leave any traces for possible pursuers, she explained. She expected the Bannermen to follow us here, up into the mountains.
We made good progress for the rest of the day. We strode, leading our horses by their reins, tramping ever upward, the mountain peaks above us, always out of reach. As we went, the trees thinned out a little and the vegetation became more sparse. This was a vast forest and we were still surrounded on all sides by whispering trees.
Though bone weary and famished, our hearts beat a little more easily as the day ended. We had outrun the soldiers and our path through this dense and misty forest would be impossible to track. The crickets came out, their chirping accompanying our footfalls. Just as the sun was sinking behind the mountains and we were thinking about making camp for the night, Yin put her finger to her lips and hushed us. We all froze, dark blurs against tree and creeper.
“What is it?” Aunt Hilda demanded, glaring at Yin. “Be precise, girl.”
But Yin was still. Then we all heard it.
Clinking.
Easy to overlook, but once you heard it, the sound settled into a rhythm. It was definitely a man-made noise, distinct from the murmur of trees, the scurry of small animals, the squawk and screech of birds. It was a light clank of metal. The chink of bridle and stirrup. Was it my imagination or did I see a flash of yellow below us? Flickering down there through the trees. It must have been my mind, for in truth the mist was so dense we couldn’t see trunks, let alone the Imperial soldiers.
Aunt Hilda spoke for us all.
“Drat it!” she swore. “Bannermen!”
Chapter Twenty-seven
I gave thanks for the mountains. They were so thickly forested, so full of fog and creepers, that finding us would be impossible. It was as if they were on our side.
“We’re going to be all right,” said Waldo, putting my thoughts into words. “They won’t catch us.”
Yin said nothing. Was very still.
“How can they find us?” I argued. “These trees and fog and—”
“Listen,” she cut me off. “The soldiers have tracker. You know what is this? Tracker?”
“You mean someone who finds things?” Waldo asked.
Yin nodded. “This tracker, he can pick up a scent more quickly than a dog. He can read just by looking at the moss, who has gone and where. He will know people came this way, with horses. We cannot fool.”
Aunt Hilda squared her shoulders and drew out her pistol from the holster at her waist. She looked very plucky standing against these ancient trees, the battle-light in her eyes.
“To arms,” she declared. “Always preferred to meet the enemy head on myself.”
She turned to me, gesturing with the butt of her gun. “Kit, you go off into the woods there. Take Rachel, Isaac and Yin with you. Climb up a tree or something and keep your head down. Girls aren’t much good in a fight and, well, I don’t think Isaac has much stomach for the battle.”
“I’ll keep a lookout,” Isaac stuttered.
“Provide strategic support,” Rachel interrupted, with a smile.
“Yup, that’s it.”
Waldo had drawn out his pistol and taken his place next to my aunt. “They only have old muskets and bows and arrows, anyway,” he declared. “We can beat them.”
“I’ll stay and fight,” I said quietly.
“Not on my life,” Waldo said.
“This is no time for heroics,” Aunt Hilda added, striking a ferocious pose with her pistol.
I stared at them both coldly. “You can’t stop me. If I have to die, I might as well go out with a bang.”
“Poppycock!” Aunt Hilda snapped. “Cripples just get in the way on the battlefield.”
“Besides, you’re not much of a fighter!” Waldo added. “You’ve always been a bit deluded about that. Should have spent more time on—”
I was furious now. “I’m staying,” I spat. “You can’t—”
“Wait!” Yin interrupted. Such was her authority that we all fell silent.
“Please, it is important you listen me now. No one is going to fight. It will not go well if fight now. Listen and we can trick these soldiers.”
Instantly everyone was listening, suddenly shamed by her soft voice into abandoning our petty differences.
“I know these mountains. I will take my horse down. I will distract the tracker and his party and make them follow me. Then I will lead them into a place where they will be trapped.”
“You’d be signing your own death sentence,” Rachel gasped.
“It’s a suicidal plan,” Isaac agreed.
“Please. Listen to me. This is only way. The whole army will not follow me. Only tracker. We must save lives and also to protect our spirit for the way is hard.”
“How will you find us?” asked Aunt Hilda. “I mean after you’ve dealt with the tracker. I trust you, Yin. I’m trusting you to do what you say.”
I flashed a look at Aunt Hilda. She was very quick to sacrifice someone else’s life, I noticed. But Yin didn’t seem to mind. She smiled, her face warm. It was rare to see her smile; it made you feel as if she meant it.
“Follow like you are going. Up, up and up. In one day of hard climbing, always with the peak of Songshan mountain before, you will come to a white rock. This is white dragon rock. There I will meet you.” Yin paused. “There is two thing more.”
“What?” Aunt Hilda grunted.
“First, you must tread very light, always making sure to leave no track.”
“And?”
“You must let horses go.”
“How the hell do you expect me to carry all this,” Aunt Hilda gestured to the saddlebags of food and blankets. “What’s the point anyway?”
“We must let horses go,” Yin replied gently. “We must send them down the mountain. It will confuse tracker.”
Waldo was already removing provisions from his mount, a stocky pony with sandy tail and mane. He hefted the bag over his shoulder and gave the pony a sharp prod. It didn’t move, just moved closer to my friend and whinnied at him. It wanted food. Exasperated Waldo leaned down and picked up a stick. He gave the horse a gentle thwack on its flank, shooing it down the hill. Still the stubborn beast refused to go. Finally Waldo had to give it a sound whack before it went trotting down the hill, trampling the undergrowth as it went. I could see he felt forlorn as he watched the horse disappear into the mist—like me he had formed a bond with his doughty little steed.
>
“What will she eat?” Rachel asked as we watched the horse go.
“You must not worry,” Yin said. “These horse live on the steppes in Mongolia. Very hard life. They know how find food.”
“But there may be wolves in these mountains. Bears…” Rachel persisted.
“Not worry.”
Isaac was already prodding his horse downhill and Aunt Hilda did the same. It was a sad goodbye. Finally Rachel let her horse go. I could see by her white face and the tears welling up in her eyes how painful she found it. But I held onto my reins. I wasn’t about to let my horse go. I had another plan.
Yin was already turning off, plunging into a thicket of trees and creepers, spurring her reluctant pony ahead of her. Everyone was willing to let her go, everyone except me.
“I’m coming with you,” I said.
Yin stopped and looked over her shoulder at me. For a moment there was stunned silence as everyone took in my words.
Then Waldo burst out, “Do you want to die?”
“No … it’s just—” I began but he cut me off.
“You go sticking your head into every noose, you’ll be dead any day now.”
“Don’t even try to change my mind,” I said, clenching my teeth. “I’m going with Yin. No one is going to stop me. No one!”
“I stopped trying to change your mind ages ago,” Waldo said, turning his back on me.
My friends knew me in this mood. They knew how hard I am to dislodge once my mind is set on something. It was even harder to change me with the poison running through my veins, distorting everything, making me reckless whether I lived or died. But I think they would still have tried to stop me, except for Yin.
Bowing her head, Yin murmured, “Kit will come with me.”
My friends protested but the Chinese girl was unmoving. “I need Kit’s help,” she said.
“I’ll help you, Yin.” Waldo walked up to me and tried to shove me off my horse. My Orchid reared back, lashing out with her front hooves.
“I must have Kit,” Yin replied.
Without another word, I pulled my pony forward and followed Yin into the gray mist. I felt a pang as I turned back and saw their faces, some furious, others bewildered and sad. Perhaps Waldo was right, perhaps I did want to die. Anyway, there was no point in dragging things out; this was the cleanest way to say goodbye.
Chapter Twenty-eight
We tramped on for several hours, climbing into the gloaming. Night fell, a darkness of hooting owls and scurrying creatures. The wolves were circling. Who knew what other predators would be drawn by our scent? It was chill up here. The lack of oxygen intensified my floating feeling and distanced me from the pain in my ankles and calves. I felt as if the top of my head was coming off. We moved very slowly, feeling our way, led by our horses’ instincts. Once the moon came out, luminous and three-quarters full, it was easier to see. The stars were bright up here, the heavens close.
Yin’s face was expressionless in the moonlight. Her wide eyes were empty. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. It was strange, the faith I placed in this tiny girl. My feelings for her had come full circle. She came up to my shoulder but I trusted her with everything, with my friends’ lives and my own destiny.
Partly I think it was because she knew. This knowing wasn’t a matter of seeing the future, more of sympathy. Alone of my friends she understood the thing that had gripped me. How petty and pointless everything seemed to me. Yin knew. But unlike the others she didn’t nag or try to talk me out of my despair. She simply let me be.
So I followed her into the night. Followed her wherever she chose to take me. If Yin let me down, I would be lost up here in this wild place. I did not think she would. Honor meant more to her than almost anything else. We had saved her from the cruel doctor; she owed us a debt of gratitude. A gulf of suspicion existed between the Chinese and the English. We saw Orientals as sly and inscrutable and made nasty remarks about their yellow skin (which was far from yellow, by the way). They saw us as red-faced, big-nosed barbarians who lacked refinement. Both sides held deeply unpleasant views about the other. Yin and I however had bridged the gap.
But deep down it was simpler than that. I liked her. She liked me.
We were friends.
I felt a cool hand grasping my own—Yin’s tiny frozen fingers. I realized I had come to an abrupt halt and was staring at the moon.
“You need rest?” my friend asked.
“We’ll go on.”
Yin smiled. She had smiled at least twice today, a record. “The poison—it hurts your head?”
I shrugged. Somehow I didn’t mind it when Yin talked of the poison, though I prickled when I saw my other friends’ pity. Perhaps it was because she was so matter-of-fact about it.
“Very well. We will rest.”
“What about the tracker?” I asked. “Will they follow us through the night?”
“I do not know,” Yin replied. “It is harder to read the signs in the dark. But a very good tracker, he knows.”
“Then we should go on.”
“No. A few hours’ sleep, then we will move.”
We tethered the horses to a stout tree and Yin unrolled two thin blankets from her saddlebag. I draped one around my shoulders. I wasn’t really expecting food but Yin produced a couple of dumplings from her bags. We chewed in companionable silence. I could have been eating sawdust, so little did I notice the food. I gathered my courage to ask something that had been bothering me for days. There was a quality about this tiny girl that set her apart and made me reluctant to appear rash or foolish.
“Yin.”
“Yes?”
“How do you feel about the Book? The Book of Bones, I mean. I know you’ve said you’ll help us steal it. But I wondered if it bothered you. You know, I understand that it’s sacred to the temple and, well …” I came to a halt, stumbling over my words.
“I will do what I must,” Yin replied.
“What does that mean?” I asked, staring at her small, pinched face, which gave me no clues.
“It is simple, Kit. You are my friend. I must save you.”
I was silent for a moment, thinking over what she said. Then, “I heard you … talking to Rachel. I’m going to die—aren’t I?”
Yin looked at me. Part of me was desperate. I wanted her to jump up and down. To deny what I had said. Another part didn’t really care. “The future is not certain.”
“What does that mean?”
“I can see one path, Kit. One way through the future. But chance may offer others … There is always hope.”
I stared hard at her. “I don’t really mind, you know.”
“I understand this.”
“The way I figure it is that if I die—it’ll give my friends a chance. Don’t you see that, Yin? It’ll release them from the Baker Brothers’ trap. They won’t have to find the Book of Bones. They’ll be free to—”
“Quiet now. It is not time for thinking. Sleep. We have so little time for rest.” With that Yin closed her eyes, her whole body relaxing against the tree trunk. Within seconds she was asleep. I thought I wouldn’t be able to sleep, I was so cold, so full of sickness and despair. You see, I understood what Yin had told me. She had foreseen my death. There was no way out from the poison creeping through my veins. I thought for a moment of the Bakers’ dog. What was his name? Pippin, that was it. Just as there had been no reprieve for Pippin, there would be none for me.
But I must have been tired for within minutes I was slumbering. My sleep was full of dark shapes, which loomed all around me but meant nothing. They seemed like men but moved with a jerky, mechanical gait. There was menace in their thick limbs and round, featureless faces. When I woke up, Yin’s eyes were boring into me and she was shaking me by the shoulder. Dawn was breaking over the trees, a pink flag unfurling in the dark sky.
“We must move, Kit. The soldiers are close.”
“How do you know?” I asked, scrambling up. I couldn’t hear anything or see an
y signs of our pursuers.
“There are at least three men chasing,” she replied. “It mean our trick worked.”
I saw that Yin had already fed and watered the horses and packed up all our belongings, except my bedding. I quickly rolled up my blanket and gave it to her and we set off. I followed the girl blindly, trusting that she had some plan. We galloped down, off the other side of the mountain and now I saw that we were coming to a sort of plateau. It was a small featureless plain dotted with greenery and low-lying shrubs. Yin dismounted and I did the same, following her lead. As we came out of the forest to the edge of the area I could hear the distant sounds of pursuit. Panting horses, trampling and whinnying. The tracker would be here within minutes.
“Shouldn’t we be riding, Yin?” I called.
The girl ignored me, hurrying on, pulling her horse firmly by the reins.
Was she insane? In the forest we were shielded by trees, but out here in this flat stretch of land we would be sitting ducks. Our pursuers would be able to pick us off easily.
“Yin!”
She half turned—her face shining with confidence. “You must follow very careful.” Yin called. “This is a what you call it? Land of water?”
“Land of water?”
“Yes. Everywhere. You sink in mud.”
“A bog?” I gasped.
“Bog,” she agreed. “One wrong step and you will sink. Horse will sink. Mud will suck you and you cannot come out. Come, follow me. But take care only go where I go.”
Swift and deft, Yin led the way. I hastened after her. She carefully directed her pony in front of her, herding it with a large staff she had picked up in the forest. With no stick, I had more difficulty controlling my horse. We were about a quarter way across the bog when I heard calling and half turning saw three men emerging from the trees. They were dressed in the uniform of the Manchu Bannermen. A pigtailed young man with a long mustache was leading them. The men looked fearsome, festooned with bows and arrows, daggers and swords. They must have guns too, I thought, my heart beating.
“Don’t look,” Yin hissed. “Hurry!”
She was now scurrying in front of her horse, dragging it along. My moment’s inattention had been fatal. My pony had stumbled off course and one of its legs was sinking, slowly being pulled into the mud.
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