Wild Orchid

by Cameron Dokey

  Prince Jian gave my shoulder one last squeeze and let me go. “You have keen eyes and a strong heart, Little Archer,” he said before he turned away. “I have need of both. I will not forget you either.”

  FOURTEEN

  “I wish they’d stop staring,” I murmured to Li Po as we crossed the camp the next morning.

  I had gotten my first full night’s sleep since leaving home, and had enjoyed the first hot breakfast, besides. Though General Yuwen had stayed with him long into the night, Prince Jian had not sent for Li Po or me after all. But shortly after breakfast we received word that the last of the scouts had returned. Now a meeting was being held in Prince Ying’s tent, and we had been summoned. General Yuwen was already there.

  “You’d do well to get used to it,” Li Po replied. “You are famous.” He glanced down, mischief briefly dancing in his eyes. “Little Archer.”

  I made a face. If we’d been alone, I’d have stuck out my tongue. But I knew better than to do that when the entire camp seemed to have their eyes on me, watching to see what impossible deed I’d perform next.

  “And I wish they’d stop that, too,” I said.

  At this Li Po grinned outright. “I know. But you can’t really blame them, any of them. You are famous now, and you aren’t very tall, not for a boy.”

  “Especially not after you’ve done your best to whittle me down to size,” I remarked. We walked in silence for several moments. “Why should the princes summon us to this council?”

  “I am included because I am the captain of Prince Jian’s archers,” Li Po answered. “You, because he has asked for you, I suppose.”

  “Prince Guang will be there too, won’t he?”

  Li Po nodded. “It’s a pity that he seems to have taken a dislike to you. Prince Guang is not a good adversary to have.”

  We walked in silence for a moment while I digested this fact.

  “Why should he bother with me at all?” I asked finally. “I’m only a common boy. Surely I’m not worth his time.”

  “Under ordinary circumstances, I’d say you were right,” Li Po replied. “But our present situation is far from ordinary.” He turned his head to look at me. “You really did make an extraordinary shot yesterday, you know.”

  I had told no one what had happened in the moments after I’d let my final arrow fly, not even Li Po. I wasn’t certain that he would understand. I wasn’t all that sure I did myself. I was closer to Li Po than to anyone else, but never had I felt as close to another human being as I had when I’d felt my heart beat in time to that of Prince Jian. It was as if we had become the same person, our two hearts beating as one.

  “It’s not only your shooting, of course,” Li Po went on. I recalled my wandering thoughts. “There’s also the fact that Prince Jian has taken a liking to you. That alone would be enough to bring you to both his brothers’ attention.”

  “Let’s hope the oldest, Prince Ying, doesn’t decide to dislike me on sight too,” I remarked.

  “That is not his way,” Li Po replied. “But if you will listen to some advice …”

  I nodded my head, to show I would, and Li Po continued.

  “It might be a good idea for you to do a little noticing of your own. General Yuwen says you can tell much about a man by studying those whose company he chooses. It’s always a good idea to know who the favorites are.”

  “That is good advice,” I said, and nodded.

  “As long as you don’t let anyone see that you are watching,” Li Po added after a moment. “The trick is—”

  “I know what the trick is,” I interrupted, struggling to push back a sudden surge of annoyance. “The trick is to watch without looking like you’re doing it. What makes you so bossy all of a sudden? All of this is new to me, I admit, but I’m not completely without brains, you know.”

  Li Po stopped walking and seized me by one arm.

  “If I’m bossy, it’s because I’m worried about you,” he said, speaking in a low, intense voice. “Is that so wrong? In a matter of days target practice will be over and we will all be going to war. And you are not like other people. You are unpredictable. You always have been, Mulan. If I’m warning you, it’s only for your own good.”

  “My name is Gong-shi,” I corrected. “And since when are you always careful and wise?”

  Li Po gave my arm a shake. “That is not the point.”

  “Then, what is?” I cried.

  “The point,” Li Po said through clenched teeth. “The point is that I don’t want you to die. I don’t want to ride home and have to explain to your father why I didn’t take one look at you and send you right back home where you belong. It’s what I should have done. I never should have let things come this far.”

  “You didn’t have a choice,” I answered. “And neither did I. Not once Prince Jian asked me to shoot at his side. Before that, even, when the guard accused me of stealing my father’s horse. It’s done. Let it go, Li Po. I can’t change things and neither can you.

  “Besides, we went over this yesterday, when I first arrived. Let us not spend the hours we have together arguing like children.”

  Li Po let go of my arm. “You’re right,” he said, his voice still strained. “I know you’re right. But I can’t help but feel afraid for us both. When this is over, I still plan to shake you until your teeth rattle.”

  “Yesterday it was thrashing me behind the tents. Today it’s shaking me until my teeth rattle,” I said. “Make up your mind.”

  “I’m giving serious consideration to both,” Li Po said, but now I heard a hint of laughter in his tone.

  “Well,” I answered, “at least you’ll have a while to make up your mind. Any thrashing you mete out will have to wait until after we’ve defeated the Huns. Now come on. Let’s go.”

  We walked in silence the rest of the way. Arriving at Prince Ying’s tent, we identified ourselves to the guards outside. A moment later General Yuwen appeared in the flap opening.

  “Good. You are here,” he said. “Come inside, but do so quietly, and keep your wits about you.”

  We ducked inside the tent. General Yuwen made a gesture, showing us our places. The center of the room was dominated by several tables filled with charts and maps. The princes and their advisers were bent over them, talking quietly. Servants and lesser soldiers stood along the perimeter. Li Po and I took our place among them. I was glad that Li Po had warned me about what to expect, though I still had to struggle to control my surprise.

  Everyone—even the servants—was standing up.

  It was Prince Jian’s doing, Li Po had explained. The prince had made his position clear at the very first council of war and had refused to back down. He would not discuss battle strategy with men on their knees. A man should be able to stand on his own two feet when deciding the best way to send others into battle—when weighing the options on which his own life might hang, and the lives of his soldiers.

  But Prince Jian had not stopped with insisting the generals be allowed to stand in his presence. He insisted the soldiers called to the councils should be allowed to do so as well, for it was their fate that was under discussion. It was an unheard-of change in protocol. Prince Guang had been furious, but Prince Jian had not budged. He would not ask any man to kneel before him when they were both doing the same thing: trying to determine the best way to safeguard China.

  Prince Ying had agreed to his brother’s terms first. Prince Guang had held out longer. But word of Prince Jian’s actions had spread quickly through the camp. His popularity had skyrocketed. It was said that even those soldiers not directly assigned to Prince Jian’s service would willingly die for him. For he treated them not like pieces on a game board but like men. In the end Prince Guang had given in.

  The result was that all those who would plan strategy with the princes were allowed to move around the room as they wished, though I soon noted how careful everyone was to keep a respectful distance from the princes. But even this much freedom was a drastic change
from years of tradition.

  Like me, it seemed that Prince Jian was different.

  “You still insist on ignoring the smaller pass,” he was saying now, his tone heated. It seemed that Li Po and I had arrived in the midst of an argument.

  “And you still insist on wasting resources where there is no danger,” Prince Guang shot right back.

  I let my eyes flicker to Prince Guang’s face before returning to the spot on the wall of the tent I had chosen as my focus point. I had selected this spot with care, in an attempt to follow Li Po’s instructions to keep my eyes open without appearing to do so. By choosing a spot about midway up the side of the tent opposite where I stood, I could see anyone in the room simply by shifting my eyes.

  Prince Guang was the most handsome man that I had ever seen, a fact I had not been able to appreciate the day before. But it was not a kind of good looks that I found compelling. Instead the prince’s smooth features made the gooseflesh rise along my arms. Prince Guang possessed the cold, smooth beauty of a snake.

  This one loves himself more than he loves anything else around him, I thought. I wondered if that included China.

  “It is not a waste of resources to protect China,” Prince Jian began.

  “Oh, spare me your sanctimonious proclamations about China,” Prince Guang interrupted. “We all know about the prophecies and how important they make you, little brother. Perhaps you feel you are too important to fight. That is why you insist on guarding something that needs no protection.”

  “Enough!” the oldest brother, Prince Ying, cried. “You bicker like children, and it solves nothing.”

  It was the first time that he had spoken since Li Po and I had arrived. Following Prince Ying’s outburst, a humming silence filled the tent. In it I could hear the dragon banner snapping in the wind high above me. I snuck a second look, at Prince Ying this time.

  The Son of Heaven’s firstborn was not as compelling as his brothers. He was not obviously handsome like Prince Guang. Nor did his features command a second look, as Prince Jian’s did. But he was finely made, his voice and expression both more than a little stern. There was a crease permanently etched between his brows, as if from long hours of studying.

  I remembered what General Yuwen had said, that Prince Ying possessed a fine and subtle mind. I wondered if it could maneuver through the rivalry between his brothers.

  “We have been circling this matter for days,” Prince Ying went on. “Both of you make good points.” He frowned at Prince Guang. “Therefore, there is no need to cast doubts on anyone’s honor. Just as there is no question of Jian leading an expedition to the smaller pass himself, assuming we decide to mount one. He is needed here, as we all are.”

  I half expected one or the other of the younger brothers to protest Prince Ying’s words, but both stayed silent.

  They respect him, then, I thought.

  “Whose scouts were the last to return?” Prince Ying asked now.

  “If it pleases Your Highness,” said a voice I did not know, “those belonging to Prince Guang.”

  “And what do they tell us?” Prince Ying asked.

  “The same thing all the other scouts have.” Prince Guang spoke for himself this time. “That the Hun army is fast approaching, but there is nothing to show that they intend to divide their forces. They have no reason to. The second pass is simply too small.”

  “But you cannot know that,” Prince Jian said, his voice impassioned. Almost against my will my eyes moved toward the sound of his voice. As he made his case, the color in his face was high. His dark eyes sparkled.

  “We cannot afford to leave the smaller pass unguarded. Even a small force coming through it could do damage. It could attack the forces we have here from behind, or, even worse, the enemy could sweep on, into China.”

  He stepped to the table, stabbing a finger onto the map. “We have concentrated the majority of our forces here, in this valley, at your insistence, Brother.”

  His eyes were on Prince Guang as he spoke. “Only a small contingent of men remains to protect our father and Chang’an.”

  “We all agreed this valley was the clear choice,” Prince Guang replied, his voice stiff.

  “It is the clear choice,” Prince Ying agreed. “Make your point, Jian.”

  “My point is that the Huns are not stupid,” Prince Jian exclaimed. “And we should stop pretending that they are.”

  Once again he stabbed a finger against the map. “If we leave that pass unguarded, we leave China unprotected. A small force coming through it could ride unchallenged to Chang’an.”

  “Who do you propose we send to protect it?” Prince Ying asked. “Surely we need every man here. We cannot afford to divide our forces.”

  I know! I thought.

  It was only as absolute silence filled the tent that I realized I had done the unthinkable: I had spoken aloud.

  You are in for it now, Gong-shi, I thought.

  Prince Guang was the first to recover.

  “If it isn’t the Little Archer,” he said, his voice as cold and as smooth as a lacquer bowl. “Don’t be afraid. Come forward, boy. Tell us what great plan you have devised in just one morning that the great generals of China have been unable to find after days of discussion.”

  “Guang, enough,” Prince Ying said, his own tone mild. “You’ll give the boy a heart attack. He already looks half-dead from fright.”

  “I beg Your Excellencies’ pardons,” I said, and now I did kneel, pressing my forehead to the ground. “I am presumptuous. I did not mean to speak aloud.”

  “But speak you did,” Prince Ying replied. “And I agree with my brother, at least in part. Such an exclamation must have come straight from the heart. I would like to know what you think you’ve figured out.”

  “Stand up and speak, Gong-shi,” Prince Jian instructed. “My brothers sound ferocious, but not even Guang will bite you.”

  I wouldn’t be too sure about that, I thought.

  Slowly I got to my feet. I could see General Yuwen standing just behind Prince Jian. Carefully I avoided his eyes.

  “Now, then,” Prince Jian said when I had risen. “What is so clear to you that the rest of us have failed to notice?”

  “I do not claim that you have failed to notice it,” I said, choosing my words with great care. “Only that I have not heard anyone speak of it this morning. But if the pass is truly so narrow that only two may ride abreast …”

  All of a sudden Prince Jian laughed. “I think I see where he is going,” he said. He shook his head ruefully, as if chastising himself. “The truth is, I should have thought of it.”

  “What?” Prince Guang barked, the single syllable like the crack of a whip.

  Prince Jian turned to face his middle brother, a smile still lingering on his face.

  “Archers.”

  By the time the hour for the midday meal arrived, the plan was in place. Rather than sending troops to try to block the pass, Prince Jian would send a division of his corps of archers. We would be accompanied by a small company of foot soldiers and several of the prince’s swiftest runners. If the Huns did come through the pass, the archers and soldiers would hold them off. The runners would alert the main body of the army that reinforcements were needed. In this way a larger force would not be dispatched until the need had been proved beyond a doubt.

  Nevertheless, it was a dangerous assignment. The Chinese force would be a small one, because although Prince Jian’s brothers had finally agreed that such a force was necessary, they would agree to no more. We would have no experienced general to lead us. Instead that duty would fall upon Li Po as captain of the archers.

  “Let those whom you send be volunteers,” General Yuwen proposed. “For men will face even the greatest danger bravely if they choose it for themselves.”

  “That is a sound suggestion,” Prince Ying agreed. “And, save for Jian’s archers, let the men come from all our forces. Let anyone who wishes to volunteer be given permission to go. Th
at way all will know there is no hidden favoritism. All have equal value.”

  “Be careful,” Prince Guang warned. “You’re starting to sound just like our unconventional younger brother. Father may not be pleased.”

  “Father is not here,” Prince Ying replied, his voice calm. “A prince may have a costlier funeral, but his bones rot at the same rate as anyone else’s. You might do well to remember that, Guang.”

  Prince Guang’s face was suddenly suffused with color. “Is that a threat?” he demanded, stepping forward.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Prince Jian said mildly. But I noticed that as he spoke he moved to place himself between his two brothers. “Ying simply reminds you of an obvious fact. In death, all men are alike.”

  The color still high in his face, Prince Guang pivoted on one heel, snapped his fingers for his advisers and attendants to follow, and strode from the tent. It seemed the council of war was over. Prince Jian had won the day, but not by much.

  As soon as Prince Guang departed, Prince Jian came toward me.

  “Highness, forgive me,” I said, falling to my knees as he approached.

  “No,” he said simply. “I will not. You have helped to provide the solution to a problem that has troubled me for many days now. I am in your debt.”

  He reached down and placed a hand on my shoulder to urge me to my feet.

  “Highness, if I may,” Li Po spoke.

  The prince nodded. “What is it, Li Po?”

  “Perhaps Gong-shi should lead the archers,” Li Po said. “Though he is young, the other men admire and respect him. I believe that they would follow him, even into great danger.”

  “No!” I cried out, appalled. “I am not experienced enough, and I …” I swallowed past a sudden lump in my throat. “I am not sure that I wish to command others.”

  “One cannot always choose whether to command or not,” Prince Jian observed quietly. He reached to grip Li Po’s shoulder. “Your suggestion does you credit, and I think I understand why you make it. Even I have heard the men murmur of the young archer whose aim is as true as a prince. But I think I will leave things as they are, Li Po. Gong-shi makes a good point too. Your own experience will be needed.”