by Peter David
Nevertheless, I was hardly in a position to ignore it or dismiss it. So I bowed in reply, snapped the reins, and headed the horse over the bridge. Its hooves clip-clopped steadily on the wooden surface.
And now I could see others peering out the windows, or stepping out onto balconies and pointing. My return to the palace was definitely not going unobserved. I wasn’t certain, but I thought I even saw the princess standing in one of the balconies and looking down upon me.
Did she know what was to come? Was she expecting the assault, the mayhem that I was preparing to inflict upon some of the palace denizens, including her own father? I had no way of knowing. I certainly hoped she did, because otherwise she was in for one hell of a shock.
Even as my horse strode across the bridge, I also kept careful watch for archers. Perhaps the plan was to try and pick me off from a distance. The thought made me squeeze tighter the hilt of the demon sword, so hard that the carvings of the bird’s folded wings in the hilt itself were pressed into the flat of my hand. But I saw nothing. No threat was presenting itself from any direction.
We crossed the bridge and got to the main entrance. There were a number of Hamunri waiting for me, and the only way to distinguish them from the Hamunri who had been trying to kill me during my sojourn was that these were bowing. I dismounted and, slapping my hands against my thighs, bowed in reply. They seemed quite delighted by the quality and depth of my bow. So naturally they bowed again.
At which point I bowed again.
This went on for a couple of minutes, although it actually seemed more like forever. Apparently realizing that this could occupy the rest of the day, one of them indicated to the other two to cease what they were doing. “The Imperior is expecting you,” he assured me.
“Is he now,” I replied, sounding sarcastic. “Somehow I tend to doubt he is expecting what I am prepared to give him.”
I allowed the Hamunri to serve as escorts into the palace, even though I certainly knew my way around well enough. My horse was taken away to be housed in the stables. If their intention was to isolate me, they were succeeding. But their success would be shortlived, as would indeed everyone who tried to get in my way.
It could not have been easier. It was so easy, in fact, that I was starting to feel guilty about it. I had some passing familiarity with quests or adventures, and this one involved such lack of risk that it was like insulting the memories of all those who had gone on, and died upon, quests. But then I thought, why not? After everything I’ve gone through, why shouldn’t something be easy one time? I deserved a fragment of luck, did I not?
We went straight to the throne room, and there was the Imperior, much as he’d been when I first met him. He sat upon his dragon throne and was watching me with steady, warm eyes.
“Po,” he said softly. He rose from his throne, came down off the small platform, and walked toward me. There were personal guards standing about, but no one seemed especially concerned. That was incredibly odd considering I had enough weapons upon me to cut down the Imperior where he stood. “Po,” he said again, and to my shock, opened his arms and wrapped them around me. My hand was against the demon sword’s hilt in readiness for an attack. This might have been many things—a trick, the act of a demented mind—but an attack it definitely was not.
“Po, my boy… it is good to see you.” He stepped back and steadied himself. “Forgive a grateful old man’s sentimentality. It was brilliant. Brilliant. But why did you not tell me?”
I had no idea whatsoever what to say in response to that. My hand slipped off the hilt of the demon sword. The Imperior didn’t appear to notice or care. He was oblivious of any danger. His personal guards actually seemed pleased at the insane interaction that was occurring. I felt as if I were hallucinating. None of this made any damned bit of sense.
“Tell you?” I echoed.
“You do not have to respond. I know why… and I suppose in some ways, I had it coming.”
He stepped back, shaking his head. “For so long,” he said, “so long I have held myself up as the Divine One. The One who is told by the gods what is to be, what is to come, and all that is. Yet if that were really true, I would have known instantly the true nature of your plan. The brilliance of its execution. And you knew that. Because of that, you did not tell me. Perhaps you counted on me to know because you too thought me to be omniscient. Or perhaps you were testing me… and if that is the case then, dear boy, I have truly been found wanting.” He stared at me, looking briefly puzzled. “You are pinching yourself very, very hard. Why are you doing that?”
Realizing that the gesture was not causing me to wake up, I muttered, “It… is a traditional gesture for self-congratulations in my country.”
“Ah. Well… go question others’ traditions. All they do is make our own look sane in comparison.”
He was walking in a small circle around the room. “And to think: I believed it to be some sort of insane mistake. A miscommunication caused by ineptitude. Instead it was a dazzling, brilliant defense maneuver. The greatest in the history of Chinpan… and it is all thanks to you. Had I only been the truly omniscient individual you thought me to be, or that I wished me to be, I would have divined your intent and a great deal of aggravation could have been avoided.”
“I… think you’re being too hard on yourself, Divine One,” I managed to say. I realized that I was actually following him. “There is, uhm… no way you could have known. And I… suppose I could have been more forthcoming. Really. I cannot dismiss my responsibility in this matter.”
“Well, all I can say to you is that it worked to far greater a degree than I think anyone could possibly have expected it to.”
“Certainly beyond mine,” I said.
I heard a bustling at the doors at the far end, and for a moment I tensed, thinking that the true attack was now to be forthcoming. That they had endeavored to put me off guard. But no, it was merely the Imperior’s councilors, with Itso Esi leading the way. They were all talking at once, rendering it impossible for me to understand exactly what any of them was saying. It was clear, though, that they were all echoing the Imperior’s words of praise. Except I still had no clue what the hell I was being praised for.
Itso Esi’s voice managed to carry above the others as he stopped and bowed to me, as did the others. They remained that way until I bowed in response, and then Itso Esi said, “I must say, honorable Po, on behalf of the council… we wish that you had taken us into your confidence when you conceived your brilliant plan. But since you chose not to, we respect your wisdom in this matter. We collectively wonder, though: How did you come up with the idea?”
There was expectant silence. “The idea?” I echoed.
“Yes, the idea. For the Great Wall.”
“The Great Wall?”
“Of Chinpan, yes.”
“Ohhhhh, the Great Wall!” I said, doing everything I could to act as if we’d simply had a mere communications error, rather than that I was just now learning about the brilliant strategy I had supposedly unilaterally developed. I spoke with grand, sweeping gestures, as if I were a grand orator speaking to a crowded amphitheater. “Yes, of course, the Great Wall, well… I, uhm… I studied the situation, and tried to discern just… what we needed. And I thought, ‘Hunh. Well… obviously, only a Great Wall will do the trick.’ “
There were nods and murmurs of “Of course. It’s so simple the way he tells it.” I smiled gamely, and then added in an almost off hand way, “Now… obviously I’ve been somewhat occupied in the past days, so I couldn’t monitor the situation myself.”
They gave each other grim, almost accusing looks, silently admitting that they themselves were the cause for my being “occupied.”
“So I have to wonder,” I continued, “how, exactly, did the Great Wall work out? In regards to the situation, I mean.”
“Better than even you could have anticipated,” said Itso Esi, as the others bobbed their heads. “I wish you could have seen the effectiveness wit
h which it halted the Mingol hordes. How did you know they were coming?”
Oh my gods.
“Ahhhh,” I said slowly. “Well, gentlemen… and Divine One… that is a most… most interesting tale. The Mingol hordes… they were, in fact, in league with the Forked Tong.”
There were cries of “I knew it! Those bastards!”
“The Forked Tong sought an alliance with the Mingol hordes in the hopes of overthrowing the Divine One. They carefully analyzed where Chinpan was most vulnerable… provided aid, weapons, and staging areas for the hordes… and then sat back and waited for them to do all the heavy-duty conquest.”
“Little suspecting,” intoned the Imperior, “that when they came charging up to our borders, they would discover a massive wall, miles long. They never stopped building, Kan Du and his men. They must have shared your vision.”
“Of course,” I said hollowly.
“And since the Hamunri and I were so intent on trying to find you, no one was paying attention to Kan Du. They kept building the wall, and building, and building. They’re still working on it, you know. I’ve authorized continued work on it. All the materials, all the funding they need, to build a wall that will block Chinpan from all invaders all throughout our borders. Good walls make good neighbors, I say.”
There were bobbing heads and “They do indeed, Divine One” coming from every quarter.
The Imperior was shaking his head in wonder. “Would that you could have been there to see the culmination of your vision, Po. The battle was spectacular. We suffered no casualties at all. There were the bewildered Mingols, slamming up against the impenetrable Great Wall. They tried to shatter it, to climb over it. None of it did any good. And there were our people, atop the wall, pouring down hot oil upon them, or loosing arrows. The Mingols’ casualties were astronomical. The ground ran red with their blood. Their corpses were as numerous as grains of sand upon the beach. It was one of the most splendid sights these old eyes have ever seen, and we have none but you to thank for it. A man of true vision. A man of wisdom. Why, after such a shattering defeat when they doubtless thought we would be easily conquered, it is likely that the Mingols may never recover. We may well have heard the last of those harassing barbarians. What do you say to that, Po?”
“Huzzah?” I said weakly.
“Huzzah!” they repeated, stumbling over the unfamiliar word but managing it as best they could.
The Imperior rested a hand on my shoulder and said solemnly, “Young Po… you have earned more than a seat on my council. You have earned a place at my right hand. Go Nogo is gone. Until now, he had been my most trusted advisor. Yet he was so blinded by his hatred for you, that even he was unable to fully grasp the subtlety of your genius. You will take his place.”
“Imperior…”
“What?”
I stepped away from him, trying to remain focused. They were all looking at me expectantly, as if I were the wisest individual in the history of the country, about to impart more morsels of my great wisdom upon them.
“Do you have… any idea… how many people have died because of this? Because of me?” I said.
“We’re still endeavoring to get a count,” said the Imperior. “Thus far the Mingol casualties stand at—”
“No! I’m speaking of innocent people! People who have done no harm to any!” I said. I strode toward him, my body shaking with passion. “Several days’ ride from here, there is a village… or there was. Populated by innocent farmers. Your Hamunri came through there looking for me, and they slaughtered them. All of them! Men, women, and children!”
“Really?” He didn’t seem upset so much as curious. “And why did they do that?”
“Because the Hamunri were looking for me, and didn’t feel the people were cooperating.”
“Ahhh.” There were head nods and looks of understanding from them all. “Well, given the outcome and our subsequent realization of how you were, in fact, not dishonoring me at all,” said the Imperior, “that is somewhat unfortunate.”
“Somewhat unfortunate?! They’re dead! They’re all dead!”
“Po—”
I was ranting, stumbling around the room, gesturing so wildly that I almost knocked myself off my feet. “The men! Dead! The women! Dead! The children! Dead! A little girl who never harmed anyone in her life, Imperior! If you could have seen her, held her… you would have seen! Seen the depths of depravity, the perversion that concepts such as honor have been put to! The entire concept of loyalty to the ruler of the country, and the country he represents… that’s fine as far as it goes! But it’s being taken by those in power and used as a club to subjugate anyone and everyone who gets in their way! It’s sick and twisted and how can you ask me to be a part of a ruling class that would condone and accept such horrors, and dismiss them as ‘somewhat unfortunate’? It—”
“Enough.”
He spoke sharply and with great strength, one hand upraised, and even though my chest was heaving with fury and emotion, I still halted my tirade. I leaned upon my walking staff, feeling drained and frustrated.
And I thought, This is it. This is when the battle starts. He will order me dead for daring to speak so to him, and I will strike him down with my demon sword, and—
“A child, you say?”
I was stunned by the softness of his voice. The change had been so abrupt that it was almost impossible to believe. “Yes,” I said slowly. “A little girl. Four, maybe five years old.”
The Imperior’s mind seemed to wander away. Even his closest advisors were looking at him curiously. “Divine One,” one of them said tentatively after a lengthy silence had passed. “Divine One, are… are you all ri—?”
“Mitsu was once four… maybe five years old,” said the Imperior, sounding as if he were addressing us from another time, very long ago. The edges of his mouth twitched in an almost-smile. “I was still quite angry over the fact that she had dared to be a female. For the first four years of her life, I did not wish to know from her. I did not comprehend how her mother could do such a thing to me. My brother… he claimed that it was my seed that had determined the child would be female rather than male. I nearly had him executed on the spot. Perhaps I should have. It might have been preferable.” There were knowing nods from the others. I did not nod knowingly, but mostly because I really had no desire to know.
“And then,” continued the Imperior, “one day I saw this child dashing about the palace. I was thunderstruck. There are occasionally children seen in some parts of the palace… offspring of the staff. But they know their place. They conduct themselves quietly, with proper deportment. This child, though… she was running in circles, her arms out to either side, her head tilted back. And she was laughing. Laughing with the pure joy of life.
“I had never seen any such thing in the palace before. Possibly in my existence before, for all those who are presented to me know to bow and scrape and act in a subservient manner.
“I should have been outraged. Instead, I found it charming.
“I walked over to the child. She saw me and immediately stopped right where she was. I waved to her, like this,” and he gestured in a vague manner, “and said, ‘Please. Continue if you wish.’
“I thought she would be too self-conscious. No. Not at all. She instantly resumed her running and careening about. I had never witnessed a human being so consumed with the sheer thrill of living. And I said to her, ‘Where are your parents? Your mother? Your father? Did your father never teach you proper conduct in the palace of the Imperior?’
“And she said, ‘No,’ and then gave this… this odd, tittering chuckle. ‘What do you find so funny?’ I asked her.” He looked at me. “You know, I assume, what she found so funny?”
“Because you were the father who had never taught her.”
He nodded ruefully. “Four years old… is a very magical time. I realized that at that moment. Anything is possible in the world at the age of four.”
“So you taught her? Beca
me closer to her?”
“Of course not,” said the Imperior. “That is a woman’s work. I had more important things to do.”
“Oh,” I said, a bit disappointed in the way that anecdote had concluded.
“Still… it displeases me to consider another child that age, cut short in her life for no real reason. It… seems rather brutal, does it not. Brutal and unfair.”
“That’s what I was trying to say.”
He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “It seems to me that perhaps we are reaching a point as a civilization… where we must reassess that which we consider important. We must reconsider what constitutes honor, and loyalty, and devotion.”
“Imperior… where would we start?” asked Itso Esi. The others looked equally bewildered.
“You could begin with rethinking the entire concept that life is cheap,” I said. “You could do away with ritualistic suicide in the name of honor.”
The advisors gasped visibly, but the Imperior merely looked interested. “Why would we wish to do that?”
“Because it only allows for one sort of redemption,” I said. “In the land where I come from, there are many, many ways that one can go about making restitution for poor or inappropriate behavior, or even criminal action. Someone who is…” The ironic self-reflection was not lost upon me. “Someone who is a great villain one day can do things to benefit the public good another day. But those opportunities will never arise if the only acceptable form of penance is death.”
It looked like the advisors were about to respond, but then they immediately held their peace as they waited to see how the Imperior would react. He was simply nodding, apparently considering my words.
“Change,” he said slowly, “does not occur overnight. Matters that go to the very core of who we are must be weighed, measured, and considered. Even I, divinely inspired by the gods, do not turn a society on its ear overnight. But you have given us much to consider, Po. Very much.” He rested a hand on my shoulder, and he looked more tired than I’d ever seen him. “It is difficult to know the difference between those who are dedicated, and those who are friends… and those who are simply using you to achieve their own ends. Knowing whom to trust is never an easy business, Po.”