The Magnolia Sword: A Ballad of Mulan

by Sherry Thomas

  Heat careens through me. Surely . . .

  No, he won’t embrace me again. Not with Yu around. And not even if we were alone.

  The moonlight does not make it much less treacherous to tread near the top of the ravine, and we trudge on for what seems an unnecessarily long time. I want to ask him outright when and how he learned that I am a woman, but this isn’t the right moment. Not when the Rouran are on the verge of sacking the capital.

  At last he says, his voice tight, “Now we should be out of Master Yu’s hearing.”

  I put my hands on my elbows, bracing myself. “Are you about to tell me that you don’t trust him?”

  “I don’t.”

  “But your father trusts him enough to give you into his care. He’s the one who was supposed to look after you outside the Wall, isn’t he?”

  “At this point, I don’t trust my father.”

  I shudder. “What?”

  “After you left to see where Captain Helou would be staying the night, the Rouran khan and his generals spoke for some time. Several times they mentioned Captain Helou’s master. Not by name, unfortunately, but I was able to confirm that he is a Xianbei nobleman.”

  “There must be a whole pack of Xianbei noblemen in the capital.”

  “But my father is the one in charge of the central com­mandery. He is also the one who sent both Bai and Captain Helou along with us.”

  “But he’s your father.”

  “Most Xianbei noblemen in the capital are fathers. Being a father doesn’t mean a man won’t betray his country.”

  What I meant was How could you suspect your own father? But I should know, shouldn’t I, that sometimes one shouldn’t trust one’s father too much?

  I pull my cape tighter around me. “What did the Rouran generals say about this nobleman?”

  “I’m not as well versed as Tuxi xiong in languages beyond the Wall. They were speaking fast, and often several voices at once. I don’t know exactly what they said. I can only guess that when the nobleman was mentioned, they were debating how much they should trust him.”

  “What did they decide?”

  “Yucheng Khan wished to move forward with the plan, and the others fell in line.”

  Until this moment I didn’t realize how much I want everything to go away. If Yucheng Khan were to doubt the ripeness of the moment, if he came to see that he doesn’t want the lands south of the Wall as much as he’d thought he did, if the opposition of his generals somehow outweighed his ambition and impatience . . .

  But no. And now we hurtle like Dayuan horses toward a dark and ominous future.

  The sounds of agitated breaths echo in the air. They are mine. I force myself to calm down. “So Captain Helou will leave in the morning to arrange for the beacons?”

  “Most likely. And that means we have limited time before the central commandery forces are sent away from the capital.”

  “If they are sent.”

  “They will be sent. If the beacons repeatedly turn out to be ruses, and if pressure is continually applied, the court will become anxious, as anyone would under the circumstances. Those advocating for action will prevail over those counseling patience.”

  And Captain Helou, of course, never delivered Kai’s message to his father. The royal duke, on the movement of whose armies the fate of the realm rests, is now as much in the dark as anyone else with regard to the intentions of the Rouran.

  I feel dizzy. “What do we do, then?”

  He rubs a hand across his forehead. “That’s what paralyzes me. I can’t trust anyone else, yet the two of us alone cannot hold back the tide.”

  He said something similar before. In matters having to do with the survival of the state, I trust you completely.

  Not that he isn’t correct, but . . . “Why do you trust me?”

  “Because your father kept your attention focused squarely on the duel and your training. You are involved in this war only because of the conscription, not because you have any connection to either the Rouran or the imperial court. You are no one to the players of this game. Even better, they are nothing and no one to you.

  “And that’s something I cannot say about anyone else here. Yu is loyal to my father—if my father is not loyal to the country, then there is no telling where Yu’s loyalty lies. Kedan worships Captain Helou, and not just as a friend, if you understand what I mean.”

  I do understand and I think he is correct about Kedan. “But Captain Helou—I don’t believe he feels the same way.” He doesn’t mind Kedan’s friendship and adoration, but he doesn’t return it in equal or even half measure.

  “It doesn’t matter what he feels toward Kedan. We already know where his loyalty lies. It’s Kedan’s we don’t know about. Does he love Captain Helou enough to betray his country?”

  “Does Kedan even know about all this?”

  “I don’t know. Then again, I didn’t suspect either Bai or ­Captain Helou. I can’t make the same mistake again.”

  He half turns so that he stands with his profile to me. Moonlight frosts the sharp contours of his face. But I don’t need to see his features to feel the tension radiating from him, the palpable fear that one misstep can doom everything.

  Whereas I feel as if I’m sleepwalking. I’m afraid, yes, but there is a part of me that can’t yet accept that I, a recent exile from the South, am suddenly and inextricably caught up in the fate of the North—one of the central players in this enormous, pivotal game.

  “All right, so we watch Kedan because of his devotion to Captain Helou,” I say. “But why can’t we trust Tuxi? Surely, he must be as much of a nobody to the Rouran as I am.”

  Kai pinches the space between his brows. “You know how I told you that I was terrified of you? Apparently I didn’t know what terrified means. Now I’m truly terrified of this situation. And about you, I feel merely apprehensive.”

  I almost smile. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “I’m going to tell you something. And you will swear to Heaven above that you will not reveal a word of it to anyone, or we will have our duel right here and I will fight to my last breath.”

  I swallow—there is a vehemence to his tone that I have never heard before. “All right. I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Tuxi’s surname isn’t Tuxi. It’s Tuoba. His name is Tuoba Xi, and he is my second cousin and the emperor’s son.”

  My lips flap but no sounds emerge. I blink and try again. “Is—is he the crown prince?”

  An emperor’s successor is almost always appointed from among his sons rather than decided by mere seniority.

  “No, he is styled Prince Anzhong of Luoyang and he is not the crown prince,” Kai says quickly. And then, after a long silence, “Here’s something else you are to tell no one. The crown prince is ill—very ill and deteriorating. Or at least he was when we left the capital. To my thinking, that is the reason why those bent on treason are acting now. Without a strong heir, the emperor is weakened. And should the crown prince die—which is almost inevitable at this point—the jostling among the other princes would distract everyone at court and undermine the unity necessary to handle the Rouran.”

  I thought I was beyond any further shocks, but I still flinch in dismay: He is saying that Tuxi may be conspiring with the Rouran to forcibly improve his own position.

  I don’t need to ask why a son might wish to overturn his father’s rule. Such examples abound in history. Crown princes grow impatient for the reins of power. Princes lower in the pecking order depose their fathers and brothers because that’s their best and sometimes only chance at the throne.

  “Does anyone else know that he is with us?”

  “No one. Not my father, not even the emperor, who thinks he’s away from the capital on a different errand.”

  “No, I mean, does Master Yu know who he is?”

/>   “Tuxi has yet to visit me at home—he has less freedom of movement than I do. I used to go to the palace to study and train with him, and later we met in noodle shops and other such places, when he could get away.” Kai sighs. “He wanted to come with me on this mission, and I—well, I was glad to have him because his presence made me less afraid.”

  And now his presence complicates our already complicated situation.

  I rub my temples. The night air bites into my fingers. “Do you really believe that Prince Anzhong of Luoyang would betray his father?”

  “Don’t use that name—don’t even think it. And yes, he is capable of coming up with such a plan. As for why, the emperor can be a harsh father, and he has long underestimated Tuxi, believing him to be unsuited for greater tasks. This would certainly be one way of changing the emperor’s opinion.”

  My brain feels like a piece of paper over which someone has spilled a whole bucket of ink. It’s too much. It’s all too much. I am not meant to be dealing with matters of such gravity and magnitude. I’m a mere fighter, and not even a reliable one at that.

  For Heaven’s sake, I’m just a girl.

  Patience, echoes Father’s voice in my head. Concentration.

  I can’t concentrate and there isn’t a moment to lose! I retort.

  And then, for the first time, I understand what he wants me to do. He never meant that I should be patient while I wait for my opponent to make the next move, but that I should not become so jumpy and anxious that I lose focus.

  That instead of letting my thoughts run wild and take over everything, I can leave some room to allow for the return of concentration.

  I breathe deeply, in and out. I am not just a girl—no woman is. And if Heaven has deposited me at this time and place, then I am meant to deal with these problems, no matter their scale or consequence.

  I inhale again. “Yes, Tuxi possesses the intelligence and meticulousness it takes to formulate an ambitious, comprehensive scheme. And so do you.”

  “What?” says Kai, his response barely audible. Then, “What?”

  His voice has risen. His breaths turn irregular. I can almost feel the effort he expends to restrain himself so that his next sentence is only a heated whisper. “If I’m behind it, then why would I be telling you about this conspiracy?”

  “Because if I suspected you, I could prove a formidable opponent.”

  “So you do suspect me?” His voice does not shake, but it sounds right on the edge of doing so.

  “No. I’m sure your aunt made certain you never had time for any such thing.”

  He lets out a long breath of air.

  “You can’t suspect everyone because they could do it,” I go on. “I could be in on the conspiracy too—it’s possible! I could hate you and your family and want to bring down this dynasty so when the new Rouran overlords take over, the whole lot of you will perish.”

  He stares at me, then lets out a soft snort. “In theory my family and I could pledge our allegiance to the Rouran, and thereby save our necks. But I see what you are saying: My fear is overwhelming me again.”

  I slump against the rock face in my relief. When I pulled myself back from my own incipient panic, I realized that he too was on the verge of tipping over—and that before we could do anything else, we must both be able to think clearly.

  He scuffs the bottom of his boot against the stony ground. “If you were in my place, what would you do, Hua Mulan?”

  He has called me by my name twice before, shouting at me to get away from the bandits. But this time, he makes it sound as lovely as a magnolia in full bloom. It takes me a moment to remember what we are talking about. “You said yourself that the two of us alone cannot hold back the tide. So we have no choice but to trust more people. Let’s start with your father. You’ve known him all your life. Do you think he would betray his country? Not whether it is possible, but whether he would.”

  Kai takes a moment to think, then shakes his head. “No. He’s a soldier because he must be, but he hates war above all else. And my aunt would put a sword through his throat if he not only got himself into such a scheme, but also endangered me in the process.”

  “Then we trust him—and if we can trust him, then I think we can trust Yu. Now onto Tuxi. How long have you known him?”

  “All my life.”

  “Would he ally himself with the Rouran to overthrow his father?”

  Silence, then, “Highly, highly unlikely. He is a scholar at heart. He wants to be the court historian far more than he wants to be the emperor. And I believe him when he says that he values peace. He is a great admirer of the philosophical flowering during the Spring and Autumn period—and laments often that the political instability of the past few centuries has slowed the development of new ideas.”

  That accords with what I know of Tuxi. “So now it’s just Kedan we have to worry about.”

  Kai sighs. “I met him the day you did. I don’t know anything about him that doesn’t come from what he himself has said.”

  “Well, he said he’s a hunter and a tracker. And he’s proved himself to be both. And he has done his best to help us find the Rouran encampment.”

  “He could have done it because he wants to see Captain Helou again.”

  “Remember how upset he was when you sent Captain Helou away? If he knew they’d reunite in a few days, he wouldn’t have been that dejected.”

  “He might have been only pretending.”

  I throw my hands up. “By Heaven, you really are suspicious.”

  “A fearful mind finds a way to feed the fear,” he says, sounding apologetic.

  I shake my head. “How do you get anything done if you’re so afraid of everything all the time?”

  “Well, you know how sometimes something is so delicious you eat and eat and eat—and then one more bite and suddenly you are completely sick?”

  “Too much food is something only princelings have to worry about,” I mutter. But I can see, theoretically, that twenty lotus seed paste buns in a row might make me sick.

  “It’s like that with me and fear. My fear will spiral and spiral and spiral, and then all of a sudden I’ll be so sick and tired of being frightened that I have to restrain myself from doing something stupid.”

  I can’t help myself. “Well, I happen to think you are brave. Exceptionally brave.”

  What is courage but strength in the face of fear? His fear might be great, but his strength is greater still.

  He looks at me, the weight of his gaze a warmth on my cheeks.

  Hastily I switch the subject. “Anyway, we were talking about Kedan. I know you still harbor doubts about him, but consider his theft from the Rouran scout. That was done out of mischief and pique. It’s not something he would have tried if he were on the same side as the Rouran.”

  “I don’t know if that’s enough to prove his innocence.”

  I sigh. “What would you have done if you had evidence that your father was actually working with the Rouran?”

  His hand briefly tightens into a fist. “The right thing, I hope.”

  “If you are willing to put the safety and security of your country above your love for your father, what makes you think Kedan won’t do the same with Captain Helou?”

  He does not answer, but at least he signals that we should head back.

  We grope along for some time before he says, “If this is a chess match, then the conspirators are the only ones who know where all the pieces are.”

  “They don’t know where we are,” I point out. “So if this is a chess match, we have just become the chariot—the spoiler of games.”

  When we get back to Yu, he is, as I expected, wide awake, and rises to his feet to greet us. Kai takes a deep breath and thanks him for his tireless work. A moment passes before Yu responds. His words are all the expected ones about devotion to servi
ce, but his voice is hoarse with suppressed relief.

  Through the rest of the night, we take turns holding watch. Shortly after first light, Captain Helou is escorted into Yucheng Khan’s tent. After the time of half a meal, he exits, accompanied by a number of Rouran, presumably the same generals and dignitaries from last night.

  Someone brings over a Dayuan horse for Captain Helou. There is talk, followed by a small ceremony—perhaps of oath-taking—that ends with everyone drinking from the same wineskin. Then Captain Helou rides out with a company of twelve, all on Dayuan horses. After he leaves, a number of messengers set out on their own Dayuan steeds, probably to inform Rouran cohorts farther east and west along the Wall to step up their attacks.

  I expected Yucheng Khan’s decision the night before to hold. Still, I feel as if I’ve been punched in the kidney: There is no averting this war now.

  When all the messengers have gone, the camp reverts to its normal activities. Men practice fighting with one another, horses are exercised, and more yurts are erected in anticipation of reinforcements arriving. When it becomes clear that further observation will not yield us additional information, we gather our things and depart, Yu to where he stowed his horse, Kai and I in the direction of the valley where Kedan and Tuxi spent the night—and where Yu will later meet us.

  When we reach the bottom of the ravine, we take some time to study the steep incline opposite, searching for the easiest route up. My throat is parched, but my waterskin is almost empty. I tilt it back and drain the last drop.

  “Here,” says Kai, handing over his waterskin.

  I hesitate.

  “There is a stream on the other side,” he says.

  I take one swallow and give it back. “Many thanks.”

  “There’s still more.”

  Only because he’s been saving it. I shake my head firmly. He takes a smallish sip and glances balefully at the steep rock face we must negotiate. “When this is all over, I’m never climbing another hill. I’ll demand to be carried up every incline in a palanquin.”

  “I’m giving up horses,” I say, only half joking. “And outdoors. Definitely outdoors.”