by Duncan, Dave
“From where? You think we have bloated granaries all over the Empire? Who would pay for that food, or pay to move it, and how—on men’s backs? I have never known a year when people were not starving somewhere and the weather is always bad before an opening.”
“An opening of what?” Surely, she did not believe the crazy myths about the Portal of Worlds? Carvings on rock faces did not open.
“None of your business. You work hard on all those pretty girls I give you and don’t worry about history.”
She hadn’t started making threats yet, so he pushed on.
“I know you cannot stop floods, but I wonder about warnings. When the Golden River starts rising in Wanrong, the governor reports to the throne. But does he rush warnings downstream, to Nanling and Shashi?”
The Empress Mother slammed her bowl down, splashing tea everywhere. Her face flamed red under the face paint. “So now you think you really are the Emperor, do you? Peasant filth! I dragged you out of the gutter and I can bury you head down in a cesspit. And I will, if you start getting ideas. I’ll have that Snow Lily of yours whipped before your eyes, no matter how close she is to term!”
“Mercy, Your Majesty, mercy! I was only trying to help!”
She beat on the table with both fists. “You can help with that long cock of yours, and if you meddle in anything else, I’ll have it cut off and put you to work in the stables.”
She had never raged at him quite like this before. Obviously, she did not know the answer to his innocently intended question about warnings. Perhaps no one had ever asked it before.
Chapter 14
Silky’s expedition had left Humble Duty the morning after the fight in the alley, but from then on, it had traveled by traditional means. Thousands of skiffs and little junks plied the Jade River, and although they varied enormously in their smell, comfort, and resistance to rain, and although their owners might be skilled, honest, and helpful, or none of those, the journey should still have been completed in another month, or a month and a half at the most.
Alas, few of the boatmen would venture farther than three days’ travel from their families at the best of times, and Nightingale Moon brought two great broom stars to blaze in the heavens, so terrifying to the river folk that only a few hours around noontime every day were judged auspicious for travel. The travelers found themselves stranded in a succession of squalid fishing villages. Not until the waning of Lotus Moon were the locals willing to believe that the world would not come to an end right away.
By then, the winds were consistently and contrarily contrary. Thunder Moon brought almost continuous rain, raising the river to dangerous rates of flow. Silky gabbled that floods were another omen foretelling an opening of the Portal, but he took small comfort from the fact. Their journey seemed to be cursed. Worse, it seemed doomed to be everlasting.
Harvest Moon’s deluges ruined the crops and promised famine before next summer. Chrysanthemum Moon saw an end to the rain, but the rivers were still too high for travel. Verdant Harmony, too bloated now to find comfort in any position, swore she was going to drop triplets, and very soon.
By this time, Silky was on the verge of madness and might have stepped over it had Brother Luminous not been there, reassuring him that all journeys end and women had been giving birth to babies for a very long time. Having completed three contracts, the older man must be enormously rich in his own right, but he enjoyed the life of a Gray Helper and showed no signs of retiring or losing his deadly touch—his tally was a secret, but reputed to be more than forty. Most of the time, he seemed to be plump, fatherly, and jovial, with an armor of fat and a wispy white beard. His true appearance was another secret.
Fortunately, Plum Blossom offered Silky what help she could for stress. He denied this to Verdant, but she clearly refused to believe him.
On a bitterly cold and windy day in Falling Leaf Moon, a stinky little cargo junk finally brought them to Cherish, which was the last settlement of any size on the headwaters of the Jade and thus served as the start of the Wilderness Road. The sky had cleared at last, and the weary travelers, huddled in blankets, had a fine view of its many jetties and caravanserais, with the Fortress Hills beyond and the towering, ice-capped peaks of the Western Wall in the distance. The most distinctive feature of Cherish was an ominous stone fortress, towering above all other buildings, garrisoned by the Imperial Army, and a reminder that savage tribes lurked on the far side of Swordcut Pass. Not all the men who rode the Wilderness Road were peaceable traders.
“It is late in season to explore opportunities in real estate,” Luminous proclaimed. Even he had lost his normal joviality by now; they were all so sick of travel. “But regard the fine mansions carpeting that hillside. Our first priority must be to rent a house.”
“No,” Verdant declared.
Suddenly, her fingers were digging into Silky’s arm so hard that he realized that something must be wrong and turned to regard her in dismay.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing yet,” she replied. “But your first priority must be to find me a midwife.”
IV
The Year of the Raven
Chapter 1
With a hushed rustle of silk and a faint pad of slippers on tiles, the Son of the Sun mounted three steps to the dais. Majestically, he trailed his train across to the Golden Throne and turned to set his divine buttocks on its silken cushion. He composed his features in the stoic mindlessness they would have to bear for the next hour or so; servants adjusted his draperies. The wall of golden fretwork just in front of his toes was in fact an ornate screen meant to hide these preliminary indignities. The retainers withdrew; he took a deep breath and signaled his readiness with a barely perceptible nod.
Trumpets blared, gongs sounded. The screen parted, its halves sliding wide to reveal the celestial Son of the Sun to his Universal Harmonious Beneficence, a magnified Great Council, a thousand or so Grand of the Land gathered in the Hall of Celestial Peace, all of them with their foreheads pressed to the floor and their backsides raised to Heaven like dabbling ducks. Too many people were starting to believe the Bamboo Banner’s insistence that Emperor Absolute Purity was dead, so the Empress Mother was reluctantly allowing the imposter to emerge more often and to be displayed to selected worthies. Commoners never set eyes on their ruler, of course, even when he was genuine.
Out beyond the frosted windows, the park with its lakes and pagodas lay snowbound and icebound in the steely fangs of Wolf Moon. The Feast of Snowy Owls had passed without the intrusion of dancing demons that had ruined last year’s celebration. This was the third day of the new year, the first sufficiently auspicious day for such a gathering. Auspicious, but cold as the Empress Mother’s heart. Rows of glowing braziers did nothing to banish the chill in the hall. As the assembled worthies completed their prostrations and sat back on their heels, their breath steamed.
Snow Lily was in labor. More than anything in the world, Butterfly Sword wanted to be there with her, comforting and encouraging. Of course, no man would ever be allowed into a birthing room, even an Emperor, and he must never lose face by canceling an important ceremony after it had been announced. Why should a mere birthing interest him? He had many concubines, and although the Pearl Concubine was known to be his favorite, Devotion and Sweet Melody were also with child. He was young and fertile, so if this one was not a son to carry on the dynasty, then the next or the next …
Snow Lily was in labor and he kept thinking of Moth. Poor Moth! She had done her duty at Huarache, teaching him Palace Voice and proving his ability to sire children. She had known the risks. They had both guessed what was afoot when they identified the picture of Zealous Righteousness in their room, so Horse had tried to talk her out of it. She had persisted, and after three nights of abstinence, he had succumbed to her wiles. She had been small and light, flitting through life, delicate as a child, with tiny breasts and nip
ples like pink pearls. He had felt like such a lumbering hulk beside her! Her hands together could barely meet around his forearm. The skill in those tiny hands could make him tempered steel or a great heap of noodle paste. She had conceived, as ordered. In Hare Moon, Lady Twilight had returned to the priory to fetch Brother Butterfly Sword, and he had seen Sister Moth no more.
So why was he thinking of her now, for ancestors’ sake? Guilt? Terror? The cases were quite different. Certainly, Moth would not have been allowed to come to term, even if she had survived at all. He knew enough of the Empress Mother’s techniques to know that her accomplices had very short lives. Snow Lily was in labor; he kept thinking of Moth.
Snow Lily was bigger than Moth had been, but not by much.
A big bull bred a big calf.
Today was a very auspicious day, a good day to give birth. Tomorrow would be very inauspicious. How long must Snow Lily endure the torment? Better the death of a thousand cuts than what she must be going through now, whereas Butterfly Sword, who had caused her present torment, had nothing better to do than sit there like a burl on a tree and be worshipped. The Empress Mother had learned to trust him, or else had learned to trust the stupidity of the court. The hoax had survived nine months, and no one was going to violate this sacred ritual by leaping up and shouting that the youth on the throne was an imposter. No, he was the Lord of the High and the Low. He had presided at councils, reviewed a march past of troops, performed sacrifices, gone hunting in the park, been seen boating on several of the lakes with the Pearl Concubine—he had even been observed taking the oars himself.
The Empress Mother had blazed in rage at him over that. “No Emperor ever demeaned himself so! You have shattered the precedents of five thousand years!”
“Which no imposter would ever dare to do, yes?” he had said with his best cute-boy smile, which often worked on the old terror. “And besides, what scribe would ever have dared to record such an undignified act?”
She had glared at him, then pulled a face, and finally changed the subject, which was as close as she could ever get to admitting that he might have a point. They were fellow conspirators. A very odd pair indeed—she ruled the Empire and he was garbage from the gutter, but they were cooperating to cuckold a dynasty.
And now their intrigue was literally bearing fruit. An imperial concubine was in labor with the imposter’s child. How many people in this great congregation knew the terrible truth? Chief Eunuch, of course, for he knew everything. First Mandarin, probably, for the same reason. Supreme Guardian, certainly not; the Empress Mother was far too acute to trust the army to anyone with more brains than a louse. She would never let the head of the army anywhere near such a secret. The eunuch Joyous Diligence was certainly in on the plot, for he was the imposter’s handler, so that all Butterfly Sword’s requests or queries, and most of the Empress Mother’s orders, were passed through him. He would be here somewhere, watching through a spyhole. Certainly, none of the princes suspected, nor did the ambassadors from the barbarian kingdoms who had been deliberately placed right at the back of the assembly.
Everyone who could possibly get into this celebration was there, waiting to present their New Year gifts to the Son of the Sun. Only one notable was absent, and very conspicuously so. The Empress Mother was otherwise engaged, supervising the delivery of her fraudulent grandchild. Everyone knew that Pearl Concubine was in labor.
It was ironic that the supreme ruler of the Good Land had organized the greatest of all possible treasons. If this child turned out to be a boy, the Empress Mother would have little further use for her hired stud. The unfortunate accident or sudden fever wouldn’t happen right away, of course, but everyone who knew of the deception would be silenced—Snow Lily, Joyous Diligence, Chief Eunuch, and most especially Butterfly Sword.
He had known the palace was a death trap before he ever set foot in it.
The ceremony began. The princes came first, in strict order of rank, each being proclaimed, kowtowing, laying his gift before the throne—although many brought a servant along to do the heavy work. The eunuchs then removed it from the hall, and by nightfall would have removed most of the loot out of the palace altogether. Jeweled caskets, carved jade, bronze or porcelain vessels—any one piece would support a family for a lifetime, but the scale of theft in Sublime Mountain was incredible. It was a wonder the Golden Throne itself remained.
The Emperor had nothing to do but sit and look imperious. Senior princes might be awarded small nods if he was feeling benevolent, which that day he most decidedly was not. What a pathetic lot they were, too! Butterfly Sword could almost approve of the Empress Mother’s deception. Yes, she was ruthless, but sometimes rue was inappropriate. Yes, she was motivated by a consuming hunger for power, but in all truth no one anywhere close to the line of descent seemed capable of replacing her idiot son. Prince Tungusic Vision had the best claim but was so senile that he had been excused from attending court now, and he was the last of his line. After him, Prince Gratify Poet was the most qualified, and he had a young grandson to succeed him. But Gratify Poet had been born under a very evil star. He alternated between periods of melancholy when he was incapable of doing anything and maniacal rages in which he had been known to kill people. Prince Crystal Sea had succumbed to his opium habit. Prince Apotheosis was reputedly a deaf mute.
Where was the real Emperor Absolute Purity now? It would be very out of character for the Empress Mother to have kept her son alive as evidence of her perfidy. Whatever crooked paths she walked, she never left witnesses behind. As soon as she had a spurious grandson to continue her regency, then the imposter would go also and the fraud would be shut down. For a year, Butterfly Sword had lived under sentence of death, and execution time was drawing near.
Another jade vase, another frightful poem …
He remembered the day he had been smuggled into the sacred precincts of the Great Within in a wagonload of pillows. At daybreak, he had been dressed in finery and borne in a curtained palanquin to the Summer Palace. That evening, he had met a terrified naked child. Somehow, he had never realized that concubines began as virgins, yet she had been so desperate to please him.
And now she was in labor. His seed had killed Moth. Would it kill Snow Lily?
The New Year levee still had hours to go. They were down to mandarins of the third rank now, bringing them forward in tens to present their gifts. The latest ten were just rising, the eunuchs sweeping forward to remove the booty, and—
Boom!
The court froze. One elderly mandarin lost his balance and fell, but even he did not move after that.
Boom!
Five guns for a girl, nineteen for a boy.
Boom!
The Emperor, especially, must show no emotion.
Boom!
Nobody was breathing.
Boom!
Silence.
More silence.
The Son of the Sun released his breath very gently. He was safe for now. Snow Lily was safe—assuming she survived the birthing. Diligence and Sweet Melody would not come to term for months yet. During that reprieve, could he organize an escape from Sublime Mountain? An escape for himself and Snow Lily and their daughter? In this madhouse of corruption, whom could he possibly trust to help him?
It was late that night before the Emperor was able to view the imperial baby, named Snowbell by her grandmother. Having never seen a newborn before, he was appalled at how tiny and vulnerable she seemed. Snow Lily was asleep; they would have wakened her had he not forbidden it.
So he was a father? He spent the rest of the night staring into the darkness, spinning webs that fell apart as soon as he looked at them with any scrutiny. Concubine Dawn Clouds slept peacefully at his side, although she had been distressed earlier by His Majesty’s lack of interest.
His child was safe enough, but probably doomed to a life of spinsterhood and unbroken boredom in
the palace. While the throne could not descend through the female line, very few men were sufficiently noble to marry a princess. Snow Lily was as doomed as he was—more so, in fact, because he was still a Gray Brother. If he could somehow find the right clothes, he could make himself seem a eunuch or a soldier and try walking out the gate. That might work for him, but abducting an imperial concubine and an imperial princess was as unlikely as flying away on a magic carpet.
He must find help, and he decided to play by the Empress Mother’s rules. She had achieved the impossible simply because it was unthinkable. Butterfly Sword’s best bet was to turn her own trusties against her.
Every morning, as the imperial upper lip was being shaved—like most young males of the Gentle People, Butterfly Sword had so few chin hairs that it was easier to pluck them than shave them—Joyous Diligence appeared to receive His Imperial Majesty’s orders for the day and explain which ones His Majesty’s imperious mother would forbid him to accept. Large and plump, probably not much past thirty, and sumptuously dressed, of course, he had probably been altered quite recently, because he still sported a few hairs on his lip and his voice had not yet become shrill and strident. Like most eunuchs, he always reeked of perfume intended to disguise his sour urinal smell.
The barber and other servants withdrew out of earshot; the Keeper of Hours completed his kowtow and remained on his knees.
“So I am a father,” Butterfly Sword said.
“The Empire rejoices at Your Majesty’s good fortune. Salutes have—”
“Good fortune that it wasn’t a boy.”
A skilled actor stays in character at all times. Joyous Diligence pretended to misunderstand. “Of course the Good Land eagerly awaits a brother for Princess Snowbell.”
“I mean, as you well know, that as soon as I have given the Empress Mother a grandson, she will have no further use for me. I will be nothing but a threat to be removed, right?”
