by Duncan, Dave
The old man made strangled noises, then addressed the floor tiles. “Your Majesty, I believe it is still in Gongshan Province. Its progress to the south is being delayed because the Grand Canal is almost dry. The level of the Golden River has fallen so low that—”
“You believe? You don’t know? And why is it going south? Where is the Bamboo Banner?”
After several ums and ers … “Jingyan Province, Your Majesty?”
“You are asking me? You don’t know? You are dismissed from office. Go away.”
In a murderous silence, the crushed old soldier crept backward, out of the imperial presence. Previous Emperors might have now sent him “permission” to commit suicide, and he might not wait for it, but Butterfly Sword had better targets for his wrath. Meanwhile, nothing would happen until he told it to. He noticed that First Mandarin had so far forgotten his practiced inscrutability as to lower his snowy eyebrows in disapproval of the upstart imposter who was departing from the agenda.
“First Mandarin, can anyone in this hall tell me where the Bamboo Banner is?”
The old man almost smiled as he caught up with the unwritten script. He had sent Butterfly Sword the answer to that question only yesterday and would certainly have discussed it with his grandson already.
“Your Majesty, if anyone can advise you on the military situation, it will be General Iron Spur.”
“Do so, if you can, General.”
Still kneeling, the soldier took it in stride. Having been granted the floor, he now addressed it, being unworthy to look directly at the Emperor. “My understanding, Your Majesty, is that the Bamboo Banner is presently in southern Jingyan Province, and there is some recent evidence to suggest that it is veering more to the northwest, away from its previous northeasterly path. The army, as of the time of the earthquake, was in Gongshan Province, and Supreme Guardian was concerned by reports that the Golden River had ceased to flow. In other words, Lord of All Under Heaven, the two forces are still on opposite sides of the Good Land.”
“So if the army does cross the river without being washed away, it may even miss the Bamboo Banner entirely and have to chase it north?” Butterfly Sword did not wait for an answer, in case he had been wrong. “If I now appoint you Supreme Guardian, can you find our army, assume command, and deal with the rebels before they do any more damage?”
The audience gasped again, but there was only one possible answer to that question. Iron Spur gave it without a twitch, although he might be putting his neck on the block.
“My life and sword are Your Majesty’s to command.”
“I so command. It is time to stamp out this upstart rabble. You will meet with us in the Garden of Arboreal Splendor shortly. You also, First Mandarin, and of course our worthy cousin, Prince Boundless Shore.”
He raised a hand very slightly, and instantly the screens closed.
There! He had begun. And eunuchs were the first target on his list.
The Garden of Arboreal Splendor, in the Great Without, comprised several acres of artfully sited groves, lawns, flowerbeds, and lotus ponds. Butterfly Sword was carried to where his three guests sat in a small gazebo he had not seen before. It would be ideal for private dalliance with Snow Lily, except that she must never leave the Great Within. It was not overlooked by any windows, and there was no undergrowth close enough to conceal listeners. He ignored the throne provided and joined the others in sitting on the mats. All three of them must be wondering why Boundless Shore had been included in a council of war.
“I waive palace formality for this meeting,” Butterfly Sword said. “Our business is too important to be complicated by ceremony or undue politeness. Disagree with me if you think I am in error. Flat-out contradict me if necessary. I am as human as you are. I spit and shit and fart. The only difference is that when I fart everyone has to look pleased.”
First Mandarin stiffened in horror. Iron Spur studied his knees. The young prince choked back a grin. Butterfly Sword was relying on his Gray Helper training, as he had when he went rowing with Snow Lily. An Emperor who deliberately did the unthinkable must be genuine because an imposter would not dare. Then conversation had to wait while the tea arrived. It was cold, of course.
As soon as the servants had left, Butterfly Sword said, “General, give us your reading of the military situation.”
Iron Spur must have foreseen the question. “Based on the information I have been given, Lord”—he glanced briefly at his grandfather—“the earthquake devastated large parts of three provinces: Nanling, Shashi, and Jingyan. With bridges and cities in ruins, with food and shelter critically short, the Bamboo Banner must either return to the south or detour from its previous track. The Golden River is temporarily dammed just east of Wedlock, bringing a real risk of catastrophic flooding downstream from there. For that reason, I believe the army’s present course southward may be impeded. I would humbly advise Your Majesty that your forces should head west to cut off the rebels in Wanrong or even Shashi.”
“The army will have farther to go than the rebels do.”
“But it will be moving over the plains. The rabble will be cutting across the ridges, up and down hills. We have an organized commissariat. They will be foraging for food in a not very fertile land. I believe Your Majesty’s forces can cut them off in Wanrong.”
“There is reason to expect that the interception will occur in Shashi.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Iron Spur said, “I am inexpressibly grateful to Your Majesty for this guidance.”
“There is no military reason for my conclusion, but the Portal of Worlds is expected to open shortly, probably next year, but even that date is uncertain.”
No one was going to say that a change of dynasty might follow. Very few knew that one had already happened—long may it last!
“Does Your Majesty order me to proceed on that assumption?”
“No. Do what you are paid to do as you think fit. I like your plan, though. When can you leave?”
“Tonight, Your Majesty, if my commission can be ready by then.”
The difference between this young firebrand and the Supreme Guardian was noon over midnight.
“You are a man after my own heart, General, but there are a few details I must take care of first. How many men did you bring with you?”
“Ten thousand, sire. They can be here within hours.”
“How trustworthy are its officers?”
“My second-in-command is my brother, Iron Fist, Majesty.”
“He and the troops will stay here. You will lead our army against the Bamboo Banner. Its followers have claimed for years that I am dead. To prove them wrong, I will come with you.”
First Mandarin’s tea bowl shattered on the paving.
“Like Emperors of old, I will march against the rebels,” Butterfly Sword continued calmly. “If a battle can be avoided, or after it is won, I will decide what terms to offer this Bamboo and his gang. But I will not presume to tell you how to lead an army or fight a battle, Supreme Guardian. First Mandarin, prepare documents to raise the Pearl Concubine to the rank of Empress and to appoint a regency council of yourself and Prince Boundless Shore to rule the Good Land in my absence. If the two of you disagree on a matter, you will consult the Empress to break the deadlock.”
He waited then to let them unravel it all. First Mandarin was very pale, but he was being offered more power than he had ever had, and a chance to put Boundless Shore on the throne if the usurper failed to destroy the Banner. Boundless Shore had turned bright pink. Instead of some token job on the fringe of government, he was starting at the top, for regent was as high as he could ever honorably hope to rise in the Empire. Iron Spur just looked thoughtful.
Butterfly Sword asked him first. “Questions, Supreme Commander?”
“How will Your Majesty travel?”
“On horseback, and I will set a pac
e that makes you scream for mercy.”
The soldier must have doubted that, but he said, “I am overwhelmed by the honor and trust you bestow on me, sire.”
“And his men?” First Mandarin dared to ask.
“The Empress and the mothers of my sons will move to the Turquoise Palace. The rest of my concubines or prospective concubines will be returned to their families with appropriate gifts. The Empress will provide a list of up to one hundred eunuchs she wishes to retain in my service. I command the regency council to impose martial law on Heart of the World and evict all other eunuchs from the palace. Start tonight. I want Chief Eunuch arrested and his house searched for evidence of stolen property.”
The old man beamed blissfully. “Your Majesty, he owns two palaces packed to the rafters with treasure. It will take weeks to move it all to the imperial vaults.”
“If that is confirmed, cut off his head and mount it on the Gate of Memory.”
“The thousand cuts? Impalement?”
“No, it must be quick.” Butterfly Sword was not going to have the fat man taking days to die, screaming allegations of treason against the Emperor. “And then move against the next layer: his sons, his accomplices. Seize their property, but go slowly, so that any who choose to flee the city may do so, but allow them to take only what they can carry. None of them should starve.”
Butterfly Sword glanced around his three accomplices and resisted a desire to laugh aloud. Power certainly had its enjoyable moments. He would be wagering his life by leaving the capital, but his life was barely worth a sneeze at the moment. If he failed, Snow Lily and all his children would die. If he could overcome the Bamboo Banner, he would rule unchallenged.
“Do you have any questions? Cousin?” He went around the circle, and none of them had questions. They were all stunned.
“In that case, First Mandarin, Supreme Guardian, you have our leave to go and be about our business. No formality—and don’t walk backward! You’ll break your necks on that paving.”
As the two were leaving, First Mandarin glanced back and nodded very slightly. Only Butterfly Sword saw, and he took it as a welcome sign of commitment, the old man indicating he approved of the imposter’s performance so far and would support him.
In Heart of the World, anyone who trusted anyone else had a very short life expectancy.
“Well, cousin … ?”
“Your Majesty?”
“Family can look me in the eye in private conversations.”
Startled, the boy looked up and flushed. “Sire!”
Butterfly Sword smiled. “Were you worried that I would cut off your head?”
“Oh no, sire! But … Of course not, sire.”
“Poison or a silken cord? You were right to worry. I hope I have reassured you somewhat in this little chat?”
“I am overwhelmed, sire.”
“So you should be! I just dropped the entire Good Land on your shoulders. First Mandarin is efficient, and I believe honest, but he is also set firmly in the ruts of a long life. Don’t be afraid to push a younger point of view if necessary. When you were a child, did your family have a pet name for you?”
Bewilderment. “My sisters called me Sandfly, sire.”
“That’s too obvious by itself, but we can stretch it to insects in general. When you write to me, always mention insects of one kind or another, and that way I will know it is really from you, and you are not writing under compulsion. Any mention of spiders or webs will mean that you are not writing freely. In my youth, I was known as Horse, so I will always mention horses or cavalry somewhere. The warning will be ‘mule.’ Is that clear? Good. Now, is there anything you need from me?”
“Um …” An even deeper blush. The boy looked down at his perfectly groomed nails, and then forced his eyes up again as he remembered his orders. “Money, sire. My grandmother once had a thousand servants and now we have less than a dozen. Your esteemed and well-loved mother … I mean I had to sell art and jewels to pay for my journey here, the hired retainers, the gifts … We have only one house left.”
Butterfly Sword sighed. How many houses did one boy and one old woman really need? Millions of the Gentle People were dying of starvation already. But unless he rewarded his vice Emperor lavishly, his would be one of the shortest reigns in the history of the Good Land.
“Why don’t I begin by just giving you one of Chief Eunuch’s palaces and all its contents? That will probably make you the richest man in the Empire after me. Once I have quashed the Bamboo Banner and can start to reign in earnest, I will honor you properly. No, you do not have to kiss my shoes.”
Chapter 13
Lady Cataract advanced on the staircase of worlds at the full of Harvest Moon. Shard Gingko was not surprised. She had asked for the caravan to stop earlier than usual, pleading weariness, but after that, the Firstborn had sat for many hours, cross-legged beside her litter, chatting softly with her. Shard Gingko recalled how a brutally chained youth in Four Mountains Fortress two years ago had foreseen the death of Mandarin Serge Shallows, and suspected that he was seeing that same skill here. In the last two weeks, the lady had seldom emerged from that litter. At night, her attendants wrapped it up to make it into a tent for her. With a soft mattress raised off the ground, it made a better nest than anyone else in the group enjoyed.
She had not chosen a scenic place to die. Once these hills had been tightly terraced with rice paddies, but the earthquake had broken all the dikes, sending huge floods of mud and seedlings hurtling down into the valley. Whoever had lived there must lie there still, deeply buried—may their sparks find their way onward! Now the land was a desert, a maze through which the travelers were struggling to find a way along the slopes, high enough to be out of the mud slides and fairly even underfoot.
Soon after daybreak, Shard was wakened by a great lament and keening from the lady’s body servants and knew his guess had been right. The Firstborn rose from his blanket and calmed everyone. No, they did not need to find Gray Helpers to conduct her rites, he said—just build a pyre and he would take care of the rest. Unlike them, he did not fear corpses. As he had told Shard more than once, the dead were much less dangerous than the living.
There being no wood in sight, the litter itself and her carrying chair were chopped up and piled together with anything else that seemed likely to burn. At sunset, Sunlight laid the corpse on the pyre. Shard noted the Firstborn’s new strength with approval, although Lady Cataract had weighed very little by the end. Everyone gathered around.
“The farewell I will sing for her,” the Urfather said, “is a very old one that she found in the most ancient of all the manuscripts in her collection. I will chant it as it would have been sung back in the Sixth Dynasty, and you will not understand a word of it. But she would recognize it and her spark will obey my instructions and rise to find happiness in the Fifth World.”
The Sixth Dynasty had seen a great flowering of the arts. Shard did understand a little of the old tongue, and he agreed that Lady Cataract would have enjoyed the tribute. The well-seasoned wood blazed well, and sparks soared up to mingle with the stars.
The next morning, after the pyre had collapsed into ashes, Sunlight himself gathered the charred bones and wrapped them for Cataract’s servants to take home.
“Her Ladyship told me,” he said, “that she knew of no family to inherit her estate, and she did not want the Emperor to have anything more than he must. She hoped that her servants would divide her goods equitably and burn the house when they leave. I charge you all not to be greedy and see that even the lowliest garden boy receives a fitting tribute.”
For himself and his companions, he took three horses and their tack, plus what he decreed to be a fair share of the remaining rations, although it would have made little more than a single meal in better times. He had stopped insulting his two disciples by asking if they wanted to stay with him. As so
often happened, he surprised them. Instead of continuing to try and find a passable way along the slopes, he led them straight up the hill.
Mostly, they went in single file, but once Shard found himself riding alongside Mouse, who was no longer the downcast child of Four Mountains. He was now a strapping young man who smiled a lot.
“Master? Do you think you and I will be remembered in history for accompanying the Firstborn to see the Portal open?”
Shard needed time to think about that. “You mean are our ancestors watching us?”
“Assuredly, our ancestors are, but I mean other people’s descendants.”
“I think you should ask the Ancient One that.”
The grin widened. “I already did.”
“And what did he say?”
“He asked why that should make any difference to the way we behaved.”
“Quite,” Shard Gingko said testily. “Do you remember the Humble Teacher’s warning on the dangers of pride?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Write it out for me at the first chance you get.”
The smile wavered. “All of it?”
“All of it, and in the decorated style.”
“Yes, Master.” Glumly.
At the top, when they stopped to rest their horses on the bare and windy summit, the Firstborn pointed to the southwest, where far-off icy peaks glinted in the morning sun, like many rows of teeth.
“The Western Wall, my friends! We will follow the ridges to reach the Great Valley that flanks them on this side. This is not a route I would try to bring a litter, and will at times be hard on our mounts, but we have plenty of time.”
“Then we are close to the Portal?” Shard asked.
“It is still a ways south of us, but journeying along the Great Valley should be much easier than what we have been doing lately.” Sunlight smiled. His happiness was Lady Cataract’s legacy. He had hope now. He did not expect to die this year.
Chapter 14
