by Anthony Ryan
“Are you all right?” Vaelin asked.
“Of course not.” Erlin grimaced and let out a very faint laugh. “I’m old.”
Morning had become afternoon by the time the walls came into sight. The outer districts were on a lower elevation to the centre of the city, so Vaelin was afforded a clear view of the forty-foot-high barrier stretching away for several miles on either side. Unlike the port of Hahn-Shi, there appeared to be no further conurbation beyond the walls, only a vast patchwork of cultivated fields in various hues of green.
“It is forbidden to build beyond the walls, lord,” Tsai Lin explained when Vaelin raised the question. “The Merchant Kings have long decreed Muzan-Khi to be an eternal jewel, as unchanging as the sun.”
“But the number of people here must grow by the year,” Vaelin said.
“Muzan-Khi is often called the nest of the kingdom. All second sons and daughters are required to move to another city or town upon reaching the age of twenty-one, and are happy to do so, for opportunity waits for those who seek it out. Thus is the Venerable Kingdom bound together.”
“What about third or fourth sons and daughters?”
“Such a thing is forbidden in the cities, lord. Only in the provinces are families permitted more than two children. From the earliest days of the Emerald Empire it has been known that too many mouths means famine in the long run.”
They rode through a north-facing gatehouse that had the dimensions of a minor castle, and found themselves traversing a road of remarkably straight construction. Only in Volaria had Vaelin seen a road to compare, although it lacked the slightly elevated centre and drainage ditch that made the arteries of the now-former slave empire immune to the depredations of the weather. As in the city, people made way for the soldiers of the Merchant King, carts and people hurrying aside at the first glimpse of the Red Scouts, with one notable exception.
“Must’ve left a pot on the boil,” Sehmon commented as a man ran past at a pace barely below a sprint. He wore a light, sleeveless shirt of black cotton and a white scarf on his head and ran with a long-practised stride. Unlike the other folk traversing this road, he paid no heed to the soldiers, his gaze fixed determinedly on the city. He also carried no burden apart from a cylindrical case slung on a strap across his back.
“A messenger?” Vaelin asked Tsai Lin.
“Yes, lord. Judging by his pace, he’s probably worried over losing his scarf.”
“His scarf?”
“The distance between each messenger post is exactly three miles. The time each messenger sets off is noted, as is their time of arrival. Every week their average speed is calculated and any considered too slow will lose their scarf. They are given one week to win back their scarf by increasing their speed and will suffer the cane if they fail to do so. Six strokes for the first offence, ten for the second. A third offence will earn dismissal and disgrace.”
“So, not a sought-after role, I assume?”
“Actually, lord, there is fierce competition to enter the messenger service. The Merchant King hosts a grand race every year and only those who can run a three-mile course in the fastest time are chosen. The pay is high and the honour great.”
They came to the messengers’ outpost soon, a small building that was somewhat dwarfed by the banner of the Merchant King rising from its roof. As the company trooped by, Vaelin saw a messenger arrive from the city. Before coming to a halt, he unslung the cylinder from his back and tossed it to another man who had already set off for the north at the same measured but impressive pace.
“Wouldn’t horses be faster?” Vaelin asked Tsai Lin.
“Horse messengers are used for the northern routes where the roads are not so good,” the Dai Lo replied. “Here men are used. They require less food, and a horse does not fear the cane in the same way as a man. Strangely, it does not affect the speed of the message very much at all. A study conducted by the Merchant King’s Master of Calculation concluded that a message can be carried by foot over a distance of two hundred miles and reach its destination within fifteen hours in fair weather.” He spoke with a keen enthusiasm that put Vaelin in mind of Caenis; he too had always loved numbers.
“Two hundred miles in less than a day?” Vaelin shook his head in wonderment, recalling how it often took even a royal messenger a full week to traverse the Realm. I’ll write to Lyrna of this, he decided. Should I get the chance.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
They passed another five messenger posts before the light began to fail and Sho Tsai called a halt for the night. The Red Scouts encamped close to a larger outpost that appeared to double as a barracks for the local contingent of Dien-Ven. From the way they stoically ignored one another, Vaelin divined a certain animus between the two groups.
“They are not true soldiers, lord,” Tsai Lin said with a faint curl to his lip. “Merely tax farmers in uniform. I’ve seen them run from bandits.”
The determination of the Red Scouts to ignore the Dien-Ven seemed to be matched by their indifference to those they had been commanded to escort. They pitched their tents at a notable remove and clustered around their fires, leaving provision of supplies to Tsai Lin, who went about his duties with an aura of forced affability. Always the way in any army, Vaelin decided. The youngest are given the worst tasks.
“Leave that,” he told the Dai Lo as he filled a cooking pot with rice. “Lady Ellese and Master Sehmon will cook from now on.”
He didn’t turn upon hearing Ellese let out a thin sigh between clenched teeth. “I am bound to say, Uncle,” she grated, “I have never cooked a thing in my life.”
“Learn.” Vaelin rose and started towards where Chien sat alone, hearing Sehmon murmur, “I’ll show you. It’s not so hard. Done it sacks of times.”
“I’m sorry about your father,” Vaelin told Chien. She hadn’t lit a fire and huddled with her staff cradled in her arms.
“As head of the Crimson Band he knew the risk of aiding you,” she replied, not bothering to raise her head.
“And yet he accepted it,” Vaelin said, sinking to his haunches. “I am curious as to why.”
“He weighed the likely profit against the risk. The only reason for any man to do anything in these lands.” She blinked, eyes focusing on him with a dangerous intensity. “Is it guilt that compels you to speak to me? Be assured it means nothing. My father’s own decisions led to his end, but I live in defiance of his authority because of you. I live in disgrace because of you. Now I am a mere slave to the Merchant King. Because of you!”
She had half risen in her anger, staff clutched in a tight grip, but froze at the sound of a sword hissing from a sheath to her rear.
“Has this criminal offended you, lord?” Tsai Lin asked, moving to stand over Chien with his sword raised in a two-handed grip. Vaelin judged his stance to be perfect, the blade held at just the right angle to sever Chien’s head from her shoulders.
“Not at all,” Vaelin said.
The Dai Lo gave a cautious nod and retreated a few steps, lowering but not sheathing his sword. Vaelin watched Chien settle back, deliberately forcing her gaze away from Vaelin.
“If you wished death,” he said, “why not simply refuse the Merchant King’s command?”
“I have three younger sisters. Unlike me they were not required to undertake employment in the family enterprise. Instead, my father sent them to an expensive school in Hahn-Shi where they will be prepared for marriage to husbands of high rank and wealth. The Merchant King agreed to fund their education and left me in little doubt as to their fate should I refuse to accompany you on this absurd mission.”
Debts owed and paid, Vaelin thought. Profit weighed against risk. “Was that his only command?” he enquired. “I imagine there was more to his bargain.”
“If you die without recovering the Jade Princess, then so do I, and so do my sisters.”
Janus would’ve been impressed, Vaelin decided. Though he would probably have threatened just one of the sisters.
“I did not speak to you merely to express my guilt,” he said. “I spoke to you because you are part of my company. You may hate me all you wish, but we are bound together on this course and I have little doubt as to the danger that awaits us.” He leaned closer to her, speaking softly in Realm Tongue. “And I’ll make you a bargain of my own. When this is done, there will be a place for you in my lands, and for your sisters.”
He got to his feet. “Come and sit by our fire, eat with us. Though, I make no claims for the quality of the food.”
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
It required a three-day ride before the increasingly monotonous patchwork of fields gave way to verdant hill country. A succession of villages nestled between the hills, rendered picturesque by the numerous clusters of maple and cherry blossom that dominated the landscape. Vaelin was impressed to see that the quality of the road didn’t diminish when it began to snake between the tall grass-covered mounds. The foot messengers continued to pelt past with steady regularity, and the traffic of carts and porters barely diminished.
He resumed Ellese’s lessons every evening, spending two hours teaching her the sword or the bruising intricacies of unarmed combat. Sehmon was a willing sparring partner although Alum insisted he spend at least half the time learning the spear. The Red Scouts regarded all of this with either amusement or open contempt, which occasionally turned to anger at the sight of Ellese wielding a blade.
“A girl with a sword,” one said, a stocky man whose lips had been untidily disordered by an old scar. As a consequence his every word was accompanied by a cloud of spit. “What’s next, barbarian? A pig with a spear?”
Ellese paused in mid-parry, Vaelin watching her features flush with suppressed rage. She still possessed only a rudimentary command of Chu-Shin, but knew enough to recognise an insult, especially when it was accompanied by so much jeering. Taking a breath she resumed her stance, stoically ignoring the ongoing taunts of the spitting man and his fellows.
Vaelin lowered his own sword and stepped close to her, speaking softly, “Sufferance of an insult is sometimes necessary, but not always obligatory.”
She met his gaze, a brief smile of gratitude playing over her lips, before stepping away. She reversed her grip on the yard-long ash stave used in these practice sessions and strode towards the spitting man. His face grew dark at her approach, the jeering of the other Red Scouts fading as they exchanged outraged glances.
“Get you gone,” the spitting man said. “I’ll have no truck with foreign whores . . .”
Ellese blurred into a pirouette, her stave lashing out to strike the spitter across the face. He staggered back, blood streaming from his nose, then fell hard onto his back as Ellese spun again, the stave sweeping his legs away. She retreated as he let out a roar, shoving away the hands of his fellow soldiers as he scrambled to his feet, his sword coming free of its scabbard. He lowered himself into a crouch, advancing towards Ellese with deadly intent writ large on his bloodied face.
“Corporal Wei.”
The scout came to an abrupt halt at the sound of Sho Tsai’s voice. The commander stood with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on Vaelin rather than the now-stalled confrontation.
“Dai Shin!” the corporal said, coming swiftly to attention, a reaction mirrored by the other scouts.
“Do not embarrass yourself or this company further.” Sho Tsai’s gaze remained fixed on Vaelin as he spoke. He sees this as a calculated insult, Vaelin concluded. Perhaps he’s right. The commander hadn’t spoken a single word to him since leaving Muzan-Khi, ignoring questions and leaving all contact with the foreigners in the hands of his son. Consequently, Vaelin remained unenlightened regarding the man’s knowledge of Sherin, something Tsai Lin proved equally unwilling to discuss.
Corporal Wei quickly returned his sword to its scabbard before turning to bow to his commander, another gesture copied by his comrades. “Apologies, Dai Shin! No excuse, Dai Shin!”
Sho Tsai’s gaze lingered on Vaelin a fraction longer, then flicked to the corporal. “You will sleep in the open for the next three days. Consider yourself fortunate I don’t demote you.”
The corporal’s bow deepened. “Yes, Dai Shin.”
Sho Tsai ignored him and switched his gaze to Tsai Lin. “Dai Lo, if these barbarians insist on cavorting so, find somewhere beyond civilised eyes for them to do it.”
Tsai Lin’s bow was even deeper than the corporal’s. “I will, Dai Shin.”
The commander turned and walked back to his tent without another word. A shamefaced Corporal Wei quickly strode off, head lowered and apparently deaf to the supportive murmurs and backslaps of his comrades. “They won’t have the Merchant King’s favour forever, brother,” Vaelin heard one of them mutter.
“If you would, lord.” Tsai Lin bobbed his head at Vaelin, the shame on his face matching that of the corporal’s. “I believe there is a field beyond that hill . . .”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Vaelin said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think we’re done for the night.” He nodded at the bloodied stave in Ellese’s hand. “Clean that. It’ll be practice for when I find you a real one.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The High Temple stood atop the summit of a mountain rising from the northern extremity of a shallow river valley. It remained shrouded in cloud as they approached, the covering apparently immune to the heat of the noonday sun.
“Can’t remember it looking any other way,” Erlin said, peering up at the misty flanks of the peak. “The temple can only be seen once you get above the clouds.” His expression was mainly one of fond nostalgia but also tinged with a frown of trepidation. “I must say my legs don’t relish the climb.”
“Is there any point coming here?” Nortah enquired. “She’s gone after all.”
“To catch prey you have to find its trail,” Vaelin replied. “And this is where it starts.”
Sho Tsai ordered the company to halt at the base of the mountain where they were greeted by an old man in the red and black robe of a Monk of Heaven. He had emerged from a small but richly decorated house situated alongside a small arched gateway of ancient stone. Beyond the gateway an equally aged and weathered stairway, no doubt carved from the flesh of the mountain countless years ago, traced its way into the misted sky. The old man bowed a shaven head at the captain, the small bells that adorned his staff tinkling as he raised it in what Vaelin took to be some form of blessing.
“The Keeper of the Gate bids you welcome, Brother of the Spear,” the monk intoned in prolonged, sonorous tones.
Vaelin saw Sho Tsai stiffen at the unfamiliar title, his response clipped and cautious. “You were not here when last I came, yet you know me.”
“All who study at the temples are known to the Servants of Heaven. The Temple of Spears keeps us enlightened as to the progress of its students. How gratifying it is that, amongst all his soldiers, the Merchant King has sent you, for grave is our need and dark the hour . . .”
“It need not be so dark,” Sho Tsai cut in, voice hard in reproach, “if the Keeper of the Gate had lived up to his name.”
The old man drew back, rising from his bow with shock palpable on his face. “This temple is under the authority of the Servants of Heaven,” he sputtered. “Leave to enter is ours to give or deny . . .”
“Because she let you.” Sho Tsai dismounted and called out an order for the Red Scouts to do the same. “And now she’s gone. Step aside, old man. The Merchant King’s authority is all that matters here now, and I haven’t studied at the Temple of Spears for a very long time.” He turned his back on the still-sputtering monk to address his sergeant. “Make camp. Full watch tonight. We’re too far north to allow for any complacency.”
“Of course, Dai Shin.” The man bowed and strode
off, orders issuing from his mouth in a commanding torrent typical of sergeants the world over.
Sho Tsai’s jaws bunched before he fixed his features into a rigid mask and turned to Vaelin. “Lord Al Sorna,” he said, gesturing to the gate and the stairway beyond. “Shall we?”
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
“Brother of the Spear?”
Sho Tsai kept his eyes on the stairs ahead, face as rigid as before. They had climbed in silence for close to a half hour and Vaelin felt no optimism that his question would be answered, so it was a surprise when the captain grunted, “A title given to all who study at the Temple of Spears.”
“It’s a school? A place where warriors are trained?”
“In part. The lessons are . . . varied.” He paused, lowering his gaze with a frown. “But always valuable, even if their wisdom takes time to reveal itself.”
“Do all the Merchant King’s officers attend this school?”
Sho Tsai gave a faint snort. “Hardly. If they did, our current situation would be very different. The monks will accept able-bodied boys or men who present themselves at the gate. After one week they will either ask you to leave or allow you to stay.”
“It must be a hard week.”
“No, it is in fact a very easy week. They give you a mop and bucket, then set you to cleaning the courtyards. The temple has a lot of courtyards. No questions are asked of you and you are permitted no words, with either others or yourself. In my first week there were twenty others, all older than me by several years. I was the only one permitted to stay, and no word of explanation was ever given. Things became . . . more difficult after that, but I have never once regretted stepping through those doors.” He paused to glance at Vaelin, eyes narrowed. “Sherin told me of the school you attended. Can you say the same?”
