The Kingdom of Four Rivers

by Guy Salvidge

  The Kingdom of Four Rivers

  Guy Salvidge

  Part One

  Prologue

  Once, in the Kingdom of Four Rivers, there lived a young woman by the name of Ji Tao. Ji Tao lived with her uncle Tuan and his family in the shielded city of Baitang. This story began with another story told by uncle Tuan, on the eve of a great journey. It was a story that Ji Tao had heard a hundred times before, and yet she never tired of hearing it. In the Kingdom of Four Rivers, it was the two hundred and forty-sixth year of Everlasting Peace.

  “Long ago, the Emperor ruled all-under-Heaven with his benevolence, and the Middle Kingdom was quiet. The beasts of the jungles had been domesticated, the men of the hills and mountains made vassals of the Emperor. They came from afar to pay tribute to the Emperor upon the Jade Throne. The people went cheerfully to their chores in the morning, where they toiled happily all day. They went to bed in the evening with their bellies full and minds empty.

  “The Middle Kingdom was vast, covering what seemed like the whole world, and yet it was not the whole world. Faraway realms saw all that was good in the Middle Kingdom and tried to emulate it. They saw that in the Middle Kingdom, men and women were brave and loyal to the Emperor, and children were filial to their parents and ancestors. In their jealousy, the faraway people attacked the Middle Kingdom by land and sea, and the Kingdom weakened and eventually crumbled. The Emperor was vanquished. The Middle Kingdom was carved up by greedy empires intent on feeding on its carcass.

  “But the spirit of the people could not be broken, and at long last the invaders were banished from our shores. From the ashes rose another Middle Kingdom, this one without an Emperor at its helm. The people adopted the customs of the invaders from faraway lands, so as to learn the secrets of their power. In this they were successful, and the Middle Kingdom grew strong again. Once more, across the land, beasts were domesticated and men and women were as one.

  “But again disaster struck. The people of the Middle Kingdom had bettered the invaders from faraway lands, but they could not better Nature itself. Nature watched as the Middle Kingdom grew more and more crowded with a billion hungry mouths. Nature had seen how the people had dammed the rivers and cut down the forests. It had seen them catch every fish in the sea and pluck every rabbit from its burrow. It watched them extract precious treasures from the earth to power their wicked machines, and fill the air with sickening smoke.

  “And so Nature withdrew its benevolence. It took rain away here, creating drought. It added rain there, bringing flood. It whipped up winds that blew sand in the faces of the people, rebuking them. And still they did not listen. So Nature did something to punish all-under-Heaven for this crime. Nature made the Great Ocean rise. Where the Great River and the Great Ocean met, the land itself was torn asunder. Countless thousands perished beneath the waves, and millions fled their homes with nothing but what they could carry on their backs. The Middle Kingdom fell divided.

  “So it is said—

  From nothing they came.

  To nothing they returned.

  Who can be blamed for that?

  “What can we learn from this story? I have made it my business to foster trade between Baitang and Luihang. Many times I have travelled to Zhenghe, the capital of the Kingdom of Four Rivers, and the ancestral capitals of Shulao and Kinshao. I have travelled from the banks of the Wu to the shores of the Great River itself. I have been to the foot of the White Mountains in the west and the edge of the Eternal Waste in the north. I have seen a great many things and a great many people. I have sailed every river and traversed every path in the Kingdom. And everywhere I go I stand in awe of Nature, the Great Thief.”

  Chapter One

  It was the day of departure. Ji Tao collected her things and stuffed them hurriedly into her backpack. Then, with one last glance at her dusty room, she went out into the kitchen, where her older brother Cheng was waiting. Everyone else was outside already. She could hear the gaur protesting at being tethered.

  Cheng was taller than Ji Tao and wide in stature. His face was brown from working in the fields, beneath the shielded sun. He scowled at her. “Hurry up,” he said. “Have you forgotten anything?”

  “I don't think so.”

  “Then come on.”

  Ji Tao followed him outside. The caravans were loaded, the teams of gaur harnessed. Gaur were docile and yet brutish, not unlike buffalo. They had dark brown pelts and yellow horns with black tips. The Chen family were assembled, as was Kalliyan Amar, a young woman from the south. Kalliyan was taking her nephews back to their parents in Luihang. The boys were twins, eight years old, and their names were Rame and Roshan. Ji Tao had difficulty telling them apart. Ji Tao was a Chen herself, but her parents had died long ago. She was twenty-two years old.

  “My nephew and niece,” Tuan said. Her uncle was a small man, his face lined and hair grey, but he was the undisputed head of the family, and he carried himself with the wisdom of the sages. “Let us depart for the west gate,” he said.

  There were three caravans, each driven by a pair of gaur. The three Chen caravans were driven by aunt Rong Li, uncle Tuan and Cheng. Everyone else went on foot. There was Cheng's son Yi Min, who was ten. Cheng's wife Jin was not part of the travelling party, as she had recently fallen pregnant with their second child. In addition to this were Tuan and Rong Li's own children, Liang and Ping. Liang was a year older than Ji Tao and Ping was fourteen. Finally there was Sovann, the young widow of Tuan's eldest son, Dewei, who had died in a river crossing two summers ago. This made eleven souls in total.

  The first part of their journey would take them from their home in the north district of Baitang to the city's west gate. The Chens lived under what was known as the Outer Shield, a great dome that covered their world. The shield was partially transparent, but it glowed faintly amber when the sun shined. It had been built in ancient times, using technology that in these latter days seemed so mysterious and grand that it might as well have been magic. Today the Chens were bathed in a heavenly glow, as their procession passed friend and foe alike, many of whom had stopped to watch the traders on their way. The north district was occupied by dozens of farming families who grew wheat, millet and sugar cane.

  Within the Outer Shield was the Inner Shield, a place of legend to Ji Tao. While the Outer Shield allowed light to filter through, the Inner Shield was a solid barrier. Baitang was ruled by Administrator Silex, a man none of them had ever laid eyes on.

  “You seem preoccupied,” Liang said to her. Liang was tall in stature and brash in demeanour, but Ji Tao knew him to be a gentle man at heart. “What troubles you?” he asked.

  “I am thinking,” Ji Tao replied.

  “Tell me, cousin.”

  “I'm thinking of the journey ahead.”

  “Do not worry. Cousin Liang will protect you from danger.”

  “Liang is a brave man,” Ji Tao said, humouring him.

  “Correct! Liang fears neither man nor beast.”

  “That's enough from you,” Rong Li said. But she was looking down at Ji Tao, not her son. Holding the rein steady, she turned to Liang and said, “You tempt fate with your boasting tongue.”

  Liang cast his eyes down and hurried to the side of the lead caravan. Cheng was prodding the gaur with a whip. “Hurry up, you miserable creatures. We have to be in Luihang in a week!” he said.

  “Sit up with me, Ji Tao,” Rong Li said. Her face was fixed into a smile, but her eyes were set in stone. She always wore long billowing dresses in brilliant colours to mask her ageing figure. Today's dress was bright green.

  “Yes, aunt Rong Li,” Ji Tao said.

  “Hold the reins for me. My arms are weary.”

  Ji Tao did as she
was told, not daring to mention that they had been travelling for less than twenty minutes. It would take another hour to reach the west gate.

  “Ah,” Rong Li said, clenching and unclenching her hands. “My old hands are sore.”

  “Niece Ji Tao will drive the gaur for you.”

  “Don't let them pull at the rein.”

  After that they continued in silence. The vengeful sun was already high, pulsing with angry Yang energy. Its muted form was clearly visible through the shield. Here they took a more southerly path, through fields of green and yellow. They followed the curve of the shield toward the west gate. This was a quiet district, barely inhabited but for the ripening crops around them. Ahead was the Wu river, which passed beneath the shield. They would follow it all the way to Luihang. The west gate was on the far side of the river. The glow of the shield entranced Ji Tao, and her eyelids grew heavy.

  “Ji Tao,” Rong Li said. “You're falling asleep.”

  Ji Tao straightened. “My apologies, aunt. I did not sleep well last night.”

  “You are getting too close. Give me the reins.”

  “Yes, aunt.”

  The bridge was crowded with people going to the nearby market. The caravans had to wait for the sentries to clear a path through the crowd.

  “Going to Luihang?” a passer-by asked.

  “That's right,” Ji Tao said.

  “I hear there's been some trouble there lately,” the man said.

  “Keep quiet,” Rong Li chided. “People will talk.”

  The road was cobbled on the south bank. This was a busy street, leading from the market to the west gate. The west district was friendly to the Chens; they did much of their trade here.

  But now they had reached the gate.

  The gaur swished their tails impatiently, perhaps sensing the strange energy ahead. Ji Tao felt it as an attraction or compulsion, like being drawn into a whirlpool. The gatekeeper stood at his post, his face a study of concentration. Ji Tao thought then, as she often did at these times, of people lost in the breach. There were stories of families going through, only to find on the other side that cousin such-and-such had vanished. It was said that these unlucky souls remained trapped inside the shield forever.

  They were moving again, although Ji Tao did not recall asking the gaur on. That's right, Rong Li was holding the reins. Before them was a swirling maelstrom of crimson and amber. The lead caravan went through. Dust swirled. Her ears popped. Ji Tao averted her eyes, bracing herself as though against a coming shock—

  —and they were through, they were safe. Even Rong Li allowed herself a sigh.

  They were in a small clearing on the edge of the jungle, next to the guardhouse. There was hardly anyone around. The gatekeeper looked bored. “All through safely?” he asked.

  “All safe,” Rong Li replied.

  What hit Ji Tao first every time was the humidity. The air was sluggish and heavy. The jungle before them seethed—it was a great wall of vegetation, a rioting entanglement of vines, creepers and branches. The jungle was bursting with life and yet was strangely silent, in the midst of a muted dream. Here the Wu was more than twenty metres wide and rushing swiftly. On the south bank there was a well-trodden path that followed the course of the Wu upriver. Travelling up that river was like voyaging into primeval murk, but that way lay Luihang. Steam rose from tracts of mud in full sunlight; by mid-morning the sludge would have baked hard, and by late afternoon, the rain would have turned it to sludge again. The merciless sun baked the damp jungle, bringing them no joy. Even Kalliyan had climbed aboard a caravan now. For a time they continued in silence.

  Ji Tao watched the dense undergrowth for signs of movement, which could spell danger even here at shield's edge. The jungle itself was virtually explored but not completely uninhabited. The primitive tribe in this region was reasonably friendly, but further west, along the route of the Wu, cannibalism was thought to reign. The shield-folk kept to the river.

  It did not take long to grow accustomed to the smells and sounds of the jungle once again. Ji Tao had travelled this path many times before. By mid-morning the jungle canopy had closed around them, and the caravans travelled in perpetual gloom. Ji Tao longed to go up to the front, but before she could think of an excuse, Rong Li asked her to take the reins again. Thus she was trapped in the caravan until lunch. Rong Li started to nod off herself.

  “Aunt Ji Tao,” a voice called from behind her. “Can I sit with you?” It was Yi Min.

  “Come up, Yi Min,” she said. The curtain parted and the boy crawled forward and sat beside her. Ji Tao pulled the curtain closed again. Rong Li barely stirred.

  “You've been very quiet, nephew,” Ji Tao said.

  “I was scared.”

  “Haven't you been through the breach before?”

  “Only with Mama.”

  This was Yi Min's first journey with the family, and already Cheng had passed him off onto Ji Tao. That was typical of her brother. He had assured his wife that he would take good care of the boy, which had been a relief to her. Ji Tao could see already that Yi Min would attach himself to her in his mother's absence.

  “We're safe now,” Ji Tao said.

  “Papa said you would look after me.”

  “I will.”

  The road was familiar to Ji Tao, the various landmarks reminding her that they were making fine progress. They could travel twenty kilometres on a good day, perhaps only fifteen or even ten if the weather was poor. A familiar bend in the river made a good rest spot for lunch, where the gaur could be easily led down to the water to drink. The caravans unhitched, the Chens rested through the midday heat. Cheng was left on lookout for alligators while the others slept. Ji Tao climbed into the back of the caravan and lay down, using a sack of wheat for her pillow. As she drifted off she heard the laughter of Rame and Roshan playing by the river, and then Cheng's stern reprimand.

  The rest of the first day passed uneventfully. Unusually for this time of the year, the rain stayed away. They made it to One-day camp an hour before dusk, where they slept in the relative safety of stone ramparts, high above the river. Through a gap in the foliage, Ji Tao could see the river's silver glitter by the light of the moon. The river flowed broadly, soundlessly. Ji Tao fell into a heavy slumber.

  The second day drifted past too. Ji Tao made a point of avoiding Rong Li, preferring to walk with Sovann, who was thin and starkly pretty. Instead of returning to her own family after Dewei's untimely death, Sovann had remained with the Chens. Her own family was very poor and could not support her. Her brief marriage to Dewei had not produced a child.

  Late in the afternoon, a crack of thunder was followed by teeming rain. The path turned to mud, and pools of water impeded their progress.

  “We'll never make it to Zizhong in this weather,” Ji Tao predicted, climbing into the back of the caravan. Sovann followed her up. Ping was already crouched inside, playing with a puzzle.

  “How far is it, do you think?” Sovann asked.

  “One hour when its not raining, three when it is.”

  The gaur huffed and groaned, and the wheels of the caravan barely moved. Everyone was lathered in sweat. The mosquitoes were dense here and the netting had holes in it. Looking through the netting, Ji Tao saw that the path behind them was rapidly flooding. The caravan's wheels were almost a foot deep in muddy water. They seemed to have come to a standstill.

  “You may be right,” Sovann said.

  “Father will know what to do,” Ping said.

  “Look at the water,” Ji Tao said. “It's getting higher.”

  The curtain opened to reveal Cheng's sodden form. “We're turning off,” he said. “We need to find higher ground.”

  “Can we make Zizhong?” Ji Tao asked.

  “Maybe if the rain holds off.”

  The caravans sat perched on a rocky outcropping to wait. The gaur grew restless, snorting and pawing at the rock.

  “I'm going to stretch my legs,” Ping said.

  “Stay
inside!” Ji Tao ordered.

  “Why must I sit here in the dark?”

  “Alligators.”

  Sovann lit a lamp and they huddled next to it. This made the mosquitoes even worse, so they put it out and sat quietly in the gloom. All around them was the trickling sound of water.

  The danger soon passed. The rain stopped as abruptly as it had started, and the water began to drain into the river. Within an hour, it was deemed safe to travel again. They made it to the ruined town of Zizhong shortly before dusk. They set up camp in a grand old building at the far end of town, same as they always did. Once it had belonged to a rich family, but no one lived in Zizhong now, unshielded as it was. Ji Tao helped to build a fire in the courtyard.

  After dinner, Tuan began to tell them another story. Tonight he seemed to be addressing Ji Tao directly, but then she often felt this way.

  “Once, people were far richer than we can imagine now. They lived in great houses filled with contraptions and gadgets and junk. They flew across the sky in great metal birds and whizzed across the land in metal carriages. They sent metal rockets into the heavens and metal fish into the sea. They conquered earth, water, wind and fire, but they could not conquer Heaven. Husbands were not faithful, wives not loyal, and children not respectful. Because they had conquered the world without respect, they treated it without respect. They thought they had tamed Nature. But already, Nature was in the process of bringing their ascendancy to an end. Thus they are called 'The Lords of the Last Days.'

  “These 'lords' had conquered the world using their yang, but they had forgotten yin. They had conquered earth but forgotten Heaven. They had guarded against small robbers but had forgotten about the Great Thief. They went this way and that, never stopping to think about where they had been, always thinking only of where they thought they were going. And so there were wars fought with earth, wind, water and fire.

  “Thus it is said—

  The people had been conquered.