The Kingdom of Four Rivers

by Guy Salvidge

  “Friends,” he said. “I want to tell you something about myself before I introduce the items Chen Tuan has for sale today.

  “My name is Kai Sen, and I have been asleep for centuries beneath the city of Shulao. A great many things have changed since I fell asleep. A great many things have been lost or forgotten. But when Chen Tuan and his family entered the ancient crypt where I had been sleeping, they discovered many of the artefacts of my time. When I woke, I was amazed that such valuable treasures had escaped the attention of generations of looters and scavengers. Some of the items we have for you today were valuable beyond calculation in my own time, and their value is even higher now. Take for example these thermal torches. These are the same as those once used by the Imperial Guard. Look at the craftsmanship here, the quality of the lenses. The batteries are in fine working order, and should last for at least one hundred hours of use.”

  “How much?” someone said. Others began to pipe up with their own questions, but Kai Sen silenced them.

  “Once I have finished my demonstration, Mr. Chen will address all such matters. These items belong to him, so he will decide what it will take to persuade him to part with them. Now, in addition to the torches, we also have a range of compasses and mapping equipment. From my brief time travelling from Shulao to Luihang, I observed that there are many areas that appear to be outside the city's influence. I can envisage a great need in these times for exploration and mapping. These tools are ideal for the intrepid adventurer or cartographer.”

  “What about the suit of armour?” someone pleaded.

  “Ah, I am coming to that,” Kai Sen said. “This is no mere suit of armour. It is a sacred robe, which once belonged to the Grand Arbiter of Shulao. I simply cannot believe that such an important artefact could have escaped the attention of the looters, and yet somehow it did. Let me explain the significance of this robe to you. The Grand Arbiter was no ordinary priest; he was the supreme leader of the entire priest caste. Once a year, the Arbiter donned this gown before appearing before the Supraluminal Council. At the Jade Chamber, under the aegis of the Council, the Grand Arbiter would appeal directly to Heaven using the vessel of holy communion. The Arbiter's helmet allowed him to hear the sacred words of the Lord-on-High, which would then be transmitted to the Supraluminal Council, and in turn the people of Shulao. This grand robe is nothing less that a conduit between Heaven and Earth.”

  “It's a lie!” someone shouted. The crowd shifted to allow the speaker to come forward. It was Bao Min, his face contorted with rage. “It's all lies!” he said.

  The hall was thrown into confusion. What had been an attentive crowd was suddenly transformed into an unruly mob.

  “It's not a sacred robe,” Bao Min said. “That's obvious. It's much too bulky to be such a thing. No, this is a protective suit of some kind.”

  “You are wrong!” Kai Sen boomed, surprised at the threatening sound of his own voice. “What do you know about it? This man, Bao Min, is simply jealous of Chen Tuan. You know nothing of the old ways, and the old religion. You're a fool!”

  As rapidly as the crowd's attention had been diverted, so it returned. Bao Min was heckled and harassed by the crowd, and his words were drowned out.

  “That concludes the main part of my presentation,” Kai Sen said. “I will now hand you over to Chen Tuan, who will discuss the matter of prices.” What he didn't say was that he had taken an ill turn, and that he urgently needed to sit down. Ji Tao guided him around to the back of the hall. When she went to take his hand, Kai Sen was embarrassed that it was cold and clammy.

  “Are you unwell?” she asked, placing a hot drink in front of him. “You're looking very pale.”

  “I'm feeling sick,” he conceded. “Thank you for the drink.” He sipped it, then put it down on the table. His head felt very light, and the room was starting to sway.

  “Bao Min is a jealous man,” Ji Tao said. “You said the right thing. But I have a question for you: is the suit really as you say?”

  “No,” Kai Sen replied. “Not at all.”

  “I thought so. Still, uncle Tuan will be pleased.”

  Later, Liang told Kai Sen over a steaming pot of coffee that the market had been a massive success:

  “You should have seen it; they were practically fighting each other to get our stuff. It was a seller's market all right. I've never seen anything like it. Father is very pleased.”

  Kai Sen muttered something about it being all that he could do, but Liang cut him off. “No, you didn't have to do that. My family owes you a debt of gratitude.”

  “Who bought the atmos...I mean the ceremonial suit?”

  “It was the strangest thing. There were some officials, from the Inner Shield I mean. They kept quiet for a long time, but when it came time to bid for the suit, they made Father an offer he couldn't refuse.”

  “What did they give him?”

  “Let's see if I can get this right. Two new caravans, fifty bags of fertiliser—the best stuff—plus one hundred bags of jasmine rice and ten small bags of cayenne pepper.”

  “That's good?”

  “Is it good? It's excellent! The fertiliser especially. It can't be bought in Baitang, and not usually in Luihang either. The government has its own supplies, of course.”

  “So what happens now?” Kai Sen asked.

  “What happens? We buy two new teams of gaur and head back to Baitang. Father is talking about staying at home for a few months. He figures that he can sell half of the fertiliser and use the other half on our crops. Not the most glamorous lifestyle, but it's safe. A bit too safe for my liking, in fact. Hey, I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Go on.”

  “There were more people like you in that crypt, weren't there? More people alive.”

  “I think some of them can be revived. Why?”

  “Well, I would have thought you'd be interested in bringing them back. You seem to know a great deal about the ways of the world. Maybe the sleepers can help us—you know—help us rebuild.”

  Kai Sen didn't reply for a short while. Liang was a bundle of nervous energy, shifting in his seat and cracking his knuckles. “Yes,” Kai Sen said at last. “The sleepers would probably be able to help you. But something troubles me.”

  “What?”

  “I'm wondering if it's wise to recall the horror of the past. Perhaps it's better to follow a simpler path.”

  Liang shook his head. “We aren't imbeciles. We're aware of what has been lost.”

  “I know, Liang. I'm just fearful of what might happen. The sleepers may have different ideas to your own.”

  “There are thousands of us,” Liang said, “and only a handful of them. It's only a matter of time before they are woken up. Maybe it will be you and I who wake them, or maybe Bao Min and others like him.”

  “Perhaps you're right.”

  As it happened, Kai Sen would have ample time to spend in contemplation on the journey to Baitang. The Amars were remaining behind in Luihang, so it was goodbye to Kalliyan as well. Kai Sen had no sooner learned to remember their names that they were saying goodbye. There were a number of well-wishers eager to see them off, and several people who wanted to speak to Kai Sen. He soon grew tired of their questions, telling them that he was feeling sick. This was not far from the truth, as the

  It was a beautiful sight. The rising sun shimmered through the morning shield, cradling them in a golden blanket of light. As their feet clanked noisily along the ring road, Kai Sen fell into a trance. He felt himself rising majestically toward the shield, yearning to merge with its surface. Something happened to people when they came to the edge of the shield. It was something so fundamental that they could barely speak of it. They were pinpricks on a yellow sheet, ants on an amber beach. It was hard to define, impossible to explain: there would be communion, and the shield would be their altar. Now they were moths, the shield their flame.

  Kai Sen felt dizzy, vertiginous. He cast his gaze this way and that as though drunk. He was
not the only one in the procession. He saw the faces of the Chen family bathed in a yellow radiance: Tuan, Sovann, Rong Li, Ji Tao, Cheng, Liang, Ping and Yi Min.

  Then they were in the queue at the east gate. Time seemed to pass slowly, and yet no one strongly felt the urge to speak. Even the gaur seemed subdued, chewing placidly as they shuffled toward the swirling vortex. Eventually it was their turn. They stepped through the gate and emerged on the other side into overpowering humidity.

  The jungle. Here it was, and yet its existence was remarkable. The land that had once been richly fertile had been transformed into this—this seething morass of vines, creepers and dense foliage. In the space of an hour Kai Sen saw wild dogs skulking on the path ahead, monkeys chattering from the treetops, even a wild boar that took flight when it saw them. It had been nature's cruel joke to bring drought to previously arid areas, and increased rainfall in Four Rivers, which had always received more than its fair share. Rain was never far away, perpetually threatening on the western horizon. This morning the sky was clear, but by afternoon the sky would be dark with clouds. Meanwhile, the sun was pitiless. Kai Sen looked back at the glowing shield for a final time, before turning his attention to the road ahead.

  By mid-morning they had crossed the Wu by way of a sturdy iron bridge. The path near the south bank was carved out of the jungle. They would follow this path all the way to Baitang. Kai Sen was determined to walk as long as humanly possible, but where the city roads had been firm and dry, the river path was soft and loose underfoot. Kai Sen could not shake off the sensation that he was sinking further into the mud with every step. No sooner had they stopped for lunch that the rain began to fall.

  The afternoon was miserable. Every fibre in Kai Sen's body seemed to ache, and he struggled to lift his feet. It was not long before he was asking to sit alongside Tuan in the lead caravan. The rain subsided long enough for them to avoid the necessity of leaving the river path in search of higher ground, but it was slow going nonetheless. By late afternoon, the teams of gaur were exhausted. They could go no further. Camp was set up in a grove near where the river began to meander southward.

  “How many days of this?” Kai Sen asked Ji Tao, as they searched for a suitable spot on the sodden earth.

  “Hopefully we'll make it to Zizhong tomorrow,” Ji Tao said.

  “I thought we were going to Baitang?”

  “We are. Zizhong is a ruin, but at least we'll be dry there.”

  “What happened to it?”

  “What happened?” Ji Tao gestured to the damp wilderness around them. “Zizhong isn't shielded. The world must look very different to you now, Kai Sen. Help me with this.”

  The tent pegs went smoothly into the earth, and the tent was soon up.

  “The world I knew is gone,” Kai Sen said by way of reply. “Finished. And yet there are still people alive out here.”

  “I suppose they are. Now come on, it's getting dark.”

  After their meal, Tuan began to tell a story, but Kai Sen could barely keep his eyes from closing. He crawled into bed.

  The second day was less onerous than the first. The rain held off until late in the afternoon, by which time they had almost reached Zizhong. Kai Sen walked for short periods, but mostly he sat alongside Tuan or in the back of the caravan, nestled between bags of fertiliser. Tuan barely spoke to him, and Kai Sen wondered why.

  Night fell quickly in the jungle. Zizhong was a gloomy place; it was a collection of ruins perched on the side of a hill, high above the river. Most of the surviving buildings were made of stone, and most had been stripped of doors and windows. The town had had any residual life squeezed out by the encroachment of the jungle. It was not clear where the jungle ended and the town began. There was one good thing about Zizhong, however: it was dry inside the old buildings. One hall in particular was especially useful to the Chens; surrounded by a high (though crumbling) wall, it offered reasonable security. The grand old hall opened out into a dank courtyard, which was littered with the detritus of previous travellers. The remains of a fire lay in a covered alcove. Kai Sen busied himself with setting up his bedroll in the back corner of the hall. It would be a relief to be spared the necessity of putting up the tents tonight.

  Everyone was in good spirits. To the Chens, Zizhong meant that they were almost home. Instead of the slender rations they usually ate, tonight they would feast on salted meats. The fire crackled, and the meat began to cook. Beyond the courtyard's walls, the wind was rising. It was good to sit near the fire. It wasn't long before Kai Sen was eating with the rest of them.

  When the meal was finished, everyone sat around drinking Luihang wine. To Kai Sen, the wine tasted bitter, but he drank it anyway. He experienced a sense of contentment that had been sorely lacking. Then, as the fire began to diminish, Tuan began to tell them another story. This time Kai Sen listened carefully to the old man's softly spoken words:

  “Zizhong wasn't always a dead town like it is today. People assume that because it's too small for a shield, Zizhong must always have been dead. Not so. When I was a young boy, even younger than Yi Min, there was still a handful of people living here. There was an old man and woman who lived in this very hall. The man's name was Xi Ching and his wife was Xi Lo Fu. People said they were crazy to stay here, for fear of the savages. Although it is true that travellers were sometimes ambushed and occasionally slain by the outlanders, no harm ever came to Xi Ching and his wife. There were a handful of others living in Zizhong at the time, but their relationship with the jungle dwellers was not a happy one. Over time, the people left for Baitang and Luihang, until only Xi Ching and Xi Lo Fu were left.

  “Xi Ching's son lived in the east district of Baitang, and he came every year to beg his parents to come home with him, but Xi Ching was unmoved. He said that no one would bother an old man and woman, so long as they stayed within the confines of Zizhong and minded their own business. Xi Ching was happy here. He was the master of an area the size of the whole east district of Baitang. So each year Xi Ching's son would return home without success.

  “The years passed, and the old couple grew even older. The son and his family worried about their parents, but there was nothing that could be done. By the time I was old enough to travel the trade routes with my own father, Xi Ching and Xi Lo Fu were frail and grey. No one could explain how they survived on their own. In their final years, the old couple barely left the confines of this courtyard, and yet they came to no harm. Occasionally Xi Ching and his wife received visitors from afar, as it was rumoured that they must have learned the wisdom of the sages. But the visitors always left disappointed, as Xi Ching and Xi Lo Fu imparted no insights onto those who came to see them. My father and I visited them less than a year before they died, but we had no more luck than anyone else. Their survival remained a mystery.

  “Then, when they were too feeble even to shuffle out of the hall, Xi Ching's son came to pay his respects one final time. He brought his own family, which by this time was quite large. The children played in the courtyard, and the adults crept into the hall. It was always dark, for Xi Ching refused to light even a single candle. And no matter how warm it was outside, the hall was always cold. Xi Ching's son and his wife asked after the health of their parents, but they could see for themselves that the end was near. The son asked one final time whether his parents would accompany him back to Baitang, where they could be cared for properly, but in his heart he knew that it was no use. Xi Ching was completely inflexible. Then, when the son and his wife were about to turn and leave, Xi Ching compelled them to stay for a minute further.

  “'What is it, father?' the son said. 'Command your son to complete any task you desire.'

  'I want to tell you about the jungle folk,' Xi Ching said, his voice hoarse and rasping.

  'Yes father, what of them?'

  'I want to tell you how your parents were able to remain here all these years.'

  'Yes father, please tell us.'

  'The jungle people will not set foot inside
the walls of this courtyard. Your mother and I have spent many nights over the years in the courtyard, looking out into the town, only to see pairs of eyes looking back at us.'

  'Why won't they come inside? Are they scared?'

  ‘Believe me when I say that I have asked, even implored them to explain themselves, but it's no use. It's as though there's a barrier between us that can never be lifted. Now go, my children, before it gets dark. They will be back tonight.'

  “Xi Ching's son's family bowed their heads and left, and the old couple were dead within a year. Their bodies are buried in the cemetery in Baitang, although I have always thought it would have been more appropriate for them to be buried here. The story of Xi Ching and the savages went around for a number of years, and travellers often used this hall as refuge. Nowadays Xi Ching's story has mostly been forgotten, and travellers do not remember why their families have traditionally stayed here.”

  “That's why you weren't worried about that intruder last time we were here,” Liang said. “Why didn't you tell us?”

  “I wanted you to remain vigilant, my son. Although it is true that the natives will not enter this place, there are others who might. Now we must sleep, my children. Two days hence, we shall sleep in our own beds.”

  Sleep did not come easily, however. Although Kai Sen was covered in several blankets, the warmth that he had felt from the fire and wine deserted him. The Chens slept soundly, but Kai Sen could not help but think of Xi Ching and Xi Lo Fu. Had their ghosts returned here, restlessly pacing the courtyard in the night? Kai Sen forced his mind to empty, so that he might rest. Rest.

  Awake.

  Time had passed. He was warmer now, but his pulse was racing. Had he been woken by a noise? No one stirred. And yet there was a sense of dread clutching at his chest. His whole body was rigid, his mind clear. Very carefully, he pulled back the covers to one side. Then he rolled over and sat up slowly. Next to him, Liang slept on.