The Shifu Cloth (The Chronicles of Eirie 4)

by Prue Batten

  ‘Courage,’ he muttered. ‘Courage. And for what? Truly isolated now.’

  And Belle understood he was as sickened as she.

  *

  ‘He was courageous, without doubt,’ said the man who had been sawing away at the ropes with his dagger, guiding them to his companion on the edge of the glade. ‘I suspect he saved all our lives with his actions. As to isolation? Not at all, there are other bridges for sure. There are tracks for mortals and Others everywhere. Are you hurt, any of you?’

  Ming Xao seemed to gather himself, watching the Han men on the other shore as they mounted horses and began to move off, calling insults, jeering. Isabella couldn’t begin to imagine how badly his heart must hurt. She guessed he felt such disloyalty to those who saw him as the rock in their lives, a sign of order and succession. And she knew that his hunched shoulders expressed grief at the selfless death of Xuan who had been their friend. She touched his arm as he wiped his glasses and he smiled wanly at her.

  ‘No,’ he turned to this man who had been valiant in his efforts to help. ‘I thank you. Unharmed.’

  ‘And your companions?’

  ‘Lady Ibo?’ Ming Xao touched her arm kindly.

  ‘No…’

  But her voice broke as she was grabbed in fierce hands. The other stranger, the man who had gesticulated wildly from the trees, ripped away her cowl and she gasped, her eyes meeting those of this lunatic and for a moment she could not speak, her mouth open but forming no words.

  ‘Nicholas,’ yelled the silver dagger man, running to step between them. ‘Put up, Nico!’

  *

  ‘Oh!’ Isabella cried. ‘In the name of Aine! Oh Nicholas!’

  She threw herself into opened arms but her shoulder screamed back with whitefire pain. Grabbing at it, she was surprised when her hand came away red and shiny with blood and as the world faded a little, she slumped, Nicholas holding her, staring down at her.

  ‘Nico,’ she whispered. ‘You came…’

  He looked despairingly around and then his friend of the silver dagger appeared, a lovely face – clear and unmarked, open and honest.

  ‘Isabella, he cannot speak. Are you hurt?’

  ‘Shoulder…Nicholas, speak to me…’

  ‘No madame, he cannot,’ said the man who had been doing all the talking. ‘By the Fates, woman, you bleed like a stuck pig.’

  Ming Xao’s face appeared as she looked up from Nicholas’s grasp.

  ‘She is wounded? Wounded?’ said Ming Xao. ‘My dearest Ibo! The arrow, it was meant for me!’ His voice lifted. ‘It may have been poisoned, it is what they use…’

  ‘And?’ The man of the pleasant face growled. ‘Cease your women’s prattle and be of use. What poison?’

  ‘It is a plant from the Han. Creeping paralysis occurs and eventually…’

  She heard what they said, her heart heavy and slow in her chest.

  ‘Nicholas, I’m almost home, don’t let me die, please…’

  ‘Belle, you don’t mind if I call you that?’ The strong face appeared next to all the frantic expressions. He smiled and she felt warmed and comforted. ‘My name’s Poli and I am Nico’s close friend. Belle, we won’t dream of letting you die. Good grief, after coming all this way and through untold dangers that will fill hours of telling by the fireside? You will have to listen to us when we are ready because it will defy your belief. Nico can’t speak at the moment but he will, and in the meantime we will do all we can to fix this wound and have you fit as a fiddle, won’t we, Nicholas?’

  Nicholas looked up and despite the fact that she was sure he agreed because of friendly coercion, a large part of her felt grateful to the man, because she too felt reassured.

  ‘Such stories to tell you, Nico. I’ve been so far away. Farther than you can imagine.’

  He raised his eyebrows.

  ‘So far from home.’ She smiled but then turned her head as the pain bit like a vicious dog. ‘These other people here…’ She was tired, so tired. ‘Friends. Kind. Helped me come to you. Look after them.’

  Poli came back and knelt by her side.

  ‘They are very kind, as you say. And between us all, we will make you well and then we can, all five of us, make our way across to the Celestine Stair and down into Trevallyn. And you know, Belle,’ his voice seemed to weaken, or perhaps her hearing changed. ‘Your family wait at the Ymp Tree Orchard…’

  His face disappeared in an enveloping black fog, sounds muffled, an all-consuming chill devouring her.

  The smell of apricots and peaches filled her with a lightness of spirit and she floated like the petals of the trees on a balmy welkin wind that promised nothing worse than happiness.

  ***

  ‘Nico, listen to me.’

  Vaguely Nicholas heard his friend’s voice, but he didn’t care, just kept holding his sister-cousin. She had lapsed into unconsciousness and his helplessness strangled him.

  Moonlady, please, help us!

  ‘Nicholas!’ Poli shook his shoulder. ‘Pay attention, damn you. Listen to what this chap says.’

  Sir,’ the slight fellow in the dark quilted robes spoke with haste. ‘We need to get the arrowhead out. It leaks poison into the body through tiny holes. Time is of the essence.’

  And what then?

  Nicholas didn’t write the words, couldn’t let Belle go.

  ‘If the Lady Ibo is lucky,’ the stranger continued, ‘only a small amount will have entered her body.’

  Poli wadded his jacket and a spare cloak so that Belle was not lying on the wound. ‘Then we can help her fight it.’ He spoke with urgency. ‘Let her down slowly onto the ground. That’s it. Gently. And roll her slightly toward yourself. What is this bloody foul poison? What does it do? I’m sorry, what is your name?’

  ‘I am Ming Xao,’ the bespectacled man said as he wadded the other woman’s cloak and pushed it under Belle’s head. His face was tight, lips compressed hard together. ‘It is the juice of the Gandong Lotus root. The poison is lethal. Paralysis will set in within two days and eventually the wounded person will not be able to breathe. Then the heart will stop.’

  ‘But,’ said Poli as he helped the other woman kneel by Belle’s side. ‘Lady, I regret our manners at this time. I don’t know who you are, but did I hear you say there is an antidote?’

  ‘Yes, there is an antidote and you need not apologise, it is a time of duress. I am Chi Nü,’ she said in a smooth voice that calmed the air about them. She looked from Isabella to Nicholas and he would swear something of the Moonlady hung about.

  ‘You guess right, Nicholas, son of Finnian. I am a Celestial and I can hear your mindspeak. But why I am here is for another time. The Gandong Lotus is a unique plant; base and yet beautiful and it redeems itself every seven years when it flowers. It blossoms by the light of the moon and it is a truly miraculous sight as it grows inches in a moment and throws its white petals wide. As the moon tracks across the sky, the petals move through a cycle from sheer beauty to shrivelled and dry just before the moon sinks in the west. Those petals can be immediately collected and pulverised and the powder mixed with water to provide the antidote to its crueller poison.’

  ‘And so, do we hope that today or tomorrow is a seventh year? Do we have to trek further north by northwest to secure the plant? Belle has less than two days!’

  Chi Nü bent her head as though acknowledging his pain but the truth was he wanted to shake her, to see her perfect white teeth rattle in her divine face.

  ‘First we must remove the arrow head,’ she said quietly and her serenity in the face of his dire thoughts floored him. ‘And then we must clean the wound. Apply some crushed yarrow leaves to hold the foulness at bay for the moment. For the rest…’

  ‘So there is no antidote close by. We waste our time. She will die and all this…all this…’ Nicholas had to close his eyes because he would not let them see him weep.

  ‘Sir, no sir.’ Ming Xao touched his shoulder.

  Nicholas looked up at the ma
n dressed in the strange robes of farthest north by northwest and whose voice held a faint accent as he spoke.

  ‘Sir, all men who protect the Han’s interests…’

  The Han?

  Nicholas tried to focus.

  ‘…travel with the poison and the antidote.’

  And so?

  ‘And so?’ chivvied Poli. ‘Do you all have such things with you? Get it man, if you do! This is no time for longwinded prevarication.’

  ‘I would not have my Lady Ibo suffer on the Han’s account.’ He reached into a small tortoiseshell inro that hung from a belt. Sliding the toggle up the cord, he careful removed a small vial from the black lacquered interior. ‘She saved my life.’

  My Lady Ibo?

  ‘All will be made clear, Nicholas. But we must help Isabella first,’ Chi Nü touched his arm. ‘I shall prepare the balm if someone can pick the yarrow leaves that I can smell growing on the edge of the clearing. And I will also prepare the elixir.’ Ming Xao placed the vial in her hands as he guided her away to the far side of the clearing.

  ‘She is blind, Nico.’ Poli took out his silver dagger and stroked some sparks onto a small pile of dry leaves and twigs, sighing. ‘So much about this is confusing.’

  A small puff of smoke emerged as he blew on it and piled on more tinder so that it smouldered and fledgling flames jumped.

  Having settled Chi with the yarrow leaves and with some bowls from the saddlebags and a flask of water, Ming Xao carried branches to the fire and snapped them but the crisp crack was lost in the bellow of the river by their side.

  ‘She is a Celestial,’ he said. ‘We have Others in the Han but it is the Celestials who rule our Other world.’

  He piled the branches so the fire became hot.

  ‘We have Celestials here too.’ Poli pulled a fine stiletto from a sheath at his belt and placed the blade in the flames. ‘And the same rules apply. I just don’t understand why a Celestial should travel with you.’

  ‘It is a long story. Lady Ibo will tell you when she is able.’

  Nicholas listened to them as he sat smoothing Belle’s hair.

  Lady Ibo? What is this?

  He knew he must curb his impatience, be of great strength to Isabella.

  ‘You are right, sir,’ Ming Xao directed his words to Poli. ‘Lady Chi Nü has been struck blind, and condemned to live a mortal life for a perceived transgression amongst the Celestials. She has no powers.’

  Nicholas glanced at the woman and wondered at her calm acceptance of her fate.

  She’s very beautiful, Belle, this lady companion of yours. And so gentle. Aine, but I wish I could speak, dearest sister. How I have missed you.

  He shifted as he sat, careful not to bump Isabella’s frame, but the feeling in the pit of his stomach squirmed as he wondered why she wouldn’t wake.

  ‘The stiletto is ready,’ said Poli. ‘Ming Xao please, I need you to hold her arm, and you Nicholas, to hold the other.’

  ‘Sir,’ Ming Xao seated himself, his glasses flashing in the midday light. ‘I would do anything for her. I owe her my life.’

  ‘When I begin to cut flesh and dig around in that wound for the arrow-head, it will take the strength of warriors to hold her down.’

  ‘And you think I have no strength?’

  ‘On the contrary, sir, I think you have the kind of strength that will be needed by us all. Please…’

  Nicholas watched this strange little exchange and tried to pick at the threads to make sense of it, but when the stiletto spat as Poli dropped some spit on its point, he took a breath.

  ‘Undress her, Nico.’

  Poli!

  ‘Take off her robe, and give me access to the wound, else I can’t see what I am doing.’

  Nicholas sighed. Forgive me, Belle. He eased the robe apart and slipped it down off the shoulder. Belle groaned, a sickening sound from deep in her soul and his eyes jumped to Poli in fear.

  ‘It’s got to be done, Nico. Now’s not the time for pathetic propriety.’

  Nicholas pulled her stained under-robe away from the shoulder, revealing a gaping hole from which blood pooled and ran. He grabbed a kerchief from his pocket and tried to staunch it.

  ‘Pointless, it won’t stop. Right, let me at it. You two need to pin her arms as tight as you can because unconscious or not, she’s going to fight like the devil.’

  The stiletto blade approached Belle and Nico took her arm, his grip wrapping round.

  Poli probed lightly with his fingers, gauging the margins of the wound and then, as his fingers seemed to touch something, he pushed the stiletto point in, his fingers widening the hole, giving the blade room to get underneath the offending arrowhead.

  Isabella’s eyes flew open and Poli said,

  ‘Here.’ And shoved a cloth-wrapped stick in her mouth, continuing to dig away with the hot stiletto and his fingers.

  She screamed and screamed, odd muffled cries echoing to the heavens and back, twisting and fighting like a demon while Ming Xao and Nico held on, Nicholas’s fingers cramping with effort.

  Moonlady, stop this, stop it! This is not what is meant to be. Help her!

  He wanted to yell, to scream along with Belle. To expunge all her pain with his voice, to cry out warnings and threats to all the Others in Eirie, that if his sister-cousin died he would seek out every one of them and kill them…

  ‘Got it!’ Poli held up a metal tip. ‘Got the bastard. Now…’

  She was as pale as death, once again unconscious, but Poli slapped her hard on the face and her eyes opened.

  Damn you Poli, I’ll kill you!

  ‘It had to be done, Nico. Hate me all you like but you know I’m right and as soon as we can, we need to load her aboard a horse and get back to the Ymp Tree Orchard. If anything at all is going to make her well, it will be there.’

  What makes you say that, Poli? Do you think the antidote may not work? Do you not trust these people from this place they call the Han?

  ‘Here, Belle, let it out, that’s right.’ Poli held her head as she vomited all over the ground next to Nico and then she was bandaged, robed and lying on the cloaks whilst the Celestial held that vital elixir to her lips.

  Nicholas watched her face, wanting the colour to return, desperate for her to turn to him and say, ‘Well met, Nico. It took you long enough!’ But she seemed oblivious to his presence and the Celestial smoothed her hand and whispered calmly to her.

  *

  His collar was jerked and Poli muttered in his ear.

  ‘You do nothing by mooning around. Pull yourself together and let’s get the horses ready. We need to be gone sooner rather than later.’

  Nicholas dragged out another torn fragment of paper and scrawled.

  ‘You think it will work?’

  ‘Damned if I know. Who are these Han? She seems to trust them but what kind of people keep themselves secret? I’m not confident, Nico, let it be said. But they seem concerned for her, as if they respect her and want the best for her. Did you hear the small chap call her my Lady Ibo?’ His eyebrows raised and he shrugged his shoulders.

  Nico quickly wrote again.

  ‘Gut feeling, Poli. Bad.’

  Poli read the words and shook his head. He clapped his arm across Nicholas’s shoulder and never had the feeling bolstered Nico as it did at that moment. As he tightened girths and padded a saddle with his own rolled cloak, Poli said,

  ‘Look at it this way, my friend. We have found her. She is alive. No, don’t look like that. She is. And for that we must be grateful and make sure we get her to the Orchard as quick as possible. I just feel there is a chance there. Be honest, you think the same.’

  Nicholas didn’t answer but his friend’s words underlined his own thoughts – for Isabella to be truly well, they needed to get to the Orchard.

  After all, haven’t legends always said that in the world of the Færan everything is perfect?

  *

  They formed an odd cavalcade.

  Ming Xao
and Poli rode together, not a word spoken, the former slumped a little, his face pale. Oblivious it seemed, to the fact Poli had become ‘the leader’. Nico watched his friend as the tables turned. The journey had begun with Nico angered at the assured nature of the fellow. Then somersaulted to a form of gratitude for his companionship. Another about turn after reading his father’s letter when he had vowed and declared he would do anything to make up for his father’s appalling lack and being disgusted at being put in that position.

  And now?

  Now he was happy Poli took command because for sure his own mind was centred on the bundle in his arms and whose family waited – whose stepfather had placed his wife under a sleeping enchantment because she risked utter heartbreak if her daughter was never found. Whose friend the Hob counted the minutes before the enchantment became the sleep of death.

  So much hung in the balance.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  As Belle had drifted in that first moment of unconsciousness, she found herself deep in the Ymp Tree Orchard. In amongst the drifting petals a figure emerged, the white furs dusted with floral detritus, her amber eyes focusing on Isabella as she sat against a tree trunk.

  ‘Kitsune…’

  ‘Lady Ibo, well met.’

  She bowed over her hands.

  ‘You are a long way from the Han,’ Isabella said. ‘I am surprised.’

  ‘Why?’

  The Fox Lady eased her furs down her arms and soaked up the sun, her limbs porcelain white and her skin unmarked and translucent.

  Beautiful…

  ‘Celestials, Ibo, can go where they like. But most choose to stay near the provinces that matter most to them.’

  ‘Then why are you here? Trevallyn must surely mean nothing.’

  Belle leaned her head against the tree.

  So tired…

  ‘You mean something, Ibo. I have come to see you. You have found your way home.’

  Belle looked around.

  Home? Is it true? How am I come here?

  She had a vague idea she had been hurt…

  ‘Oh!’ She sucked in her breath. ‘You knew! You knew I would be hurt. All along!’