The Shifu Cloth (The Chronicles of Eirie 4)

by Prue Batten

  ‘As the years drew on, Kitsune’s forecast was proven. Women gave birth only to sons and gradually the mothers and grandmothers died. It became obvious that if nothing were done, the Han would pass into dust, its palace, houses, culture and history crumbling away.

  So Lao Mi, an ancient man whose wife, the Empress, had died of a broken heart years before, created slavers who would venture into the wider Eirish world and steal girl children to work in the Han, to give birth and re-build the population. And thus like a phoenix, the Han began to grow from the ashes of an emperor’s indulgence. As for Kitsune, she was embittered and angry. She made sure fox spirits upset the Han’s equilibrium if she so chose. Sometimes she was kind and good if she was impressed with someone, but if she found an individual’s actions lacking, she and her fellow spirits would haunt citizens to distraction. I’m sure, Lady Ibo, you have heard anxiety in people’s voices when they talk of the foxes, even if they hear the foxes yapping far in the distance.’

  ‘I have,’ said Isabella, recalling the servants in the First House of Merchants making the sign of the Horns. She arched her body slightly in Nico’s arms. ‘Lady Chi, you know what I think of Kitsune. She is remarkable. I’m glad I know her history although I’m very sad for her.’

  ‘She would not want your pity. She would want you to be brave and to rest now, perhaps sleep as we continue to our destination.’

  Belle’s eyes gradually closed with the even pace of the horse and Nicholas was glad.

  Don’t they say sleep heals?

  ‘Perhaps, Nicholas,’ said the Lady Chi Nü reading his thoughts. ‘Perhaps not.’

  ‘You tell a story well, Lady Chi,’ Nicholas mindspoke. ‘I think it served to give us relief from dire times.’

  ‘I am glad to help. There is not much else I can do.’

  ‘Tell me. Ming Xao. Who is he?’

  ‘He is the Imperial Son of the Han.’

  ‘The Han. I have never heard of it.’

  ‘No. It has secreted itself away, far from the Eirish world to which it belongs. It does not trust any but itself. Ming Xao, by leaving to explore Eirie and gain knowledge, was hoping to change that when he returned.’

  ‘And Isabella? How did she fit in to this enigma?’

  ‘She was a slave seamstress and was gifted to the imperial house as a future wife.’

  Nicholas couldn’t contain the laugh that bubbled up inside and Belle stirred in her sleep.

  ‘Belle? An empress? Oh, that is priceless and not so far from the truth. My dearest sister-cousin always fancied herself a little like a princess. But Ming Xao as her husband? That I can’t accept. They are unsuited; it doesn’t take a wise man to see that.’

  ‘You are right and of course it will never happen, but they are firm friends Nicholas, never forget that. Loyalty in the face of fraught times creates unbreakable bonds. She helped him move toward his dreams and he helped her escape.’

  ‘Yes.’ Nicholas looked down at Belle. His arms ached from holding her but it mattered little; at least he held her. Three days ago he doubted he ever would. ‘But we have so far to go, Lady Chi. I fear her strength may…’

  ‘Hush, we will not speak of it. Tell me, has your friend Poli halted? I cannot hear the horses’ hooves.’

  Nicholas looked up and saw that Poli and Ming Xao had reined in and that Poli was turning his horse back to face them.

  ‘Nico, we cannot do this in time. I am worried that Isabella hasn’t rallied as she should. Ming Xao thinks the poison had too much time to get into her body. Look,’ he pointed to the hazy far-off distance. ‘Hundreds of leagues to cover.’

  Nicholas felt the blood leave his face as he realised what Poli implied.

  ‘Mindspeak, Nicholas. I will be your voice.’

  Nicholas blessed this gracious spirit who so readily became his mouthpiece and who spoke with inflection and emphasis in just the right places.

  ‘What do you propose? I shan’t sit here and wait for her to die. Aine, I have found her, her parents wait…’

  ‘Then shut up and listen to what I propose,’ Poli spoke over Nico’s Chi-spoken words. ‘Veniche is not that far away. Twenty leagues and we are on the edge of the laguna. I propose we ride that way.’

  ‘And then what? Veniche is a thousand leagues from the Ymp Tree Orchard, the other way entirely.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Poli, ‘but the Gates aren’t…’

  Nicholas’s mouth opened, thunderstruck with how obvious Poli’s solution was.

  By the stars…I should have thought. Ah, Belle…

  ‘I propose we ride to the laguna, procure a boat, sail into the Venichese canals and hope we end up in Færan – just like we did when we lurched through the mirrors in the Ca’ Specchio. Aine, even if we have to carry her through the mirrors, it doesn’t matter. At least we will be in Færan and have swift entry to the Ymp Tree Orchard. At most two or three days. That way,’ he pointed southeast-ward, ‘ages.’

  ‘Lady Chi, will Isabella last that long?’ Nicholas mindspoke.

  ‘Ming Xao, he asks if Lady Ibo can last three days.’ The Lady bowed her head slightly. ‘What think you?’

  The imperial son took off his spectacles, rubbing them with a silk kerchief from within his robe.

  ‘She has had enough antidote to slow the poison’s effects. But normally if a warrior is wounded, he drinks the elixir immediately and it negates the effects of the poison just as swiftly. However in Lady Ibo’s case it was a quarter hour before we realised she was wounded. Time enough for the poison to move. I am fairly confident we have a modicum of time. As to how much…’

  ‘More than three days?’ Chi bit her lip.

  He nodded.

  ‘But no more than five,’ he added.

  ‘Let’s go!’

  Nico went to kick his horse on.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Poli. ‘We shall ride all through the night, stopping only to eat and to tend Isabella. If all goes well we can be at the laguna by midday tomorrow. You see? There is a pathway heading west from here. I say we follow it after we have eaten.’

  *

  Dusk surrounded them.

  Birds sang a glorious evening chorus and Nicholas felt a welkin wind whisper round his body, as though it cosseted he and his valuable bundle. Sometimes welkin winds set the hairs on his neck to attention, but this one had a warmth to it, a promise perhaps that things would resolve happily. But Nicholas had spent the past year in a state of heightened anxiety and couldn’t completely give up on the feeling, although he preferred to think of it as caution. Better to be cautious than expect the best and be disappointed.

  ‘In this instance, Nicholas, I agree with you,’ Chi said. ‘We play a game with Time and the Fates and caution is wise.’

  If Lady Chi knew that Nicholas thought even further ahead to the Orchard and wondered constantly how Belle would be healed, she didn’t comment and for that Nicholas was grateful.

  ‘Nicholas, pass her to me so that you may dismount.’ Poli stood by his girth. ‘Stretch yourself for you’ll be damnably sore. Perhaps we can take it in turns. Oh for pity’s sake man, I won’t drop her and will be as careful as you.’

  Poli took her from Nico’s arms and carried her to deep grass under a silver birch tree. The branches were heavy with newly burst leaves and in the dusk, the white trunk glimmered. Ming Xao had laid down his cloak and Belle was placed on it and wrapped like a baby. She woke, the tint still in her cheeks, but if Nico were as honest and wise as Ebba had taught him to be, he would say it was the very early flush of fever and his heart sank a little. Her eyes too were glassy bright and that was another bad sign.

  ‘Alright?’ Poli said.

  ‘Thirsty,’ Belle replied.

  Nicholas watched like an over anxious nanny as Poli lifted a flask to her lips and she reached to his friend’s hand to cover it whilst she drank. Her eyes met Poli’s and there passed a moment of absolute stillness, as though she took strength from his glance.

  Odd.

  But N
icholas turned from his musings and loosened his horse’s girth, tying the reins into the cheek straps, reaching into his saddlebags for his own flask and what basic rations they had left.

  ‘Nico,’ Poli divided up the meagre hardcakes and dry cheese. ‘Can you mesmer some food? We are at the end and Isabella cannot eat this. We need fresh bread, maybe some milk in which to soak crusts for her.’

  Seriously Poli, it is not something I can switch on and off at will.

  But he knew that in every moment of extremis, his fledgling powers had never failed him and so he swept his hand over the grass, leaving behind two steaming cob-loaves and a pitcher of warm milk.

  ‘Ha!’ grinned Poli.

  Ming Xao meanwhile stood as if the world had split beneath his feet.

  ‘You are Other?’

  ‘Aye,’ said Poli, cutting into the bread with his silver dagger. ‘He’s Other. Well half Other actually, but nevertheless he’s got us through some tough times as we searched for Belle. Lady Chi, here, have some bread.’

  He passed her a wedge and then took his own and pulled the crusts away, dipping them into the milk and kneeling by Isabella’s side.

  ‘Belle, can I call you that? Nicholas has kindly mesmered food for us and if you can, try and suck on this. It will be good for you.’

  Again, that look.

  She took Poli’s hand in hers as he guided the bread to her lips and she sucked the milk away, her eyes never leaving his.

  ‘Good?’ he asked.

  She nodded and Nicholas sat back, relieved enough to chew on a piece of bread for himself.

  ‘Ming Xao,’ said Lady Chi, ‘Nicholas wonders if you might be affeared that he is Other. We can tell him not affeared, just awed, can’t we?’

  Dimples appeared on her face.

  Ming Xao nodded sheepishly.

  ‘Afraid of that upstart? Aine, you’re joking.’ Poli plopped himself down by Belle’s side. ‘He’s a babe in the woods with his magick. One step up from we mortals.’

  And whilst the comment seemed only mildly amusing, something about the tension of the days and weeks broke and they all laughed, even Belle whose mouth curved in a shared moment.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Nicholas and Isabella

  Whilst the horses were led to a stream to drink, Ming Xao and Chi stayed with Isabella. The sky had darkened and the small fire they had lit cast a comforting glow, faces lit with umber light. Looking to the skies, Belle could see the Daigh Star and wished.

  Starlight, starbright.

  First star I see tonight.

  I wish I may, I wish I might.

  Wish the wish I wish tonight – I want to be well. Please let me be well.

  She pushed her thoughts far from the moment and spoke to her friends.

  ‘Ming Xao, I am grief-stricken for Xuan. He was so faithful to the Han, it was clear to me. And that loyalty was manifest in his protection of you, of us.’

  ‘But he was a slave in essence,’ said Ming Xao. ‘The cruelty of the Han caused his death. If he had never been abducted as a child, he would still be alive in the Raj now.’

  ‘You cannot say that,’ Belle’s mind was clear and the milk and bread had fortified her. The pain sat on the outer edge of recall and she wanted desperately to talk with her most immediate companions. ‘He was from a beggar family in Fahsi and in truth he said his life in the Han was filled with wealth and respect, something he might never have managed in the Raj if he’d stayed there. He considered himself a Han man. Doesn’t that mean something?’

  ‘To a point, Ibo. I am glad the First House treated him well but I am still sad for his death on our behalf.’

  ‘Ming Xao,’ Chi said. ‘The Celestials and Aine the Mother will make sure he wants for nothing in the Afterlife. He will be well-received.’

  Ming Xao sighed and his pleated face disturbed Belle. Regret seemed to write itself in shadows beneath his eyes. She felt odd, light, as if nothing about her own predicament mattered at all, but she worried for this man who seemed so diminished now his home had been left far behind.

  ‘Did I hear Poli say we were to go to Veniche?’ she asked.

  ‘Indeed,’ said Chi. He believes we can journey with more speed to your home that way.’

  ‘Really?’

  So many leagues by land and sea from home…

  ‘They have reasons…’

  Belle didn’t really care, just wanted to see her family, wanted them to help her. Didn’t want to die…but she hated the expression on Ming Xao’s face.

  Defeated.

  ‘Do you know of Veniche, Ming Xao?’ she asked, wanting to ease his distrait.

  ‘Oh yes.’ For a moment his spirit returned, eyes lighting up as he continued. ‘The centre of Eirish learning, they say. The Museo, the university, the library. So much.’

  ‘If you see nothing else, you must visit the Museo, Ming Xao. It is there you will gain perspective on the whole Eirish world. When you have done that, you will know instinctively where you wish to travel next.’

  ‘You have been there?’

  ‘No. Never. But if I did, I know I would go to the Hall of Embroideries and see the gown my mother stitched which is famous throughout the world. Have you heard about it? It is called the stumpwork robe and my mother has said it is filled with secrets. In fact Gallivant – he’s my mother’s friend – says Veniche is all about secrets. He uses the word ‘segreta’. It is such an appropriate word, ‘segrrretaaa’.’

  She smiled at Ming Xao as she drew out the word, rolling the ‘r’s and the energy it cost to lift his mood weighted her whole body. The rim of pain began to move closer and she closed her eyes for a moment.

  ‘You are over-tired. I am sorry,’ Ming Xao said.

  ‘No…Veniche, Ming Xao, think on it and don’t worry, I shall sleep like a babe when the horse begins to move.’

  Ming Xao hurried away to see if help was required with the horses and Chi wrapped a corner of the cloak over her.

  ‘You are kind, Ibo. You pulled him from his sadness.’

  ‘He is a dear person and will suffer much until he sees what he can take back to the Han. Until the excitement reasserts itself.’

  ‘Enough, dear lady.’ Chi reached over, feeling for Belle’s hand. ‘Such emotional effort reduces your energies and makes it more difficult for you to cope as the poison threads its way through you. No, don’t tense. You know what is at stake. I just wish I could help.’

  ‘Chi, you give me strength by your very companionship and I would be lying if I didn’t say I was terrified as well as desperately sad. So much so that I can’t bear thinking on it, so just for a moment let’s talk of something else. Tell me, what do you think of my cousin?’

  ‘Nicholas? Ah, a very deep man.’

  A smile emerged from beneath Belle’s lethargy, wider because of her confidence that Chi couldn’t see it.

  ‘And Belle, what do you think of Poli?’

  Dimples appeared in Chi’s face and Belle realised she had been caught out. Against her better judgement, she answered.

  ‘Truth? A leader, strong, kind I think. I was surprised…ah!’

  A pain bit into Belle’s back, centering itself on the wound, hot like a blacksmith’s pincers.

  ‘Breathe now. Slowly. That’s it. Breaths only. No talking, softly, softly.’

  Chi stroked Belle’s hand and the pain weakened, like a ripple that lessens the further out it travels. Belle sighed and closed her eyes, listening to the voice from a distance.

  ‘Breathe in…out. In…out.’

  And soon she dozed, vaguely aware of activity. Arms encircled her and she was lifted, passed into someone-else’s grip, settled on soft rolls, the creak of leather, arms holding her gently but with strength and a voice clicking a horse on, the rhythm of the clip-clop easing her into a deeper sleep.

  *

  Voices smoothed away the cover of sleep later and she realised it was Poli’s arms that held her. Her head was cradled against his shoulde
r and she felt safe within his clasp. She lay very still, eyes closed – it made listening easier. Poli’s voice rumbled in his chest, different to Nicholas’s well-remembered tones – deeper, more confident.

  ‘You speak our language well,’ he said and she waited…

  ‘I have a facility with the spoken word,’ Ming Xao replied. ‘The traders would instruct me.’

  ‘And Xuan was a trader.’

  ‘Yes.’

  His voice bleeds with distress.

  ‘Was he your teacher as well?’

  ‘No. I had never met him till we began this journey. I wish…’

  ‘Wishes are pointless, Ming Xao. That said, he was more than brave. I gather he was a warrior-trader? Then in his training he would have been taught that death is a possibility; that whilst he might always win, there is always that faint chance he might not. And to be what he was he accepted the risk. No warrior is ever blind to the danger he faces. All we can do is salute him.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  The horses walked with purpose, as if they headed toward stable and feed bucket. Belle wondered if the track was studded with pebbles because the way was marked with the crunch of iron on stone. The night emitted a damp fragrance as well, rotting leaves overlaying mossy beds along the roadside and she thought she detected the heady aroma of hawthorn blossom, the smell tickling her nose. One of her companions carried a flambeau she was sure, because under her lids, it was as if a dull sun occasionally shone. Almost as though they walked under heavy foliage in broad daylight.

  You are a Traveller, Mr Poli?’ Ming Xao asked.

  ‘In one sense yes,’ said Poli. ‘I was travelling, although we call it journeying, when I met Nicholas. But in the more formal sense I am not a Traveller. Travellers are a unique race in Eirie – of gypsy persuasion. They roam to the four corners of the world. No, I am a mere Venichese boatbuilder. Nothing grander than that.’

  He seems humble. Surprising...