The Dragon's Breath

by James Boschert

  The Emperor spoke, his voice high and reedy. “We are pleased that you survived your ordeal, Lord Meng. We read your report with great interest. It would seem that your ancestors smiled upon you and preserved you.”

  Hsü knew this was a high compliment coming directly from the Emperor, so he placed both hands on the carpeted floor again and bowed his head almost to his hands.

  “May I have permission to present to your Highness one letter from the Sultan of Gujarat which I managed to keep safe, and a small token of his esteem? I am so sorry that the other gifts could not be saved,” he murmured, and then lifted up a rolled length of paper written in elaborate Arabic cartography, tied with a green ribbon. With the other hand he presented a small box of carved jade that was filled with precious stones: sapphires, rubies, and a huge emerald

  It was a fabulous gift by any standards, but Hsü didn’t make the mistake of trying to take credit for the riches. It would suffice that he had brought these valuable gifts back to his Emperor and discharged his duty.

  The gifts were taken from him by an aide, who opened the box to show the Emperor; then the items were passed to the back of the throne.”

  “We are pleased with the presents. We expect that you will discuss the trade routes and your experiences with my Advisors,” the Emperor announced. “We are also pleased to present you with a small gift of appreciation.” He raised his hand and an aide walked down the stairs to present Hsü with a painting by Ma Youren, a Cloudy Mountain scene on paper.

  Hsü took the painting with great care and admired it for the benefit of the Emperor, who commented, “It is our understanding that you, Lord Meng, value paintings as a product of the cultivated mind, not merely as a skill?”

  “Indeed, Your Highness is right. Where would we be if we did not appreciate the arts for their aesthetic value?”

  At a nod from the Emperor the audience was over, so Hsü bowed over his hands once again in the ritual Ke Tou, shuffled backwards twenty paces along the length of the enormous carpet, then stood and bowed deeply again. He backed out of the chamber, his head bowed and his hands in front of him and out of sight, the painting rolled up very carefully inside his sleeve.

  *****

  Ts’ao was impressed that the Emperor had presented a painting to Hsü.

  “He has provided you with enormous face, my Lord,” he said. Hsü agreed; it could not hurt his chances. Now began the real work towards obtaining voters. He spent another four days meeting with ministers and officials to whom Ts’ao guided him. They asked penetrating questions, and all left with a small ‘token’ of Hsü’s appreciation. Ts’ao became more optimistic; he told Hsü that of the seven men who would be responsible for crafting the petition to the Emperor for a new governor, the votes were now three in his favor and two against, while two were wavering. He needed, however, a clear majority if the petition was to reach the Emperor and receive the royal seal of approval, so it could still go against him despite all his efforts.

  “You should go home now. Make sure that your friends are still with you and your enemies are not going to do anything to cause problems at the Governor’s palace,” Ts’ao counseled him.

  Hsü needed little persuasion to leave the stifling atmosphere of the royal palace. The armies of servants, eunuchs and notables jostling for space in this cauldron of passions and raw ambition left him reeling. Besides, the protocols were suffocating. His friend Ts’ao described the absurd details to him. “There are a thousand pages of rules for the one room, The Great Hall of Harmony,” he told Hsü. “You would have had to spend a year waiting for an audience had the Emperor chosen that one!” He chuckled sardonically.

  *****

  Hsü returned home a week later to find his household still recovering from the incident with the intruders. His wife had taken to her bed, suffering bouts of weeping from the reaction, and his mother was still much shaken. The servants were almost incoherent with fright after the ordeal, and still unable to provide accurate details. The only person in his entire household who appeared calm enough to explain the situation was Lihua, who told him all she knew, including the battle between Talon and the intruder and the grave situation with Yosef. Hsü concealed his rage at the sheer effrontery and the danger to which his family had been exposed in his absence, and privately swore vengeance. His respect for Talon and his companion had gone up several notches.

  “Despite everything that Master Talon did, Lord Meng, alas,” here she began to weep with mortification, “they still managed to get away with what they came for.”

  He patted her on the shoulder. “Do not despair, Lihua. Not everything is always as it seems.”

  He left her wiping away her tears and made his way to the guest quarters to talk to Talon and his extended family. There he found them drinking tea on the veranda of the building. They greeted him warmly, but there was an underlying tension which was not lost on him.

  “I am here to thank you for all you have done, the defense of my family and property from these villainous bandits,” Hsü said when the greetings were over. “How is the wounded man?” he enquired.

  “Yosef will survive as long as there is no infection,” Talon informed him. “Thank you for asking, Lord Meng. The physician is very gifted; he saved Yosef’s life, of that there is no doubt.”

  “It is Hsü to my friends, and I am indebted once again for your help.”

  “I understand that we were not very successful,” Talon said with some regret in his voice. “I did hear that a very important box was stolen despite all our efforts.” He was referring to the box of jewels, and both he and Hsü knew it.

  “Please come with me for a moment, Talon,” Hsü said.

  They walked out into the afternoon sun into the orchard where no one could hear them. Hsü turned to Talon and spoke.

  “Hmm. I imagine that by now the thieves have discovered that what was in the box was not what they came for,” he stated enigmatically.

  Talon stared at the man in front of him and decided then and there that he would endeavor never to underestimate him.

  “You still owe me a dragon. I have yet to see one,” he told Hsü to cover his surprise. Hsü gave a chuckle.

  “I shall do my best to find one for you, Talon. It is the least I can do.”

  Talon gave a wry smile. “What was in the box?” he asked.

  “Stones for throwing, perhaps. The real treasure is hidden somewhere else. Now we need to find out who told them where to look.” The look in Hsü’s eyes became very intense.

  *****

  Hsü was as good as his word. It took him less than two days to find out that it had been Kee who had provided the robbers with the necessary information and had even given them a map. One of the female servants had seen him walking out of Lady Meng’s rooms one day and had wondered why he had been there. After the attempted robbery she had passed along her suspicions to Grandmother Lady Meng. It was a simple matter to get him to confess in one of the back rooms of the stables. Fang could be very efficient with thin bamboo sticks pushed under the nails and set on fire. Kee was bound, helpless, covered in sweat, and he stank of his own soil.

  When the last bout of screaming behind the gag had stopped because Kee had passed out, Hsü sat back in the chair from which he had watched the proceedings with an impassive face. He was very thoughtful. He motioned Fang to release the gag, as he didn’t want Kee to die choking on his own vomit. Kee had not been able to name the man in the darkened room; he had only been able to provide a sketchy description.

  The man was obviously wealthy, as Kee had noticed rings on fingers that knew no physical work, and the rich clothes had said something about the man. One detail in particular had struck Kee as significant. He had sweated copiously as he desperately tried to describe the design: a large ruby surrounded by seed pearls in a gold ring. He had gasped out this information while watching his fingers burn.

  Kee had also spilled all he knew about a man called Lin. He didn’t know his other name, but d
escribed a scar that ran from his right ear down the back of his cheek. From what Hsü could deduce, this man Lin was the other person’s hatchet man. They had to find him somehow. In the meantime, he needed to keep Kee out of sight and secure from any possibility that the robbers might come back and kill his only lead. There was also the troubling issue of how to protect Kee’s family.

  Therefore one who is good at Martial arts overcomes

  others’ forces without battle, conquers others’

  cities without siege, destroys others’ nations

  without taking a long time.

  —Master Sun Tzu. The Art of War

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Dojo

  Not long after the incident with the intruders, they were all gathered about the table, sipping wine and nibbling at some sweet wafer-like biscuits, when Hsü brought up the subject of martial exercises.

  “I have watched you and Reza working with one another in the other courtyard. You are very disciplined, and I notice that no more than two days go by without you going through a drill in the mornings. Incidentally, your archery is remarkable,” he told them.

  “Thank you, Hsü. We were well taught and... our training has proved to be beneficial from time to time,” Talon said carefully.

  “I wonder...” Hsü stopped, his expression thoughtful.

  They were now familiar with these little pauses, so they waited. He looked down at the table and rubbed the balding patch on the top of his head, by now a familiar gesture.

  “You have seen Fang and the way he practices, have you not?”

  Talon and Reza shook their heads.

  “Hmm, we must rectify that. Tomorrow Fuling here will take you to the school that I went to and where Fang still goes from time to time. He has been trained by a man from the islands of Nippon.”

  Neither Talon nor Reza had ever heard of these islands, so they looked blank.

  “These people are great warriors; in fact, I would say they are the best swordsmen in the world,” Hsü remarked in an offhand manner.

  Talon was intrigued despite himself. He considered himself to be a good swordsman, and he knew that Reza was a match for most men. However, the nagging doubt persisted that he could be better.

  “Will we be able to observe their practice?” he asked.

  “Indeed you may, in fact I have asked the Sensei there to provide you with lessons, if you so wish,” Hsü said with his enigmatic smile. “It will be my gift to you.”

  *****

  Later that evening, Talon and Reza were seated with Rav’an and Jannat on the balcony of their wing of the extensive guest-house. Salem had taken a protesting Rostam to bed, but the adults were enjoying the night. The muted din of a city that never seemed to sleep came to them on a light night breeze. A nightingale warbled in the mulberry trees, and several streets away an owl gave a low hoot.

  “This is so very peaceful here, quite different from life on the ship, my Talon,” Rav’an said with a sigh of contentment.

  “His house is full of very beautiful things; it is like a treasure house,” Jannat, too, sighed. She sounded content.

  There were no demands made on them, and they could come and go as they chose, but most of the time if the women ventured out it was with Lihua, who seemed happy to show them her city. The guards, however, been doubled, and they went out less frequently. Talon didn’t want to add to Hsü’s problems by contributing more victims.

  “The food is quite good too,” Reza remarked.

  “Quite good? If we ever eat like this again anywhere else I shall be surprised, and so will you, Brother,” Talon admonished him.

  “Hmm. So what do you think of this ‘school for swordsmen’?” Reza asked. His tone was skeptical.

  “I shall go tomorrow and see what it is all about. It’s probably not as good as Hsü makes it sound. Remember, you are to go with Jiaya to the quay to be present when the customs people come,” Talon reminded him. “Our goods have now been in Hsü’s warehouse for weeks and they have just decided to come. They know how to take their time, those people.”

  “You are very thoughtful these days, Talon.” Rav’an said to him.

  “Am I? Yes, well, it is perhaps because of the troubles that appear to be bothering Hsü, but also because I am in a constant state of awe since we have been here. I feel,” he paused, “unbalanced.”

  “I have to agree,” Jannat said. “It is in some ways like a fairy land of new things to see, and touch, and taste.”

  “It’s not just that,” Talon said with a sigh. “It’s more that they are so... so far ahead of anywhere I, we, have been before. They do things here that I could never have conceived of. Even Constantinople, which is the richest city in our world, is nowhere near as rich as just this city. I have never seen such beautiful workmanship of every possible kind. Their mills, their workshops, their carvings, paintings, everything they do is far and way ahead of anything I have ever seen before. It is humbling.”

  “Then we should be glad that we have come all this way to see this beauty,” Rav’an remarked.

  Talon shook his head. “You are right, of course, but sometimes I wonder if it is not all an illusion. Are we living a dream of some kind?”

  “Dream or not, I intend to learn all I can from that physician who comes to look after Yosef. The boy can sit up in bed now and almost speak. I cannot believe how skilled that man is. Doctor Haddad would be awed by what he has done,” Rav’an stated. “I have to go up and tuck Rostam into bed.” She left with a touch on Talon’s shoulder. “Dream on, my Husband. We should learn all we can before we leave.”

  *****

  Talon walked on bare feet along the open corridor that the novice had told him led to the training space. He had given it a name, but Talon could not remember what it was called. He was accompanied by Fuling.

  He arrived at an open courtyard surrounded by the loggia walkways the Chinese built everywhere, to find that there were a small number of like-dressed novices seated cross-legged around a square mat of about six paces by six. It had a surface that, while firm, gave just a little under his weight. The novices regarded him impassively and in silence. They, too, were waiting for something to happen.

  He carried his own sword with him and stood at the edge of the mat, waiting for someone to tell him what to do. He looked around at the ornately painted wood architecture of posts and beams. It was quite different from the crude work he remembered seeing in France and elsewhere.

  Fang had informed him that the numerous symbols that decorated the walls and pillars everywhere in the pavilion were writing, mostly proverbs. He was still contemplating and admiring the red-painted beams when a very old man with a long, wispy, white beard strode onto the mats. He carried a sword in an ornate sheath, but as he walked onto the mat he gave a sharp command and a novice jumped up and took some long, wooden, slightly curved rods from a rack. They were the same kind that Fang had displayed to him and Reza at the villa. There were bindings set at regular spaces along the shaft.

  The old man took one and handed the novice his sword, then the novice walked over to Talon and presented the other stick with both hands open and a low bow.

  The old man stepped onto the mat and motioned for Talon to do the same. Fuling, who had been hovering next to one of the ornate pillars, muttered to Talon.

  “Please to go onto the mat, Master Talon. The lesson is about to begin.”

  Talon nodded, took the proffered rod and handed over his own sword to the novice, then hefted the stick. It was very slightly weighted at the tip but otherwise well balanced. The handle was wrapped in cloth gray with old sweat, with a round guard set between the handle and the ‘blade’. He thought of all the stick work he had performed in the past and felt confident that this was going to be a simple lesson to start with.

  The old man by now was at the center of the mat, where he stood with his feet slightly apart and the tip of his stick resting on the floor. As Talon approached, he bowed. Talon responded politely
but clumsily with one of his own.

  Then the old man shouted something and attacked. It was so fast that Talon was almost caught off guard. The old man’s stick, held in both hands, came whistling down with ferocious speed for the top of his head. He only just managed to lift his own to block it, deflecting the other’s weapon with a sharp crack, but it numbed his wrists. Talon had to leap out of the way as the man followed this move with a flurry of stabs and slashes; Talon was driven back onto the edge of the matting and then stumbled off altogether.

  The old man immediately stopped, withdrew to the center of the mat and waited for Talon to come to him.

  It rapidly became very clear to Talon that he had no defense against this Djinn with a stick that hit him in all the exposed places. On the second round, within a few seconds he was slapped hard on the ribs and arm. The old man’s small black eyes never left Talon’s face, but neither his eyes nor his expression ever gave Talon a clue as to what his next move would be. It was unnerving to be fighting such an expressionless machine.

  Talon was unable to get in even one strike. The entire session was spent in frantic defensive moves. Soon enough he was stopped cold, as the old man with a shout that almost paralyzed him slipped inside his guard and placed his stick alongside Talon’s neck. Talon froze where he stood and waited. The old man muttered something and then stood back, bowed, and left the mat. Talon stood alone, wondering what had just happened.

  He turned towards Fuling with a question in his eyes.

  “The master says that you did reasonably well... for a beginner,” Fuling told him as he handed Talon back his sword. His expression was impassive. “Do you wish to come back here and learn more?”