The Stone Road

by G R Matthews

  “Trainee Haung is here, Commander,” the small man spoke.

  “At last. I am not accustomed to being kept waiting,” the deep voice emanated from the open door to Haung’s left. “Please take the tray but leave the bowl of fruit, Marbu.”

  “Of course, Commander. Will you be needing anything else?”

  “Not until General Huran arrives, Marbu. Until then, we are not to be disturbed.”

  “Of course, Commander.” Marbu bowed, even though Haung could not see the Commander through the open door, and left the room.

  Haung stood to attention, hands clasped behind his back and weight centred above his two sturdy legs. He was silent and still, eyes focused on the wall straight ahead. Though immobile, he strained to pick up any clues of the Commander’s movements. Small sounds, scratches and clinks, came from the direction of the door.

  “Well, Trainee, at least you can stand to attention properly,” the deep voice Haung had begun to associate with the Commander came from directly behind him. He almost jumped out of his skin in shock. “However, your hearing and situational awareness does need some work. I should never have been able to get this close without you knowing. We will have to work on that.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Haung responded.

  “And to put your mind at rest, the noises you hear from the room are wind chimes next to a partially open window and my pet canary in its cage. Simple diversions, I grant, but sometimes the simple ones work best.”

  The Commander walked around to stand in front of Haung, “No sword?”

  “No, Sir. The guards outside wouldn’t let me in with my sword,” Haung said.

  “It is good to see such commendable duty from them. However, didn’t your instructor command you to never be without your sword?”

  Haung risked a glance from the far wall to the Commander. Almost as tall as me and with a stocky build that must once have been all muscle, he thought. The clothes, though, were something of a shock. A simple, white tunic with plain black trousers that tucked into ankle height boots. A battered leather belt with a dagger scabbard on the left side and a hook for another scabbard on the right. In the duke’s court such clothing would only be worn by a functionary or low ranking advisor.

  “He did, Sir.”

  “Then why did you disobey his orders? Have you brought shame upon him for your failing to follow his teachings?” The Commander circled Haung, “Is this how you show your respect?”

  “Sir, I meant no disrespect to my teacher.” Haung fought the rising guilt.

  “Meant? Perhaps you did not, Trainee Haung, but it is what you have shown. Is it not?” The Commander paused in his circumnavigation.

  “Sir, the guards informed me that I would not be permitted into your presence armed with my sword. The administrator who guided me to your door also inferred that this would be the case.”

  “So?” the Commander prompted.

  “So I made a choice, Sir. I chose to follow the order my teacher gave to me which was to meet with you. This order came, first, from your honourable self through the chain of command to my teacher and then to me. As you are the Commander and higher in rank than my teacher, I decided that your orders superseded his and I had, therefore, no alternative but to give up my sword, Sir.” Haung's voice sounded loud in the room and, to his own ears, there was a tremble of nervousness.

  “Interesting.” the Commander sat in one of the chairs at the table. “You are correct, of course, but it is interesting to hear your reasoning. Do the orders of superiors always negate the orders of lower ranked officers?”

  “Orders are orders, Sir. I have been taught to follow them to the full,” Haung stated.

  “To the full?”

  “Whenever possible, Sir.”

  “Whenever and possible in the same response. Interesting, Trainee Haung. Not only did you not answer my question but you evaded a direct answer. Why, Trainee?” The Commander picked up a piece of fruit and inspected it.

  “Sir, I meant no disrespect. I answered as fully as I am able. My teacher taught me never to tell a falsehood so it was in that manner that I answered.” Haung could feel sweat start to form on his forehead.

  “Another thing that you will need to learn, Trainee Haung. Falsehoods are sometimes useful in our line of work. However, you are wise to tell the truth whenever possible and certainly to superior officers. There are times when part of the truth can be more of a lie than a lie itself. You must learn when to use each. A lie can be found out but a partial truth can misdirect and even when discovered has the benefit of honesty about it.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Haung answered.

  “Now, Trainee Haung, I have a proposal for you. Feel free to say no.” The Commander drew the dagger from its scabbard and cut into the fruit, carefully dividing it into neat, even sections. “Understand, Trainee Haung, that I cannot order you to do this. It has never been the way of this offer and traditions such as this must be respected.”

  “Sir?” Haung quickly wiped the sweat from his forehead as the Commander selected a piece of fruit.

  “Reports from your teacher, and the investigations I ordered, revealed some interesting facts about you, Trainee Haung.” The Commander picked up one of the fruit pieces, popped it into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Haung waited, at attention, for him to continue. “Firstly, you are an excellent fencer who, with proper training, could be turned into an excellent fighter.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” Haung spoke into the pause in the Commander’s speech.

  “Oh, don’t thank me yet, Trainee Haung. You haven’t heard me out and you need to before you respond.” The Commander turned his gaze on Haung who, for the first time, looked into those piercing green eyes. Unusual for the people of Yaart who were dark-eyed in the main. “Secondly, you have no family that my investigators can discover. It appears you were abandoned at the door of the barracks and raised an orphan. Not unusual in times of war but that we can find no trace of parentage, even with our most experienced investigators, is very strange. Every orphan is checked, Trainee, did you know that? The duty of parents is to raise their children, we take abandonment very seriously. The punishments can be quite severe. Lastly, you are quick witted and intelligent. An unusual trait in soldiers, I find. By your age, we have normally beaten out the propensity for individual thought and reason. We create soldiers to follow orders, not to think.”

  Haung’s legs and back, held in a rigid stance and worn out by the morning’s training, were beginning to ache.

  “My proposal, then, is simple. I have need, as does the duke, of trained fighters who can think on their feet, who can take orders, follow the chain of command and know when to act on their own. These soldiers work for me alone. They must sever all ties with any past life or family, though this should not be an issue for you. They become my eyes, ears and sword when needed. They report to me, they follow my orders. They cannot marry, unless I say so. They cannot father a child or lay with a woman, unless I say so. They may not live in a house or purchase one, unless I say so. Their life is under my control, totally. However, there is the chance to play a part in the larger world, to act alone on matters of importance, and to be well paid. There are chances for promotion, based solely on merit, not on coin and influence. I am offering you a chance to join the Jiin-Wei, Haung. The choice is yours but I will have your answer before you leave this room.”

  Haung dug his fingernails into the palms of his clasped hands. The offer was unexpected, the Jiin-Wei were a mysterious group and though not much was known about them they were called Dog-rats by the common soldier. Dog, because they followed their master wherever he went and lapped up orders like the best milk. Rats, because they scurried about in dark places, sewers and gutters, gnawing away at people, spreading fear and disease. It was said you were never more than six paces from a listening Jiin-Wei, closer if what you had to say wasn’t complimentary towards the duke or the court. Haung had heard enough to know that they were respected and feared but not well liked. Aside
from this, the Commander was watching him with calculating eyes and a firm hand on the dagger he had used to cut up the fruit.

  “I would be honoured to accept, Commander,” Haung said.

  “I was sure you would, Jiin Haung. Your training will begin the moment you leave this room. Your first assignment will follow quickly. These are interesting times in our war with Wubei, interesting times. Marbu has your orders and assigned teacher downstairs. He also has your new Jian sword and black cloth. Follow his orders, as you would mine.”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

  “Don’t thank me Jiin-Wei Haung. You haven’t even begun to understand the true implications of your choice yet.”

  CHAPTER 3

  It was still raining.

  Zhou looked up to see shades of grey cloud covering the sky. From horizon to horizon there was nothing but the constant fall of rain. Even the birds had decided that it was too wet to fly. All around the horses plodded on down the mountain paths away from the city and towards the great plain. The other diplomat rode in some comfort, he supposed, inside the covered wagon. Being just a Junior Diplomat he was reduced to riding a horse, exposed to the weather. Behind the wagon, soldiers and baggage servants walked, as was right and proper. He wiped the rain from his forehead for the thousandth time and took a renewed grip on the clammy leather reins.

  For five days and nights the rain continued as they made a way through mountain passes and narrow valleys. Along rock strewn and pot-holed tracks, down and out of the mountains onto the plains. Soggy nights in damp tents, freezing cold mornings with food half-warmed over smoky fires. Days of increasingly sore thighs and buttocks from sitting in the saddle. Zhou was not happy. However, he contented himself with thoughts of the upcoming negotiations. There was a chance for peace and he intended to be the one to grasp it. Promotion would be quick in coming once the treaty was signed.

  “Zhou.” The weedy voice carried through the rain, dodging the droplets, before whispering in his ear. “I need you, come to the wagon immediately.”

  Zhou knew the voice of Hsin, the Senior Diplomat, by now. He brought his horse to a halt and waited for the wagon to catch up. Then, tying the horse to the wagon he dismounted and climbed the stairs into the large wooden wagon. The small door closed behind him and the warm, humid environment wrapped around him. Almost at once, steam began to rise from his wet clothes. The wagon was not small, a full twenty paces long it was high enough to walk along with just a slight hunch of the shoulders and neck. There were two beds, one for the Senior Diplomat and the other for the Captain in charge of the troops. The latter spent most of his day outside with the soldiers returning only to dry out and sleep. Zhou hadn’t spoken to him much but he seemed to be a reasonable fellow.

  The Senior Diplomat was sat at the rear of the wagon interior at a small writing table. Zhou took a deep, controlling, breath and made his way towards him. Even stood at his full height, Hsin would not reach far above five feet. The woollen cap covered a bald head and beneath that a face creased by the wrinkles of age. Hsin’s ears stuck out below the cap giving him the appearance of a tiny wizened monkey.

  “Ah, Zhou, I’m glad you could make it.” Zhou met the beady eyes of the Senior Diplomat and gave a small, just the right side of polite, bow. “Don’t drip on the paper-work.”

  “Venerable Hsin, how can I assist you?” Zhou asked.

  “Read these reports for me, and then give me a summary. Some fool has written these in a barely legible hand and I can’t be bothered to give myself a headache trying to decipher it.”

  Zhou took the papers from Hsin’s hands and moved a comfortable distance away to sit on the cushion covered floor. He sorted through the papers as fast as possible. Every one turned out to be routine, reports of food consumption, water rations, and scouting reports of the terrain ahead. Nothing of much interest and, despite Hsin’s claim, they had been written in a neat, tidy hand. Zhou gave Hsin a sidelong glance, suspecting that the old man’s eyes were failing. Still, at least inside it was warm and out of the rain. Perhaps he would have just enough time to dry out before going back outside to get wet all over again.

  Half an hour later, Zhou approached the Senior Diplomat and waited to be acknowledged so that he could deliver his report. The wagon creaked and bumped over the rough track but Hsin did not acknowledge his presence. Zhou gave a small polite cough which also met with no response. Zhou bent down to look into the diplomat’s face.

  ‘If the old fool is dead then I will be in charge of the negotiations,’ he thought to himself.

  Hsin’s eyes were closed and he wasn’t moving. Zhou reached out a slow and careful hand to check for a pulse.

  “I’m not dead.” The weedy voice snapped and one eye opened, swivelled in its socket to fix Zhou with a scowl, “I’m thinking.”

  “My apologies, Venerable Hsin.” Zhou offered. “I have read the reports and I’m ready to give you the summaries.”

  “Yes, yes.” Hsin waved an uncaring hand in permission to speak.

  For a few minutes, Zhou spoke of each report and gave Hsin the run down on the facts and opinions contained within it. The old man appeared to be focused elsewhere the whole time, however, at the end, he was ready with questions that forced Zhou to re-check his facts. At last, the interview was over and Zhou let the tension out of his shoulders.

  “What do you think of this peace mission, Junior Diplomat Zhou?” Hsin asked.

  “It is a great opportunity to end the years of war,” Zhou answered.

  “Humph,” Hsin responded. “You think so do you?”

  “Of course, Venerable Hsin, why else would we be assigned to this duty? Why else would the Duke of Yaart seek a peace treaty?”

  “Those questions had also occurred to me, but unlike you, I am not a simpleton to believe whatever I am told.”

  “Senior Diplomat?” Zhou frowned, unaccustomed to such insults.

  “For over thirty years we have been fighting. Three previous missions like this during that time and no peace found. What makes this one different? Did you never think of this, Zhou?”

  “It is rare for one negotiation to resolve a conflict, Sir.”

  “Pah. One negotiation or ten, it wouldn’t matter.” Hsin waggled a finger in front of Zhou’s face, “The poisonous Duke of Yaart can never be trusted. Mark my words, this is a wasted trip.” Hsin threw the paper he was reading down onto the table. “Yaart would not sue for peace unless they stood to gain from it.”

  “We all gain from peace, Senior Hsin,” Zhou said.

  “Oh, you’ll gain alright. If we secure a peace, your name will be on the treaty alongside mine for all time. You’ll be famous. I would hazard a guess that, after my death, you will become known as the driving force behind the treaty. I might warrant a foot-note in the history books. Your father-in-law, may boils erupt on his buttocks, worked hard to have you assigned to this mission.”

  “He did?” Zhou’s voice cracked on the last word.

  “Don’t play the naive youngster with me. You’ve been in the diplomat service long enough, though you were just a teacher, to do better than that. Your esteemed Father pulled in every favour and made free with every threat he had. His currency is much diminished by his efforts but should we succeed in securing this peace, his stock will rise again. Our own beloved Duke will have no choice but to listen to his counsel above others, even mine.”

  “I had not expected him to do so much,” Zhou said.

  “Then you are more of a fool than I gave you credit for.” Hsin spat a gobbet of phlegm into a small cup. “You married his only daughter over his better wishes no doubt, but daughters will always wrap fathers round their little fingers.”

  “The marriage was arranged and contract signed before I was five years of age,” Zhou explained.

  “Pah, contracts can be lost, changed or annulled. Your own father fell from favour before the marriage, enough reason for him to seek a better match for his daughter. Now he must make the most of the si
tuation. A great risk he takes here, not for you but for himself. I wonder if it will be worth it.” Hsin spoke the last slowly and his brow furrowed.

  “Whatever the reasons, we are here to achieve peace.” Zhou tried to keep his voice level and calm though his mind was in confusion.

  “That word again, peace. Yaart has attacked our villages, killed our soldiers, raped our wives and daughters for the past generation and you want peace.” Hsin’s whisper came out harsh.

  “We cannot always look backwards, the future is the forever ahead of us. To that we must look, to the generations to come.” A picture of his baby son formed in his mind as he spoke. “A peace for them is what we seek.”

  “Philosophical drivel, Zhou. We are Wubei and our blood has been spilled. Some of it must be reclaimed if we are to remain strong.” Zhou found it difficult to decipher the expression on Hsin’s face. “Now, make me my tea and then you are dismissed.”

  For two more weeks they travelled the plain’s road. The lead soldier and wagon flying the flag of peace. They never stopped in the villages. The battle lines in the war had always been unclear and the villagers changed sides so often that it was impossible to know which side they were on, Wubei, Yaart or their own. There were three tense meetings with Yaart patrols who examined the flag and documents of travel. Each time it was Zhou, and a soldier, who had had to ride away from the protection of the main troop to meet with the enemy soldiers. Thankfully, each time the flag and papers were enough. Should there be a problem the twelve soldiers who accompanied the wagon would not be enough to offer much resistance or defence. The wind and rain of the first week gave way to regular sunshine and dry days. The change in weather lifted Zhou’s spirits and those of the soldiers. Hsin remained a constant; irritable, picky and demanding.

  At the end of the third week, a dark smudge appeared through the developing heat haze on the horizon, the city of Yaart. As they came closer to their destination it was possible to pick out more detail. A vast wall encircled the city and tall towers, spaced at regular intervals around it, watched the surrounding land. Rooftops poked up above the wall and pillars of smoke rose even further into the sky.