by G R Matthews
“Don’t try to speak, Captain,” the voice said. “You’ve been out for eight days and only woke this morning for a minute or two. To be honest, we weren’t sure you were going to make it.”
Zhou moaned again.
“Yes, well, luckily the medic who treated you had a little Fang-shi training, not enough talent to join their ranks but he managed to put your skull back together. Another day or two and you can be up and moving around.”
The cool cloth was pressed again to his swollen lips and he swallowed hungrily.
“We stopped last night, we're back on the plains, and built a proper medical tent, well, three actually, to treat the most severely wounded and wait for the...” the voice stuttered to a stop. “Anyway, now you’re awake we’ll start getting some soup into you and build up your strength again. Couple of days, like I said, and you’ll be up and walking.”
More delicious drops of water passed his lips and coated his tongue with pure heaven.
“The main army has gone back to Yaart with the treasure we took from Wubei.” Zhou stiffened in shock and struggled to move. “Whoa, whoa, calm down. Don’t pull those stitches out. Orderly!”
Zhou felt more hands on him, holding him down and still. Something was passed round his wrists and legs, holding him fast to the bed. He struggled against the restraints but the hands were strong and he did not have the energy to fight for long.
“You okay?” The voice came again, “Probably want to rush back yourself. Got a wife and kids in the city? Been away a long time haven’t we, still the war is over now and you can spend some time with them. Think of all that back pay coming your way.”
Zhou struggled briefly then felt the tears, warm drops of sadness, slide down his cheeks.
“I’m pretty relieved myself. Wife was just a couple of months along when we left. Reckon I got a baby boy by now and can’t wait to see him. Could be a her, I suppose,” the voice pondered as Zhou lay there, no longer wanting to move. “You’re Jiin-Wei, then? The other one, the one who told us where to find you, was pretty specific about your injuries and that we should take extra care. Probably saved your life. Otherwise, we’d just have dragged you out the building and treated you when we got back. All that banging around would’ve finished you off, I reckon.”
Zhou moaned again, this time in confusion, and the moist cloth was back on his lips.
# # #
“Now, swing your legs off the bed,” the Yaart orderly said. “That’s it. Ready? On three.”
Zhou took a deep breath, which made his head swim, and stood on the count of three. For the first time since he had woken four days ago, he was back on his feet. A surging tidal wave of numbness washed up from his feet to his skull, his vision blurred and darkened. The room tilted and then faded from view.
# # #
“That’s it. Slow steps, right, left, right. Very good and you’re feeling alright, Captain?”
“Yes, thank you. Legs are just a little weak,” Zhou mumbled.
“To be expected, you’ve been on your back for quite a while, and head injuries are like that. Be surprised, a few more days and you’ll be moving around like the rest of us. Weak as a lamb, of course, but you’ll feel much better for being active.”
“Good. Need to be moving soon.” Zhou heard his voice slur a little towards the end. He smiled slightly.
“Once you’re up to it, the camp commander will want to talk to you. Get some more details about the injury and you,” the orderly continued the mostly one-sided conversation.
“Don’t remember,” Zhou stuttered.
“Yeah, head wounds are like that too. Don’t worry; it’ll all come back soon enough.”
“Right,” Zhou mumbled.
“You seen your face yet? Your wife will recognise you, so it ain’t too bad. Seen a lot worse.”
“Face?”
“Yeah, well, the repair to your skull took a bit of time and energy. It’s left you with a nice little scar down your forehead and cheek. Quite rugged, if you ask me.”
“Doesn’t hurt.” Zhou probed it with fluttering fingers, expecting the worst.
# # #
“Captain, it’s good to see you up and about,” the camp commander said from behind his desk. “You up to a few questions?”
Zhou bowed to the Commander, and then had to reach out and steady himself.
“Careful now, the medics have told me about your injury. Lucky to survive they say. There has been some speculation, amongst the troops and medical staff, that you are a Jiin-Wei. Is that the case?”
Zhou looked into the Commander’s eyes, his heart beat faster and a flush of heat rose from his chest. He swayed a little and then sat down, covering his reaction.
“Can I get you a drink?” The Commander flicked a hand towards his adjutant who fetched the glass for Zhou, pressing it into his hands.
Zhou took a slow sip, “Yes, Commander. I am Jiin-Wei.”
“Interesting,” said the Commander. “Can you tell me why you were in the city? As far as our records show, we only had seven Jiin-Wei with us.”
“I wasn’t with you,” Zhou had carefully worked out his cover story over the past few days of lucid thought and though it had holes, he had to hope it would be enough. He took another sip of water, “I was already in the city when the army arrived.”
“Really? Care to tell us why?” The Commander gave another wave to the officer in the room.
Zhou watched the officer leave through the tent flap, “My task was given before the treaty was even signed. I was to infiltrate the city, set myself up there as a citizen and report back information on the nobility and officers. I was sent as a spy, sir.”
“And who did you spy on?” The Commander leant forward as he asked his question.
“Mostly the bureaucrats and diplomats. Started a business as a food supplier and got the contract for their kitchens. The servants were all gossips and it wasn't too difficult to get useful information.”
The tent flap opened again and the officer walked in. He was accompanied by a cloaked figure who carried a small bowl in one hand, an inkwell and brush in the other.
“Ah, good. I am glad you could help us out, Apprentice.” The Commander turned back to Zhou, “As you know, all Jiin-Wei are trained by the Fang-shi to develop their latent talents. I’m not going to ask you to demonstrate it, you are too weak still. Instead the apprentice here should be able detect it on, or in you. I forget which. If it is there, we will have silenced the doubters who want you locked up until we reach Yaart. There you can be questioned in a manner that will ensure we have the truth. I think this way is much more humane and we will have a much quicker answer. If you are Jiin-Wei, I will apologise but you will understand the necessity and we'll both move on. ”
Zhou placed the drink on a low table. The nervous shaking of his hand would have given everything away whilst there was still a chance, “Of course, Commander. It makes sense to be sure.”
“Then, Apprentice, you may proceed,” the Commander said.
Zhou took another look around the tent. The only way out was the tent flap and next to that stood the officer, hand on sword. The Commander was older, and probably slower, but he looked powerful and Zhou had no weapon with which to fight.
“Do you want me to come closer?” he asked the Apprentice who had placed the bowl down and was in the process of dipping the brush into the ink.
“No, thank you,” the Fang-shi apprentice whispered.
“Anything I can do to help you, at all?” Zhou said again, the only thing he could think of to delay the inevitable.
“Yes, be quiet,” was the hissed reply.
Zhou watched the Apprentice begin to write on the paper with slow, careful brush strokes and then drop them into the bowl from where faint wisps of smoke rose. He gathered his feet under him, ready to spring up and try to escape. The Commander first, hope to catch him with his guard down and get his sword, then the officer on the way out and just pray the apprentice was too shocked,
or too deep in his own task to react.
It’ll never bloody work, Zhou’s little voice said but it had no ideas of its own so he told it to shut up.
“He has the talent, Commander, it is there. Weak, but the lack of food and head wound would account for that.” The Apprentice began packing his equipment away.
“Well, I'm glad that's settled,” the Commander clapped his hands together. “We’ve probably taken up enough of your time for today, Jiin-Wei. We’ll talk again in a few days, once you’ve had a chance to rest properly and regain your strength. Rest here a while. Finish your drink and help yourself to the food. It'll be better than the hospital stuff at least.”
Zhou watched in stunned confusion as the Commander waved the apprentice and officer from the tent with impatient gestures and, just as he was departing, turned, “Of course, I'll need to report to Commander Weyl that you are alive and well. What name shall I put on the report, Jiin-Wei?”
“Kang,” Zhou spoke confidently, employing every diplomatic trick to put a confidence that he didn’t feel into his voice.
# # #
Zhou opened his eyes. The tent was dark and the other patients were asleep. Through the thin canvas of the tent walls there was only the silence that was to be expected at this late hour. Peeling back the sheets, he swung his legs off the bed and onto the carpeted floor. The bed frame creaked under his shifting weight and he froze. When none of the other men made a sound, he stood and then with exaggerated slowness moved to the end of the bed.
Kneeling down, he opened the wooden chest at the foot the bed. The hinges moved without a sound, the days of rubbing grease from his breakfast bacon or butter from bread into them had been worth it. Zhou paused again, listening for any hint of movement but the men continued to sleep peacefully. Reaching into the chest, he pulled out a bulging backpack. No need to look what was in there, he had packed it this afternoon under the pretence of checking his armour and clothing for wear and tear. That the armour had needed some cleaning and sewing had been a worthwhile bonus. He had even filled out a requisition, under the false name he had given the commander, for a set of new clothes that he had no intention of being around for when they turned up. Slipping the pack on to his shoulders, he reached in again and pulled out the bedroll. The hilt of the stolen Yaart sword poked out from one end, easy to draw but covered against stray reflections. Last out, and held reverentially, was his family dagger. The porcelain crest on the pommel was gone, no doubt smashed during the battle, but his hand slipped so comfortably around its handle as if they it made for him and not just passed down from father to son.
He slipped the dagger belt around his waist. Time to go, he thought. The lid of the chest closed without a sound and he moved slowly to the tent flap. Peering out, he checked left and right. There were no guards in sight so he crept out of the medical tent and down past the first row of tents. At the intersections, he stopped, listened and looked, but it was all quiet.
The perimeter of the camp was marked by a shallow bank and ditch, a palisade of tree trunks formed a primitive wall but there were large gaps between each one. Should there be an attack, it would not be too difficult to get through the wall, though the presence of a spear wielding Yaart soldier on the other side would give any would be assailant pause. Which, Zhou supposed, was the point.
Squeezing between two posts, he pulled his backpack and rolled up sword after him, he slid down the ditch where he crouched, waited and listened. Beyond the ditch was the grassland of the plains. He rubbed his eyes, convinced they were playing a trick on him, the customary black and white fuzziness of night was instead clear and sharp. Further away, he could see the mountains of Wubei. The road would be the other side of the camp, where the main gate was. He looked up to the clear sky, the familiar star patterns of home looked back down upon him.
When it remained quiet and he was convinced he had not been seen or missed, Zhou started to move slowly through the grass, parallel to the mountains. Freedom first, he thought, home second, revenge third.
Chapter 22
“One bed is empty this morning,” the camp commander said quietly as he entered the tent, “it’s his.”
“Good,” Haung turned around, away from the mirror, shaving soap still covering his cheeks, “Li, which way did he go?”
“Towards the mountains, towards home, I expect,” Commander Li responded.
“You arranged his kit as agreed?” Haung turned back and resumed shaving. The sharp blade caressing his cheeks with a silken lightness of touch.
“His armour, weapons, bedroll were all in the chest at the bottom his bed. A back pack too. He’d been filching food from the mess tent for days beforehand. It’ll be enough for a few days at least. Do you want us to pursue him?”
“No, let him go. He can’t do us any harm,” Haung said in-between strokes of the blade.
“Jiin-Wei, why are we letting him live?” Li asked.
“We have our orders, Commander Li, and we follow them.” Haung looked closely at his face in the mirror, rubbing his hands across his smooth chin and cheeks. “It is not always a good idea to ask too many questions.”
“No, of course not,” Li spoke hastily. “One must do their duty to their superiors, even if they do not know the whole of the plan.”
“Quite so,” Haung dabbed water on his face and patted it dry with a towel. “You have your orders, I have mine. It is the way it is. You have done as instructed with yours I take it?”
“Of course, of course,” Li waved his hands nervously, “they are ash on the wind.”
“Good, then I will be gone by the end of the day and you can return to your normal high standard of care of our war wounded without the stress of a Jiin-Wei operating in your camp. It will be my task to worry about the Wubei man.” Haung pulled a cotton shirt over his head, and then gave the Commander a smile, “I sometimes envy you, and the other officers, the honesty of your roles. You have my apologies for abusing yours. But when orders come down, they must be obeyed.”
“Not a problem, Jiin-Wei.” Li returned a slight, nervous smile, “You’ll mention my co-operation to Commander Weyl and the Lord Duke.”
“In my report, of course.” Haung bowed to Li. There would be no report. In truth there were no orders except the ones that he had forged and then burnt to cover his tracks. “We will not speak of this again and I thank you, on their behalf, for your co-operation in this. I can assure it will not go unnoticed.”
Li’s smile widened and gained in confidence.
# # #
The horse’s hooves rang loudly on the stone road leading towards Yaart. The pristine surface that he’d ridden down months before was gone, trampled under the hooves of a thousand or more horses and tens of thousands of booted feet. However, it was well built and it would be many, many years before any crews would need to be sent to repair the road.
Haung sat comfortably in the saddle as he rode in the late summer's sun. To protect his head and shield his eyes from the heat, he had purchased a wide conical shaped straw hat from a village a few days travel behind him. The shadow over his eyes was restful and allowed him time to think and for a lone traveller out on the road there was little else to do.
Yaart came into view in the early afternoon. The walls still poked up above the tent town that lay before them but the number of tents had grown since he had left on campaign in early spring. It was only as he drew closer, he could finally gauge the measure of the growth. His eyebrows rose higher and higher with each clip-clop of the horse's hooves. The grubby white of tent canvas spread all around the walls that he could see and they stretched further out along the stone road than he could recall. Before he realised it, he was amongst them. The road, still leading straight as an arrow to the city gates, was being strangled by the tents.
The heat of the summer sun, amplified and reflected by the white canvas surrounding him, caused him to break out in a sweat. The slow breeze of the plains was blocked off and the smell of so many people, unwashed a
nd crowded, reached out and clung to his nostrils. No matter which direction he turned, the stench was there. Small, dirty children yelped and screamed as they darted through the tents engaged in some game of their own devising. Adults sat on the ground, amongst the rows of tents, in small groups. They fell into silence as Haung approached and then picked up their conversation when he was far enough away to hear their voices but not understand the words. He could feel every eye of every person, gauge him, measure him and quantify him as friend or threat. The pressure of so many stares was making him uncomfortable, his back stiffened and hands gripped the reins too tightly. He felt like a clumsy child who had just broken the best pot in the house and was awaiting his punishment.
The city gates were a welcome sight and Haung resisted the urge to speed his horse into a trot and kept his pace steady as he approached.
“Halt,” the gate guard commanded.
Haung brought his horse to a slow stop and looked at the troops. He counted seven stood in front of him. Many more than he remembered but probably needed given the tents outside, he surmised.
“State your business in Yaart.” A soldier stood forward from the rest.
“That would be my business,” Haung said, falling back into the Captain’s role, all brusque and brisk.
“Well, now I am making it mine. Seeing as how, if you don’t tell me, you are going to turn that fine horse around and trot back out into the tents. And there you can stay and rot, for all I care.” The soldier looked up into the shadows of Haung’s face, “Up to you.”
“Shin?” Haung smiled at his luck. Getting back in without travel papers just got a lot easier, he hoped. “Is that you?”
The soldier raised a hand to shade his eyes and peered intently at Haung who flipped back the straw hat.
“Captain,” Shin smiled, “good to see you again. As you can see, I am alive and well. Truth is, most of the original troop are doing well, them that survived at any rate.”
“Indeed, considering the predicament, something of a surprise, I expect,” Haung smiled back at the soldier, “Would you believe that, in all the confusion of the battle at Wubei, all the details and paperwork about the hearing and judgement were lost?”
