by Troy Denning
On the western side of the hill, the light was still dim. Batu could not see how the enemy sentries were responding to the charge. Nevertheless, he heard guttural shouts of alarm being raised all around the valley.
Pe returned to the general’s side and stared down the hill. “What now, my commander?”
“We wait,” Batu said, keeping his eyes fixed on Yenching.
The adjutant nodded. “The battle is in the hands of the spirits.”
Batu raised an eye to the sky. Without taking any credit away from the spirits, who seemed to be on his side so far, the general had to disagree with his adjutant about who governed the outcome of the battle. “You are mistaken, Pe. Like us, the spirits have done their part.” The general waved a hand at the valley. “The battle is now in the hands of something less predictable than spirits. It is in the hands of our pengs.”
As the general finished his observation, the cavalry began to shout and whistle. A muffled thunder built deep within the valley as the first Tuigan horses fled the Shou charge. A few hundred barbarians carrying torches rushed from the city.
Though the enemy was responding earlier than he expected, Batu was not concerned. The more barbarians who left the city, the better. Any horsewarriors trapped outside of Yenching would be unavailable to defend the city against the second part of his plan.
As the Shou cavalry rode deeper into the valley, terrified whinnies filled the air. Within moments, the ground began to tremble. The great barbarian herd was stampeding.
The sun cast a few long rays into the valley, and Batu could see more Tuigan pouring from the city. As often as not, the flood of frightened horses swept away the confused barbarians. At the same time, the first Shou armies reached crossbow range. They fired at enemy soldiers and horses indiscriminately, doing more damage by further panicking the herd than by directly inflicting injuries.
“Your plan is working, General,” Pe observed.
Batu did not answer, for he was far from convinced that the battle was won. Clearly, the horsewarriors would be deprived of their mounts. A few thousand of the barbarians had already died attempting to leave the city. As of yet, however, the general saw no sign that the most important part of his plan was working. Chasing the horses away and surrounding the city would be of little use if the enemy remained holed up inside.
As the sun lit Yenching more brightly, the Shou cavalry drove the last of the enemy’s horses away, easily overwhelming the few confused sentries on the far side of the valley. The five provincial armies moved into position around the city, training their weapons on its gates. As Batu had ordered, one thousand archers took up positions along the banks of the canal.
“Not even a rat will escape,” Pe said, studying the deployment.
“I don’t care about the rats, but I would be glad for a few escaping Tuigan,” Batu replied, his heart sinking. “The most important part of our plan seems to have failed. Yenching is not burning.”
Though it no longer mattered, Batu wondered what had gone wrong inside the city. The volunteers could have been discovered before the cavalry charge distracted the barbarians. Or perhaps Batu had been wrong to think that a handful of men could burn an entire city.
“The battle is not over yet, General,” Pe said, pointing at a column of smoke rising from the center of the city.
“It is,” Batu snapped, shaking his head in disgust. He was not upset at his adjutant, but at his own failure. “The enemy knows we’re here. One small fire will not chase the Tuigan out of Yenching. They’ll just put it out.”
Pe furrowed his brow. Though he was looking at the same scene as his commander, he clearly did not see the same thing. “How can they fight fires and us at the same time?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” No sooner had he finished the question than the general understood exactly what his adjutant meant. Batu had never intended to storm the city, but the barbarians didn’t know that. With a little prodding, the Shou commander could keep the Tuigan at the city walls, leaving the volunteers inside Yenching free to burn the city.
“Send the order quickly,” the general said.
“What order?” Pe asked, uncomfortable with the vagaries of what amounted to mind-reading.
“To prepare for storming the city, of course,” Batu answered. “A brilliant plan, Pe!”
“Thank you, General,” Pe replied proudly.
“However, your plan needs one minor adjustment,” Batu added, frowning in concentration as he studied the city. “We’ve got to convince the Tuigan our attack is real. Order General Kei Bot to storm the gates on his side of the city.”
“He could be wiped out,” Pe objected.
The general hesitated, remembering how Kwan Chan Sen had selected the Army of Chukei as a decoy. There was little difference between what Batu intended to do and what Kwan had done. Still, Batu could see no other way to hold the enemy’s attention while the city burned.
“Issue the order,” Batu said firmly. “Inform Kei Bot of the true nature of his mission. Tell him that I selected his army because I know his pengs will perform their duty honorably. We will withdraw the survivors as soon as possible.”
A pained expression flashed across Pe’s face as he, too, recalled the destruction of the Army of Chukei. Nevertheless, he simply bowed and turned to obey.
Kei Bot did not protest the order. Within minutes of receiving the message, his twenty thousand pengs charged Yenching’s eastern gate. The other armies supported his attack by moving forward and lobbing tens of thousands of arrows into the city, both fire-tipped and normal.
As Batu had expected, the enemy held fast. There were simply too many Tuigan, and they were too good with their weapons to let the Shou breach the wall. Kei Bot’s men fell by the thousands, a constant rain of barbarian shafts pouring down on them. The ground near the city wall took on a red tinge, though Batu could not tell whether the color was a result of the morning sun or the fallen pengs’ blood.
Still, the feint was working. Although only Kei Bot’s men were attacking a gate, the aggressive posture of the other four armies kept the barbarians at the city walls. Inside Yenching, the plumes of smoke grew more numerous and much heavier.
Unfortunately, the barbarians remained at their posts for the next thirty minutes. Kei Bot’s losses mounted steadily, but the pudgy general continued to press the attack fiercely. The smoke from Yenching poured over the walls, covering the Army of Hungtze in a thick blanket of haze.
Finally, the archers that Batu had assigned to guard the canal running out of Yenching began to fire into the water. The young general instantly realized that the barbarians had reached their breaking point. They were attempting to escape the burning city by swimming under the river gate.
“Recall Kei Bot!” Batu ordered, pointing at the archers. “Warn the other generals to expect the enemy to sally.”
Pe bowed and left to relay the commands. Aside from the instruction for Kei Bot to withdraw, the orders were unnecessary and tardy. Before the messengers could reach the valley floor, Yenching burst open like an agitated anthill. Heedless of the Shou armies awaiting them outside, the barbarians rushed from every gate in Yenching, madly firing their bows.
The Shou armies greeted the Tuigan with wall after wall of arrows. The men did not pause even an instant to give the barbarians a chance to surrender. The sight of Yenching’s citizens choking the Shengti river with their bloated bodies was too fresh in the soldiers’ minds.
For many minutes, the Tuigan poured out of the burning city in a steady flow. From seventy yards away, the Shou ranks met the barbarians with an equally steady stream of arrows. Soon, the bodies of horsewarriors lay piled in front of the gates in fan-shaped heaps. Still the barbarians came, scrambling over their dead and wounded fellows without regard. Billows of smoke rolled over the city, and great tongues of flame shot out of every opening in the wall.
Finally, the bell towers collapsed and disappeared into the city’s ruins. The Tuigan rush dwindled away to no
thing. The air reeked of burned flesh, and Batu knew that thousands of Tuigan had not escaped the fires inside Yenching. The largest part of the army, however, lay outside the walls, one or more bamboo shafts protruding from their bodies. The loud, steady hum of thousands of groaning men filled the valley.
The Shou ranks stared at the heaps of Tuigan bodies in dazed silence. After a few moments, a single soldier drew his chien. The man walked to a wounded horsewarrior, then quickly and efficiently beheaded the moaning barbarian with his sword. As if by command, the rest of the pengs drew their swords and followed the man’s lead.
It did not cross Batu’s mind to stop the slaughter.
12
The Ebony Tube
One thousand miles east of Yenching, Batu’s wife lay half-awake, oblivious to the great victory her husband had already won that morning. It was well past dawn, and golden sunlight filled the sleeping hall. By now, Wu realized, Ji and Yo would be anxiously awaiting her presence at breakfast.
The general’s wife tried to sit up, and her stomach filled with fire. Wu cried out, then collapsed back onto her pillows. She placed a hand over her stomach. A wet bandage swathed her midsection.
Qwo appeared out of a corner and dabbed a wet cloth on Wu’s forehead. “Be still, mistress.”
Wu withdrew her hand and stared at the blood on her palm. “What’s this?” She was still struggling against her sleepy confusion.
“You know better than I,” Qwo replied pointedly. She wiped the blood off her mistress’s hand. “You came home in this state last night.”
As Qwo turned away to rinse the cloth, the events of the previous night returned to Wu: following Ju-Hai to Ting Mei Wan’s house, the hurried search that yielded only the ebony tube Ting had been carrying when the Minister of State arrived, meeting the unexpected guard on the way out of the house. The sentry had taken Wu by surprise, stepping out of a kiosk that had been empty when she had passed it earlier.
If the guard had challenged her before attacking, he might still be alive. When she had felt the blade of his chiang-chun burning across her abdomen, however, Wu had reacted instantly. She had lashed at the bone in front of the man’s ear with an eagle-beak finger strike. The sentry was dead before he dropped his weapon.
Doing her best to staunch the bleeding, Wu had rushed home without regard to silence or stealth. She had not dared to examine the laceration’s severity. As soon as the stinging blade had slid across her abdomen, Wu had known that she was badly hurt. Inspecting the wound would have increased her chance of fainting before reaching help.
At her house, only the gate guards had returned from searching for Ju-Hai’s mysterious spy. Even wounded and dizzy from the loss of blood, Wu had scaled the wall and slipped into her home in silence. The last thing she remembered was stepping into the courtyard, feeling her knees buckle, and calling for Qwo.
Qwo finished rinsing the cloth and turned back to her patient.
“The tube,” Wu asked. “What was inside?”
Qwo sighed. “I didn’t look. Spying is not a woman’s business.”
Gritting her teeth against the pain, Wu pulled herself into a half-seated position. “Bring it here.”
Qwo fetched the tube from the night cabinet. When Wu moved to accept it, her hand was sticky with blood. “You’d better read it to me,” she ordered.
Scowling with disapproval, the old servant opened the end cap and removed a piece of paper. She unrolled it and squinted at the writing. Speaking slowly, she read.
“ ‘Mighty One: Your humble servant begs forgiveness for her lengthy silence. The guards captured your messenger of three fortnights ago as he fled the summer palace. Though he died rather than reveal my identity, security within the grounds has been tightened. Illustrious Emperor of All Peoples, not even I can pass freely, though I have tried several times to reach your agents in the city.’ ”
Qwo paused to look at Wu. “Who is this ‘Illustrious Emperor of All Peoples?’ ”
“The enemy commander,” Wu said anxiously. “Read.”
Qwo turned her eyes back to the paper. “ ‘I have much to report. The emperor has relieved General Kwan of responsibility for the war against your indestructible armies, and surprised the Mandarinate by placing a young general from Chukei, Batu Min Ho, in command of the war. Batu is highly regarded by the wisest men of this court, who are but candles next to your brilliance. It is whispered that Tuigan blood runs thick in his veins. If he is as cunning as they say, perhaps this is the reason.’ ”
The old servant paused, unable to suppress a smile at the flattering reference to her mistress’s husband.
“Go on,” Wu urged.
Qwo scowled at Wu’s impatience, but did as instructed. “ ‘The emperor has given Batu one hundred and fifty thousand soldiers. These troops consist of five provincial armies numbering twenty thousand apiece. The balance comes from twenty-five small noble armies. You have already engaged and defeated the noble armies under the leadership of Tzu Hsuang Yu Po—’ ”
At the mention of Hsuang’s defeat, a catch developed in Qwo’s throat. She paused to clear it, then continued reading a moment later. “ ‘—and news of the outcome was received quite sorrowfully by the court.
“ ‘I can tell you nothing of General Batu’s armies. He has disappeared with his entire force, and no one knows how. I will attempt to discover where they have gone. In the meantime, I have taken advantage of his disappearance to start several rumors suggesting General Batu has deserted and joined the mighty forces of your irresistible horde.’ ”
“I’ll choke her with her own eyes!” Wu spat. The fervor of her words sent a wave of pain through her abdomen. She could not stifle a groan.
“Not soon, you won’t,” Qwo observed.
“Keep reading,” Wu instructed. “I must know what else this traitor has done to my family.”
Qwo returned her eyes to the document. “ ‘I have only one other item to report, Dispenser of Ultimate Justice. Emperor Kai Chin had nothing to do with the attempt on your life, and even now does not know of Shou Lung’s involvement. Two of my fellow mandarins, Ministers Kwan Chan Sen and Ju-Hai Chou, were the ones who sent the hu-hsien assassin against you. After your ultimate victory, it will give me great pleasure as your Shou regent to dispense the final punishment to these murderous dogs. Until we meet, I remain your dedicated and faithful servant.’ ”
Qwo looked over the top of the paper. “Can this be true?” she asked. “Did it take only two men to start this war?”
“Perhaps,” Wu said, astonished by this last revelation. “It doesn’t matter. The war can’t be stopped now, perhaps not even by one hundred thousand men. We must take this message to the emperor.”
Rolling the scroll, Qwo said, “I’ll fetch Xeng and have him take this to Minister Ju-Hai—”
“No!” Wu snapped, her abdomen once again filling with fire. “It must go directly to the emperor.”
“But Xeng will never get an audience,” Qwo protested.
“He must,” Wu countered. She was simultaneously afraid to charge Xeng with such an important mission and resigned to the fact that she had no other choice. Clearly, she could not deliver the message herself.
“We can’t trust Ju-Hai,” Wu continued. “This letter accuses him of some terrible acts. He might not wish it to reach the hands of the Divine One.”
The old servant frowned. “But your father trusts him.”
“My father didn’t know of the minister’s involvement in starting this war,” Wu said, “and my father didn’t see him sharing a spy’s bed.”
“That can’t be possible,” Qwo objected. She raised the hand holding Ting’s message as if warding off an evil spirit. “Your father’s alliance with Ju-Hai goes back ten years. There must be an explanation for what you saw.”
“Perhaps,” Wu replied, “but I’m not willing to take that chance. Summon your son, then get a brush and paper. An explanatory letter might gain him a faster audience.”
Qwo le
ft the hall, then returned a few moments later with a brush and paper.
Wu dictated a message to the emperor. In it, she apologized for disobeying his command, then explained what she had discovered. As she signed the letter, she hoped the Divine One would not be offended by the blood that smeared off her hand onto the paper.
Xeng arrived just as his mother sealed both Wu’s letter and Ting’s message into the ebony tube. Wu quickly explained what she wanted, telling him twice to ask the emperor to send a contingent of his troops to replace Ting’s.
After Wu finished, Qwo handed the ebony tube to Xeng, then kissed him on the brow. “Take care, my son,” she said. “If Ting’s troops see you leave, I doubt you’ll reach the emperor alive.”
Xeng placed a hand over the jade pendant hanging beneath his robes. “There is no need to worry, Mother,” he said. As he spoke, his body and clothes changed colors to match the hues of the chamber walls. “I won’t fail Lady Wu.”
By the time Xeng finished speaking, Wu could no longer see him. Qwo’s son was not so much invisible, she knew, as perfectly camouflaged. As her father’s steward slid aside a wall panel and left, the one weakness of his magic medallion became apparent. When he moved, Wu saw a watery, man-shaped blur against the backdrop of the wall.
After Xeng left, Qwo peeled Wu’s cover back to reveal a thick swath of crimson bandages. “You need a doctor,” she said, her tone almost chastising.
Wu nodded. “After Xeng returns with help, but no earlier. Ting may not know who stole her message. Until the emperor arrests her, it’s too dangerous to reveal my injury. A doctor could lead her right to us.”
“We must hope Xeng reaches the emperor soon,” the old maidservant said. She unfastened the bandage and changed the dressing. As Qwo finished, two sets of small feet sounded in the stone courtyard outside.
“The children!” Wu gasped, pushing her maidservant away. “Don’t let them see me like this!”
