Cixi was steadily losing ground. The more she lost her temper, the more she looked the fool, and the more face she lost. She had to get control of herself and of the situation. But the awful evacuation and the death of her dogs and the long journey were taking their toll, and the words snarled free before she could stop them. “Get out, you piece of pig filth,” she snapped at the girl. “And do not return.”
The concubine scurried backward to the door, hurriedly knocked her head on the floor the prescribed number of times, and fled. Cixi hoped she would have a bruise in the morning.
“You’ll disturb the emperor’s rest, Lady Yehenara.” Su Shun was suppressing a smile, or as much of one as his brass cheek allowed.
Cixi closed her eyes and forced her anger back like a dragon forcing a tiger into a cage. “An Imperial Concubine is better able to ensure the emperor has a proper rest, General.”
“This is not true,” Su Shun said mildly. “Her proper position is to disturb him in his bed as often as possible. Nothing more.”
“An Imperial Concubine’s proper place is indeed in the emperor’s bedchamber.” Cixi felt more in control now that the girl had gone. “On the other hand, some may wonder why a general is spending so much time there.”
The left side of Su Shun’s face flushed. The eunuchs and maids, still on the floor, were watching from the corners of their eyes and listening hard, even as they pretended they weren’t there. Within moments, this conversation would be repeated all over the Mountain Palace. Everything was. Su Shun drew himself up.
“Now that the other concubine has left, you may approach the emperor if you wish,” he said, taking the upper hand by giving permission, even though he had no right to grant it. His magnanimity, false or not, pushed Cixi down another level. She cast about, but she was still tired, and she couldn’t find a counter response.
“Very well,” was all she could think to say.
“And if the great lady does not mind,” he continued, oozing politeness, “I have other duties to attend to. If she will allow me to withdraw?”
Cixi ground her teeth, feeling the secret eyes of the eunuchs and slaves and the spies through their spy holes on her. Su Shun had scored yet more points with too-precise manners. If she dismissed him, she was giving in to his sarcasm. If she refused, she would look peevish, and she wouldn’t have the chance to approach Xianfeng.
“Very well,” she murmured.
“What was that?” he said. “If the lady could speak more clearly?”
He was truly in his element now. Cixi’s face flamed. He had embarrassed her, here in the imperial bedchamber, a place where she was supposed to have the most power, and he was flaunting the fact that he knew it. Before sunrise, the whole Mountain Palace would know Su Shun had bested Cixi in the imperial chambers. Cixi wanted to crawl under the bedcovers and hide from all the eyes in the room, those she could see and especially those she couldn’t. But she kept her back straight and her head high. “Face what you cannot avoid” was another piece of advice from her mother, and it had never failed her.
“Very well,” she repeated, briskly this time. “Thank you, Su Shun. Your service in the imperial bedchamber is appreciated.”
But Su Shun was already leaving with his own eunuchs, and her final remark was delivered to his back.
“Paper cuts,” said the Dragon Man.
Refusing to feel defeat, Cixi approached the bed. The eunuchs shuffled out of the way, and she ignored them. The nightingale in the corner stopped singing, and Xianfeng stirred. He had remained asleep during an argument between his general and his Imperial Concubine, but this woke him up. The coverlets fell away from his right hand, which wasn’t flesh and blood, but jade inlaid with wires of gold and brass. The wires were twisted into impossible shapes, and the hand seemed to quiver with quiet power, even when the owner was partially asleep.
“I want a different song for my bird, Lung Chao,” Emperor Xianfeng murmured. “Make it sing a different song.”
The complicated wiring on the Jade Hand glowed faintly at his words, and the salamander in the Dragon Man’s ear made an answering glow. The Dragon Man twitched once, then set his drawings down and scuttled over to the nightingale. He plucked it from its cage, flipped it open, and did something to the insides that Cixi didn’t see. The emperor, meanwhile, drifted back to sleep, the Jade Hand lying still on his chest.
Cixi looked down at Xianfeng’s sleeping form. His cheeks were hollow, his skin sallow, his build thin and only filled out by the voluminous silks that enshrouded him. He looked like a man of fifty, not a man who had just celebrated his thirtieth birthday. Cixi’s eyes, however, were mostly drawn to the Celestial Scepter, the Jade Hand. The top of the hand pierced Xianfeng’s flesh and connected with the tissue inside, allowing the hand limited motion. The Scepter was the creation of Lung Fei and had become the symbol of office for every emperor since Lung Fei’s time more than a hundred years ago. It would fall off when the emperor died, and it would graft itself onto the stump of the new emperor. Lung Fei had written that willingness to give up a hand for the empire indicated proper character for a ruler and set him apart from lesser nobility, but the thought that she would eventually watch her own son’s hand be chopped off turned Cixi’s stomach, no matter how much he-and she-stood to gain by the gesture.
The Dragon Man rewound the nightingale and replaced it in the cage. It started to sing a different song, just as the emperor had ordered. More of Lung Fei’s work. He had written that Dragon Men were too dangerous to be allowed free rein, and the Celestial Scepter, paired with the salamanders, allowed the emperor to keep them under control.
Cixi leaned over Xianfeng but didn’t touch him-she had no desire to. She didn’t love him, or even like him very much. It was a concubine’s job to be beautiful and entertaining and give advice when asked, and she did this job spectacularly well. It was not a concubine’s job to fall in love. She did feel a certain fondness for Xianfeng, and a definite sense of possessiveness. He was her emperor. Hers. Thanks to him, she had risen from a childhood of poverty and become the second-most-powerful woman in China, just behind the empress herself. In some ways, Cixi was even more powerful than the empress because Cixi had borne the emperor a son, and it didn’t look as if he would have any others. Usually emperors had too many sons, but Xianfeng had spent his youth in brothels and opium dens, and she could see close up the impact such activities had on a man and his fertility. It was possible he had a few dozen bastard children out there, sons of prostitutes, but they were of no consequence. Only a son born of the empress or an Imperial Concubine could inherit the Celestial Throne.
Greatly daring, Cixi put out a hand and touched the lapel of his pajamas. The trouble was, Xianfeng wasn’t ruling China in any real sense. The eunuchs and generals handled everything while Xianfeng sucked his opium pipe and drained his wine cup and spent himself uselessly on concubines and prostitutes. It was no wonder the English had managed to invade China and force opium down Chinese windpipes, not when the emperor himself partook of the stuff at every opportunity. Meanwhile, the generals wanted only to fight, and the eunuchs wanted only to line their pockets with silver. No one truly wanted to lead China.
Thoughts of Xianfeng’s death made Cixi’s eyes go to the corner of the bedchamber. An ebony box carved and inlaid with golden imperial dragons and sealed with a latch shaped like a phoenix perched on a jade table. The flickering lantern light made it appear as if the sinuous dragons were chasing one another around the box, either in play or battle. The box was another invention of Lung Fei, and inside, Cixi knew, lay a piece of paper, and on the paper was written the name of the man-or boy-the emperor had designated as his heir. The box would be opened at the moment of the emperor’s death. The heir was supposed to be Zaichun, but Cixi had never seen the paper, and given Xianfeng’s state of mind, nothing was certain.
Cixi leaned over Xianfeng and sniffed again. A soft scent of rose petals floated over the bedcovers to mingle with the perfume from the lanterns. She set her
face. There was no hint of rice wine or opium about him; there hadn’t been since she walked into the room. Her suspicions must be correct-he hadn’t taken any opium at all. Yet he had somehow remained asleep throughout Cixi’s argument with Su Shun, and he didn’t stir now. A tray of jade dishes sat on a small table next to his bed. Bits of food were left on them, and the tiny serving spider lay motionless and unwound nearby. Things were truly out of order if dirty dishes were left in the emperor’s presence. She straightened and passed by the tray. As she did, she slipped the little spider into her sleeve. No doubt someone had noticed, but it didn’t matter quite yet.
Cixi lingered a while longer in the imperial bedchamber, establishing and reinforcing her right to be there, and then finally left, backing away from the bed and knocking her forehead on the floor as she did so. Liyang, the eunuchs, and her maids followed.
“Liyang,” she murmured as they strolled slowly through the corridors.
“My lady?”
“In the morning, everyone will be discussing that conversation, and the emperor will certainly hear of it. One wonders if I will come across as. . less than I am.”
“I will personally see to it that some of the correct eunuchs are on hand when the emperor wakes in the morning,” Liyang said instantly. “They will feed the emperor a flattering version of the story along with his breakfast.”
“Thank you, Liyang. You are most skilled.”
“My lady. Will there be anything else?”
With that, she knew he had seen her take the spider. “Tell Lung Fan I wish to see him tonight.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Fingering the cup in her sleeve, Cixi passed by the imperial dining hall, with its low tables, sumptuous pillows, and careful wall hangings. One of the sliding doors, covered in frosted glass, was partly open, and Cixi saw light and a hint of movement inside. Curious as to who could have business in the dining hall at this time of night, on this night in particular, she stopped and motioned for Liyang to remain silent, knowing the others would follow suit. She leaned forward to peer through the crack. What she saw made her knees go weak, and she stifled a gasp of horror.
Su Shun was sitting at the head of the table. A small banquet was spread out before him, sweetmeats and delicacies on jade plates and bowls rimmed with gold. As Cixi watched, a spider ran down his arm to the table, speared a dumpling from a bowl, and ran back up Su Shun’s arm to drop the morsel into his open mouth. Cixi staggered, and one of her maids hurried to help her upright. Horrifying. Unthinkable! Su Shun was sitting in the emperor’s place at the emperor’s table eating from the emperor’s dishes. Anyone who dared such a thing would be instantly put to death.
Anyone but the emperor.
Su Shun’s intent couldn’t be more clear. He saw himself in the emperor’s place and was indulging himself in a bit of predictive fantasy. The eunuchs who were with him wouldn’t say a word, since they were in a position to be chief eunuchs once Su Shun took the throne.
Su Shun ate another dumpling. Cixi hung in the hallway, wracked with indecision. Should she burst into the dining hall and confront him? That would be satisfying and even fun, and the little girl in her longed to see the look on his brassy face when she did so. But the Imperial Concubine in her paused. Su Shun was a highly trusted general. He had just had an argument with Cixi in the emperor’s chambers, an argument that Cixi had clearly lost, and Cixi had definitely not been summoned to the imperial bedchambers while Su Shun just as definitely had been. All of this meant that if Su Shun claimed Cixi-and her servants-were lying out of spite, and if Su Shun’s eunuchs backed him up, the emperor would have no choice but to believe Su Shun, and Cixi would lose considerable status. The emperor might refuse to see her entirely, putting her position in court into great jeopardy. Although her son was the emperor’s only male offspring, the emperor needed only Zaichun. Cixi had finished her part in this and could still be dismissed at any time.
Therefore it was time to go. Cixi and her servants fled as silently as they could in their silken slippers down the corridors to the main doors, where her spider palanquin awaited her. No one would have known of this if Cixi hadn’t come to the Hall at this late hour, or if that door hadn’t been left open. Or if that maid hadn’t walked by with that feather bed, or if that errant feather hadn’t drawn Cixi’s attention to the Cool Hall on the Misty Lake. She shook her head. It was impossible to track down the first event that led to anything. One might as well argue that all this was coming about because Cixi herself had been born, though that had happened only because her father had met her mother and they had copulated at a particular time in a particular place. How differently history might go if one tiny event changed along the way.
Back at the Pavilion of a Thousand Silver Stars, Cixi entered her own chambers, her mind churning. Soft rugs hushed her footsteps, and the spy holes on the walls were well crafted, barely noticeable between the wall hangings. Since this was not the emperor’s residence, electric lights were allowed, and the maids set about flipping switches on intricate jade lamps. Cixi sighed as shadows fled the room and the place brightened. She felt more at ease in the light. The water clock on the wall told her dawn was only three hours away, and now that she was slowing down, exhaustion settled over her. Had it only been this afternoon that her eunuchs had thrown her dogs down the well? They were no doubt dead now. She hoped their little corpses rotted quickly and that a barbarian might sicken and die from tainted water so her dear pets’ deaths wouldn’t be completely in vain.
A woman was waiting for her, another Dragon Man dressed all in black with her hair worn in a man’s long queue. They were all called Dragon Men and referred to using he and him in conversation whether they were male or female to ensure that everyone treated even the women with deference, allowing them to build the all-important inventions and weapons that kept the empire on an even footing with the West. Her face was plain, her cheekbones broad and flat, but her eyes burned with intelligence. This Dragon Man was Lung Fan, and she-he-was personally assigned to Cixi just as Lung Chao was assigned to the emperor.
“My lady wished to see me?” said Lung Fan without bowing.
“I did.” Cixi handed her the spider. “I want you to test this.”
Lung Fan turned it over, examining it with long fingers. “An eating spider? What for?”
“For-”
“No, wait.” Lung Fan sniffed the spider’s legs and the little chopsticks it used to hold morsels of food. Then she took a metal instrument from her pocket. It was shaped like a serpent, a very wise creature. By law, all automatons and machines in China were shaped like animals or mythical creatures. Man-shaped automatons were strictly forbidden, lest the automatons begin to think themselves human beings. Lights along the serpent’s body flickered in strange patterns, and it hissed in short bursts.
“There is good news,” Lung Fan said.
Cixi furrowed her brow, puzzled. “Good news? But I haven’t told you what I was looking-”
“The battle in Peking has taken a turn for the better. Based on what I have learned from the eunuchs, the concentration of paraffin in the atmosphere, and the contents of a coded message the emperor has not yet read, our troops stand slightly more than a ninety percent chance of winning.”
Cixi realized her mouth was hanging open, a most unbecoming gesture. She shut it. “You are sure?”
Lung Fan sniffed the air again. “No. It’s ninety-two percent.”
A soft ripple went through the eunuchs and maids, though none spoke. A great deal of tension evaporated. Cixi herself felt a little giddy. “So all we need do is wait for a while, and we can go home.”
“Duck tongues,” said Lung Fan. “Bear paws, beef marrow.”
“I-what?”
Lung Fan held up the little automaton. “Those are the foods that were most recently eaten with this spider. I can do a much longer examination and tell you more, if you like.”
“Is that all?” Cixi asked, disappointed. “Because I was wonderi
ng-”
“Yes, they were all drugged,” Lung Fan added as an afterthought. “A powerful sedative also designed to stop a cough. I believe there is also willow bark distillate, which will reduce a fever.”
“Drugged.” Cixi didn’t know whether to be relieved or alarmed that her theory had been correct. It was so much news so fast, she was having a hard time taking it all in. Perhaps this was the reason Dragon Men went insane.
“With medicine,” Lung Fan said.
“Is the emperor ill?” Liyang asked doubtfully. “I heard nothing of it.”
“The sedative would make him sleepy and would explain why he was resting very comfortably, even without his opium,” Cixi said. “But why something for fever and cough when he had problems with neither?”
“Perhaps the sedative was all Su Shun wanted,” Liyang hazarded, “and the other effects are coincidental.”
“You believe Su Shun was behind it?”
“I have no proof, of course,” Liyang said. “But he was there, and he brought in the concubine, and I assume she served the food to the emperor, perhaps even tasted it herself beforehand to show it was not poisoned. And it was not. Quite.” Liyang paused thoughtfully. “Perhaps Su Shun knows the emperor is ill and is trying to hide it?”
“The food served by this spider was definitely not poisoned,” Lung Fan said. She dropped into a lotus position on the floor and fiddled with the spider. One of the maids made a disgusted noise, but Dragon Men were allowed to sit in the presence of the Imperial Court.
“The food was not poisoned,” Cixi repeated slowly. And then a dreadful thought stole over her, a terrible, world-wrecking thought. She also sank to the floor, and a maid pushed a padded stool under her. One of the seams burst as Cixi sat on it, and little feathers puffed out. The maid rushed about, gathering them up. “The food was not poisoned. Liyang, go now and find that concubine. Bring her to me immediately. If you cannot find her, find out everything you can about her. This is urgent. See to it yourself.”
“My lady.” Liyang bowed and vanished out the door with his apprentices and assistants.
The Dragon Men ce-3 Page 6
