by Justin Hill
Silent Wolf had an odd light in his eye. She backed away from him. “Does it matter?” he said.
“Yes,” she told him. “It matters.”
The two stared at each other across another man’s study, across the years, across all that might have been. Her anger was like a tumbling stream that pooled for a moment. She shook her head. His eyes seemed hard. Glossy as a black pebble in the hand. But there was no sign of madness about him. He was calm. Measured, much as she remembered him, except the lines of age around his lean cheeks and eyes.
“I do not like this,” she said.
He sat down again. “I understand. I . . .” He paused. “I may not have handled this well.”
“No you have not. Explain how you survived on Vulture Peak.”
Silent Wolf nodded. “When I fell from Vulture Peak I landed on a wide, rough ledge. My body was broken in many places. I was like a wild beast that crawls into a corner to die. But somehow I survived. Life kept burning within me. The flame would not go out. I healed slowly. I licked rainwater and dew from the rocks. Chewed moss. Ate whatever grubs and beetles I could find.
“I do not know how long I remained on that high rock. My bones healed. My body grew thin, but I was not weak. In that time I brought my qi to a new point of excellence. I refused to die. I thought of you and Mubai. I thought of my former life, and that hope kept life burning within me. But when at last I found a way down from the crag where I had sheltered, and made my way back to civilization, I heard that you and Mubai had gone off together, and I was glad for you both.” He paused. “Though it hurt me too. For I knew that I had lost the two people most dear to me.
“I thought you would marry. I imagined your children. Sons like him. Daughters as beautiful as you. And that brought me happiness. I was never one for weddings or wives. My father knew that. I traveled south. Far, far south to where the coconut trees grow along the broad sands. I lived in Hainan, and even made my way to Yunnan. I lived for a long time like a hermit. My home was Tiger Leaping Gorge. A river cuts a path through a mountain. The cliffs are beyond counting, and so close that a tiger could leap across. It was far, remote, magnificent. And then one day when I came to the town of Lijiang I heard a tale about a woman named Jade Fox, who had poisoned the great Li Mubai, and I dropped my chopsticks and called the speaker over to me. ‘Mubai is dead?’ I said. ‘How can that be?’ I was told the tale and set off at once, even though I did not believe it. I crossed the entire kingdom: by sled, by boat, and on foot. I crossed every river, every mountain range, and came at last to Beijing, where I heard the tale in full. That was nine years since. I knew it was true then. In my heart. And I wept. I wept for my best of friends. I wept for you. And I wept for me, for I learned also that Mubai had been unmarried when he died, and that the great Yu Shulien had gone back to her father’s house and was no longer seen.”
Her anger cooled. She stepped closer to him, sat down opposite and looked at those hard black eyes as if they could tell her more. “But why did you disappear in the first place? We both missed you so much. Mubai never forgave himself.”
“I died for you,” he said. “And Mubai.”
“How?”
“I saw how he looked at you. And I knew his feelings, and why he hid them. Our parents had arranged our marriage. You were my betrothed. He would not marry you while I was alive.”
“So you pretended to be dead.”
He nodded.
“We never married,” she said. “Mubai and I.”
“I know.”
The sigh seemed to take the last of her anger away. She shook her head and buried her face in her hands. When at last she looked up, there were no tears, only a deep sadness and weariness. “I see you tried to do good. But you were mistaken. You should never have done what you did. Mubai felt he had let you down. He had his honor. Of course he would not marry me. He could not.”
Silent Wolf sighed and shook his head. “If Mubai had a fault, it was that he loved his honor a little too dearly.”
Shulien slammed her open palm onto Sir Te’s black lacquered desk. The brushes rattled in their ceramic pot. Her anger came back stronger than before. “How dare you! We mourned you,” she said. Part of her was outside herself, watching her lose her temper, lose her control, lose her discipline. She almost enjoyed the feeling of anger, the freedom of the outburst. She hit the table again. “We lived in mourning. We never loved. Never loved each other properly because of that. We kept to more than just our vows. We kept ourselves honest to your memory. And you were on some great adventure!”
“It was not like that—” Silent Wolf tried to say, but she shouted over him and he stopped.
It took a few long moments before she could calm herself down enough to speak. “You should not have just appeared like this. You have done wrong. You have done me wrong, and Mubai wrong, and I do not think I can forgive you.”
“I do not want forgiveness,” he said. “But I also owe a debt. That is really why I am here. To fulfill my debts to Mubai.”
She turned her back on him. “I am sick of honor and duty,” she said. “When this is over you shall leave. When this is over I shall tell myself that you are dead. I do not want to see you again. Understand?”
Silent Wolf nodded. “I understand.”
She stared at him across the room, her wide eyes as wild and fierce as a stormy sky.
“I have told my men the sword is hidden in my courtyard.”
“Why?”
“In case any of them are untrue.”
Shulien turned to shut the case on the Green Destiny. How she hated this sword. It was for this that Mubai had died. And here it was, still tormenting her. She looked at him. “Two West Lotus warriors were caught entering the capital yesterday. They are drawing close. It will not be long.”
“How many days until the full moon?”
“Four.”
She paused. She wanted to be clear. “All that was between us died on Vulture Peak. Really died. Gone, and cannot come back.”
“I understand,” he said again.
He followed her gaze to the sword. “I will keep it here,” she said. “No one will know except you and I.”
He nodded and bowed, and disappeared as silently as he had arrived.
Shulien sat down abruptly. She felt weary with all the emotion inside her.
Mubai, she thought. You would never believe this . . .
She imagined him standing and laughing at the absurdity of it all. She put her hands to her face and took in a deep breath. She started to rock back and forth, and as she did so an odd sound came from her: half crying, half laughter.
20
The moon was rising, and through the gloom Iron Turtle saw a palace servant approaching. The closer he came the slower he went. He paused and looked back, as if losing his courage, and at that point Thunder Fist stood up. “Who goes there?” he shouted.
The man jumped. He was a young lad, maybe twenty years old, with a patchy beard beginning to grow on his chin. He held his hands together, and moved forward sideways, like a crab. He stuttered for a moment, then called out. “Sir Te sent me,” he said. “Please do not shoot. Sir Te has said that there are messengers from the palace, and he wanted to talk to you.”
Silent Wolf’s face appeared. “The palace?”
The man nodded. He didn’t know who to address, Thunder Fist or Silent Wolf. “Shulien has asked for you.”
“I will come. Iron Turtle!” he called. Thunder Fist opened the gate, and the two warriors walked out. “Lock the gate behind us,” Silent Wolf said. “And remember, no one goes in or out without me there.”
Sir Te had his hands together, as if he were in prayer, when Silent Wolf appeared.
“Shulien.” He nodded toward her.
Shulien’s face betrayed no emotion. “There is a summons from the palace,” she said.
; On the black lacquer desk a scroll lay before her. He bent down to read the characters. Sir Te’s eyes looked from one warrior to the other. “Has the Emperor heard what is happening?” he asked.
Silent Wolf bent to read the summons. “No, I think not,” he said at last.
“But if the palace demands this thing . . . just imagine what will happen to it once the eunuchs get their hands on it,” Sir Te said. The eunuchs were a plague on the palace. They knew more than the Emperor, they schemed and plotted with corrupt officials and stole and thought of nothing but their own comforts.
Silent Wolf seemed to shiver. “The palace eunuchs must not be allowed to seize it. Listen, Shulien. Will you go to my compound and ensure the sword is safe? I will go with Sir Te.
“Iron Turtle, you shall come with me.”
Noblemen were required to wear formal robes in the presence of the Emperor. As Sir Te dressed, his palanquin was brought out, dusted down, and the lanterns on the corners lit and hung. At last eight Te clan servants, two to each shaft, lifted it to their shoulders, and before them came four men carrying yellow lanterns on long bamboo poles, and a last man carrying Sir Te’s banner.
They set the palanquin down for Sir Te to step in. He was tense. Summons at this time of night were never good. “Do you think the palace has heard? How can I explain it to the Emperor? I will deny everything!”
It was a short way to the gates. Silent Wolf and Iron Turtle paced far ahead of the palanquin to open them.
The gatekeeper was asleep in his shed. The door was open, but inside it was dark. “Gate Wang,” Silent Wolf said. “Sir Te is leaving. Up you get. Open the gates!” He had to shout three times before there was any sign of movement inside the gatekeeper’s hut.
Gate Wang came out, a thick padded coat thrown over his naked shoulders. He was a friendly man, but he did not like to be woken, and he yawned and squinted at them all. “You?” he said. “Open the gates?”
“Yes,” Silent Wolf said. “The minister’s guard are waiting outside for him.”
Gate Wang squinted at the minister and bowed his head in a brief greeting. “Open the gates,” he mumbled to himself and went back into his hut.
They could hear the voice of the gatekeeper’s wife, and they could hear his answers.
“It’s Sir Te,” he said. “He’s going to the palace. It’s one of those warriors. I don’t know . . . I just open the gate when they tell me.”
Iron Turtle saw the palanquin approaching. He could still hear the man talking with his wife, and he let out a short sigh. “Come on!” he called. There was the jangle of keys. Gate Wang came out and walked to the gates. He fumbled for a moment in the dark, then the large brass lock clicked as it sprang open. The gatekeeper put both halves into his pocket, hauled one gate open, and then pushed the other.
As the gates opened the palace guard were revealed. There were ten men, all wearing the blue and yellow robes of the palace. “Is Sir Te here?” their leader asked.
Silent Wolf nodded. He stepped forward to shake the man’s hand, when he saw that under his robes the man was carrying a bow and quiver. The palanquin started forward, and suddenly Silent Wolf drew his sword.
“Stop!” he shouted. “West Lotus!”
He was too late. The palace guard threw off their yellow robes. Their faces were ugly and fierce, their arms each had the red curling dragon of the West Lotus warriors.
The air hummed with arrows. The men were here to attack and kill. Silent Wolf somersaulted forward, knocking the first man back, seizing his sword from his hand, and beheading the second man. “Defend Sir Te!” he shouted to Iron Turtle, and Iron Turtle, who had been running forward to help, now ran back as two of the West Lotus warriors scattered the men carrying the palanquin. There was a furious battle. Silent Wolf held the gateway alone, filling it with his sword strikes, as Iron Turtle killed the first man, and then the second, just as he pulled the curtains apart and Sir Te yelped with fear.
At that moment the leader of the warriors pulled a black-fletched arrow from the quiver on his back. His composite bow stretched its arms backward, like a confined prisoner, until the string was drawn back to the warrior’s ear and the arrowhead met the bow. In his sights was not Silent Wolf or Iron Turtle, but Sir Te.
Silent Wolf saw the danger just as the arrow was released, but he was overstretched and off balance. He swung at it with his sword, but the arrow flew too fast. It flew so close to Gate Wang that he thought he had been hit and fell down in terror.
Sir Te turned at that moment and saw the archer, drew an invisible line between the archer and himself, saw the bow straighten, and understood that he was the target. He closed his eyes and awaited his doom. There was a thud and a low, pained grunt. Sir Te put his hand to his chest. He felt no pain. His heart was still beating. He opened his eyes and looked down. The arrow had not hit him. It had struck another. He turned and looked to see who had taken the shot that was meant for him.
Silent Wolf killed the last attacker with a savage down-cut. There was a dull thud, and a spatter of blood as he looked for the bowman, but he saw the broad street was empty and dark, and the rest of the enemy had fled. “Shut the gates!” he roared, and he and Old Horse pushed them closed.
The women of the Te clan were shrieking and swearing as they huddled together for safety. Sir Te had his hand to his mouth. At his feet lay Iron Turtle.
A black-feathered arrow stuck out from his gut. Half the yard of shaft was hidden. Blood trickled from Iron Turtle’s mouth. His eyes were desperately looking around, trying to find a familiar face.
Silent Wolf knelt by his side. Iron Turtle grabbed hold of his hand. He started to speak, but all that came out was a rush of blood. “Hush, my friend,” Silent Wolf said. “Hush!” He saw that the arrow had gone right through Iron Turtle’s shield.
The blood that stained his front was dark and arterial. It would not be long, he thought. Some wounds were fatal.
“You took the arrow,” Silent Wolf said. “That was a brave deed!”
“I took it on my shield,” Iron Turtle managed to say. Silent Wolf wiped the blood from his mouth. “I feel no pain. Is that a good sign?”
“Yes,” Silent Wolf said gently, cradling Iron Turtle’s head as he lay him back.
“I will live?”
“Yes,” Silent Wolf said. “The names of brave men will always live on.”
Iron Turtle smiled. “We drank the best wine here,” he said. “Save my wine pot. Don’t let Thunder Fist take it!”
“I shall not,” Silent Wolf said. “No one will drink your wine.”
Iron Turtle smiled. The life was gushing out of him, and his eyelids fluttered—like a spring butterfly that has just emerged into the sun—then he was gone.
Snow Vase heard the sound of fighting drifting over the night air, pulled her sword from its peg and vaulted the wall in one great leap. The palace compound seemed to be in chaos, with torches hurrying back and forth and panicked shouting from north and south.
“Where is Sir Te?” Shulien was suddenly standing next to Snow Vase.
Snow Vase had ceased to be surprised at her teacher’s skills. “I don’t know,” she said. “I heard screams and grabbed my sword. The Green Destiny . . .” she started.
“It is safe,” Shulien said. In a moment she read the commotion. “There’s an attack at the gate. It is Hades Dai’s men. Follow me!”
Shulien ran up the wall and across the roof-ridge, leaping from one roof to the next. Snow Vase jumped after her but slipped as she landed, broke a tile with her knee and winded herself. Her knee hurt, and as she limped along the rooftop there was an unearthly scream. She froze and turned. Shulien was already far ahead, jumping the gaps between buildings with all the smooth grace of a deer that runs for joy across an open plain. She looked to the stables, and heard the horses snorting and neighing in fear, and her mind was set. The screa
ms kept coming. There was horror and desperation in that voice. The pitch of the terror was rising. The voice was that of a man, and it came from the stable yard.
2I
“Don’t get used to that cage.”
Wei-fang snapped awake. The dream clung to him, like spider webs. He waved his hands and heard a low chuckle.
“I am no dream.” The voice was now behind him.
Wei-fang turned and saw a dark shape. It was like a fox spirit, dark, hunched, rattling with bones.
“You!” he hissed, and scrabbled back until he hit the bars and strained against them.
“Yes,” the voice of the Blind Enchantress whispered in his ear, behind him again.
As he watched, the shape of the Blind Enchantress began to shift. It seemed not to be a human shape any more, but unfolded, like a giant cockroach that was curled up and slowly straightens out. He saw an open mouth, dripping fangs, and from the mouth came a stench of dry death, decay, the long-imprisoned air of the tomb.
“What do you want?” he said, but the creature laughed at him.
“You failed,” the voice said.
“I tried,” he said.
“Trying is not enough.”
Wei-fang’s hair began to rise as the thing moved with an inhuman gait.
“Where is the sword?”
“I will not tell you,” he said.
“Will not?”
“No!” he said. “What are you?”
“Your nightmare.” The answer seemed to come from all about him. Wei-fang moved to the center of the cage. He put his hands out. He felt safe within the cage. “And I will show you what failure means!”
The Blind Enchantress reached through the bars. The arm was long and skinny. The skin had a green tinge. He struck at it, thinking to bat it away, but it shrugged off the blow and stretched forward, impossibly, inhumanly long, the hand unfolding six fingers, each with a black claw.
