by Zoe Marriott
“And now, General. Perhaps you will explain how you came to allow the slaughter of Diao Tian Ning, one of my most valued and loyal commanders – one whom you knew was about to be elevated to a vital position in my court – when I specifically sent you to protect him?”
Her voice was like a sudden rain of snow high up in the mountains, cold and pure, glorious but terrifying. I wondered if she could kill a man with that alone. I trembled for a moment, then felt my body enter that paralysed stillness of a prey creature caught in the gaze of its predator.
Wu Jiang’s position shifted to one of the very deepest obeisance.
“Your Imperial Majesty, I have failed you. No apology may encompass the depths of my shame over this loss, or the pain and inconvenience which I know it has caused you. I shall offer no excuses. I await your judgement with humble acceptance, and with gratitude in my heart for the privilege of having been allowed to serve you.”
An icy sweat prickled up over the whole of my body. Great Dragon and Phoenix – was the Young General about to be sentenced to some horrible punishment? Was he about to be condemned – and perhaps me with him? The silence was crushing. I closed my eyes.
“Your service to me in the past has been exemplary, and I have loved you as nearly my own son. One mistake can be forgiven – if it is never repeated. On this occasion then, you shall receive the forgiveness of the throne. But you will not be so fortunate again. Is that understood?”
“It is, Imperial Majesty,” Wu Jiang said fervently. “You are as merciful as you are kind. I am unworthy.”
Just like that, the emperor’s face relaxed into a smile once more. The ferocious chill fled the pavilion, as if her forgiveness was the blazing summer sun dissolving snow clouds into nothing. “You are entirely worthy. Rise, please, and let that be the end of it, my dear.”
Wu Jiang rose smoothly to his feet, and gestured to me to do the same. I creaked into an upright position, feeling rather amazed that I hadn’t turned to stone.
“Tell him, Mama, tell him!” Li Xian demanded, returned to his former self and clapping his hands furiously with excitement.
“In good time, my son. Wu Jiang, have you been keeping your skills sharp while you were travelling in the wilds?”
“I have attempted it, at least,” General Wu said, smiling and relaxed again, as though that petrifying interlude had never occurred. “Why?”
“Because!” Li Xian cried, gambolling forward like a puppy. “We’re going hunting!”
Twenty-three
ithin five minutes, General Wu, Shu Yuen and I had been swept into a sea of confused activity in a stable-yard that was larger and more elaborately decorated than the entire house I had grown up in. Around me, servants bustled to and fro with loaded baskets and saddlebags, grooms led out horses of every possible type and colour, and a dozen middle-aged men in gilded armour or ornate riding attire appeared as if by magic, all of them looking flustered and annoyed, but not quite brave enough to express it.
“That is General Chi Xiu, commander of the Northern Mountain armies,” Wu Jiang pointed out in a slightly harried undertone as he held his horse still, allowing Shu Yuen to adjust the stirrups. To my dismay, I had been offered a long-legged golden bay rather than Yulong, who presumably still waited for me on the other side of the palace. The mare was skittish, and the groom who should have been assisting Wu Jiang was having to hold her head while another adjusted the saddle for me. “The one with the very long beard is the Duke of Yang, commander of the Flying Red Horse division. To his left is Di Ren Jie, minister for military affairs. On the black stallion…”
My head swam with all the titles and details, but I did my best to memorize them as I allowed one of the grooms to give me a leg up into the saddle. “And what is this lady’s name?” I asked the groom.
“Plum Blossom,” he told me with a brief smile. “She’s sweet-natured enough, once she gets used to you.”
The golden bay snorted and sidled beneath me. I leaned over her neck and breathed into her ear, patting her shoulder with one hand. “Plum Blossom. Plum. Good girl. Good.”
She quivered, shook her mane, and seemed to relax a little. I nodded my thanks to the groom, who trotted off to help an elderly man struggling to mount a horse that, to my eye, was far too fresh for him.
Beside me, Wu Jiang was having some difficulty with his own mount – a showy dappled grey. It reared, and then performed something frighteningly close to a battle movement known as a Hare’s Leap, jumping from an upright position on its hind legs, with the forelegs tucked beneath it. Servants scattered in a panic, with only Shu Yuen holding his ground. The Young General fought the animal down – dear ancestors, but his arms must be made of iron – but the horse continued to jink and dance in place.
“The animals haven’t been exercised yet,” he told me in a low voice, panting with effort. “My aunt sprung this expedition on everyone with no notice. The stables had no time to prepare the mounts. Even I had no idea the meeting would be taking this form.”
“The better to keep it a secret?” I guessed.
He arched a brow, and I pressed my lips closed, taking that as a yes. I tallied the evidence: the emperor and her son both up just after dawn. The entire war cabinet summoned from their beds with no notice on a “hunting party” in the Forbidden Park. And everything done with the appearance of spontaneity, so that it seemed from the outside like no more than the emperor’s sudden whim.
This was a very important meeting indeed.
“Cousin!” Li Xian called. I turned my head to see the boy on a tall grey pony that appeared the much smaller twin of Wu Jiang’s massive mount. The crown prince’s pale face was blotched red at the cheeks with excitement. “Come see what my royal mother has given me!”
Wu Jiang’s dimple winked as he waved at the youngster. “Wait here, Hua Zhi – I’ll return when I’ve quieted him down a little. Shu Yuen, make yourself useful.”
The Young General muscled his horse into a turn and trotted off towards the crown prince. I patted Plum Blossom’s side again, wishing I had thought to bring some dried apricots, or another treat suitable for a horse. Yulong had been given his before we left the barracks.
“Corporal?”
The distinctive voice made me stiffen in my saddle. Plum Blossom jerked her head uneasily – and I saw Shu Yuen, who was still standing near by, rear back in much the same manner as the horse. The eunuch grimaced and abruptly ducked away.
What was that about? What – or who – had he fled from?
Before I could try to manoeuvre my horse around, Yang Jie trotted into view on his own mount. He appeared well in control of the short-legged black gelding.
“Good morning,” he said evenly. He was looking at me – he could hardly avoid it – but his eyes evaded mine. I thought he was tired, and upset. There were red rims to his eyelids and deep lines around his lips. “Private Yang Jie reporting for duty as commanded.”
“Good morning, Private,” I said formally. Then, in a rush. “I … it’s good to see you, but – you don’t look well. Are you ill?”
Now his eyes shot up to mine. I was shocked by the deep unhappiness there. Did I cause that? I had expected stiff, cold anger or furious contempt for my cowardice – not outright misery. As if he knew he had given himself away, his gaze darted down again. He patted his horse’s neck, and it remained steady as a rock beneath him. “No, no. I’m just tired from my day off. I went to the wine shop with the others, you know – we were out late. Not as late as you, of course…”
His voice trailed off, sheepishly. Even if I hadn’t already known, it would have been obvious from his drooping, guilty demeanour that he was lying. My curiosity about where he had really been last night flared up afresh, but it was secondary to my anxiety over him. He really looked … almost distraught. Had I made a mistake again?
“I hoped you would be happy about this appointment,” I said. “It’s a chance to advance. If you do well, you might be promoted. I thought you wanted
that – I’m sorry if I was wrong.”
He shook his head, gaze now far off. “Not at all. This is a – a perfect opportunity. Better than I could ever have hoped for.”
“Yang Jie,” I insisted. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” He swallowed audibly, then finally looked at me again. “Hua Zhi, I – I’m sorry.”
Sorry? What in the world did he have to be sorry for? I was the one who had turned my back on him and ignored him for weeks. I opened my mouth to ask – and was promptly drowned out by the clarion call of a hunting horn. Wu Jiang cantered back towards me, his dark gaze taking in Yang Jie as well.
“Is this the private you recommended, Corporal? Good. We’re ready to go. Where’s Shu Yuen got to? Damn the man, why has he wandered off now? Remember, Hua Zhi, to stick close to me. You are to observe everything and commit it to memory. Thank the Great Dragon that the emperor at least gave me a little warning to prepare for this. I have a feeling that today is going to be significant.”
I suppressed a desire to snort aloud at such an obvious statement and, as I turned my head, I saw Yang Jie allowing his own eyes to roll up slightly. I ventured a conspiratorial smile. His returning grin, though short-lived, eased my mind slightly.
I decided that once the general had dismissed me for the day, I was going to corner Yang Jie and squeeze whatever troubles he was having out of him, if I had to sit on him to do it.
After a few more moments of shuffling about, the emperor herself, seated on a glorious silver-grey stallion, led the huge cavalcade through the jade-and-gold lacquered gates into the Forbidden Park. Her son and Wu Jiang followed immediately after – I fell in with them dutifully, although I would have preferred to hang back a little. Behind me, the whole company wandered away in a disorganized trail. Despite the hasty nature of this expedition and its supposed secrecy, I counted at least eighteen servants laden down with extra baggage and five outriders carrying the personal banners of certain distinguished officials, all of whom could probably have been dispensed with if we were seeking speed, let alone discretion. The man with the hunting horn, although very skilled, had certainly been a mistake.
Beneath my cynicism, I felt another furtive thrill of excitement as we entered the lush green artificial wilderness. In general only the royal family and their closest intimates were invited to this private hunting preserve, which had been built by the crown prince’s grandfather. To my knowledge, even my own father had never entered here.
We rode first through a menagerie full of strange beasts in tall, iron cages – tributes from foreign heads of state, Wu Jiang told me, pointing out a leathery grey creature with fantastic horns and an unpronounceable name. He said it had travelled over sea and land for six months to reach the empire. There were brilliantly coloured birds and things like goats, but with long necks and legs like horses. My favourite animals, glimpsed only for a moment as we passed, were a pair of large wild cats. Their lean figures, golden-and-white spotted coats and black, tufted ears were lovely, but what struck me were the eyes – enormous, round and a kind of glowing amber shade. I realized after a moment that their steady jewel-bright gaze reminded me of Yang Jie himself.
I looked back at him, wondering if he’d appreciate the observation. His downcast face made me bite my tongue. Some other time, then. But we were riding close together now – it seemed a waste not to speak at all.
“Where is Bingbing?” I asked him. “At the barracks?”
He shook his head absently, staring into the trees. “Here, somewhere. She flew off once I reached the stable-yard. Too noisy, I suppose. She’ll be back.”
A good thing, really. Wu Jiang was unlikely to appreciate such a note of whimsy just now. “I’ll whistle her back for you when you want her,” I promised.
Yang Jie nodded, gaze still refusing to cross with mine. Wu Jiang, ahead of me a little way, glanced around to see where I was. I gave up on Yang Jie for the moment and rode forward to be closer to the general, although Li Xian was occupying most of his attention.
We passed through an apple orchard, and were treated to the sight of a vermilion pagoda with a crescent-shaped lake at its foot. A herd of white deer grazing near by took fright and fled before us as we moved into a forest of strange foreign trees with slim, black-and-white trunks and round golden leaves like coins. When the wind blew, the coin-leaves spiralled around our company in a glittering cloud, provoking sighs of delight from several of the elderly men riding around me.
At the centre of this beautiful, alien forest was a great hall with blue, green and gold painted walls, and a peaked roof of interlocking logs. It was probably an emperor’s idea of a modest little hunting lodge, though it had three wings, each with a covered porch, and a pretty courtyard with a circular fish pond and fountain. It was here that Wu Fen signalled the company to a stop.
“We shall rest and refresh ourselves,” she called out, smiling, as a groom came forward from the lodge to take the reins of her horse. She dismounted with a supple grace that belonged to a girl half her age, and then went to help the crown prince herself.
By the time the more elderly members of the war cabinet had creaked off their horses, and the mounts had been led away to be tethered at the rail of the hunting hall or to the trees surrounding it, the servants had unpacked a lavish breakfast and spread it out over the courtyard, along with thick rugs, soft cushions and folding travel chairs for those who wanted them. The emperor seated herself cross-legged before the fountain, just as at ease as if this really were an impromptu pleasure trip, and urged her son to eat between bites of her own breakfast. Wu Jiang had taken a place next to her and was lounging comfortably. Everyone’s eyes were on them but, among this seasoned group of soldiers and politicians, it was hard to read anyone’s expression.
Birds trilled in the trees. A faint autumn breeze stirred the golden leaves, and the fountain filled the courtyard with its serene music.
The tension was stifling.
I was glad for the corporal’s stripes that made me nearly invisible in this august company, and tucked myself away, a little behind the curve of the fountain. Yang Jie seated himself next to me matter-of-factly enough, and attacked a fig. I nudged a bowl of preserved lemons close to him but otherwise left him alone. For me this was a very belated breakfast – by now I was starving, and I knew I needed to eat well if I was to avoid feeling sick and fatigued later on. I filled a bowl of my own and worked through it as quickly and efficiently as I could, hoping I could manage seconds before the meeting proper began.
Rather too soon for me, the emperor finished her repast, capturing everyone’s attention by the simple movement of placing her ivory wine cup aside and sitting up a little straighter. I didn’t need Wu Jiang’s sharp look in my direction to stuff a last piece of tofu into my mouth and move closer.
“Gentlemen. Our thanks for indulging me in this rather precipitous meeting. You who are gathered here are the most trusted, honoured and decorated members of my court – my handpicked war cabinet, hardened and tested throughout my husband’s reign and in some cases his father’s, too. You have seen many enemies of the state come and go. So there is no need for me to dissemble.” She blinked once, slowly. “We are losing this war.”
There was an uneasy stirring among the gathered men – but no one looked surprised. My eyes shot to Wu Jiang. His face was composed, unreadable, though a thin line of white ringed his lips. Was this really true? Had he known – or suspected?
The emperor went on. “Feng Shi Chong’s campaign against us has been disastrously effective. Our grain and rice stores, military strongholds and gold reserves have been devastated, and it will not be long before our ability to fight back, or even to defend ourselves, is fundamentally compromised. Once that becomes obvious to the general population we shall have panic, riots, uprisings … in short, the end of this dynasty. Perhaps even the end of the empire itself. For if in the chaos, the Leopard succeeds in seizing the Dragon Throne, I have no doubt that our country will be p
lunged into a dark age that may take our descendants a thousand years to escape – if they survive at all.”
I felt a sick churning low in my stomach. My skin prickled with cold sweat – horror, disbelief and panic made my breath come more quickly. Wu Jiang’s expression still gave nothing away. My eyes sought out Yang Jie’s. I found him gazing back at me properly for the first time that morning, and his emotions were all too clear, the twin of my own.
How had things come to such a pass so swiftly? And how was it possible that we, our families, the people who thronged the city streets outside, had no idea? That life continued as normal while our country danced on the very edge of destruction?
“But Feng Shi Chong could not have accomplished this alone. His knowledge of precisely when and where to strike to do the greatest possible damage to our resources and infrastructure has simply been too acute. No one is that wise. No one is that lucky.” The emperor paused, and then, as one who drops a heavy plate in expectation of a crash: “He has had help.”
A long-bearded elder – the Duke of Yang, I remembered – leaned forward. “Imperial Majesty, surely…” He cleared his throat and began again. “The Leopard was once an imperial general. Before his attempt to steal the throne, he enjoyed the highest status and the greatest level of trust. It’s only reasonable – if unfortunate – that a man with such a history would have inside knowledge of our weaknesses.”
“No.” Wu Jiang cut in before the emperor even opened her mouth. “Remember, Your Grace, since Feng Shi Chong’s treason was discovered and he fled the capital, her Imperial Majesty has overhauled much of the administrative and military framework, for greater efficiency. The Leopard’s knowledge is years out of date. Or it should be.”
