Chasing the Phoenix (37 page)

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Authors: Michael Swanwick

BOOK: Chasing the Phoenix
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“The memory of that day is a constant presence. The blood of my family is on my hands. I see their faces in my dreams, I hear their voices pleading for mercy every minute of my waking life, and sometimes I believe I must go mad. The only reason I am still alive is that I have sworn to someday play a part in ending the tyranny of North.”

“We have all lost family, brother,” Nurturing Clouds said. “My husband, for one, and … well, never mind. Nothing can be done about the past. The future, however, is another story. North continues to squeeze revenue from lands which grow poorer and poorer. Sooner or later, we must rebel or die. Our armies today are as strong as they have ever been. A year from now, they will be weaker. If ever there were a time to be decisive, it is now.”

“I see your dilemma perfectly and…”

Ceo True Path slammed his hand down on his knee. “Action must be taken! If we swear allegiance to the foreign invader and combine our troops with his, their numbers, taken together with the element of surprise, might barely suffice. It is a terrible bargain to strike, with no guarantee of victory, but we have no alternative.”

The others murmured agreement.

It was simultaneously the most successful and most baffling negotiation that Darger had ever taken part in.

When the treaty was drawn up, it gave the Hidden Emperor everything he wanted and more. Here and there, in fact, Darger was moved to soften the self-imposed terms, for his new allies were so accustomed to tyranny that they had lost the ability to picture anything more than a softer, more tolerable form of it. He eliminated reparations, allowed officers to keep their ranks, and removed all specifically punitive clauses. The end result looked much like that offered other conquered nations by the Hidden Emperor—the opportunity to become a province within the restored state of China.

The treaty was signed. Then all the principals went outside to slaughter a horse, collect its blood in a chalice, and drink from it, one by one.

“I pledge my life and honor to China, to the Hidden Emperor, and to the downfall of Northern tyranny,” said Ceo Laughing Raven. “If their top leaders die, so much the better.”

“I pledge life, honor, property, and all else I have to China, the Hidden Emperor, and the restoration of peace,” said Ceo Nurturing Clouds.

“I pledge myself to the downfall of North,” said Ceo True Path. “Also, China, the Hidden Emperor, this treaty, and anyone and anything else that serves that cause.”

The chalice was passed to Darger. He stared deep into it, looking for inspiration. At last he said, “The life of an immortal is by some accountings worth that of thousands of merely mortal men, for it extends so much further into time than theirs. By other measures, it is worth not one tittle more, for it is lived once and over forever, like any other man's. By either measure, I pledge to this treaty, this new alliance, this restored nation, my life and my honor as an immortal and a gentleman.”

Darger drank.

It tasted every bit as vile as he had feared.

*   *   *

THUS, WITH
the abrupt surrender of three of the four nations of the Yellow Sea Alliance, the Hidden Emperor's fortunes took an unexpected leap forward. He really was, it seemed, and exactly as Darger had said on their first meeting, the favored child of destiny.

By agreement, the three newly rebellious armies immediately turned about and began marching north, toward the capital. Darger and the Dog Pack, in turn, galloped back to South, bringing with them both the treaty and Ceo Laughing Raven to take command of the forces of Commerce.

Time was everything, for when the rebellion became known, all the formidable military might of North would come down upon the southern provinces like a fist. Seen from the Hidden Emperor's perspective, similar urgencies applied. If his armies could move fast enough, it might be possible to subdue the nation and crush the Oligarchy of North in a single swift campaign before winter slowed and stalled his progress.

The Immortals were now the smaller half of an army all but equal in size to the Army of North. Additionally, acquiring three more provinces gave them more than just added military strength. Should the war last longer than was hoped, the new territory would provide a stable foundation for waging war: an impoverished yet still intact network of farms and manufactories for provisioning the military on the move, control of the Grand Canal all the way to the border of North, river ports and seaports …

And, best of all, an ocean fleet.

 

17.

The Dog Warrior was famed for his impulsive ways, for his ferocity, and for being a fearsome opponent in battle. Ironically, those who knew him personally reported that they never saw him actually kill anyone.

—
THE
BOOK OF THE
TWO
ROGUES

THE IMMORTALS
left behind only a nominal force to hold South and took the river fleet down the Long River to the intersection with the Grand Canal. When it reached that great work of antiquity, half the emperor's forces, led by Ceo Shrewd Fox and General Powerful Locomotive, turned northward while the rest continued on to the Yellow Sea to meet with the ocean fleet at the port of Seaside.

With the latter went Surplus and the Dog Pack, Darger, White Squall, and a selection of the Hidden Emperor's top advisors. Rumor had it that the emperor went as well, but, as always, this could not be determined for certain.

Leaning against the rail, staring out at the hazy zone where the sea blended into the sky, Surplus said, “Ocean travel always fills me with awe, both at the vastness of our watery planet and at the daring of those who trust their fortunes to so small and frail a thing as a ship.”

“Whether you know it or not, you speak allegorically, my friend,” Darger said. “The ocean clearly represents time, upon whose limitless surface we launch the flimsy craft of our lives on a perilous and chance-filled voyage which, no matter how skillfully we may weather its storms, invariably ends at a port whose name is Death.”

“Your skills as a philosopher and a rhetorician are beyond reproach. But I am a pragmatist. I look upon the sea not as an allegory but as an opportunity to drop in a line and pull up a fat fish.” Surplus quirked a grin. “Or, given our profession, am I speaking metaphorically again?”

“We have reeled in many a sucker in our day, it is true. But when this operation is over, we need never do so again. Our fish will be brought to us on silver platters by … Well, speak of the devil! Look what comes our way.”

The frigate
Beijing
(as the flagship, it was privileged to bear the archaic name of the city of North) had, under the guidance of an inexperienced pilot who was anxious to show off, caught a fair wind and outstripped the other ships. So it lay now at sea anchor, waiting for the rest of the ocean fleet to catch up. At the command of Admiral Loyal Rooster, eight water-breathing sailors had stripped down to loincloths and gone over the side with fishing spears to supplement the food provided in the mess deck.

Now, a young sailor threw a leg over the rail and climbed on board, gills gasping and glistening as she readjusted to breathing air. In addition to her spear, carried on a sling over her back, she had a stringer of three codfish, which she flung onto the deck. “Everyone eats well tonight,” she said. “One for me, one for the officers, and one for the cook to give to whomever she pleases. Unless you'd like to buy it? I'll give you a good price.”

Surplus handed her two copper coins. “Let's not haggle. Tell the chef we'd like it lightly poached in white wine.”

The sailor smirked, stooped, threw the cod over her shoulder, and swaggered off.

At this moment, Fire Orchid appeared. In her scarves and boots and bracelets, she looked every inch the pirate queen, save for a greenish cast to her face—for she had spent the voyage suffering from seasickness. “I saw you talking to the fish-woman with breasts,” she said accusingly.

Surplus spread his arms in a gesture of pure innocence. “Breasts? I saw no breasts.”


I
saw them. So you are in trouble whether you did or not. Also, I saw you give her money.”

“For a cod. For dinner.”

“Oh? Is that what you call it now? You have made me so angry, Mr. Dog Husband. I … I think maybe I have to go throw up now.”

Fire Orchid staggered off.

Looking after her, Surplus commented, “You would not think it would be possible to have marital difficulties without getting married first. Yet here I am, and I have no idea how to respond.”

“Do you see that white patch on the horizon?” Darger pointed. “That's a sea squall. Very powerful, quite dangerous. Yet I believe we have evaded it.”

*   *   *

THE DAYS
at sea passed pleasantly and occasionally profitably as well—particularly after they taught the admiral how to play poker. The weather was mild, and, other than the one distant squall, there were no storms.

At voyage's end, the ocean fleet, having overtaken and sunk or captured those few ships that came in sight of it and might have warned North of their approach, sailed into the Gulf of Control with its warships at the fore and troopships following. They came in with the dawn tide, slipping past the undermanned and unprepared defenses, and put in below Port of Heaven. Their marines then swiftly overran the city guard, rousting the mayor from his bed and forcing him to surrender in his nightgown.

Once the port was secured, the troops disembarked and were marched briskly through town to set up camp on the north bank of the White River. Simultaneously, scouts spread out in all directions, for the ocean fleet had outstripped the armies coming up the Grand Canal and nobody knew what the local military situation might be. They were only 250
li
from North, which was either a triumph or a disaster, depending on how and where the Northern troops were arrayed. From here, they would either launch an assault on the capital or fall back into Port of Heaven and try to hold it until rescue arrived.

Since Shrewd Fox and Prince First-Born Splendor had both been sent up the Grand Canal with the river fleet to join and take command of the rebel armies, Cao White Squall was the ranking officer of the Sea Army. She had barely finished converting the former mayor's mansion to her field headquarters when reports began to flow in from the field. As she received them, the Perfect Strategist stood behind her, one hand lightly touching her chair to let it be publicly known that he was back in the emperor's favor and that he had the cao's complete confidence as well.

Nevertheless, he did not speak a word, but only listened.

For hour after hour, they heard self-serving testimony from politicians who might be opportunistic turncoats or, with equal plausibility, die-hard loyalists determined to feed them misinformation; synoptic summaries from interrogators who had separately questioned enemy officers and then compared their statements for consistency; early reports from their scouts, stating that the road up the White River was undefended; subsequent reports from their advance troops stating that, after light skirmishing, units had taken up positions along that road; and, most avidly pored over of all, messages from the Canal Army (delivered by operatives who had entered the port city disguised as commercial travelers and now awaited the invasion in cheap taverns), reporting that there had been a major battle with North. According to these last missives, Ceo Noble Tiger had attempted to stop the Hidden Emperor's forces coming up the Grand Canal and had been routed by Ceo True Path, who had died heroically in the battle.

“It was suicide by army,” Darger said afterward. The Dog Pack had commandeered a Taoist temple for his headquarters; because it had been a museum since the pre-Utopian era, they had hoped to find valuable antiquities there, but apparently all such items had disappeared during the interregnum following the fall of Utopia. “The poor fellow wished only to die fighting North, and now he has what he wanted.”

“So we are victorious?” Surplus asked.

“Perhaps. Noble Tiger has withdrawn to the north and west, into the hills, which he knows and we do not. It may be a feint to draw our forces after him. It is also possible that by delaying the union of our northern and southern fractions, he has successfully divided us, so that we may be taken down one at a time. Warfare is so much more lucid in the history books than it is on the hoof! For every three informants who tell us one thing, two more swear to its exact opposite. Meanwhile, I have listened to such a farrago of force concentrations and dispersions, enfilades and defilades, reverse slope defenses, shell scrapes, interdictions, breakouts, counterattacks, salients, reentrants, cauldrons, and pincer movements as would drive a man mad to turn into a coherent whole. I dared not ask for clarifications, of course, for that would cast my status as the Perfect Strategist in question. So I simply had to look knowing and endure it.”

“You have no notion what our chances are, then?”

“Well, that's the problem, don't you see. Learning the facts of a situation limits one's possibilities. Knowing nothing, I was confident that North would fall before us. Now, however, I must admit to the very real possibility that we may lose. Their armed forces are more numerous than ours and hold a strong defensive position. The city stores contain a year's supply of food, where we would have to scavenge off the people in the countryside, making many enemies in the process. Also, their ceo, Noble Tiger, is so highly regarded that he is known by friends and foes alike as the Tiger of the North.”

“We have three ceos for their one,” Surplus observed. “Plus Powerful Locomotive, who is a demoted ceo, and White Squall, who is a cao, though whether of archaeology or of animals, I'm no longer clear. And I'm sure that the morale of our soldiers is far better than theirs, though of course a single defeat would change that.”

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