Dragon Magic (17 page)

CHIN MU-TI

The light of the four lamps in the chamber was not enough to reach into the corners where shadows crouched. Chin Mu-Ti bunked and blinked again, fighting sleep. It was as if the Minister had forgotten him altogether and he was not to be dismissed this night to his pallet in the guards’ hall. Though it was a great honor to be sword bearer and page to Chuko Liang, it was a wearing life, for the great one was ever restless and seemed never to feel weariness himself.

His master was looking from the window toward the distant mass of black hills. Somewhere in those hills Ssuma, Commanding General of Wei, led some twenty regiments of the enemy. Thinking about them, Mu-Ti felt a cold chill deep inside him, the marrow of his bones was close to melting.

Ssuma’s men were not to be driven lightly away, like autumn leaves by a wandering wind, nor would they disappear like March snows at the coming of the sun.

Once more he blinked sleepily, his eyes upon Chuko Liang’s straight back. In these chambers the First Minister did not wear armor but rather the robe of a magistrate, his black cap stiff and straight upon his head. He was a spare man, with almost the leanness of one in famine time, tall as one of the trees on the distant hillsides.

Also he was one whose thoughts could not be read upon his face. But now all men knew what lay before them. And though Chuko Liang was one who drew ever from the well of wisdom, it was also true that no man may escape this shadow no matter how fast he runs-even though he be one of the three great heroes who have sworn a blood oath to the Emperor Liu Pei.

Though the Empire of Han had come on evil times and had been carved apart into thirds, yet all men knew that Liu Pei in truth was the Son of Heaven, of the House of Han, with the favor of the gods. There could not be two suns in the sky, let alone three, or three kings over the people.

Mu-Ti fought sleep with thought. What did they say of heroes? Their virtues—courage, justice, loyalty, mutual faith, truth, generosity, contempt for wealth—he listed them one by one in his mind. And, he remembered, courage itself was of three kinds. Courage in the blood: the face turns red when angry. Courage in the veins: the face turns blue. But courage of the spirit was the strongest of all: a man’s face did not alter, only his voice strengthened in power, his eyes grew more piercing and—

One of the lamps, having exhausted its supply of gourd oil, flickered out. At the same time a hollow tramping sounded in the outer hall. Mu-Ti straightened to full attention as Chuko Lian came from the window. His was not a warrior’s face, being thin and pale, with long drooping mustaches shading his mouth. He was more like a scholar than a man of action. Yet to the Son of Heaven he was both counseling head and fighting arm.

The dragon lies upon the sword; when the blade is raised the dragon makes war.

The generals Ma Su and Weng Ping had come in answer to their commander’s midnight summons. They were in armor, their dragon helmets throwing demonlike shadows upon the walls, the bronze cheek pieces in the form of tiger’s heads half concealing their faces. Ma Su’s round, full jowls sprouted a closely cut fringe beard; his
eyes
glittered so that he seemed the war god from some frontier temple come to walk among men.

And he tramped ahead of his companion, as he was used to do in most company, pushing always before his fellow officers, his hand ever lying in show near the hilt of his sword. He was well read in the arts of war, which he let no man forget. From him was ever the first comment to come, as if he lived by the saying that to be heard afar one must beat a gong upon a hilltop. Yet he was a lucky leader of some skill, who had had his victories, though perhaps too many dead men paid for their general’s reputation.

Mu-Ti watched him with hostility. It was well no thoughts could be read as they lay in the mind, or he would be in danger. But that his own father, Chin Fang, had paid with his life for a reckless sortie ordered by Ma Su, to no real gain, was graven on the boy’s heart. Not that Ma Su knew or cared. What was a captain of mounted archers to a general of the forces? That was the measure of the man, for Chuko Liang would not have risked lives for show, neither would he thereafter have forgotten those who died.

“You have summoned us, Excellency?” Ma Su did not even wait for the Minister to speak, affecting the brusque manners of the soldier so eager in the service of the Emperor that he came running at summons, to stand with one foot in the stirrup ready to mount. Had he never heard that the mouth is sometimes a door leading to disaster?

Chuko Liang came in two long strides to the table on which still lay the message that had arrived less than an hour ago and the map he had been studying thereafter.

“Ssuma marches through the Hsieh Valley. If he succeeds he may easily pierce to the heart of Wu. This he must not do. Above all he must not take the Yangping Pass—” As he spoke the Minister stabbed here and there with his long forefinger on the surface of the map. He spoke abruptly, which was unusual—harshly, as if he could so make more quickly known to those who listened the full danger of what lay ahead.

If the enemy reach Chiehting, they can block off all our needed supplies.

Then all Shensi will lie open to them. We shall be forced back to Hanchung. They will cut roads, and with a month’s starvation—” He made a gesture with those hands which seemed more fitted to grasp a writing brush than the hilt of the sword Mu-Ti now held scabbarded and upright, resting point down to the floor, its hilt between his palms.

“Ssuma is no fool: he knows we must at all cost prevent him doing this, lest our cause be ended here and now. Above all we must hold Chiehting.

But let no man not understand that this is an act in which there is near ten-tenths of a chance that death waits—”

“We do not command an army of sword jugglers ready to show their skill at some festival, Excellency.” Ma Su wrapped self-confidence about him as a thick cloak protecting against winter winds. “Not yet are the forces of Wu birds trapped in a net, or fish dumped into the cooking pot.

Give me leave to march and Chiehting is as safe as if ten dragons loop their bodies around its walls!”

One of the Minister’s slim hands rose; his fingers pulled at a drooping mustache end, rolled the long hairs between thumb and forefinger. Chuko Liang did not look at his general. Rather, his eyes were still on the map.

“Dragon begets dragon; battle, battle. Death and life are predetermined, riches and honor depend upon the will of Heaven. This city is small, but its value to us now is like the pearl in a sea oyster. You are deeply read in the rules of war, but strict defense is a different matter from the clash of swords, the thrust of spears, in open meeting with the enemy. There is no wall at Chiehting, no natural means of defense to work behind.”

Ma Su shrugged. “Excellency, since I was a boy I have studied the arts of war. I am as well learned in those as a scholar in the sayings of the Revered Masters. Why should this defense be deemed so difficult by you, who know well what we have done in the past?”

“Mainly because Ssuma is no common general. Even our own fingers are of unequal length and strength, and Ssuma is above eight-tenths of a leader. Also Chang Ho, who commands his van, is a man whose banners make others tremble, and with good reason.”

“I have faced great leaders before, Excellency. Stout men, not stout walls, make a well-held city. This much do I wager on what I shall do at Chiehting—let it so be added to the roll of oaths: if I do not hold fast as you wish, then let my head be struck from my shoulders!”

Now Chuko Liang did look straight at him. And there was a hiss of breath from Weng Ping, who had not spoken.

“This is no hour for jesting. Keep such words for moments by the wine bowls—”

“I do not jest, Excellency. Let my oath be set down with brush and ink—placed in record, Weng here being witness.”

“Jade and men are both shaped by harsh tools; be not unaware of sudden changes of fortune.”

“Set it so, Excellency—that Ma Su shall hold Chiehting or else his head rolls!” There was a hot note in the General’s voice, his full cheeks flushed.

“So will it be done. Now, I give you a legion and a half of men, and Weng Ping shall march with you. He is to use the care and caution for which he is known to all and is to camp in the most commanding position so that the enemy may not steal by. Do not think small of Ssuma, he is the best the false Emperor has to serve him.

“When you are so set as to command the road by which the enemy must travel, then do you draw me a map of your defenses and all the local places to mark, and this must be sent to me. But above all—change not, nor add to, nor lessen from, these orders. And that when you go into battle you may not lack a single fighting man, my page here, Chin Mu-Ti, shall ride with you to be the map messenger when you have it ready for my hand.”

To speak is to have it done—” began Ma Su.

But Chuko Liang held up his hand to silence that formal acknowledgment of orders received, as he continued; “Northeast of Chiehting is the city of Liehliucheng, and near to that a hill path. Kao Hsiang will camp there in a stockade with a legion. If the threat to Chiehting becomes too great he will move to your assistance. Wu Yen will bring a troop to the rear of Chiehting as further reinforcements.

Remember, you must take up your post on the most dangerous road to the Yangping Pass. Do not regard this all as idle talk, or make any move to spoil the plan.”

“That is understood, Excellency.” Ma Su saluted, tramping out of the chamber, Weng Ping again a stride behind. Mu-Ti had time only to lay the Minister’s sword carefully on the table as he hurried to follow. He went reluctantly. Though Ma Su was not his commander, yet to be even so attached to his service for a time was galling, and he hoped he would not have to ride with him for long. As he left, he saw that Chuko Liang was again stooped over the map, studying its lines with fixed intensity.

Wei, Wu, Shu to the south: the Three Kingdoms into which the once great Empire of Han had split. In the dark days at the end of the dynasty, Liu Pei, though of the House of Heaven, had been so poor that he had made and sold sandals to earn food for his mother. Then the three great heroes—Kuan Yu, Cheng Fei, Chuko Liang—had sworn blood oaths to uphold him. Ts’ao Ts’ao wore the dragon gown in Wei, and Sun Ch’uan in the south. Much blood had flowed, many towns had been taken and burned, men had died in war, women and children had starved in summer, frozen in winter; yet none of the Three Kingdoms had yielded one to the other. Truly this was a time when more sorrow than happiness, more shame than honor, governed the world of men.

Now, as Mu-Ti rode out through the night with Ma Su and his men, in the chill of the dark he lost some of his longing for sleep. He was a very humble member of the Generals’ staff, riding at its tail, and so he could hear the muttering of men grumbling at the need for breaking their night’s rest

Once, from the dusky ranks of the foot soldiers, came words as the staff clattered by on horseback. “Ha, what do horsemen know of aching feet?

Does mud care which cloak it bespatters?”

The guardsman at Mu-Ti’s side cracked his whip threateningly at the unseen speaker. “Three inches of a never-idle tongue may well find itself shortened by two,” he called back, though he must have already been well past the soldier who had so complained.

It was well into the following day before they reached the goal set them.

Ma Su and Weng Ping and their men dismounted, ate cold oat cakes, and drank from saddle bottles. As he ate, Ma Su walked a little apart, staring about him critically at the looming hills and the road. Mu-Ti, his horse’s reins looped about his wrist, ready to ride at the first command, moved closer to the two generals than the others. That he wore the First Minister’s badge gave him, he decided, some freedom from the usual military custom in this company, and he somehow wanted to observe Ma Su, even as he fought the dragon’s breath of hatred every time he looked upon him. Did he wish the General to fail? A thousand times yes, were it not that such failure would mean disaster for them all.

“I do not see why it is thought that Wei will dare to come into this place,” Ma Su commented,

“His Excellency has had reports from the scouts sent to watch the march of the enemy. And he is one who thinks twice before he gives orders once.”

“His Excellency’s caution and farsightedness are well known.” But there was a suggestion in Ma Su’s tone that he did not altogether mean that statement to be a compliment. “Look to that hill standing there—look upon it closely, Weng Ping. It is well wooded, a heaven-created place to give one advantage over any man advancing along the road. Such a camp as the war god himself would choose above all others.”

Weng Ping stared dutifully at the hill. Mu-Ti saw that he ran his tongue over his lower lip before he answered. To be a subordinate to such as Ma Su meant that the tongue must be guarded. Weng Ping well knew that the swiftest horse cannot overtake a word once spoken. “Elder brother,” he said finally, “if we leave this road for the hill, and the forces of Ssuma then surround it, we are lost. Also, it was in the orders given me that I must set my men to felling trees to build a stockade fort right here.”

Ma Su laughed. “Younger brother, it is easy to see you are not learned in the superior books of war. There it is stated as one of the major rules that one must strive to look down upon one’s enemy from a higher position. If they attempt to march past here, I will swear that not even one of their breastplates shall be returned to him who sent them! Those who follow that part of themselves which is great are great men; those who follow that part which is little are little men.”

And now Weng Ping flushed, for there was contempt in Ma Su’s voice.

Still he answered, and without any show of heat. “Perhaps that be true, elder brother. But have you noted that the hill lacks any spring of water and that the day is hot? If the enemy comes and captures the spring below those heights, what then? I bow to your superior learning in such matters, but also I have known thirst and it can move men strangely. Above all, this is not following our orders. Should we be blown east or west, when it was told us to do this and not that?”