Dragonwall (9 page)

“This is not over, Ju-Hai,” Kwan sputtered. “I do not take kindly to betrayal.”

“As long as you take kindly to survival,” the Minister of State responded. “My guards will show you out.”

After the old man left, Ting returned to the table and sat down. For several minutes, she simply watched Ju-Hai with a patient expression and did not say anything.

Finally, Ju-Hai looked at her. “I may as well tell you,” he sighed. “You’ll just dig it up on your own, and I’ll have an even bigger mess when the emperor wants to know what you’re looking for.”

“I must know what’s happening,” she agreed, regarding her mentor with a steady, unreadable eyes.

Ju-Hai rubbed his palms over his brow, then folded his hands on the table. “It’s not so complicated,” he began. “Over the last two years, a barbarian named Yamun Khahan has united the horse tribes. Recently, he has been wiping out our trade caravans, and tax revenues have been dropping steadily. Several times, we have sent gifts to him, hoping to buy his favor. When that did not work, Minister Kwan and I urged the emperor to send an army west to subdue the horse tribes. But the Divine One refused, not wishing to be the aggressor in a war.

“Minister Kwan and I finally developed a plan to deal with the problem quickly and efficiently. We contacted this khahan’s stepmother, a treacherous woman named Bayalun. In return for her promise to leave our caravans alone, we agreed to help her usurp his throne.”

“Surely you didn’t believe she would keep her word?” Ting asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Ju-Hai responded, “but we believed that without Yamun Khahan’s leadership, the horse tribes would once again dissolve into the warring clans they have always been. In any case, we sent an assassin to aid Bayalun. Unfortunately, Yamun discovered our plot. In retaliation, he has turned his horde in our direction. I fear we have sadly underestimated both his ingenuity and his strength.”

Ting lifted her empty teacup and held it thoughtfully against her lips, considering her mentor’s explanation. Several moments later, she asked, “Do you really think this Batu Min Ho can stop the barbarians?”

The minister nodded and met her gaze. “I am convinced that if the Tuigan can be stopped, Batu is the only man who can do it. He knows more about the horse tribes than any of our surviving generals. From what I have seen of our other high officers, he alone possesses the cunning and courage to match Yamun Khahan.”

Ting placed her empty cup back on table. “An unfortunate turn of events,” she said. “Clearly, you only had Shou Lung’s best interests at heart.”

Ju-Hai breathed a sigh of relief. “Then you will keep my secret?”

Before answering, Ting studied her lacquered fingernails. “Considering the presence of a spy in our midst,” she said, “would it not be wise to place a cadre of guards at the disposal of the Ministry of State Security?”

Ju-Hai closed his tired eyes. It would have been too much to hope that the Tigress would aid him without demanding payment. “What do you intend to do with them?” he asked.

“Use them to keep Tuigan spies out of Tai Tung and the summer palace,” she said quickly.

Ju-Hai opened his eyes. Although he did not doubt that she would assign the guards to the duties she mentioned, he also suspected that the force would satisfy her own sense of personal aggrandizement. “How many?” he asked wearily.

“A thousand—no, two thousand,” Ting answered. “That is not too much to ask.”

The minister shook his head, then prepared an angry stare and met Ting’s gaze. “A thousand, and no more. Under no circumstances will I permit anyone to control a force equal to the emperor’s personal guard.”

Ting smiled to indicate her acceptance of the offer. “Let us wish heaven’s favor on General Batu.”

After the Mandarinate’s dismissal, Batu spent the rest of the day cloistered with the emperor. For many hours, the general stood before the jade throne answering questions about the Tuigan. Though his back and legs grew so weary they fell numb, he did not ask for a chair. Only mandarins were permitted to sit in the Son of Heaven’s presence.

The emperor interrogated Batu about every detail of the horsewarriors’ lifestyle. He wanted to know about their religion, their marriage customs, even their taste in food and wine. Of course, the general could not answer all the emperor’s questions, but he was surprised at how much he could recall under the Divine One’s relentless questioning.

Finally, the meager body of knowledge Batu had accrued from his greatgrandfather’s stories was exhausted. When it became apparent the general could remember no more, the emperor turned the conversation to war strategies.

“General, if these warriors are only a tenth as ferocious and cunning as you say, Shou Lung is indeed in great danger,” the Divine One said. “I will assemble a vast army and send it north to meet these barbarians.”

Batu found the emperor’s plan imprudent, for it ignored the Tuigans’ mobility. Fortunately, the general was enough of a politician not to express his reservations bluntly. Instead, he politely nodded, then said, “A courageous decision. Divine One. Yet, such a vast army will need a great many supplies—supplies that must be brought from behind the lines. With the advantage of their horses, will it not be possible for the barbarians to encircle that vast army and cut its supply line?”

The Son of Heaven furrowed his brow and said, “Of course, but the barbarians are the ones who will be trapped. As soon as they appear behind our lines, we’ll fall back and smash them. Surely you are familiar with the tactic, General. It is discussed in the Book of Heaven.”

Batu grimaced inwardly. He had not expected the emperor to be one of those unimaginative Shou who believed the answer to every problem could be found that ancient text. The general did not allow his emotions to show, however. He concentrated upon relaxing his face so his expression would remain unreadable, then said, “Your ruse has much to recommend it—” He paused a moment to allow the emperor to appreciate the compliment “—as did the trap that Minister Kwan laid at our last battle.”

The emperor did not miss the implication of Batu’s statement. Scowling, the Divine One shifted forward and demanded, “If you do not like this strategy, what plan would you suggest?”

Though confident that there was only one way to defeat the barbarians, Batu hesitated, searching for a diplomatic and inoffensive way to phrase his answer.

“Come now, General,” the emperor pressed, pointedly remaining seated at the edge of his throne. “What tactic do you favor?”

Batu saw that he had no choice except to speak his mind candidly. Lifting his chin, he said, “The only way to defeat the Tuigan is to fight as they do—with boldness and imagination, not with standard military tactics.”

A brooding frown crossed the Divine One’s mouth. “Do you mean to imply that barbarian tactics are superior to those suggested in the Book of Heaven?”

At first, the general was inclined to equivocate, to say that the Tuigan strategy was merely more appropriate to circumstances. However, noting that his feeble diplomatic skills had done him little good with the emperor, he decided to leave the flattery to the bureaucrats.

Returning the emperor’s gaze, Batu said, “If the barbarians could read the Book of Heaven, they might have made the same mistakes that our northern armies did. Unfortunately, the Tuigan are uneducated men. Instead of the advice of venerable ancestors, they rely upon treacherous natures and animal cunning.”

The Divine One stared at Batu with emotionless eyes. For several moments, the general stood in silence, hoping he had not angered the emperor too severely. His words had lacked the customary Shou tact, but the general believed what he said.

At length, the emperor calmly pushed himself back into his throne. He studied Batu scornfully, then said, “It disturbs me that you hold the wisdom of our ancestors in such low esteem, General. They have written many pages regarding the art of war, and their wisdom has served us well.”

Batu bowed his head. “I agree, Divine One. But to the Tuigan, warfare is no art. It is a way of life. If we are to defeat them, we must understand their natures as well as we understand the Book of Heaven.”

The emperor’s face relaxed, concealing his emotions. “General, how much of the Book of Heaven can you recite?”

Batu flushed. “I have read it, of course. But my duties have not allowed much time for study.”

The Divine One shook his head in exaggerated disappointment. “There are those who claim that giving you command of the barbarian war is Shou Lung’s only hope of victory. Can this be so?”

The emperor’s words took Batu by surprise, and his mouth dropped open. The mere idea of being considered for such a promotion stunned him. Yet, as soon as the Divine One had mentioned the possibility, he wanted nothing more.

Finally, Batu nodded. “I am the only man that can defeat the barbarians.”

The Divine One pursed his lips in cynicism. “I wish you made me more confident, General, but it doesn’t matter. You are the only commander who has led so much as a third of his troops away from a battle against the Tuigan. You are hereby named a general of the second degree and given command of the Northern Marches and the Barbarian War.”

Batu bowed very low, elated by the promotion and the prospect of commanding the entire campaign against the barbarians. “I will not fail Shou Lung, Divine One.”

The emperor did not respond immediately. Instead, he sent a guard to summon the chamberlain, then finally turned his attention back to Batu. “If you fail, General, you will be failing me as well as Shou Lung,” he said. “Remember that.”

Batu did not understand the distinction. Like all Shou, he considered Shou Lung and the emperor to be one and the same. It was impossible to serve one without serving the other—or to fail one without failing the other. He could not conceive of why the emperor felt the need to point out the unity.

Before the general could puzzle out the question, the chamberlain entered the hall and walked to the center of the floor, next to Batu.

“You wished to see me?” the bureaucrat asked, bowing to the Divine One.

“Yes.” The emperor nodded at Batu. “I have promoted Batu Min Ho to second-degree general in command of the Northern Marches. Please find a suitable residence for his family within the summer palace.”

The chamberlain’s narrow eyes popped wide open. The astonished bureaucrat hazarded a sidelong glance at the shabbily-dressed general, obviously regretting the slights he had given him earlier that day.

“Is there a problem?” the Divine One asked. “Surely, we have plenty of houses left.”

The chamberlain looked back to the emperor. “No, there is no problem. I am already thinking of a home that I am sure the general will find most acceptable. I can have it ready within the hour.”

“See to it,” the emperor said, dismissing the bureaucrat with a flick of his wrist.

After the chamberlain left, the Divine One described in minute detail the forces that he had assembled to battle the Tuigan. Ignoring the pain in his back and legs, Batu listened attentively. He was so invigorated by the promotion that he committed every last detail to memory without effort.

After the emperor dismissed Batu, the chamberlain and a dozen guards escorted the general into the summer palace’s maze of streets. As they walked through the stone-paved lanes, the chamberlain kept up a constant patter of explanation. Batu ignored most of the man’s narrative. While the general had been sequestered with the emperor, night had fallen and it was now impossible to see even the compound walls of the magnificent houses the chamberlain was describing.

At last, fifteen minutes later, the chamberlain stopped at the south gate of a house. “Does this home meet your approval, General Batu?”

Batu eyed the dark outer wall and gate with a judgmental air. Though smaller than his home in Chukei, this house was constructed of better materials. Where his gate had been made of reinforced oak planks, this one was constructed of solid, black iron. The wall was red brick, instead of tamped earth covered with hardened clay.

Recalling how rude the chamberlain had been when Batu arrived at the Hall of Supreme Harmony earlier that day, the general could not resist making the bureaucrat squirm. “It’s not as large as I’m accustomed to,” he said softly.

The chamberlain’s hopeful smile sagged into a disappointed frown. “But it’s one of the largest homes in the summer palace.”

The general scoffed, allowing himself to enjoy the bureaucrat’s discomfort. Behind the chamberlain’s narrow eyes, Batu could almost see the man trying to decide just where a second-degree general fit into the hierarchy of palace life.

Finally, the confused bureaucrat reached an uncertain conclusion. “Perhaps the Chief Secretary of the Bureau of Bells and Drums could be moved,” the chamberlain suggested tentatively. “His house is not nearly as fine as this, but it is a little larger.”

Batu grinned at the chamberlain’s consternation and decided to continue his game. “How long would that take? I’m very tired and would like to sleep soon.”

“But we c-couldn’t possibly move him t-tonight!” the bureaucrat stammered. “It wouldn’t be civilized!”

Deciding he had more than repaid the chamberlain’s rudeness, the general said, “Then I’ll make do with this house.”

The chamberlain sighed in relief. “A wise choice, General. It is much better appointed than the chief secretary’s.” He opened the iron gate and bowed. “I took the liberty of having your family brought from Hsuang Yu Po’s encampment. They await you inside.”

Batu’s heart leaped. “Wu and the children? Here?” He had hoped that they had come south with his father-in-law, but he had never dreamed he would see them so soon.

The chamberlain smiled. “It seemed the least I could do.”

Regretting the petty vengeance he had taken upon the man, Batu bowed deeply. “May your ancestors dwell in the heavens for eternity.”

“Leaving the chief secretary to his home is thanks enough,” the chamberlain replied, also bowing.

As Batu walked through the gate, the bittersweet smell of persimmon blossoms greeted him. The slender silhouettes of young persimmon trees lined the walls, making it seem as if the house had been built in a park. The general was more interested in the conspicuous lack of guards than in the foliage. Perhaps the chief secretaries and mandarins did not feel the need for personal guards inside the summer palace, but the general did not share their confidence. He quickly turned back to the chamberlain, saying, “If you please, send me a detail of guards before you retire.”