Five Odd Honors (47 page)

Loyal Wind tried not to give away his sudden panic, but he felt his head fling back as might a stallion scenting a rival.

“I might feel wronged, my lord,” Loyal Wind said stiffly, “even as you said the owner of the rice might consider himself wronged or the enemy commander would be right to feel indignation. Not feeling wronged and whether or not an act is in itself wrong are not the same thing.”

“Panic may make a philosopher of even a plodder like a Horse,” Li Szu said, lips twisting in the slightest of sneers.

Loyal Wind knew he had not been invited to speak, but the words slipped out before he could school himself to silence. “My lord, what do I, a prisoner, have that you could covet?”

“Your soul,” said the creator of the universe calmly, “or perhaps more accurately that structure about which you have trellised your soul until the support and the soul are virtually inseparable.

“When you left these Lands Born from Smoke and Sacrifice you took with you your affiliation with the Horse. This did not deny the Lands the Horse, but it diluted some of the force. I will reclaim what was stolen from my Lands, and I will unite it with these Lands so that the Branches will be whole once more.”

Loyal Wind bowed his head. He had suspected such might be Li Szu’s desire, suspected in the depths of that trellised vine that was his soul, but he had not wanted to dwell on the option. Yet, regaining the missing portions of the Twelve Earthly Branches was only too obvious a goal. Doing so had been Righteous Drum’s intent when he came from the Lands Born from Smoke and Sacrifice into the Land of the Burning.

There was ample evidence that the new rulers of the Lands shared Righteous Drum’s goal. The attack of which Twentyseven-Ten and his fellow prisoners were the only survivors was proof enough that there were those in the Lands who would continue striving to regain the Earthly Branches. Certainly, once Li Szu had learned of the situation, he too would have been eager to regain this lost prize.

Or had Li Szu been involved from the start? Had Twentyseven-Ten and his mysterious commander ultimately answered to Li Szu? If they had, then that would explain a great deal.

And this explains why Thundering Heaven has allied himself with Li Szu. He must have been promised that the power of the Tiger would be returned to him.

Li Szu, perhaps denied the hope that shock would make Loyal Wind blurt out something of value and interest, continued speaking, an edge to his voice. “Returning to the matter of theft, there is a way you could save yourself from losing your affiliation with the Horse, from having your soul untrellised from its support.”

Loyal Wind tried to school his expression so that his face would only reveal polite interest. In reality, he had strong suspicions as to what Li Szu’s next words would be.

“You could join me, Loyal Wind, as Thundering Heaven has joined me.”

Loyal Wind took refuge in the fact that he had not yet been asked to speak to hold tight to his silence.

After waiting expectantly for a moment, Li Szu stripped even that slight refuge from him. “What do you think of that possibility? Would you swear allegiance to me? Tigers are excellent creatures, but they lack the Horse’s abilities when it comes to commanding armies.”

Loyal Wind considered his words carefully. “I have sworn oaths of loyalty to others. How could you trust me to serve if you knew me as faithless?”

“Is an oath to those who are faithless themselves still binding?” Li Szu countered.

Is he lying or has someone else already accepted his offer?
Loyal Wind thought, more saddened than shocked.
If so, who? Bent Bamboo? The Monkey has already shown himself easily swayed by the Tiger’s arguments. Perhaps it was Copper Gong. Her goal always has been to return home. Or perhaps Des or Riprap. They might not realize the implications of what they were doing. Their land does not have rulers such as Li Szu. They might not understand how ruthless he could be. Or perhaps Nine Ducks or Gentle Smoke felt that they would do everyone more good outside of a cell, and so chose to change alliances and regain some freedom.

Loyal Wind even supposed that Li Szu could be lying to him. But whether Li Szu told the truth or lied, nothing excused Loyal Wind from oaths freely sworn, oaths that had enabled him to regain the self-respect he had stripped from himself in the long years before and after his death.

“My oath is not contingent on anything but my own sense of my honor and duty,” Loyal Wind replied.

“Then perhaps you should consider that your first duty would be to me, as the one who created the Lands, and without whom you would never have been born.”

Loyal Wind held himself silent.

“You could guide me, advise me,” Li Szu urged. “In a cell you are no good to anyone, least of all to yourself or your allies.”

Loyal Wind remained stubbornly mute.

“I will give you an opportunity to think,” Li Szu said. “An opportunity for meditation.”

He clapped his hands together.

“Guards! Take Loyal Wind from here and prepare him appropriately to think upon the wisdom of accepting my offer.”

Something in the fashion the guards prodded Loyal Wind from the audience chamber warned the Horse not to expect any kindness.

He was correct. He was taken to one of the outlying buildings, where his finery was stripped from him. Any gentleness in the disrobing was clearly out of consideration for the expensive fabric, not for the one who wore it.

Then he was shoved through a waist-high door into what he at first thought was a tunnel. Groping blindly, Loyal Wind realized he was in a chamber so small as to hardly be dignified by the word. The ceiling was too low for him to stand, and the walls too close for him to sit with his legs outstretched. A few minutes’ experimentation showed that he could either crouch or sit with his knees bent at various awkward angles.

There was no light, except for the glimmer that leaked in around a small hatch set in the middle of the door.

After a time, this hatch was opened and Loyal Wind was hit squarely in the face with a bucket of stale water.

“Beverages, my lord,” shouted someone, punctuating the words with a coarse laugh.

Something else was shoved in after, falling to the bottom of the cell with a sodden thud.

“And food. Enjoy your stay!”

Loyal Wind felt around him. The water had settled into a puddle severalinches deep. The “food” proved to be a few root vegetables already gone into slime. Here and there, loose grains of uncooked rice were settling to the bottom of the puddle.

Loyal Wind’s joints were already aching. He lowered his head into his hands with a feeling of growing despair.

He knew what would happen if he did not beg for Li Szu’s mercy. The time was not far off when he would befoul this puddle in which he sat. Then would come the time that even tainted water and rotten food would be preferable to raging hunger and thirst.

Loyal Wind understood now the diabolical kindness of the elegant refreshments he had been given during his audience with Li Szu. If he had agreed to cooperate, then they would have simply been a small indication of how generous Li Szu could be. However, if Loyal Wind refused, the salty food and copious amounts of tea would only speed along his humiliation.

Loyal Wind felt hot tears trickling through his fingers.

With the bitterness of despair, he made no effort to stop them.

We haven’t
heard from the scouts in over a week now,” Honey Dream said, striding through the door of Pearl’s office and confronting Albert Yu. Her father came in behind her, his pace more measured. “Nine days. How much longer do you people plan to procrastinate!”

Head thrown back, long-lashed, dark eyes wild with fear and anger, the young Snake would have been a commanding presence even if she were not physically beautiful—and she was undeniably beautiful. Pearl found herself glad that Albert was not a man to be swayed by a woman’s seductive charms.

Albert Yu looked Honey Dream squarely in the eye, but did not bother to rise from the chair in which he sat.

“Would today suit your ladyship? We have not been procrastinating. We have been preparing, reviewing a complex ritual the Exile Dragon designed, but which was probably never used.”

Albert’s inflections held the cool reminder that no matter how powerful she might be, Honey Dream was the supplicant and Albert—and the Orphans of whom he was the titular leader—held the advantage.

“Today would be fine,” Honey Dream said, moderating her tone not the slightest. “How shall we begin?”

“We shall begin,” Albert said, rising and bowing politely to Righteous Drum, “with the courtesies shared between civilized people. Have you eaten?”

Righteous Drum bowed in return. “We have eaten.”

“Still,” Albert said, “I insist you have something to drink and perhaps a few savories on which to nibble. Will you accompany me to the kitchen?”

“Certainly,” Righteous Drum answered for both himself and Honey Dream.

Pearl and Nissa exchanged small smiles as they trailed the group into the kitchen. Now, if the rest of today’s venture would go so well.

“Where is your little daughter this morning?” Righteous Drum asked Nissa as he settled into one of the chairs around the long table.

“Lani has a play date,” Nissa said. “Joanne integrated her into a nice group of younger children whose older siblings are in school. Lani misses her cousins in Virginia, but this mob is shaping up into a good substitute. I’ll need to pick her up after lunch.”

“By then,” Albert said from where, in a very non-imperial fashion, he had just put the kettle on to boil, “we should be done with what we can hope to achieve today.”

“With whom shall we begin?” Honey Dream prompted. “With one of the ghosts?”

Pearl admired the young woman’s regathering of her scattered poise. Surely Flying Claw, the young man Honey Dream had once openly boasted of as her “beloved,” must be foremost in her thoughts.

But perhaps I am unfair to Honey Dream,
Pearl thought.
She and Righteous Drum had hoped to learn news of their family weeks ago. Instead what they have learned is that all human populations are missing, and the Lands themselves have been drastically altered.

Albert glanced at the clock set into the front of the stove.

“It is rising the Double Hour of the Snake. That seems auspicious. Moreover, we have a Snake in our own company, and we have the Snake’s mah-jong set.”

“Then we will start with Gentle Smoke,” Honey Dream said eagerly. “Very good. She is clearheaded and sagacious.”

Tea was made and a full pot carried into Pearl’s office. By nine, the beginning of the Double Hour of the Snake, all was ready.

The five of them—Pearl, Nissa, Albert, Honey Dream, and Righteous Drum—took up positions around the table. The extra leaves had been put in, so the table quite crowded the area in front of Pearl’s desk.

We’ll need the space, though,
Pearl thought.
I hope we have enough.

The tiles were spilled from the Snake’s mah-jong set—tiles made from Gentle Smoke’s own bone.

“We’ll build the wall as usual,” Albert said, “with one exception. We need to pull the tile for Summer and reserve it. Oh, and let’s build the wall along the northern edge of the table. We’re going to need space.”

Even as his fingers busily sorted through the 144 tiles on the table, seeking the Summer tile, Albert clarified for the benefit of the two from the Lands.

“Each of the Thirteen Orphans has a single tile associated with him or her. Most of these come from the eight bonus tiles—the Flowers and Seasons. The rest are made up from the honors suits.”

Nissa nodded. “Pearl was telling me about this just the other day. The Rabbit has a special association with the east wind tile, the Tiger with the flower tile for bamboo.”

“The Snake,” Albert said, “is associated with summer because the element of the Snake is fire, and reptiles are most lively when the weather is warm.”

“I’ve found Summer,” Pearl said, holding up a tile on which a leaping fish was depicted in elegant detail. “When we build the wall, leave a gap in the middle of the southeastern section.”