Lords of the Bow (17 page)

“How do you know our tongue?” he demanded, forgetting his fear for a moment.

Chen Yi laughed, a high-pitched sound that did nothing to settle the men at the table.

“Did you think you were the first to travel to Chin lands? The Uighurs have ridden the silk road. Some have stayed.” He clapped his hands and another man came into the room. He was as clean as they were and dressed in a simple Chin robe, but his face was Mongol and the breadth of his shoulders showed one who had been raised with the bow. Ho Sa and Temuge remained seated, but Khasar rose to greet him, clasping his hand and beating him on the back with his fist. The stranger beamed at the welcome.

“It is good to see a real face in this city,” Khasar said.

The man seemed almost overcome to hear the words. “And for me,” he said, glancing at Chen Yi. “How are the plains? I have not been home for many years.”

“They are the same,” Khasar replied. A thought struck him and his hand dropped to where his sword would usually lie on his hip. “Is this man a slave?”

Chen Yi looked up without embarrassment. “Of course. Quishan was once a merchant, but he chose to gamble with me.”

The man shrugged. “It is true. I will not be a slave forever. A few more years and my debt will be paid. Then I think I will return to the plains and find a wife.”

“Find me first when you do. I will give you a new start,” Khasar promised him.

Chen Yi watched as Quishan bowed his head. Khasar accepted the gesture as if it was nothing new to him, and Chen Yi’s gaze became hard.

“Tell me again how my city will burn,” he said.

Temuge opened his mouth, but Chen Yi held up a hand.

“No, I do not trust
you.
Your brother spoke the truth when he thought I could not understand. Let him tell it all.”

Khasar shot a glance at Temuge, thoroughly enjoying his brother’s frustration. He took a moment to choose his words. Perhaps Chen Yi would have them killed when he heard. He moved his hand to where he had hidden a small knife in the folds of his robe.

“We were once of the Wolves,” Khasar said, at last, “but my brother has united the tribes. The kingdom of Xi Xia is our first vassal, though there will be more.” Ho Sa shifted uncomfortably at the words, but neither man looked at him. Khasar sat like stone as he stared into Chen Yi’s eyes. “Perhaps I will die here, tonight, but if I do, my people will come amongst the Chin and tear down your precious cities, one by one, stone from stone.”

Chen Yi’s face had grown tight as he listened. His command of the language was only what he had needed for trade, and he would have suggested a switch back to his own if it would not have looked like weakness.

“News travels fast on the river,” he said, refusing to respond to Khasar’s deadly intensity. “I had heard of the war in Xi Xia, though not that your people were triumphant. Is the king dead, then?”

“Not when I left,” Khasar replied. “He paid tribute and a daughter. A beautiful girl, I thought.”

“You have not answered my question, except with threats,” Chen Yi reminded him. “Why would you come here, to my city?”

Khasar noticed the slight stress Chen Yi had put on “my.” He did not have the subtlety to play with words, or spin a thread of lies Chen Yi would believe.

“We need masons,” Khasar said. He heard Temuge let out a sharp breath at his shoulder and ignored him. “We need to know the secrets of your cities. The great khan himself has sent us. Baotou is just a place on a map with no great significance.”

“It is my home,” Chen Yi murmured, thinking.

“You can keep it,” Khasar said, sensing the moment was right. “Baotou will not be touched if we bring back word of your help.”

He waited for Chen Yi to finish his thoughts, sweat dripping down his face. One shout and the room would fill with armed men, he was certain. It was true Genghis would destroy the city in revenge, but Chen Yi could not be certain of that. For all he knew, they were boasting or lying.

It was Quishan who broke the silence. He had paled at what he heard and his voice was low with awe.

“The tribes are united?” he said. “The Uighurs among them?”

Khasar nodded, his gaze never leaving Chen Yi. “The blue tail is part of the great khan’s standard. The Chin have held us down for a long time, but that is over. We ride to war, brother.”

Chen Yi watched Quishan’s face carefully, seeing how the news brought an expression of astonished hope.

“I will make a bargain with you,” he said suddenly. “Whatever you need you will have, from my hand. You will bring the word back to your khan and tell him that there is a man here he can trust.”

“What use is a smuggler to us?” Khasar responded. Temuge almost groaned as Khasar went on, “How can
you
bargain for the fate of a city?”

“If you fail, or if you lie, I have lost nothing. If you are telling the truth, you will need allies, will you not?” Chen Yi said. “I have power here.”

“You would betray the Imperial court? Your own emperor?” Khasar said. He asked the question to test Chen Yi, and to his astonishment, the little man spat on the polished floor.

“This is my city. Everything that goes on here comes to my ears. I have no love for nobles who think all men can be run under their carts like animals. I have lost family and friends to their soldiers, seen loved ones hanged when they refused to give up my name. What do I care for them?”

He had risen as he spoke and Khasar stood to face him.

“My word is iron,” Khasar said. “If I say you will have this city, it will be yours to rule when we come.”

“You can speak for the khan?” Chen Yi said.

“He is my brother. I can speak for him,” Khasar replied. Temuge and Ho Sa could only look on as the two men stared each other down.

“I knew you were a warrior on the boat,” Chen Yi said. “You were a poor spy.”

“I knew you were a thief, but a good one,” Khasar replied. Chen Yi chuckled and they took each other’s hands in a firm grip.

“I have many men who answer to me. I will give you what you need and I will see you safe back to your people,” Chen Yi said. He sat, calling for wine as Temuge began to talk. He could not understand how the little man had come to trust Khasar, but it did not matter. They had their ally in Baotou.

As evening came, Khasar, Ho Sa, and Temuge accepted the offer of a few hours’ sleep before a long night, retiring to rooms off the second courtyard. Chen Yi had never needed more than a few hours’ rest since his days running from the soldiers in the alleyways of Baotou—lifetimes ago. He sat up with Quishan and two of his guards, and they talked in low voices as they moved counters of ivory on a mah-jongg board. Quishan was silent for a long time as he clicked the counters together in his hand. He had known Chen Yi for almost ten years and seen a ruthless desire for power come to bloom in that time. The little man had crushed three other leaders of Baotou’s criminal gangs, and he had not exaggerated when he had told Khasar that little went on in the city without it reaching his ears.

Quishan discarded a tile and watched as Chen Yi’s hand hovered over it. The man he had come to call a friend was clearly distracted from the game, his thoughts elsewhere. Quishan wondered if he should raise the stakes and clear a little more of his debt. He decided not to, remembering other games where Chen Yi had lulled him with exactly the same approach, then won consistently.

He watched as Chen Yi took a different tile and the game went round the table, with one of the guards calling “Pung” and making Quishan swear under his breath.

As the guard showed three matching tiles, Chen Yi put his hand down.

“No more tonight. You are getting better, Han, but your gate duty is upon us.”

Both guards rose and bowed. They had been rescued from the worst street slums, and they were strong and loyal to the man who ruled the tong. Quishan stayed, sensing Chen Yi wanted to talk.

“You are thinking of the strangers,” Quishan said as he gathered up the tiles on the table.

Chen Yi nodded, staring into the darkness through the screen doors. The evening was already cold and he wondered what the hours ahead would bring.

“They are strange people, Quishan. I have said that to you before. I took them on to guard my silk, when three of my men fell ill. Perhaps my ancestors were guiding me in that.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily. “Did you see the way Khasar took note of the positions of the guards? His eyes were always moving. I thought on the boat that I had never seen him relax, but you are the same. Perhaps all your people are.”

Quishan shrugged. “Life is struggle, master. Is that not also what the Buddhists believe? On the plains of my home, the weak die early. It has always been that way.”

“I have never seen anyone shoot a bow as well as that one. In near darkness, on a rocking boat, he killed six men without hesitation. Are all your people so skilled?”

Quishan busied his hands with the mah-jongg tiles, placing them back in their leather carrying case.

“I am not, but the Uighurs value learning and trade more than any other tribe. The Wolves are known for their ferocity.” He paused, his hands growing still. “It is almost too much to believe that the tribes have united under one man, one khan. He must be extraordinary.”

Quishan snapped the clasp closed on the leather box, leaning back. He wanted a drink to settle his stomach, but Chen Yi never allowed alcohol when the night needed clear heads.

“Will you welcome my people when they ride to the walls?” Quishan asked softly. He felt Chen Yi’s gaze on him, but he did not look up from his folded hands.

“You think I betrayed my city?” Chen Yi asked him.

Quishan raised his gaze, seeing a dark anger in the man he had grown to trust over the years. “All this is new. Perhaps this new khan will be destroyed by the emperor’s armies and those who called themselves allies will suffer the same fate. Have you considered that?”

Chen Yi snorted. “Of course, but I have lived too long with a foot on my neck, Quishan. This house, my slaves, all those who follow me are just what the emperor’s ministers have missed through sloth and corruption. We are beneath their notice, like rats in their warehouses. At times, they send a man to make an example and he hangs a few hundred. Sometimes they even catch people who are valuable to me. Or loved by me.” Chen Yi’s face was like stone as he spoke and Quishan knew he was thinking of his son, no more than a boy when he had been caught in a trawl of the docks two years before. Chen Yi himself had taken the body down from where it swung in the river breeze.

“But a fire does not know who it burns,” Quishan said. “You are inviting the flames into your home, your city. Who knows how it will end?”

Chen Yi was silent. He knew as well as Quishan that the three strangers could be made to vanish. There were always bodies in the Yellow River, naked and bloated as they floated by. The deaths would never come back to him. Yet something he had seen in Khasar had stirred a thirst for revenge Chen Yi had buried since the morning he had carried his son’s limp weight.

“Let them come, these people of yours who use bows and horses. I judge them more by you than the promises of men I do not know. How long have you worked for me?”

“Nine years, master,” Quishan said.

“And you have kept honor with me to pay your debt. How many times could you have escaped and gone back to your people?”

“Three times,” Quishan admitted. “Three when I thought I would be able to run clear before you heard.”

“I knew about them,” Chen Yi replied. “I knew of the boat master who made the first offer. He was one of mine. You would not have gone far before he cut your throat.”

Quishan frowned at this information. “You tested me, then.”

“Of course. I am not a fool, Quishan. I never was. Let the flames come to Baotou. I will stand alive on the ashes when they are done. Let the Imperial officers burn their plumes in them and I will know contentment. I will know joy at last.”

Chen Yi rose and stretched, his back clicking audibly in the silent rooms.

“You are a gambler, Quishan, it is why you have worked for me for so long. I have never been one. I have made this city my own, but still I must bow my head whenever I see one of the emperor’s prancing favorites ride down the streets. My streets, Quishan, yet I bow and step into the filth of the gutters rather than stand in their path.”

Chen Yi looked out into the darkness, his eyes dead in his face.

“I will stand now, Quishan, and the tiles will fall as they please.”

CHAPTER 14

A
S MIDNIGHT CAME,
a heavy rain began to fall on the city of Baotou. The downpour hissed on the streets and rattled on the tiles so that it sounded like distant thunder. Chen Yi seemed pleased at the turn in the weather as he handed swords to his men. Even the beggars would shrink back in their doorways while the rain came down. It was a good omen.

As they stepped out onto the dark street, Khasar and Ho Sa stared up and down its length to see if they were observed. The moon was hidden and there was only dim light when the rushing clouds drifted open in patches. Temuge had assumed the water would wash away some of the stench of the city. Instead, it seemed to bloom in the air, the taint of human filth carried on the damp so that it seeped into his lungs and made him nauseous. The gutters were already full and Temuge saw dark, wet things he could not name tumbling along, borne by the current. He shuddered, suddenly aware of the writhing press of humanity all around him. Without Chen Yi, he would not have known where to begin his search in the maze of houses and shops, piled on top of one another in all directions.

Two more of Chen Yi’s men had joined them at the gate. Although there was no official curfew, ten men would be challenged by any soldiers still on the streets. Chen Yi gave one the task of scouting each crossroads, and instructed two more to hang back and see if they were followed. Temuge could not escape the feeling he was heading into a battle. As the rain poured down he handled the wet hilt of the sword Chen Yi had pressed on him, hoping he would not have to draw it. He was shivering as they set off, moving at a light trot. The gates closed behind them with an audible clang, but no one looked back.

On some of the streets, the overhanging eaves of houses formed a strip of dry road. Chen Yi slowed to a walk as he led the group past those, unwilling to have the sound of running feet draw residents out to watch. The city was not fully dark, nor sleeping. Temuge saw occasional lights from forges and warehouses, still working into the night. Despite Chen Yi’s precautions, Temuge was certain he could feel eyes on them as they passed.

In the gloom, Temuge lost track of time until it seemed he had been running for half the night. There was no pattern to the streets as they wound over and around each other, sometimes little more than dirt tracks with clotted mud that spattered them up to their knees. Temuge was winded after only a short time, and more than once, someone took his arm in the darkness and yanked him onwards, forcing him to keep up. He swore under his breath as one such jerk on his sleeve made him step into a gutter and something soft and cold became trapped between his toes. He hoped it was rotten fruit and nothing worse, but he did not stop.

Only once did the front runner return to guide Chen Yi down a different path. Temuge hoped the soldiers were spending the night in a warm barracks rather than being frozen and drenched as he was.

Chen Yi stopped his panting men at last in the shadow of the city wall itself. Temuge could see it as a bank of deeper darkness. On the other side lay the world he knew and he had a sense of the protection it brought to the city. Such a wall had served the Xi Xia king in Yinchuan. All the warriors Genghis had summoned could not make a breach in such a thing. It ran into the distance, looming over a wide street of houses that looked much as Chen Yi’s own home. These, though, were not hidden in the slums, but rose well spaced and carried the scent of flowering gardens on the breeze. Even the pattern of streets had changed in this part of Baotou. They jogged through a grid of islands, each one separate from the city behind its gates and walls. Temuge struggled to catch his breath. He almost choked as Khasar slapped him on the shoulders, his brother standing comfortably as if he had been out for an evening stroll.

The two runners behind came up quickly, shaking their heads. They had not been followed. Chen Yi did not pause to rest, whispering orders to them to stay out of sight as he approached the closest gate. The man’s gaze fell on Temuge as he stood there with his hands resting on his knees, and he came close to speak into his ear.

“There will be guards. They will wake their master and I will speak to him. Make no threats in my city, Mongol. The owner will be nervous to have strangers so late in his house and I do not want weapons to be drawn.”

Chen Yi turned away, smoothing down his black robe with his hands as he neared the gate. Two of his men accompanied him and the rest of the group faded to one side where they could not be seen. Khasar took Temuge by the sleeve and dragged him with them before he could protest.

Chen Yi himself thumped on the gate and Temuge saw yellow light fall on his face as a hinged square opened in the wood.

“Tell your master he has a visitor on Imperial business,” Chen Yi said, his voice firm. “Rouse him, if he sleeps.”

Temuge could not hear the reply, but after an age, the square opened again and Chen Yi looked into another face.

“I do not know you,” the man said clearly.

Chen Yi stood very still. “The Blue Tong knows you, Lian. Tonight, your debts will be paid.”

The gate opened quickly, but Chen Yi did not step across the threshold.

“If you have crossbows waiting, Lian, it will be your last night. I have men with me, but the streets are dangerous. Do not be alarmed and all will be well.”

The unseen man murmured a reply, his voice shaking. Only then did Chen Yi turn his gaze on the others and gesture them to follow him in.

Temuge saw fear in the man who had been summoned from his bed. Lian was almost as wide across the shoulders as Khasar, but he trembled visibly, keeping his eyes downcast as Chen Yi strode into his home.

There was only one guard at the gate and he too kept his eyes averted from those who entered. Temuge felt his confidence grow and he looked around him with interest as soon as the gate was shut on the street. The run through the rain and darkness was behind and he enjoyed the subservient way the master mason of Baotou reacted.

Lian stood as if stunned before Chen Yi, his hair wild from sleep.

“I will have food and drink prepared,” he murmured, but Chen Yi shook his head.

“It will not be necessary. Show me to where we can talk in private.” Chen Yi looked around at the courtyard of the home. The mason had prospered under Imperial rule. As well as repairing the wall, he was responsible for the creation of three barracks and the race course in the heart of the Imperial district. Yet his home was simple and elegant. Chen Yi’s gaze fastened on the single guard and he saw that he stood very close to a bell hanging from a beam.

“You would not want your man to summon soldiers here, Lian. Tell him to stand away from that bell, or I will believe you doubt my word.”

The mason nodded to the soldier, who winced visibly and took up a new position near the main house. The rain grew heavier, pounding into the small courtyard. Chilled by it, the mason seemed to come to himself. He led them into the house and hid his fear in the lighting of lamps. Temuge saw his hand shake as he held the taper to wick after wick, more than they needed, as if the light could banish his fear.

Chen Yi settled himself on a hard couch as he waited for the mason to finish fussing round the room. Khasar, Ho Sa, and Temuge stood together, watching the scene in silent fascination. Chen Yi’s guards took positions behind their master and Temuge saw the mason’s eyes flicker over them, registering the threat.

At last he could not delay any longer. He seated himself across from Chen Yi, pressing his hands together to hide the way they shook.

“I have paid my tithe to the tong,” Lian said. “Was it short?”

“It was not,” Chen Yi replied. He took a moment to smooth the rainwater off his face, running his hand over his hair and flicking the drops onto the wooden floor. Lian’s gaze followed them. “It is not that which brings me to you.” Before Chen Yi could continue, Lian spoke again, unable to stop himself.

“The workers, then? I used all the men I could, but two of those you sent would not work. The others complained that they did not carry their share. I was going to dismiss them this morning, but if it is your will that they remain . . .”

Chen Yi could have been carved out of marble as he studied the master mason.

“They are the sons of friends. They will remain, but that is not why I am here.”

The mason slumped slightly in his seat. “Then I do not understand,” he said.

“Do you have one who can take over the work of maintaining the wall?”

“My own son, lord.”

Chen Yi sat very still until the mason looked up at him.

“I am not a lord, Lian. I am a friend who must ask a favor.”

“Anything,” Lian replied, tensing for the worst.

Chen Yi nodded, pleased. “You will summon your son and tell him he must take over the work for a year, perhaps two. I have heard good reports of him.”

“He is a fine son,” Lian agreed immediately. “He will listen to his father.”

“That is wise, Lian. Tell him you will be gone for that time, perhaps to find a new source of marble in a quarry somewhere. Make up whatever lie you wish, but do not leave him suspicious. Remind him the debts of the father are his while you are gone and explain the tithe he must pay to the tong if he wishes to work. I do not want to have to remind him myself.”

“It is done,” Lian said. He was sweating, Temuge saw, a bright line of droplets appearing on his hairline. He saw the burly mason gather his courage to ask a question.

“I will tell my wife and children the same, but may I know the truth?”

Chen Yi shrugged, cocking his head to one side. “Will it change anything, Lian?”

“No, lord. I am sorry . . .”

“It does not matter. You will accompany these friends of mine out of the city. They need your expertise, Lian. Bring your tools and, when your work is done, I will see to it that you are rewarded.”

The mason nodded miserably and Chen Yi stood abruptly.

“Speak to those you love, Lian, then come with me.”

The mason left the group alone and disappeared into the darkness of the house. Those who remained relaxed a little and Khasar wandered over to a silk hanging, using the material to dry the rain from his face and hair. Temuge heard the distant wail of a child as the man passed on what he had been told.

“I do not know what we would have done if you had not been here to help us,” Ho Sa said to Chen Yi.

The master of the tong smiled slightly. “You would have blundered around my city until the soldiers caught you. Perhaps I would have come to watch the foreign spies impaled or hanged. The gods are fickle, but this time, they were with you.”

“Have you given thought to getting us out of the city?” Temuge asked. Before Chen Yi could respond, Lian returned. His eyes were red, but he stood tall and had lost some portion of his fear. He wore a coat of heavy waxed cloth against the rain, and over one shoulder was a rolled leather pack that he clutched as if it gave him comfort.

“I have my tools,” he said to Chen Yi. “I am ready.”

They left the house behind and once again Chen Yi sent a man ahead to watch for soldiers walking their patrols. The rain had lessened and Temuge saw the north star briefly through the clouds. Chen Yi had explained nothing, but they headed west along a road parallel to the wall and Temuge could only trot with them.

In the darkness ahead, they heard a voice cry out and the group halted as one.

“Keep your blades out of sight,” Chen Yi hissed. Temuge swallowed nervously, hearing footsteps on the paved road. They waited for the man ahead to come back, but instead, they heard the tramp of iron-shod sandals and Chen Yi darted his gaze around, taking in possible routes of escape.

“Stand still,” a voice snapped out of the darkness. Temuge was close enough to see Chen Yi grimace.

There were six soldiers in scaled armor, led by a man wearing a plumed helmet of hard bristles. Temuge groaned to himself at the sight of the crossbows they held. Chen Yi’s men stood little chance of fighting their way through. He felt panic rise like acid in his throat and he started to back away without thinking. It was Khasar’s iron grip that held him in place.

“Where is your captain?” Chen Yi demanded. “Lujan can vouch for me.” He saw that they held his man by the scruff of his neck. The man struggled in the grip, but Chen Yi did not look at him.

The plumed officer frowned at the tone, stepping forward from his men.

“Lujan is off-duty tonight. What business do you have to be running the streets in the dark?”

“Lujan will explain,” Chen Yi said. He licked his lips nervously. “He told me his name would let us pass.”

The officer glanced back at the hapless man being held by his neck.

“I have not been told. You come back to the barracks and we will ask him.”

Chen Yi sighed. “No. No, we will not do that,” he said. Chen Yi darted forward with a knife in his fist, punching it into the throat of the officer so that he fell back with a choking cry. The soldiers behind loosed their crossbows instantly, firing into the group. Someone cried out and then Chen Yi’s men were among them, hacking their blades into the soldiers.

Khasar drew the sword he had been given and roared at the top of his lungs. The bark of sound made the closest soldier take a step back, and Khasar knocked him down, stepping in close to hammer his forearm across the man’s face. The impact took the soldier’s feet out from under him, and Khasar lunged past, lost in a vicious whirl where he used elbows, feet, head: anything to bring his enemies to the ground. Those who had shot their bolts could only raise the bows to defend themselves. Khasar’s blade smashed one of the weapons to pieces before he hacked the edge into a soldier’s neck. In the darkness, he moved through them like a breeze, kicking at an exposed knee and feeling it break. The soldiers were clumsy in their armor and Khasar was faster, whipping round as he sensed every threat before it could come close. He felt someone grasp him from behind, trapping his sword arm. He smashed his head backwards, striking with his elbows, and was rewarded with a grunt of pain as his attackers fell away.