The Dragon and the Pearl (4 page)

Chapter Four

Luoyang—
AD
737
22 years earlier

T
he streets of Luoyang never slept. After the evening gong, the section gates would close, but the drinking and gambling within the wards would continue until dawn. All the harder to scratch out survival as a thief.

During the day, Tao could snatch a yam from a pedlar’s basket and push his way into the web of alleys behind the shopfronts. He would tuck himself into a dingy corner and devour it raw, chewing through the coarse skin. When he was waist-high and stick-thin, he could hazard such recklessness and suffer only a beating if caught. The welts toughened him until he grew numb to the sting of a bamboo switch. Now that he was older, the archers upon the city wall would simply put an arrow through him before he could shove through the crowd. He had no choice but to wait for night-time when darkness provided cover. But the city remained active and the guard patrols stayed ever vigilant.

The gambling halls and pleasure quarters stood as palaces of the gutter world and the lords who ran them were brutal men who could not be crossed. There was always business brewing in their shadows, jobs for someone who knew the alleys of Luoyang better than the rats.

Feng, the head of the eastern street gangs, held out a knife to him in the alley behind the drinking house. A slant of light from the back door illuminated their meeting and the smell of roasting meat drifted from the kitchen. The greasy, rich aroma nearly brought tears to his eyes.

‘Boy like you wouldn’t have a good knife.’ Feng’s smile revealed uneven, yellowed teeth. ‘Looks suspicious, if you’re caught.’

The weapon was rusted near the handle. Tao closed his hand around the hilt. He didn’t ask about the man Feng wanted killed. There was no need to know any more when he had decided this was the only way.

‘Be sure to hit the heart.’

Feng poked a bony finger against his ribcage and Tao swallowed his anger at the indignity. He was little more than skin and bone, his shoulders just beginning to broaden.

‘Follow through and shove the blade upwards,’ Feng said with a final vicious jab. ‘Even if you miss, he won’t survive for long.’

Tao hid the knife close to his side and gripped it so hard his fingers stiffened around it. The roughened hilt melded to the flesh of his palm. He didn’t have far to walk, only across the street into a dark corner where he could see the entrance to the drinking house. Laughter came from inside, floating down from the upper level where noblemen dined and whored, fat with food and wine. All he had to do was wait for the right one to come out.

His legs grew stiff with waiting. He dropped his shoulder against the mortared brick of the alley. Hour after hour, noblemen staggered out of the door, tripping over their ornate robes. Eventually, the laughter died down. The lanterns still glowed from the rafters, but the clink of cups had grown sparse.

The man wasn’t in there. Feng had given him only this one night to do this deed and the man wasn’t there. Or Tao had missed him in those moments when he had let his eyelids drop out of exhaustion. In desperation, he considered rushing the door and ploughing upstairs to find the man. How far would he get, an unwashed street urchin with his clothes worn threadbare?

Two men came stumbling through the beaded curtain over the entrance. Tao straightened and his palm started to sweat around the knife.

Two. He hadn’t anticipated that. Either of them could overpower him.

‘One more!’ The nobleman weaved back and forth in the blue robe that marked him as the target. ‘One more for the road.’

His companion laughed beside him and dragged him upright. ‘Not a drop left in the place, my friend.’

Now. He moved without taking the time to shake the stiffness from his limbs, without any thought as to how he would fight off both men. Only the companion saw Tao emerge on to the street. His expression sobered, but he didn’t call out for help. He merely straightened and stepped away.

Tao stalked forwards like a tiger, like an arrow. He didn’t look at the man’s face. He focused in on the point between his ribs where Feng had directed him. The knife lifted and he shoved the blade with all his strength, punching through cloth and flesh, never stopping. This was the only way.

Hot, thick blood washed over his hand, the copper stink of it like the butcher shop. The man made a grunting, gurgling noise. Only then did Tao glimpse his face. He wished he hadn’t. Rounded cheeks and weak chin with eyes wide in confusion. His careless drunkenness stopped cold.

The blade snapped and Tao staggered backwards, grasping only the hilt. He ran, shoving his way back into the shadows. At any moment, the outcry would rouse the city guards, and he would hear the twang of the archer’s bow. The arrow would enter his back and pierce through his heart like the rusty blade had pierced the nobleman’s chest.

It was the first time he had taken a life. He felt no joy in the killing, but he felt no remorse either. The truth was he felt nothing. None of the nervous exhilaration or hunger that came when snatching food from the marketplace.

He found Feng in another nest of alleyways at the designated spot. His decaying smile gleamed lurid in the dimness. Feng dropped three coins into Tao’s palm.

Somehow Tao’s feet took him back through the wards to the familiar hovel tucked in quieter streets. The sky was lightening in the stillness before the market gong. Auntie’s window lay open. The old woman trusted no harm would come to her. From the doorstep, he could hear her stirring a pot of rice for the morning meal. The heat from her stove clung sweet and warm around him.

He stared down at the coins in his hand, a wicked hint of silver stained red. He rubbed the coins clean against his sleeve and dropped them just inside the window before turning to go.

Present day—
AD
759

The rhythm and pattern of the household was an easy one to find once Li Tao released her from confinement. The mansion was arranged neatly in a double courtyard. Each morning, several servants could be seen sweeping along the bays. The clip of the gardener’s shears sounded in the garden. The kitchen and all the meals were ruled over by a balding cook that everyone called ‘Cook’. A regiment of soldiers patrolled the perimeter, but rarely set foot in the house. If she watched from the windows, she could measure the day by their rounds.

The routine was ordinary. Mundane enough to lure her into a false sense of security. Li Tao often rode out early in the morning before the house awoke. Late at night, she would see a candle burning in his study. It had taken only two days to realise she could see his window from the garden.

She waited each day for their next encounter. He had interrogated her, taunted her and kissed her. A kiss that was as inscrutable as he was. And then the contemptible proposition for a single night in her bed—but he hadn’t sought her again after that.

Every morning, Auntie brought her a tray with tea and her morning meal along with news about the price of grain and what Cook was preparing for the midday meal. Today, the rice congee had settled into a cold paste and Auntie was oddly silent while she helped her dress.

‘Be cautious today,’ Auntie warned as she tied her sash. ‘Today is an unfavourable day.’

Astrology was one of Auntie’s pastimes. She would count the days off on her fingers and declare it a favourable day or a poor one. She had already divined that the year would be a difficult one for Suyin. An easy prediction considering she was being held prisoner by a rogue
jiedushi
and wanted dead by another one. Auntie deliberately overlooked the circumstances with happy ignorance like a frog in a well. Suyin wondered how much Li Tao had revealed to any of the servants.

Her morning stroll through the garden revealed an uncharacteristic silence. The servants were gathered in the front hall. They pressed against the entrance, craning their necks like a flock of geese to see over one another.

‘It has happened again,’ one of them murmured.

‘Why is everyone whispering?’ Suyin asked, coming up behind them.

‘Superstitious peasants,’ Auntie scoffed, but she too stood back.

The servants stepped aside for her as she peered out through the open doors. The clearing at the front of the mansion was empty except for the swaying shadows of the bamboo stalks.

‘There’s nothing there.’ Suyin found that she too had dropped her voice to a hush. The press of the servants hovered at her back.

‘Over there, between the lion statues.’

One of them pointed out the spot to her. A red parcel rested on the top step, a splash of jarring crimson against the white stone.

‘It came in the night.’

‘Same as last year.’

‘Same as every year.’

She looked back at the servants. ‘What is it?’

They all shook their heads while Auntie worried her hands together and said nothing. It was clear they were waiting for her to do something, deferring to her because of her perceived status.

She turned back to the silk-wrapped parcel. Her rational mind told her this air of mystery was unwarranted. Someone intended for this delivery to spark gossip. With a show of resolution, she squared her shoulders and stepped out beyond the portico.

‘Lady Ling, wait!’

It was the first time Jun, the gardener’s assistant, had spoken directly to her. Without thinking, he reached for her sleeve with his one good arm, but then shrank back embarrassed.

‘Be careful,’ he said.

She was touched by the display of gallantry.

‘There is nothing to be afraid of,’ she assured all of them, but her voice rang eerily in the still morning.

This endeavour had become a test of will. They were all petrified with a mixture of curiosity and fear and looked to her to take the lead. She couldn’t give up the opportunity to establish authority. With a deep breath, she stepped past the threshold.

The guardsman Ru Shan walked protectively beside her as she made her way to the steps. He had become her constant shadow from the moment she set foot outside her apartments each day.

‘Do you know?’ she asked him.

He shook his head slowly and his gaze swept the bamboo forest surrounding them. As they neared the package, he moved a hand to his sword as if the box would lash out at them like a snake. What was this ominous delivery? And where was Li Tao while his servants cowered?

She knelt to pick up the package and straightened quickly. Nothing happened. She could feel the edges of a wooden box beneath the silk. Unable to resist, she tipped it this way and that to try to decipher the contents.

‘Lady Ling!’ Auntie called to her from the house, like a worried mother whose child had strayed too far. ‘Come back inside.’

Suyin held the box close and spared one final glance out to the forest, glancing into the endless dance of bamboo. The click-clack of insects greeted them from the lush depths. Back inside the servants closed around her, staring at the silk-covered box in her hands. None of them dared ask her to open it.

‘Where is Governor Li?’ she asked.

Auntie nodded toward the first corridor that wound its way down the main bay. ‘In his chamber.’

‘His chamber?’

Li Tao usually emerged from his apartments before dawn. The curiosity in the front hall had grown thick. She couldn’t help but imagine there was some hidden power in the box she held in her hands. It was wrapped in the style of wedding gifts and festival offerings. It made her heart beat faster, holding that little box that had the entire household in awe.

‘I’ll bring it to him,’ she said.

The servants nodded, co-conspirators in this adventure. Auntie took a couple of steps alongside her before stepping away at the mouth of the corridor. From what she had seen, no one ever went down this corridor but Li Tao.

Ru Shan made no protest and let her take the lead. Day by day, he was relinquishing control to her. The changes were so small he couldn’t notice, but she paid very close attention.

At the end of the walkway, a Taoist mirror hung over a set of double doors to ward off evil. This must have been Auntie’s doing. Li Tao didn’t appear to be a believer in mystic symbols.

She knocked against the door. ‘Governor Li?’

‘Guifei?’
His deep voice sounded from inside, raised in surprise.

Why did he insist on calling her that? That title didn’t mean anything anymore.

‘A delivery has arrived for you.’

There was silence, followed by a furtive shifting within.

‘Enter,’ he said finally.

She pushed the door open with two fingers. Li Tao sat with his chair propped against the opposite wall, dressed in his usual dark robe. Light filtered through the waxed panes of the window behind him, casting his face in shadow. To one side, set within an alcove, was his bed.

When she had first thought of it, there was something wickedly bold about approaching Li Tao in his private chambers. She suddenly regretted her recklessness.

‘I have something for you.’

He stared at the parcel in her hands. ‘Come inside and close the door.’

She hovered in the doorway, too astonished to comply. Ru Shan tensed beside her in the hall. His growing protectiveness could be of use, but a direct confrontation with Li Tao would prove deadly. Hastily, she slipped into the room and shut the door behind her.

Once again, she was alone with the warlord. The mystery of the box was suddenly overpowered by a more primal instinct. She edged along the wall, keeping her distance.

‘It’s been days since I’ve seen you,’ he said.

‘You know exactly where I am, Governor. I can hardly hide from you,’ she teased in an attempt to conceal her growing unease. He still hadn’t moved from his seat.

‘You’ve been busy,’ she continued.

‘Yes.’

‘This…this was left at the house last night.’

She hated the desperation of her one-sided conversation. Every time they engaged one another, she seemed to have lost any ground she’d gained previously. The last time they had spoken, he’d kissed her—though it was more a challenge than a lover’s kiss.