The Stone Road (24 page)

“To the duke, my Lord, and through him to you.” Haung did not raise his eyes.

“As it should, as it should be. However,” the emperor paused, “these are times of great change. The famine in the north has weakened our borders, young Haung. The fall of the Wubei has caused us much sadness. Though I gave my blessing to the duke for his war, a great many soldiers of the empire have been lost to us at a time when we need them most. But it is not for us to see the future. That we leave to the
Fang-shi
though even their visions can be clouded and unclear. No matter. What is done is done and we must control our future as best we can.”

Haung kept his forehead pressed to the floor, the cold stone numbing his skin. Why was the emperor speaking to him and in riddles?

“Haung, I understand you have a family? Something normally forbidden to a
Jiin-Wei
.”

“Yes, Lord Emperor.”

“A reward for your efforts in the war?”

“Yes, Lord Emperor.”

“And now you are the Captain of the Duke’s Bodyguard,” the emperor paused. “Interesting. It is clear that the duke puts his faith in you and he is not a man to give trust easily. Do you trust him, Haung?”

“I do as my lord commands.” Haung watched a droplet of sweat fall from his forehead to stone floor.

“Of course you do,” the emperor’s voice lowered, “of course you do, because you know should you do anything against the duke, your family will suffer. I expect that one or two of his trusted officers have made this clear to you. The duke would never say anything but they have, haven’t they.”

Haung drew breath to answer but there were no words he could find that would be the truth and preserve his honour to the duke.

“You do not need to answer,
Jiin-Wei
Haung. As Emperor, I find it easier to ask questions to which I already know the answers. It is much easier to gauge the metal of a man that way. By his reactions. And you are interesting, I can see why the duke keeps you close.”

Haung felt a touch on his mind. A whisper on the wind, a wave amongst the ocean, a grain of sand on a beach, so light and subtle. His natural reaction took over and the wards on his mind snapped into place, dark obsidian glass, impenetrable, reflecting the touch. Not the duke, Haung recognised his touch, plus the duke rarely tried it anymore. Haung had learnt to spot the effect of that touch on other people, calming them, making them listen and more receptive to the duke’s words.

“Very interesting, Haung. Very interesting indeed.” The emperor’s voice was full of amusement. “I can see why the duke keeps you close, and your family even closer.”

Haung raised his head to look at the emperor, caught his eyes and then fearfully pushed his forehead back to the cold stone.

“Forgive me, Lord Emperor.”

“There is nothing to forgive,
Jiin-Wei
Haung.”

A slight creak of wood told Haung that the emperor had stood up from the throne. From his limited view, Haung could see the hem of the Dragon Emperor’s robe swish across the floor in front of him.

“Power has its pleasures, Haung, but it also has its dangers. I tell you this so that you can make a decision about your future and hence the well-being of your family.”

“Lord?” Haung felt a vice made of fear clamp around his chest.

“A man is coming to the castle, Haung. You know this and we spoke of it earlier. If it is the man I suspect then you would do well to never face him in combat. The duke has made him angry and though he is slow to anger, once it burns, it is a brighter flame than the sun. He will come to kill the duke and, I tell you honestly in respect of your honour and loyalty, you cannot stop him. Your bodyguards may slow him, tire him, but not stop him.”

“Lord Emperor, I have my duty.”

“That you do, Haung, and this is why I tell you. I too have a duty and have fulfilled mine to the duke by informing him. I warned him that his war might have unintended consequences but I gave my permission. I have now fulfilled my duty to him, but you? You have potential and I hate to see such promise wasted. I may need it in the future.”

The gold and red robe stopped directly in front of Haung.

“They are strange things, honour and duty. You give both of these to a man who has, through subordinates, threatened your wife and child. A man who you, above all people, know manipulates people for his own ends. We might argue he does these things for the good of the city and region but you have walked through the red misery of war and conquest. You have seen the effects of famine and the care, or lack of, given to the poor.”

The expensive cloth hem moved out of view and the emperor’s voice came from further away.

“
Jiin-Wei
Haung, I give you choice. The highest form of power. To choose your own fate. Should you decide, you may bring your family to the Holy City and I will give you a position of wealth and responsibilities suited to your skills. Or, you may decide to fulfil your obligations of honour and loyalty to the duke. No one will think less of you whichever course you choose to take.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Haung’s voice wavered.

“Should you decide to come to the Holy city, show the guards this. There is an old proverb that you might find of use, in this time,
qiáng lóng nán yā dìtóu shé.
” A bright red mark appeared on the back of Haung’s right hand, a coiled dragon, which faded quickly. “Farewell,
Jiin-Wei
Haung.”

Haung waited for a few minutes then looked up from his prone position. The emperor had left. The mirror portal was just a mirror again and the room was empty. He drew in a shaky breath and tried to process the choice. Betray the duke and save his family, or keep to his duty and die. The emperor’s words favoured the latter course, it was clear to Haung, but there was so much at stake. And, maybe, it was actually a test of loyalty.

Haung discovered he had developed a headache.

Chapter 29

“Tell me what they wanted,” Boqin said. The smouldering remains of the village houses cast tendrils of smoke into the sky. The stone lower floors were still standing but the roofs had collapsed in on themselves. The people of the village were tending to the wounded and damping down the last of the fires.

“They wanted the stranger.” The miner was sat on the rock, his friends wiping the blood away from his face with wet cloths. “I told them he’d gone.”

“And they still did this to you and the village?” Zhou asked.

“Worse to Kirn. The foreman reckons they broke both his arms before they killed him.”

“Did they say why they wanted us?” Boqin said as he took a cloth from one of the miners and began tending to another man who was laid on the stone floor nearby.

“Said he was a criminal wanted by the duke. Said he was dangerous and had escaped from the duke’s justice. That he’d killed children and raped women in Wubei. That he’d been in prison there but had got away.” The miner looked up through the blood dripping down his forehead and into his eyes. “That true?”

“No,” said Zhou and Boqin together.

The miner stared hard into Zhou’s eyes, “Reckon you’re telling the truth.”

“Zhou, go and see if you can help the village. I need to think,” Boqin said.

Zhou nodded to the two men and headed off towards the crowd surrounding the foreman. The village people reminded him of home. The home that had been, before the war and the siege. The smell of burning wood had crept up his nostrils and the iron tang of spilt blood coated his tongue. The village was lucky. Only one man had been killed though several others had suffered beatings, but at least the soldiers had left the women and children alone. He spent the rest of the afternoon treating cuts and bruises making use of his education and helping the people recover belongings from the shells of their homes. As evening approached Boqin sought him out.

“We’ve made plans for tonight. The villagers will set up a temporary camp in the mine entrance. They have enough food and water for several weeks. The soldiers didn’t loot too much, so a group of men will travel to the nearest town and buy enough provisions to rebuild. The mine is profitable so there is no need to relocate. It will take time but they are a tough people,” Boqin explained.

“What can I do to help?” Zhou asked.

“The villagers defended you because you were with me. Their views have hardened since this morning. Kirn’s death has rocked them. They want you gone. You’re bad luck, they’re saying. I have been discussing it with the elders all afternoon but their minds are set,” Boqin growled. “They are not unkind but they are scared and protective of their people.”

“Where will I go?” Zhou’s asked.

“Tonight, you stay with us. Tomorrow, we will provision you for a journey. I will prepare a map. There is a mountain sacred to the
Wu
but it is many weeks travel from here by foot. If you use your spirit you should be quicker, but use it sparingly and make sure you eat properly if you do.”

“Boqin, I don’t know how to use it. Not properly, not really.” Zhou wiped his face with a damp cloth.

“It is not ideal, I know. Normally, I would spend months and years teaching you how to use, control and live in harmony with your spirit. We would spend weeks just learning about its nature before you tried to use it. But, we don’t have that time. For all the Elders and I know, the soldiers will return, looking for you. I will be here if they do. I also have a duty to these people. I brought you in when they wanted you to move on. I will help them rebuild and then I will meet you on the mountain.”

“How long? How will I survive on the mountain?” Zhou threw the cloth down.

“You’ll find a temple on the mountain. It has water and supplies. Part of our obligation as a
Wu
is to maintain that temple. You may find other
Wu
there, you may not. If you do, be respectful. The temple is sacred ground. No violence is allowed and on its grounds, all are equal. Most of the time, the temple is empty. Wait for me there. I will be there as soon as I can.” Boqin laid a heavy hand on Zhou’s shoulder. “Meditate, practise, write, eat, think. Use the time wisely. It is often the hardest resource to come by.”

Zhou met the serious gaze of Boqin, “Thank you.”

“Get some sleep; it will be an early start tomorrow.”

# # #

“I’ve marked the mountain on this map and also listed people in the towns along the way who will offer you help if you need it. I am sure of most of them. Don’t use them if you don’t need to, and don’t overstay your welcome.” Boqin stood with Zhou at the beginnings of the trail leading away from the village and down towards the green valleys far below. About forty paces behind him were the village Elders. “Travel well, Zhou.”

              “Thank you, Boqin,” Zhou shifted his gaze to the group behind the thick shouldered man, “Tell them I am sorry but thank them for their kindness.”

              Boqin nodded and turned away, his tread heavy as he climbed back up the trail towards the Elders. Zhou watched him go before turning away and striding down the path.

              The path was rough stone and loose rocks and a few hundred paces beyond the village, trees began to line the path. Zhou could only see as far as the next bend. As he continued to descend, the pine trees slowly gave way to aspens then other thicker trunked, broad-leafed trees. The full pack on his shoulders was a comfort, though the oiled-skin bedroll, tied to the top, kept hitting him on the back of the head whenever he had to take a larger step down off the rocks that jutted out of the grass, which had now started to poke through. The sun rose higher in the sky though the canopy of leaves shaded him from the heat.

              He spent the first night curled up beneath the bedroll, on a carpet of moss, next to a low fire. The next morning he was up with the sun and making further headway down the trail.

              By mid-morning the trees thinned and were replaced by pastoral fields and terraced rice paddies. Small farm huts began to appear on the valley sides and their owners, dressed in simple homespun tunics and wide brimmed hats, worked the fields. As he passed by a few stopped, stood up straight and watched him. None raised their hand in greeting and they only returned to work when he was far from them.

              The sun climbed high towards midday and he began to sweat underneath the layers of mountain clothes. He took a long drink of water from the skin hanging by a cord from his pack. Shrugging off the straps of his shoulders, he let the pack fall to the ground and stretched his back, hearing the bones pop and feeling the muscles complain about the new direction of movement. Shading his eyes with one hand he looked back the way he had come.

              The mountains towered above him. Jagged rents in the skyline whose snow covered peaks shone bright in the sun. Below the peaks, the dark brown of fir blended into the green of broad-leaf trees then to the verdancy of well-tended farm fields. The track he had followed was a darker smudge that wound its way back up between the patchwork farms and vanished into the tree line.

              He took a deep breath, tasting the warmth of the earth and smelling the aroma of green plants, a contrast to the dusty flavour of stone of his last home. The air was thicker too. Breathing was more of an effort than it had been at altitude in the village but the air was much more satisfying and filling. Using a cloth, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and began to remove some of the outer layers. Folding them with great care, he put them into the pack and then re-shouldered the burden.

Taking another deep breath, he set off again.             

# # #

The next morning, he looked down on to the river that, over thousands of years of erosion, had formed and still flowed through the valley. It meandered through green fields that were dotted with large houses. All of them surrounded by the traditional high walls and having a central courtyard. Following the course of the river, he could see the town on the far horizon.

Taking the telescope that Boqin had included in the pack he took a closer look at his intended route. The track widened and joined the main road that led towards the town. The road itself ran parallel to the river. According to the map this was the town of Harbin and there was no way around it. This was one of the few towns along the route to the mountain that he could not avoid.

If I cannot avoid it, I might as well use it, he thought.

He dipped the water skin into the river and small bubbles rose from the spout. They fled towards the surface only to perish with a tiny pop of air, each perfect semi-circle of stretched, thin water unable to restrain the air it had captured. The ripples calmed and the surface of the river revealed the changes to his face. He inspected each new line and crease. With thumb and forefinger he tugged at the ragged beard that had grown on the trail. Zhou stared deep into his own eyes seeking the memories of the man he had been, memories of life, of wife and children, of success and failure. Each was written plain across his face and in the lines around his eyes. He splashed a hand into the water, disrupting and erasing the reflection of his new face. Droplets arced into the air and fell in a short patter of rain.

The gates of the city were open to the farmers’ carts and the trudge of weary travellers. The hard cobbles beneath his feet lacked the spring of the forest track or the solidity of the mountain stone. They raised his feet above the earth, separating him from it and making him uneasy, suffering a loss which he puzzled over as he approached.

Two guards were taking a keen interest in the entrants to the city. Zhou watched as they pulled over a poor farmer and ransacked his cart. The produce cascaded down to the ground as the farmer looked on, impotent. Zhou could see him pleading with the two armoured guardians but all his protestations seemed to be falling on deaf ears. His feet carried him closer and he saw the farmer reach into his belt pouch and offer some of its contents to the guards. They took it and returned to their posts, watching the farmer as he picked up every stray part of his cargo and placed it back on the cart. Zhou fought the urge to go and help but that would just bring him to the guard’s attention.

He let his back bow a little more under the weight of the pack and began to drag his left foot, just a little, in an attempt to look older, weaker and poorer than he was. The last one was more difficult than the others, he had very little money to spend and none to spare for a bribe. The guards were occupied with another farmer’s cart as he passed between the heavy planked gates.

The city could not be favourably compared to his home of Wubei. Where Wubei had streets wide and beyond counting, here the cramped roads had a patchwork of cobbles and dirt. Wubei, at midday, hummed with the language of business and war, but in Harbin all talk was of farms and weather. At home, if it still existed in any form other than memory, ladies walked the streets with careful steps and servants trailed behind with arms laden down by silk and perfumes. In Harbin, farmers pushed carts and soldiers stood at every corner. Where in Wubei there was the scent of happiness, in Harbin there was only the odour of fear.

“Hey,” came an authoritative shout, “you. Yes, you.”

Zhou turned towards the shout as the traffic on the road came to standstill. The owner of the voice was a soldier who, with leather armour creaking and hand resting on a scabbarded sword, was stomping through the unmoving crowd towards him.

“Sir?” Zhou let his voice assume a whisper as the soldier came closer, not slowing.

“Out of the way, vagrant.” The soldier pushed Zhou out of the way and he let himself stagger and fall, barking a knee on the cobbles that peeked through the dirt here. “I told you the next time you came down my street that you’d better have the cash to pay your debt.”

The soldier was raising a fist to one of the ragged farmers who was trying to unload his goods at one of the shops that lined the opposite side of the road.

“Leave him alone.” The storekeeper had come out from the back to argue with the soldier and Zhou took the opportunity to climb back to his feet and move on.

“Stay out of this,” the soldier was shouting. “He owes me money.”

“I need these farmers to provide the produce that I sell. You can’t keep scaring them away,” the storekeeper replied. “I’ll go out of business.”

“Then he’d better pay up, or,” Zhou continued to move away as the argument continued, “you can pay for him and all the rest. Either that or we close you down. Your choice, shopkeeper.”

“What?” Zhou heard the change in the owner’s tone, “Now, hang on, you can’t do that. How will I feed my family?”

The voices faded as he turned the corner and into another street. Further ahead, he could see the sign for a restaurant and he made his way towards it.

A bowl of rice, some meat and then I can be on my way, he thought.

The place was busy. Most tables were full of people eating, drinking and talking. The threshold seemed to be a barrier to the fear that pervaded the streets outside. Zhou looked carefully at each group, letting all his senses wash over them. He was satisfied that they were what they seemed, simple customers, so he took a seat at a small table near the back of the establishment. The grain of the wooden table was sunken and stained with the weight of years of use. The chair creaked under him but it felt sturdy enough. He ran his fingers across the wood. Traces of memories and sparks of emotion caressed his mind. There was something else there, on the edge of his perception, a heat, a tingle, a something that felt, he struggled to find the word, right.