Wild Orchid (13 page)

“Perhaps you should,” I said at once.

“You,” the soldier said, pointing to a boy even younger than I who stood nearby. “Go and get General Yuwen’s aide and bring him back here. I can’t remember his name, but the one who’s always with him. You know the one.”

“His name,” I said firmly, “is Li Po.”

“I can’t believe it,” Li Po said some time later. The fact that I had not stolen my remarkable horse had been established once and for all. I was now assigned to Prince Jian’s forces—specifically, to an elite archer corps. I had Li Po to thank for both these things, just as I had him to thank for my first hot meal since leaving home.

“Which part?” I asked now.

“Any part,” Li Po said as he handed me a cup of steaming tea. Though our conversation was impassioned, we were both careful to keep our voices low.

“When I realized it was you, I thought my heart would stop. You shouldn’t be here. This is not a game, Mulan. What on earth were you thinking?” Li Po frowned. Before I could answer these questions, he posed another. “What did you say you were calling yourself?”

“Hua Gong-shi,” I answered, taking the tea from him just in time. At my reply Li Po dropped his head down into his hands, though not before I thought I saw his lips begin to curve into a reluctant smile.

“You told them your name was Bow-and-Arrow?”

“It was a better choice than Wood Orchid, don’t you think?” I said.

Li Po sighed. “I am happy to see you. Don’t misunderstand me,” he said, lifting his head, “but …”

“My stepmother is going to have a baby,” I said before he could go on. “The emperor sent no word to my father. Instead we received the same summons as everyone else—that every household in China must send a man to fight.”

“Every household must send one
man
,” Li Po said. “That’s precisely my point.”

“Tell me something, Li Po,” I said. “How long do you think my father would have lasted as a foot soldier? What do you think it would do to him to ride away to war leaving yet another pregnant wife behind?”

Li Po’s face looked pinched, as if he hated to speak his arguments aloud. “Your father is not the only older man to answer the emperor’s call.”

“You’re absolutely right,” I answered. “He is not. But I saw an opportunity to spare him, and I took it. It is done. Hua Gong-shi is not the only lad to answer the summons either. And I have skills many other
boys
do not. You ought to know that. You saw to it yourself.”

“I’ll have to tell General Yuwen. You realize that, don’t you?” Li Po said. “He’ll recognize the bow on your back, not to mention the horse.”

“You must do what you think is best,” I replied. “That’s what I’ve done, and all your fine arguments will not make me sorry for it.”

I sat back, and we eyed each other for a moment.

“You look well, Li Po.”

“Stop trying to flatter me,” he said. “It won’t get you anywhere, not for the rest of the day, anyhow. I’m going to stay mad at you for at least that long.”

Without warning he leaned forward and pulled me into his arms. “If you die, I’m never going to forgive you, or myself. But I am glad to see you, Mulan.”

“Gong-shi,” I mumbled against his chest as I wrapped my own arms around him and held on tight. “I’m surprised the general trusts you if you can’t remember even the simplest details.”

Li Po gave a strangled laugh, and we released each other. It was just in time, for in the next moment the flap of the tent whipped back. General Yuwen stood in the opening.

“I heard we had an interesting new recruit,” he said. He moved forward, letting the tent flap fall closed behind him.

I got to my feet, prepared to bow. “Stop that,” the general said. He caught me to him, much as Li Po had, and then held me at arm’s length while he studied me.

“I ought to take you out behind the tents and thrash you,” he said.

I managed a shaky laugh. “You’ll have to get in line behind Li Po.”

“You should listen to her … him,” Li Po said, making an exasperated sound as he corrected himself. “I may not agree with everything your new recruit has to say, but he does make several interesting points.”

“My stepmother is going to have a child,” I told General Yuwen. “The emperor sent no word for my father, no call to return to his previous duties. It seems he is not to be forgiven, even now, when the wisdom of his words has been proved beyond a doubt.”

General Yuwen nodded, his lips forming a thin line as if he were holding something bitter in his mouth.

“My father and stepmother, they love each other,” I said softly, and suddenly my voice caught at the back of my throat. “You know what it is like to lose someone you love. You watched your own son die. Once I saw the way my father and stepmother felt about each other, I could not let him respond to the emperor’s summons.
I could not
. So I took the horse and came in his place.”

I gave a watery laugh. “And the funny thing is, I didn’t even like her at first.”

“Mulan,” General Yuwen said gently. “Mulan.”

Then, just as swiftly as the tears had come, they vanished. I was through with crying. I steadied my feet, put my hands on my hips, and lifted my chin, just as I had on a day that seemed a very long time
ago. The day when I had knelt, soaking wet, in a stream and seen two men on horseback for the very first time.

“No,” I said. “I am no longer Mulan. I stopped being Mulan two days ago. Take me out behind the tents and thrash me if you must, but you won’t make me return home. I’m staying, whether you like it or not.”

“She told them her name was Hua Gong-shi,” Li Po spoke up. “So I assigned her to the prince’s new corps of archers. She shoots almost as well as I do.”

“I am well aware of that,” General Yuwen said. “Did I not give her my own son’s bow?” He passed a hand across his face, and for the first time I saw how tired he was. “Well,” he said.

He moved farther into the tent and sat down. Li Po poured him a cup of tea.

“My heart may wish you safe at home, Mulan, but the heart is not always granted what it desires. This much all three of us know. Given the circumstances, I think Li Po’s choice makes good sense. Now I will drink my tea, with no further discussion.”

We all drank in silence for several moments.

“The prince has asked to meet you,” General Yuwen finally said.

“To meet me?” I echoed, astonished. “Why?”

“He meets as many of his new recruits as he can. But he pays particular attention to his archers. He is a fine bowman himself. And then there was the … somewhat unusual manner of your arrival. Did you
really think a boy leading a war horse was going to go unnoticed?”

“Apparently, I didn’t think at all,” I said.

Li Po gave a snort. “I could have told you that much.”

“I told the one who questioned me that the horse was a gift from you,” I said to General Yuwen.

“We will let the story stand,” the general said, and nodded. “I have told the prince that you are a distant relation who once did my son a service, and that the bow you carry and the horse you ride were your rewards. I think he wonders at it, a little, but he hardly has the time to ask questions. There are many more important things to think about and do.”

“What of the Huns?” I inquired.

“All in good time,” General Yuwen replied. He got to his feet. “First I must take you to meet Prince Jian. After that I will take you to be with the rest of the archers. Li Po is their captain. Did he tell you that?”

“No,” I said. “He was full of other information, but he left that out.”

General Yuwen gave a quick smile. “I have decided it would be wise for my young relative to share Li Po’s tent,” he said. “So that he has someone to guide him during his first experience of war.”

“Let us hope that it will also be the last,” I said.

“We shall all hope that,” said the general. “Now come. I will take you to Prince Jian.”

T
HIRTEEN

“The truth is, you’ve arrived just in time,” General Yuwen said as he walked beside me.

All around us men snapped to attention as the general strode by. Everywhere I looked it seemed to me that I saw men tending to equipment and horses. An uneasy alertness seemed to lie over men and animals alike, as if they understood that all too soon the battle would commence.

“Our scouts report that the Huns are closer than we thought. They will be here by the end of the week. How best to meet them has been the cause of much discussion.”

“Oh, but surely …” I began. I’d been in camp less than an hour. It was hardly up to me to voice an opinion as to how the battle should be fought.

“No, tell me,” General Yuwen said, as if he had read my thoughts. “You should hold your tongue before others but not before Li Po or me, at least not when we are alone.”

“I thought the way to meet them had already been decided,” I said. “The Huns must come through the mountain pass just beyond this valley or not at all.”

“That is true enough,” General Yuwen agreed, “but there is more. There is also a second, smaller pass less than a day’s ride from here. It is so narrow no more than two men can ride abreast. Prince Jian thinks this pass should be protected as well.”

“But his brothers do not agree?” I asked.

“Not entirely, no. Prince Ying is cautious to express his opinions. That is his way. But Prince Guang has openly ridiculed his younger brother. We may be far from the imperial palace, but court intrigue is still very much with us, I’m sorry to say. And that is a thing of which Prince Guang is a master.

“There,” General Yuwen said, pointing. “Those are the princes’ tents. The one flying the green banner is Prince Jian’s.”

The princes’ tents stood in the very center of the camp, arranged so that they formed a great triangle. Each had a pennant of a different color flying from its center roof pole. The red designated the eldest, Prince Ying, General Yuwen told me, and the blue the middle brother, Prince Guang. Each banner displayed the same symbol, the mark of the princes: the figure of a dragon with four claws. Only the emperor could display the figure of the powerful five-clawed dragon. Even from a distance I could hear the sound the banners made as they snapped in the cold afternoon wind.

I was curious to see Prince Jian, the young man whose life my father had once saved, and whose fate was so closely tied to that of all China.
Was it a blessing or a curse to bear the weight of such a prophecy?
I wondered.

“What is he like?” I inquired.

“Prince Jian?” General Yuwen asked.

I nodded.

“He is unlike anyone else I have ever met,” the general said honestly. “Of course he pays attention to protocol. He is a prince. But he is also … approachable. The common soldiers love him, because he lets them speak.”

“And his brothers?”

“Prince Ying is the oldest, as you know,” General Yuwen said. “He has many talents. But I think that sometimes Prince Ying is misunderstood—especially by his father. The prince is a scholar, not a soldier. He has a deep and subtle mind. He will make a great statesman someday, a great emperor during peace-time.”

“And the middle son, Prince Guang?”

“He is the one to watch with both eyes open,” General Yuwen replied. “He is a courtier through and through. To turn your back on him is to risk exposing it to a knife. He resents being the second son very much, I think.”

“Is it true what the men say? That the emperor favors Prince Jian?”

“It is not my place,” the general answered, “to claim to know what is in the Son of Heaven’s heart.” He glanced over at me. “But to speak my own mind … I believe the emperor does favor Jian over the others, and that they all suffer as a result. To promote the
youngest over the eldest disrupts the proper order of things. Only strife can come of it.

“Besides, I do not believe that Prince Jian seeks out his father’s special favor. Though, like all dutiful sons, he desires his love.”

“What does Prince Jian want, then?” I asked.

“To be allowed to be himself more than anything, I think,” General Yuwen answered, his tone thoughtful. “Not an easy task for a prince. But even more than that, I believe Prince Jian wants what is best for China.”

“Determining what that is cannot be an easy thing either, I should think,” I observed, remembering my father.

General Yuwen gave a short bark of laughter. “And I think you are right.”

We reached the princes’ tents. A sentry snapped to attention at our approach. The general announced that we had come at Prince Jian’s request, and the sentry gestured to one of the guards stationed on either side of the prince’s tent flap. The flap was closed to keep out the cold and to provide privacy. The guard ducked inside to inform the prince of our arrival.

“No more talking,” General Yuwen said in a low voice. “But remember what I have spoken. Use your ears, not your tongue, and keep your eyes open.”

“I will,” I promised.

The guard reappeared and gestured us forward. The prince’s tent was much larger than General
Yuwen’s, as befitted his rank. There were tables for maps, and chairs for the prince and his advisers. Rich rugs covered the hard-packed earth of the tent floor. General Yuwen and I entered and made our obeisance, kneeling and pressing our foreheads to the ground.