Planetary: Mercury, page 15
They flew through the dark mountains, the tumbling clouds a silver river below them, before Tai Lung dove through the clouds. Wei opened her mouth to scream, but got a face full of cloud… which meant her clothes were soaked through and she sputtered a bit after inhaling a bit of water.
And then she saw the army.
Their camp was lit up with tiny pinpricks of light, or so they seemed from this height. Wei knew that they really were roaring fires, but she was so far away. “Where are we?” she asked.
“The Valley of Nine Towers,” Tai Lung said. “At least, that was what men called it when I walked among them.
They flew closer. “Stay down. My presence obscures you from their sight, but lie close to me,” Tai Lung warned. “Open your eyes, and inscribe onto your mind the sights and portents. They shall be your evidence against this usurper.”
“No,” Wei said. “Get me closer.” Something bothered her about this army; a feeling that she hadn’t felt since she was a young girl.
Terror.
Something about the army, even from this distance, disturbed her deeply. They seemed familiar, but she couldn’t remember why.
But the second they got closer, Wei knew exactly why.
When she was younger, and had grown up in the mountains, she hadn’t known how to read; that skill came from hiding in the slums of the city, where her mother realized that being able to decipher the strange characters of the flatland people, making those odd symbols speak, was an advantage. But her time in the mountains was time spent illiterate.
Even so, the symbol on the banners had been seared into her mind when her childhood home had burned.
Those banners had flown over the armies of the invading lord, nameless to her now as he had been when he had sacked her home. Now, they rose up to contest the Emperor.
Wei had little loyalty to the Empire. Sure, she had been spared death, but she had been rescued for the reason a curiosity was preserved. She did not burn with patriotic fervor for the Empire, nor did she worship the Emperor as a condescended deity as some did. After all, they had stood aside and let her home, her childhood, burn.
However…
This lord deserved to be punished, and the Empire would be her weapon to do so. This desire, her aching for the lord’s punishment, transcended vengeance; she could not hate a man whose name she didn’t know, no matter how hard she tried, or how much she thought that hatred justified. No, her desire for his downfall was one of justice. He made her people suffer, and he would atone for that.
“Take me down to the camp,” Wei said. She had an idea.
“O daughter of mine, what do you scheme?” Tai Lung asked.
“They’re not going to believe a gutter-child who says a dragon flew her over an army,” Wei said. “I need physical proof.”
“You are my daughter, not some street mongrel. In your veins flows the blood of dragons, and gods,” Tai Lung said indignantly.
“They’re not going to believe that either,” Wei said. “Thus, proof.”
“I am a messenger of the gods, in service of Heaven, and there lies my expertise, but I assume that they are not going to allow you to rob them of arms and pennants,” Tai Lung said.
“I know. I’m going to pretend to be a war-harlot.”
“Excuse me?” Tai Lung asked.
“We get messages about them all the time. Prostitutes travel with the armies. It makes sense; there’s a large host of men with pent-up energy. They’re going to have plenty of work there.”
“I don’t think you understand.” Tai Lung stopped in midair. “I am a dragon, a powerful spiritual being, and a servant of Heaven. But I am still your father, and no daughter of mine is going to pretend to be some harlot who pollutes her body for coin. Unacceptable.”
Wei fumed. “Now you start making rules?” she snapped. “I have to! It’s the only thing I can do.”
“Not in that outfit. What kind of strumpet owns Imperial Palace robes?” Wei looked at her garment. The rich brocade and the fine silk was out of place here, come to think of it. “I have a better idea for you.”
He landed near a dark clearing, and Wei slid off. Her feet touched solid ground, and it was one of the most wonderful feelings she had ever felt, to be back on solid earth. “Hold still,” Tai Lung said. He leapt from the ground and began to circle her, flying faster and faster until he was a sapphire ring around her. Wei stared before a coldness, like she had just had ice water poured over her, enveloped her. “For two-thousand heartbeats, you and whatever you carry shall be unseen,” Tai Lung said. “Hurry, but be calm, for fear and exertion shall make this dwindle ever-quicker.” Wei nodded, and held up her hand. Nothing.
She walked towards the outskirts of the camp, moving slowly, so the guards nearby didn’t hear her. She saw one walk by her, a torch making his scaled armor glint, like a dull gray mockery of her father’s coat. Wei had to fight the urge to leap into the bushes to hide.
But soon she was amidst the soldiers.
Their tents were set up in a strict grid formation, each one perfectly in line with its neighbors, making Wei feel like she was walking through a city made of cloth. Soldiers met at crossroads, around blazing fires. Some gambled with knucklebones, others haggled with prostitutes (dressed in much coarser garb than Wei’s raiment), and none of them noticed her.
She looked around for one of the banners. There, hanging up right by a lane of dark blue tents, was one, hanging from a post. Quietly, and slowly, so as not to excite her heart, she walked over to it, and unfastened it from the post. Well, she tried to.
The second she touched it, the cloth vanished. Gritting her teeth, she felt for where it was joined to the banner-post, where the fabric was knotted, and undid those, using only touch to guide her, praying that nobody noticed the post move or disappear. At last, she had it, and Wei held it close.
Now, time for some other souvenirs.
A thought struck her, and she started walking, going where the banners and war-standards grew longer and more ornate. She could see some of the names on them: Rhouzanyan, Kaishakzhou, Iamakodo. They were names that she didn’t hear in the Imperial Palace; names, most likely, of minor noble houses aligned with this traitor.
At last, she reached the largest tent she had seen, with that cursed lord’s sigil, stylized beyond readability, emblazoned on the tent walls. Two guards stood at attention, but Wei walked by them, holding back the urge to blow in one guard’s ear and spook him. Time to get some truly incriminating evidence. Wei stepped in, touching the flap to open the tent. Fortunately, the tent seemed too large to vanish on her touch. Then again, she wasn’t carrying it.
Inside, a lantern burned low, and there was a faint snoring from another end of the tent, behind another cloth partition. The lord needed his beauty rest, and while he rested, Wei would play with his toys.
First, she smoothed the banner out on the low table, made of a pale wood shined to mirror-like reflectiveness. That banner would make an excellent knapsack. Then, Wei started to look around.
There was a fancy tea set, bejeweled and enameled with an ornate design, the kind Wei had heard was handcrafted, each set personalized and unique. That would be wonderful to show the Emperor. Wei picked up the teapot, dumped the cold tea remnants on the carpet (a stained rug would be the least of his worries soon), and began to stack the cups together, making sure they didn’t clack together. It was a nice tea set, and Wei was in half a mind to ask the Emperor if she could keep it for herself after they executed the traitorous lord. It was the least she could do.
There was a plaque, with names of vaunted ancestors engraved on it. Also very identifiable. That went on the banner, but Wei also grabbed a dirty towel (presumably one the lord had used to wipe his hands off after the tea) to protect the polished surface. Next to it were a bunch of letters, and what looked like military plans. Those went into the pile as well.
And then she found the sword.
It had an ornate sheath, deep red lacquer, with a dragon motif of gold leaf, and it stood upright on a stand in the corner of the tent. She gingerly picked it up, and, setting it down on the table, unsheathed it, going by feel as the sword was as unseen as she was. She let go, and studied the blade. Gleaming silver, it bore a simple inscription. For the Emperor’s Loyal Servant. The irony.
She carefully wrapped everything up, grimacing as her touch made the banner constantly flicker in and out of vision, wondering how many heartbeats her father’s spell had left on her. It was still strange to think of that spirit as her father, but that was how it was.
Wei slung the pack over her shoulder and walked out slowly, so she didn’t make any noise. The rags kept everything from clattering together, but now she had her evidence. However, she had lost her way.
The path to her right looked inviting, so she followed that, walking a bit, slowing down whenever soldiers passed. As she walked, a voice whispered into the back of her head, almost like her own thoughts. Almost.
Your concealment is wearing thin. Seek a great height for an escape. What? Wei turned around, trying to find a cliff or some sort of height. Her heart raced, but she couldn’t help that. To your left. Go quickly. You will be found. You will be chased.
Wei ran.
Some of the guards stared at the ground she had stirred up, wondering what prompted the little puffs of dust off the trail. Soon, Wei realized, they’d know what exactly it was.
She ran down another row of tents, all perfectly uniform, her bag and sword clattering, but she didn’t care. Wei didn’t seek stealth, she sought speed. She raced past soldiers in scaled armor, hoping, praying, that she would get out of this alive.
Warmth rushed around her, almost prompting her to stop. She didn’t, but when she glanced down, she noticed her hands, her slippered feet. She was visible again, and judging by the cries of alarm from the soldiers, very visible indeed.
Two soldiers jumped in her way, reaching out to grab her. Somehow, Heaven smiled on her, and she danced past them. “The sword! She has the lord’s sword!” one of them shouted as Wei sped past them.
She hazarded a look back. Soldiers ran after her, and she saw a few of them leap high, sailing through the air with unnatural grace. Wei had seen these types of people practice at the Palace; they wore loose tunics instead of armor, and had their shaved-headed masters pacing around them on the practice grounds the way a tiger paces around prey. Here, however, these men leaped ten, twenty, thirty feet into the air, ignoring the surely heavy weight of their armor.
There was a cliff before her, a drop of a hundred feet. Below were more tents, more lights, and Wei turned around, a few feet from the lip. Soldiers stood, weapons drawn, but they did not advance.
A man broke through the ranks. He wore a lord’s robe, richly embroidered, but underneath a much plainer garment, a soft tunic that one might sleep in. His long hair was loose, instead of in the traditional topknot and queue. He had just awoken.
But this was the lord, the lord who had burned her home to the ground, the lord who raised an army in defiance of the Emperor. He stared at her, taking in the color of her eyes. “A witch!” he snarled. “Hand over the sword!”
“No,” Wei said. “It will ensure you pay. Pay for destroying my home, and for treason!” She stepped back. Tai Lung, I hope you’re there.
And she stepped off the cliff.
Chapter 7: A Messenger For Dragons In the Court of the Emperor
She fell for all of two seconds, falling through a spinning loop of azure scales, before landing on something soft. Or, rather, someone.
“Ow!” the Imperial Augur said, collapsing in a heap of silk and gold.
“See!” the Imperial Artificer said, pointing a lacquered fingernail at Wei’s neck. “The gutter-rat broke the collar!” He was a portly man, with graying hair, but his deft fingers were skilled with all things mechanical. “She must be punished!” He drew a dagger, and Wei’s heart began to thunder.
“Stop!” The Imperial Sage grabbed Wei and pulled her up. “You said that her collar’s enchantment was overwhelmed by great magic. And from what I saw in the sky, that was the work of a dragon.” He stared at the Artificer. “So, by proxy, Wei has Heaven’s blessing and mandate upon her head.”
The Artificer scowled, but sheathed the dagger. “Fine. But the Emperor himself is coming. You best have a good explanation for that… devilry.” He stalked down the stairs, muttering curses as he went.
“The Emperor?” Wei asked the Sage.
“If anything… unforeseen affects the Tower, the Emperor has made it known that he wishes to be informed of this.” The Sage looked at the sword and banner in her hands. “What are those?”
“Proof,” Wei said.
It was a minute’s wait until the Emperor arrived at the top of the tower. Wei kneeled, as did the Sage and Augur behind her. “Please, don’t play me for a fool,” the Emperor snapped at the Imperial Artificer. “She’s the disturbance?”
“Partially, Your Highness,” the Sage said. “She fell out of a portal made by a dragon.”
“What?” The Emperor’s eyes grew wide.
Wei spoke up. “Tai Lung. Brother of Shar Lung.” There was an uncomfortable pause. “Your Highness,” she quickly added.
“And what did he want from you?” the Emperor asked.
“He is the source of the disturbances. The strange messages.” Wei rose, and fetched her evidence. “However, we didn’t get the message, so he arrived and ferried me to see what he wanted.”
“And that is?” The Emperor arched an eyebrow.
“Insurrection. You have favor with Heaven,” Wei said, “and the gods seemed fit to aid you. A lord raises a banner in the Valley of Nine Towers.”
The Imperial Augur stiffened, while the Emperor looked confused. “Where?”
“Hamadau Valley,” the Augur said. “That name hasn’t been used since…”
“Since when?” the Emperor asked.
“Since the first Emperor burned those nine towers to unify the Empire. He called upon… he called upon the heavenly dragons to raze it with their flaming breath.” He paused. “Only the most ancient of texts refer to Hamadau Valley as that.”
“There’s more.” Wei offered the items to the Emperor. “That is one of the banners for the army. That is the lord’s tea set, and his sword. Look at the inscription.” The Emperor took the sword, holding it so that his long lacquered nails didn’t bite into his own palm, and unsheathed a length to inspect the inscription. “Here are the ancestor plaques of the lord, as well as what I think are military plans.”
“How do we know that she didn’t fake this, Your Highness?”
“It pains me to say it, but I remember commissioning that tea set, as well as the sword. These are Lord Hamadau’s possessions.” He sighed. “It seems, though the gods bless me with signs of Heaven, they do not seek to bless me with peaceful nights. Take her to the gardens. I may have need of her.”
The Sage placed a hand on her back and guided her out of the tower. Through the palace they went, Wei’s heart thundering with every step. What did the Emperor need of her? Was she going to die? The Emperor had a look of betrayal on his face. Clearly, Lord Hamadau (it was satisfying to know the name of the man who had ruined her life) had been the Emperor’s friend, and in the emotional turmoil he was going through, he may decide to punish the bearer of ill tidings.
The Sage led her into the Royal Garden. Normally, Wei would have been honored, as only the most favored of the Emperor’s subjects could enter. However, that excitement was overshadowed by her potential impending death.
The Sage led her to the side of a small pool, and went to sit down. “If you don’t mind, can I stay here alone?” she asked. The Imperial Sage nodded, and left her alone.
She sat there, worrying, wondering if these anxiety-filled moments might be her last, when she heard other footsteps. “I don’t need your sagely advice,” she said. “I just want to be left alone.”
“I have no sagely advice to give,” a new voice said, “seeing as I’m not the Imperial Sage.” Wei turned around, staring at a young man, broad of shoulder, with dark eyes. She recognized his face, a shadow of the face of the Emperor. This must be his son. “Must I still go?”
“Um… no.” How could she refuse the Imperial Prince? And besides, a part of her liked him. He was rather handsome. “Why are you here?”
“I heard about Lord Hamadau.” Wei must have winced when he said that name, as he arched an eyebrow. “What did he do to you?”
“He razed my home to the ground.” She quickly explained Hamadau’s crimes against the Kueh, and the prince said nothing. He just listened. After she finished, he was quiet for a moment.
At last he spoke. “You’re angry… but you didn’t do this because of those crimes.”
“How can you tell?” Wei asked.
“I can tell. My intuition,” he said. He gave that half-smile he gave that made Wei’s heart skip a few beats, before Wei heard more footsteps.
A soldier stepped towards them. “Lady Wei, this way please.”
The soldier led Wei out of the secluded section of the garden and towards a pavilion, with elaborate panels depicting dragons curling through the air. One of them, to her eye, seemed oddly familiar. Tai Lung?
She entered, and the soldier remained outside. Within, the Emperor sat, shrouded by his massive silk garment, with advisers situated around him in their voluminous robes. When he saw her, he hastily waved away the advisers. “Go, leave me be. I wish to speak to her myself.” The advisers rose, bowed at the waist, and filed out of the room, none of the men even so much as looking at Wei. The Emperor, however, fixed his eyes on her. “Come here. I would speak to you.”
Wei moved towards him and went to bow and prostrate herself before him, but he sighed. “We don’t need to observe formalities here.” Wei rose, and walked closer. “Please, sit. I’d rather not talk up to you.” She sat down, next to the most powerful man in the world, the son of gods… and he looked defeated. A friend’s betrayal would do that to you.
“Why?” he asked after a moment of silence.
