Chasing the Phoenix, page 10
“Phoenixes, sir. That was my idea. The silversmith wanted to make one with dragons, but since the dragon is a symbol of the emperor, I thought it unwise. The phoenix is a symbol of longevity, which is a good thing in a master and a marvel in a warrior.”
“Hmmm.” Surplus thoughtfully tapped the knob against his lips. “This may sound an odd question, but in my culture a decorated sword is the sort of present a superior gives an inferior who has performed some notable service, such as winning a battle or seizing the enemy’s flagship. Is it the same in yours?” Then, when Capable Servant refused to meet his eyes, “The impudence of that brat! I have a good mind to throw this back in his face.”
“It is a lovely gift,” Fire Orchid said, “and very valuable. Capable Servant, you must tell the idiot that we are, both of us, grateful for his thoughtfulness.”
“I will keep the thing. But I refuse to be grateful.” Putting down the cane, Surplus attacked his breakfast. He had a strong appetite and was soon done. “Which reminds me. We need to make an accounting of the bribes collected to date.”
Fire Orchid was still eating. She sat in the bed beside Surplus with her robe open but her breasts concealed behind her long, ever-changing hair. Once or twice he thought he saw a nipple peeping through her tresses, but he was never absolutely sure. “Oh, we are collecting a great deal of money. Everybody wants to ask you for things—a position, a promotion, his neighbor’s house—and they know that to reach you they must go through me. But to reach me, they must first bribe Vicious Brute, and of course he cannot be approached without the intercession of somebody in the family. Every step of the way they pay, so of course it adds up very fast.”
“Exactly how much does it add up to?”
“Lots and lots.”
“Can you give me a more precise figure?”
“Oh, no. It has already been spent.”
“What!”
“I used it to buy up land outside the city walls. Such property is very cheap now, but since China the Great has been restored and it will soon be safe to build there, it’s about to become quite valuable.”
“Shouldn’t I have been consulted? A certain percentage of that money was mine, after all.”
“Do I tell you how to conquer the world? You should not tell me how to spend the household money. Nobody loves a controlling husband.”
“I’m not your husband.”
“That’s only because I want a proper wedding and we’re too busy to plan one just now.”
“I grow less and less convinced that there will ever be such a wedding. Not only have I yet to propose to you, but you are proving to be an acquisitive, dishonest, and manipulative minx.”
“Oh! Our first argument. I must remember to write this down in my diary so we can celebrate its anniversary every year.” She leaned back, her hair flowing so that now Surplus could definitely see her nipples. “Capable Servant, please remove the breakfast things and lock the door behind you. We are going to argue a little more and then reconcile by making furious, passionate love.”
Which was precisely what they did.
They were midway through a second, less frenetic bout of lovemaking when someone hammered desperately at the door. “Dog Warrior, sir! Dog Warrior! The city is under attack! By monsters!”
* * *
THE “MONSTERS,” as it turned out, were not so much attacking the city as approaching it. When the Dog Pack rode out to confront the menace, they turned out to be—as Surplus had suspected they would—crushing wheels, diggers, mobile bridges, and a motley variety of other Utopian machines in such profusion that they must surely constitute the entirety of the Division of Sappers and Archaeologists. At their head rode White Squall in an abomination with a snout like a shovel and a tail like a scorpion’s, which (Surplus later learned) was called a backhoe.
“What is that doing here?” she demanded, when they had pulled up before her.
“It is the Hidden Emperor’s new flag,” Surplus explained. “Every seamstress in Peace is currently at work making more.”
“Hmmm.” White Squall was briefly silent while she processed this information. Then she said, “I heard you took the city. That’s good. But now you’re standing between me and it. That’s unwise.”
“Cao, I say this with all respect: You can’t bring those monstrosities into Peace. They would terrify the citizenry.”
“Their terror is of no concern to me, and I outrank you. Therefore they will go wherever I wish.”
“Terror is no abstract thing. There would be riots. Lives would be lost, and some of your machines might well be damaged.” Surplus placed a paw on the backhoe. “Even as stalwart a war engine as this can be broken.”
White Squall’s face went hard and cold, as she fought an inner battle against the logic of Surplus’s words. He, in turn, did not voice any further arguments. At last she said, “Your advice is good and the machines are not needed in the city anyway. I shall make an encampment by the ruins of the ancient power plant, which is a primary site for investigation. However, your brazen affrontery is unforgivable and calls for your immediate demotion. What rank are you?”
Surplus spread his arms. “To tell you the truth, that has never been established. I am an officer of some sort, obviously, but I have no formal status or rights whatsoever. It is entirely possible that I am still a civilian. Not that I would wish to test that thesis! I exist entirely on the sufferance of the Hidden Emperor.”
A ghost of a smile appeared and disappeared on White Squall’s face. “As do we all. I’ll let you get away with your insubordinate talk this once. Never again. Now get your people out of my way.”
“As you command, cao.”
The backhoe grumbled forward, fouling the air with hydrocarbons and nitrogen oxides. Then it lurched to a stop, and over her shoulder, White Squall said, “Oh, and I almost forgot. You are relieved of command of the city. The Hidden King—or Emperor, I imagine, since you appear to have promoted him—has sent advisors with me who will restructure its leadership in order to integrate Peace into his empire.”
* * *
BECAUSE WHITE Squall had relieved him of his responsibilities without extending any further orders, Surplus found himself at loose ends. In a pensive mood, he strolled the top of the defensive walls, saying good-bye to the rule of the only city he had ever conquered. From this height he could see the sappers and archaeologists digging trenches by the ruins of the Utopian cooling tower. Their uncanny engines ripped into the earth, tearing open subterranean rooms and passages. To what purpose, he could not guess.
On the inward side, meanwhile, he could look down on the gray tile roofs of the buildings huddled below like cattle in a byre. Plazas at each of the gates fed into broad avenues leading into the heart of the city. These gave way to narrower streets, which sprouted twisty alleyways, which in turn debouched into tight clusters of courtyards. It all fit together as cunningly as pieces of a puzzle box. Through these passages flowed laborers and bureaucrats, peasants and soldiers, scholars and merchants and artisans going about their daily business, like so many red blood cells coursing through a web of arteries. From this vantage, the city was a single living organism, as complex as a man and as fragile as an egg.
Briefly he had protected Peace, if in no other way than through inaction. Now that privilege had been taken away from him.
Fire Orchid found Surplus staring blindly at the bell tower at the city’s center and silently placed an arm around his waist. After brief hesitation, he put a hand on her shoulder. “Have I told you the story of how the Perfect Strategist and I first met the Hidden Emperor?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“We were younger then. The Admirable King ruled in those days and the Abundant Kingdom was at peace. Yet some of us were not content, for we knew that this peace was but temporary and therefore an illusion. Elsewhere in the fractured lands of China the Great, a dozen wars were being fought. These wars, moreover, achieved nothing. For every land that was conquered, another broke in three. Whenever one nation became big enough to dominate its region, a province would declare independence or a tributary nation rebel. In this way, there was ferment without outcome and warfare without end. It seemed to the Perfect Strategist and me that something must be done about this deplorable situation. China the Great had to be restored to her proper glory. But how? That was the question.
“The Perfect Strategist and I were walking the streets of Brocade discoursing on this very matter when a stranger approached us, saying, ‘I could not help overhearing your discussion. Your thoughts are so similar to mine that I feel we should make common cause.’
“We were of course delighted to encounter so well-spoken a young man. So we three retired to a nearby teahouse to talk. In the course of a single afternoon we not only laid out a broad outline for the restoration of China and the relief of the suffering of its people but became convinced that we three should be the agents of that cause.
“The next day, we went out of the city to a place our new friend knew of, a peach garden whose flowers were at their fullest. There we burned incense and made sacrifices. Then we vowed to bind ourselves together in brotherhood, combining our strength and purpose to relieve the present crisis. It was only after we had so sworn that the Hidden Emperor revealed his true identity. Imagine our delight! In that moment, the cause seemed half-won already.
“Since that oath, we three have been inseparable. The Hidden Emperor is our elder brother, with the Perfect Strategist as second brother and I as third. Thus, our friendship and our resolve are unbreakable.”
“This story sounds oddly familiar,” Fire Orchid said.
Surplus grinned roguishly. “It should. I took it from one of the classics of Chinese literature.”
“I see. What about the story that you and the Perfect Strategist are immortals who spent centuries studying the arts of war in the deserts of Mongolia? Should I tell the family to stop spreading it?”
“No, keep on telling that. But add this story to the roster as well.”
“They contradict each other.”
“Do they? Well, let them. Like all great men, I contain multitudes. Just make sure nobody tells both tales at the same sitting.” Surplus released Fire Orchid’s shoulder and took her hand. Side by side, they strolled the wall in companionable silence.
After a while, Surplus said, “Why did you come looking for me?”
“I was in the city archives just now, talking with White Squall. She is a very interesting woman.”
“I have no doubt. What were you talking about?”
“Oh, girl things. Archaeology. Machines. Politics. I told her that you were like a god to the citizens of Peace. She said she outranks you and anyway she has already asserted control of the city. I pointed out that if she got into a power struggle with the famous Dog Warrior, the bureaucrat-lords might take this as a sign they should take their city back for themselves. She is such a busy woman that I didn’t think she should have to worry about such things. When I told her that, she asked what I suggested. I said that if her people pretend the orders they give come from you, you promise not to issue any orders of your own. Also, we get to keep our rooms.
“She was not exactly happy about the deal. But she saw that it was sensible.”
Surplus dropped Fire Orchid’s hand as suddenly as if it had burst into flames. “You blackmailed Cao White Squall? The second-highest-ranking officer in the Hidden King’s armies? Without consulting me first?”
“Yes,” Fire Orchid said. “Shouldn’t I have?”
“Of course you shouldn’t have. She could have had us executed for that.”
“But she didn’t. So all is happy.”
“No, Fire Orchid, all is not happy. I am, in fact, extremely angry with you.”
“Oh, but you cannot be angry with me.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I am so beautiful.”
“Beautiful?! Marriage is not about beauty, you flame-haired lunatic. It is…” Surplus caught hold of himself. “Now you’ve drawn me into your fantasy. Let me put this calmly: We are not married. We will never be married. And if you ever do anything like this again, I will have you and your entire disreputable clan court-martialed and sent into exile somewhere so far from here that it doesn’t even have a name! Do you understand?”
Fire Orchid patted Surplus’s cheek indulgently. “You are always very sure of yourself. I think it is cute.” As they had argued, her hair had grown brighter, the way it invariably did whenever she was particularly enjoying herself. Now she grew thoughtful and her tresses darkened to so deep a red as to be almost black. “Have you asked White Squall exactly what she’s looking for?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“I really think you should.”
* * *
AS IT turned out, White Squall had already found what she was seeking.
The city archives were an endless grid of narrow stone rooms stacked in layers extending deep beneath Government House, each room little more than a corridor lined on either side with floor-to-ceiling shelves containing crates, scrolls, or bundles of records, depending upon which era they had been entombed there. Having passed briefly through them during a ceremonial tour of municipal facilities and been told exactly how many hundred miles of running shelves there were, Surplus was amazed that anything could have been found there at all. Yet when he arrived at the building’s front steps, archaeologists were scurrying up and down them like so many ants, carrying out armload after armload of folders, books, and other printed material from the archives.
White Squall stood, impassive, before the main doors of Government House supervising the operation, over the horrified protests of the gray-uniformed city archivists.
“You cannot do this,” one wailed.
“Look about you. I have.”
“Removing these records is a crime against history,” said another.
“Is it? I fail to see how. According to your own tracking system—impeccable, I presume—nobody has visited the sector where these manuals and technical papers were stored since they were deposited here, centuries ago. Records that are never referred to are useless.”
“At least let us make copies,” said a lean woman with so much gold braid on her tunic that she could only be the chief archivist. “Our calligraphers are swift. It would not take many months.”
“These records should never have been stored here in the first place,” White Squall said sternly. “They are classified military documents. Obviously, after the fall of Utopia, some city official brought them here to keep them from being destroyed. Commendable, I suppose. But it was also a terrible breach of security, and anybody who was or is party to it must be punished severely.” She fixed the archivists with the bayonet of her glare. “Luckily, you seem not ever to have examined them. So there is no need to kill you.”
This speech would have stopped any ordinary bureaucrats. But not these. A babble of voices arose from the archivists.
Before the situation could turn toxic, Surplus strode forward. “Librarians!” he cried.
Sudden silence. Astonished faces turned toward him.
“I commend you all for the dedication you display toward your holy task. Others may see you as lowly grunts, impersonal drudges, and characterless pedants. I, however, know that I stand in the presence of heroes. You are the defenders of China’s culture. Your lives and sacred honor have been dedicated to the preservation of ancient lore not simply so that it may be stowed away and forgotten, as so many presume, but in the same spirit with which an armorer stores and preserves a sword or a cannon: so that it will be available to be used in the time of its nation’s greatest need. That time is now! You have unlocked the treasure vault of knowledge in order to put a speedy end to this war. All those who serve the Hidden Emperor are in your debt.” He bowed gracefully, then resumed speaking. “But how shall this debt be repaid? Generals receive medals and statues are raised to politicians. Are their contributions greater than yours? I swear to you that they are not.
“In times of peace, you would be repaid in gold and land. But in times of war, all resources must go to the preservation of the state. Thus, the Hidden Emperor and I cannot honor you as you deserve. However, knowing his will as I do, I have no doubt he will grant me permission to have certificates of commendation written up in his name, one for each of you, expressing his eternal gratitude and by extension that of all his subjects.”
The archivists had grown more and more rapt as they listened. Now they burst into applause. Surplus modestly acknowledged their gratitude, while making a mental note to have White Squall’s family members collect a stiff delivery fee for the certificates from each of their recipients.
When he was done, White Squall said to Surplus, “I perceive that you have your uses.”
“I am at your service, great cao.”
“I perceive also that you have something you want to talk about. You see that teahouse over there?” Cao White Squall gestured down the street. “I will meet you there in an hour, after I’ve gotten this matter squared away.”
* * *
“I WISH to apologize for the words and actions of my…” Surplus hesitated. “Of my fiancée. She had no right whatsoever to imply that I did not accept your negation of my temporary status of military liaison to Peace. It goes without saying that I am horrified that she would think I might wish to challenge your authority.”
White Squall accepted a glass of tea from their servitor and took a thoughtful sip. They two had been given a private room, of course, so they could talk freely. “Will you have her flogged?”
“I do not deny the thought is tempting,” Surplus said with a wry twist of his muzzle. “But it would create more problems than it solved.”
“Your lady seems to be rather a difficult sort of fiancée for you.”
