Chasing the Phoenix, page 11
“She is as beautiful and ungovernable as a phoenix,” Surplus said. “Which reminds me. I had been under the impression you were searching for someone called the Phoenix Bride. Yet you seem to have settled for … papers?”
“There is no reason for me to confide in you. Yet my accomplishment today is great, and I have vanity enough to feel the need to boast. In the absence of an appropriate audience for which, I shall have to make do with you. I have accomplished what no one else could have: In these papers, I have found the location of the Phoenix Bride.”
“Congratulations. May I ask where she is to be found?”
“Far to the south, in a cave in a mountain in the city of Fragrant Tree she lies, deep underground and guarded by demons. There they hold her prisoner and there she sleeps, awaiting her rescuer.”
“It sounds like a fairy tale,” Surplus said. “However, this being the real world, one must ask what living with demons would do to the sanity of any human woman and how fit she would be to marry an emperor afterward. Which questions answer themselves: terrible things, and not at all.”
“The Phoenix Bride is not a woman,” White Squall said, “but a warhead.”
“War … head?”
“Would it help if I called it a thermonuclear device?”
“No.”
“Then let me explain.”
White Squall did.
When she was done, Surplus was aghast. “I have heard tales told of such weapons and steadfastly refused to believe them. The destructive capability you describe—surely an exaggeration?”
“One such device,” White Squall said with satisfaction, “could destroy any city in China.”
“Surely, then, after all these years the device would be inoperative.”
“That is quite likely true. Yet I have assembled the best team of engineers and mechanics this sorry age has ever seen. I do not doubt we can repair it.”
“Those demons you mentioned—they would then be the guardian AIs of whatever facility such devices were secured within?”
White Squall smiled and nodded.
Against all better judgment, Surplus found himself saying, “Did they teach you nothing in school about the fall of Utopia? How the artificial minds created to be the servants of mankind, driven mad by their unnatural existence, rebelled against their masters, rose up out of the fabled Internet, and almost destroyed civilization before being driven back in? How they hate us with undying passion and dream of nothing more than our painful and total annihilation? These are very unpleasant creatures, madam. I have seen them. I have spoken with them. I have met them face-to-face and wish nothing better than to never do so again. I assure you that you want to have nothing to do with them whatsoever.”
White Squall leaned forward to pat the top of one of Surplus’s clenched paws. “Fire Orchid told me you were very sure of yourself. But you need worry about nothing. I am your superior officer, and therefore you may rest assured that all of my decisions are unimpeachably correct.”
7.
The virtuous woman has no concern for the actions of others, provided only that they are performed in private, where horses may not be frightened.
—THE SAYINGS OF THE PERFECT STRATEGIST
“WHY IS the Perfect Strategist leaving without you? A true friend would be at his side. I think maybe you have a problem with commitment,” Fire Orchid said. She had brought all of her family, seated proudly on their mountain horses and resplendent in new red and gold uniforms, to see Darger off formally, and then immediately turned her back on him to scold Surplus. “If you cannot be loyal to him, how can I expect you to be faithful to me? Our marriage is maybe in trouble, I suspect. I begin to wonder things about you. I ask myself how sincere you were in your declarations of eternal passion that night of our sinful carnality on the mountaintop.” Turning to address Darger, she said, “I am surprised to see you leaving without your most trusted subordinate.”
To Darger’s amusement, Surplus was completely at a loss for a reply to this barrage of accusations. Several of the Dog Pack, he noted, were suppressing grins, with varying degrees of success. Little Spider clutched herself with both arms and almost fell from her saddle.
“I was surprised myself,” Darger said wryly.
* * *
TWO DAYS after Surplus and White Squall returned from Peace, the Hidden Emperor (who had assumed his new title the instant he learned of it) ordered his top advisors assembled. The meeting was held somewhere within the labyrinth of tents that served him for housing and headquarters while his armies were on the move. The emperor’s face was, as usual, hidden behind scarves and sunglasses. He wore a yellow robe of state whose decorations would have taken the most skilled embroiderers a full month to create, which made Darger suspect that he had long been awaiting the opportunity to effect exactly this self-glorification.
“Well?” the Hidden Emperor said.
Surplus rose to deliver a succinct and ostentatiously modest account of his exploits taking Peace. When he was done, the Hidden Emperor gestured him to sit down again. To Darger’s profound disappointment, no word of thanks or mention of reward passed his lips. Noting which, several advisors who had been visibly anxious to report on their own, lesser accomplishments, spontaneously decided to postpone their self-promotion to a later date.
“White Squall?” the Hidden Emperor said.
Like an ice flower blooming in the Arctic wastes, White Squall stood.
“Have you located my beloved for me?”
“Yes, great monarch. The Phoenix Bride is to be found in the Expansive Country, in the city of Fragrant Tree. We have maps determining her precise location.”
“Ah.” The emperor flicked his fingers and White Squall sat. Then, addressing all present, he said, “Advice?”
A greasy-faced nonentity named Permanent Infrastructure stood to declare, “The dear lady must be rescued! Our entire forces should march south to Fragrant Tree immediately to retrieve her.” He descended to his chair again, much in the manner of a tail-standing porpoise sinking back down into the sea.
Ceo Powerful Locomotive shot to his feet. “Ignore that dreadful advice!” He spread a map over the conference table. Repeatedly slamming his fist on the map for emphasis, he said, “Now is the time for us to turn to the east and march down the Long River. The heartland kingdoms did not expect us to take the Land of the Mountain Horses so readily, and so they have not had time to make peace with one another and present a united front against us. Their armies are scattered and their cities unprepared. If we move against them immediately, they can be swiftly overcome. Then, with the heartland conquered, the southern kingdoms will swear fealty to you out of weakness and fear. We can then drive on to the sea, and from there fight our way up along the coast to the city of North, known to the ancients as Beijing. Once it is taken, there will be no stronghold that can stand up to you, and all of China will be yours. That is the case for my plan and it is a strong one. As for the fat idiot’s demand that we send our forces on a pointless journey to the south … There is no military reason whatsoever for us to go to Fragrant Tree. None!”
“Then it is a move our enemies cannot anticipate,” Permanent Infrastructure retorted. “We will catch them by surprise.”
“What will surprise the enemy is that we had the opportunity to overrun them and threw it away!”
Prince First-Born Splendor rose gracefully to his feet. “The ceo is right as always. Imperial Majesty, you must listen to him.”
Slowly, the Hidden Emperor turned his head to the prince. Twin disks of dark glass considered him in silence. At last, ominously, he said, “Did I hear you say I ‘must’ do something?”
First-Born Splendor started to speak. But White Squall leaped up beside him and clapped a hand over his mouth. By force, she pulled him back down into his seat. Ashen-faced, she shook her head.
At which instant, with the gathering tension at a peak, Darger laughed merrily. When all had turned to look at him, he said, “Nobody has asked White Squall what she needs to fetch the Phoenix Bride. It is entirely possible that not all of the Hidden Emperor’s amassed resources are required.”
“Tell us,” the emperor said to White Squall.
Cao White Squall closed her eyes. For several seconds she was silent. Then she said, “I don’t require much. Thirty soldiers would suffice.” She opened her eyes. “Let me take that many of my best people, with mountain horses, a strong wagon, a brace of dwarf mammoths to pull it, a good wagoner, whatever equipment I deem necessary, enough money to bring us there and back again, a little more for bribes. Also, the Perfect Strategist for an advisor. While you fight your way eastward, I will seek out the Phoenix Bride and bring her to you.”
“Done,” said the Hidden Emperor.
“Great Monarch, I must object,” Darger said. “I am needed here by your side to advise you.”
“You have proved yourself worthy,” the emperor said, “but not indispensable. Therefore, you will go.”
Surplus stood and, addressing the cao, said, “You neglected to include me and my rangers in your plans. I am sure that was unintentional. To deprive the Perfect Strategist of our support would be like enlisting Napoleon as an advisor but depriving him of his armies.”
“It was quite intentional,” White Squall said. “Any military leader worth her salt would value Napoleon’s strategic advice. But she’d be a fool to allow him to bring along soldiers more loyal to him than to her.”
“This bickering grows tedious,” the Hidden Emperor said. “All shall be as White Squall has said. She will fetch the Phoenix Bride from Fragrant Tree while my armies march down the Long River. I shall thus have all that I desire. Is there anyone here who doubts that? Speak up, if you do.”
No one spoke.
“I will ascend the Dragon Throne with the Phoenix Bride at my side and we shall consummate our love in Beijing. White Squall, you may leave in the morning.”
* * *
“HAD I seen this coming, I might have arranged for matters to turn out differently,” Darger told Fire Orchid. “But he who rides the wind must go where it takes him. Particularly when that wind is a warlord with thousands of experienced soldiers and countless hell weapons at his disposal.
“In any case, I must go and Surplus must stay.”
Fire Orchid extended a hand. “It is important that all the army sees that the wife of your strong right arm is shown the utmost respect. Therefore, you must kiss the back of my hand, with courteous refinement. Otherwise, my uncontrollably violent little brother will have one of his fits and tear you to pieces.”
Vicious Brute blushed and squirmed with embarrassment. But Darger, with proper solemnity, did as he was told. “Fire Orchid,” he said, “you are one in a million.”
“You think that is a compliment, so I will forgive you for saying so,” Fire Orchid replied haughtily. “But in all the world, there is only one me.”
“I will do my best to keep that in mind.”
* * *
ON WHICH note began what in practice turned out to be, for Darger, a weeks-long vacation from the war. White Squall’s company rode back through the Abundant Kingdom and then across the desert tracts to the south and hence up into the mountains. On the winding roads that led to the Expansive Country, the company told stories and played word games and sang songs and gambled small amounts on impromptu feats of marksmanship. Only White Squall remained aloof. To avoid drawing attention to themselves, they wore civilian clothing and told customs officials that they were a trade embassy from Brocade and innkeepers that they were a troupe of actors bound for Fragrant Tree. When challenged to prove their credentials as thespians, they drank to excess, broke furniture, and left without paying. In this way they avoided arousing any suspicions.
Darger was careful to drink in moderation and to remark upon only that which was praiseworthy in his companions. Occasionally he told a joke, but never one that was in any way risqué or ever the cleverest of any extended exchange. He flirted with the women so gravely that none took him seriously, and he privately let each man know that the Perfect Strategist thought of him—and only him—as if he were a son.
By the time they reached their destination, Darger was close friends with everyone save White Squall herself.
Fragrant Tree was a low and sprawling river city punctuated by occasional mountains. These steep-sided and tree-covered karst uprisings had from time immemorial been one of the natural wonders of China. Countless paintings had been made of them and distributed so widely that in all corners of the world people doubted that such things actually existed. Yet they did, and when the morning mists gathered at their feet they seemed to be the very mountains of heaven, afloat in the clouds. At twilight, however, the city came into its own. By local custom, all the beams and eaves were decorated with bioluminescent paint so that as the mountains faded into darkness, the buildings took on an ethereal beauty, glowing with a hundred hues of pastel light.
“We have made no plans,” Darger said when they had found lodgings in the city.
“No plans are necessary,” White Squall replied. “My people have done this sort of thing before. We shall simply do it again.”
“Then why am I here?”
“You shall see.”
The next morning, they made their way through the swarming carts and pedestrians of the city to a mountain in the center of town that was covered with osmanthus trees and surrounded by slums. Up close, there were many paths and stairways chopped into the mountainside leading up to caverns and grottos, some natural and others laboriously cut into the karst. The buildings were the usual mixture of overcrowded dwellings and obscure businesses whose purpose or products were not obvious from without and that, as often as not, turned out to be unlicensed drinking establishments.
“The mountains of Fragrant Tree are all hollow,” White Squall said, “and used for every imaginable purpose: as places of worship, as hideaways for lovers, as tunnels for smugglers, as breweries, and even as brothels. None of which concerns us today but one: as armories.”
“This is the last place I would expect a responsible government to hide dangerous weapons,” Darger said dubiously.
“Exactly,” White Squall said. “It was cunning of them to do so.”
Their journey ended at a nondescript building badly in need of paint. It had no windows and a sign over the door read: VAST PROSPERITY IMPORT-EXPORT.
“This house,” one of the archaeologists said.
“You’re sure?” White Squall asked her.
“Positive.”
White Squall dismounted and, followed closely by Darger, headed for the door. “This is the part I dislike,” she commented. “Haggling over how much we should pay for the privilege of access. I will start out offering two gold coins, which is a treasure to one living in such squalor, and then waste an hour being argued up to six.”
Darger held up a hand. “Allow me. I understand the avaricious mind.”
The two dwarf mammoths blocking the narrow road to traffic would by themselves have brought out all the neighborhood to gawk, much less the small army of strangers accompanying them. So they had no lack of witnesses when Darger knocked.
The door opened and a squat troll of a woman with the jaw of a turtle said, “What do you want? Not interested! Go away.”
“Money is involved,” Darger said. This stopped the woman from closing the door entirely. “For you.” That caused her to step out into the roadway.
“What’s the pitch?” the turtle-woman said.
“We have come to recover something that was left here for us some time ago. Your house, as you know, abuts the mountain. In fact, it backs onto a metal door so sturdy that nobody has ever been able to breach it in all the centuries since it was last closed. We have come to open that door and claim our property. We will pay you for the inconvenience this will cause.” One of White Squall’s sappers held up a cash box, and from it Darger removed eight gold coins. They lay in a gleaming heap on his open palm. “I am willing to be extremely generous.”
The squint of cunning that came over the woman’s face was so obvious as to be laughable. “Not enough, ugly sir! You must make me a better offer.”
“Very well.” Darger dropped four of the coins back into the cash box: Clink. Clink. Clink. A pause. Clink. “I’ll offer you half of what I did originally. That’s still very generous.”
“What!” the woman cried. “How is that a better offer? You are cheating me. I should call the police to arrest you.”
“Dear lady, I am not cheating you—you cheat yourself. Will you accept my offer, or must it be reduced to the merely generous?”
Screwing up her little round face so that she looked particularly pink and piggish, the homeowner stubbornly shook her head. Clink. A fifth coin disappeared back into the cash box. Clink. A sixth. The neighbors moaned.
“Stop!” the woman cried. “I will take your woefully inadequate offer!”
“You strike a shrewd bargain,” Darger said, handing over the remaining two gold coins. “The last person I negotiated with would not come to terms until he had argued me down to seven coppers.” He turned to White Squall. “You may proceed.”
Swiftly and efficiently, White Squall’s crew began removing the furnishings of the house and stacking them up in the street outside. When the turtle-woman began to squeak and scold, two of them lifted her up and placed her atop a pile of her own possessions, too high for her to dare jump down, much to the amusement of her neighbors. “Do not worry, little grandmother,” one said. “We will keep a guard posted to make sure nobody steals your things.”
“Or you,” said the other, making the neighbors roar.
Darger followed White Squall into the dark building, past multiple charcoal stoves where vats of cow hoofs were being boiled down—which surely meant that its owner was preparing the medium for drug-producing molds, though whether pharmaceutical or recreational, he had no way of knowing—and so, through dim and twisty corridors, to the rear of the building. There sappers were already removing sections of the first-floor ceiling while archaeologists dug with trowels at the foundations of a vast metal slab and brushed dust away from its edges. It was a door, and wide enough that, open, eight men could have marched through it abreast.
