Chasing the Phoenix, page 27
“I’ve always wanted to confront Laughing Raven on the field of battle,” Ceo Shrewd Fox said. “But not in the company of those other two. That is an honor I freely admit I am not worthy of.”
The Hidden Emperor handed a bundled sheaf of papers to an underling, who brought them to Darger’s hand. “Here are the specifics of their various strengths. We cannot hope to best them by direct confrontation. It is feared that the Yellow Sea Alliance plans a direct, brutal assault upon South, hoping to destroy the city and us with it before the onset of winter.”
“It is what I would do,” General Powerful Locomotive said. “The alternative is to burn all the fields and granaries within raiding distance of the city and lay siege in the spring, after our supplies of food are depleted.”
“This they will be reluctant to do to their own country,” Shrewd Fox said. “Also, they doubtless have North leaning on them to take action.”
There were times in any argument, Darger knew, when resistance was useless. All that could be done then was to go along with whatever was happening and hope for a later change in conditions when matters could be turned to one’s befit. “What do you wish me to do?”
“Shrewd Fox has convinced me that the less direction you are given, the better your results will be,” the emperor said. “So you have no orders other than these: Go. Meet with the leaders of the armies under flag of truce. Negotiate a peace. Bring back a treaty. If it pleases me, I shall reward you appropriately. If not, you will be killed.”
“Majesty! One does not kill the messenger if the message displeases.”
“That is a courtesy which one ruler extends to another. It does not apply to one’s own messengers, who may be freely put to death for any reason or indeed no reason at all. Let this fact be a motivating force for you.”
“But—”
“You will go. That is an order. There are no alternatives.”
* * *
KNOWING WHAT was coming, Darger walked slowly back to his quarters. Shrewd Fox was the first to catch up to him.
“What is this nonsense about Powerful Locomotive spending the night with me?” she demanded.
“You were taking forever to get around to it,” Darger said. “So I thought I’d speed things up for you. I believe it was the Swan of Avon who observed that it was as well to be hung for a sheep as a lamb. You have suffered the consequences of sleeping with Powerful Locomotive. You might as well have the pleasure.”
“I did not ask you to meddle in my private affairs. Yet you did so anyway.”
“You’re welcome. But I did it for my own convenience, rather than yours.” Darger walked away from Shrewd Fox, leaving her fuming behind him.
Not long after, Powerful Locomotive ran up to Darger and, roughly grabbing one arm, brought him to a stop.
“I saw you talking to Shrewd Fox. What did you—?”
“I told her what I am about to tell you: as well to be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb.”
“Whatever can that ungainly sentiment possibly mean?”
“It means that unless you are a sheep, you will seize the moment, seduce the ceo, and enjoy the squalid pleasures that you have already been publicly denounced for.”
“But my goal is White Squall!”
“You are a strongly made man, Powerful Locomotive, as well as being highly placed in the Hidden Emperor’s confidences. These are qualities that women find attractive and, coupled with a confident attitude, all but irresistible. But for the past several months you have been as sexless as a eunuch. Consequently, you hold yourself like a man who is desperate for romantic ardor and knows no way of correcting the situation. This is something that women find repulsive. So I have put the thought in both your and the ceo’s minds that you should have sex with each other. Simultaneously, I let all the world know you have already done so, thus removing all possible incentives not to do the deed. In effect, I rendered the coupling inevitable.”
“But you have mated me with the wrong woman!”
“Having sex with Shrewd Fox will rid you of that habitual cringe which, invisible though it may be to you, I can assure you is all too obvious to your intended. If you do not love White Squall enough to sleep with another woman for her sake, then I fail to see how you will ever win her.”
Confused, the general murmured, “It sounds logical. Yet simultaneously it all seems terribly wrong.…”
Sternly, Darger said, “Are you man enough to do what needs to be done? Tell me you will do it.”
Powerful Locomotive took a deep breath. “I suppose I must.”
“Tell me!”
“I will seduce Ceo Shrewd Fox. I will do it today. And I will give her as much pleasure as a woman is capable of receiving.”
“Excellent.” Darger patted Powerful Locomotive on the back. “Then White Squall is as good as yours.”
* * *
LATER THAT day, orders came making Darger an ambassador plenipotentiary with the power to bind the Hidden Emperor to his agreements (provided, of course, he did not chance to suffer a fatal mishap before the emperor could confirm them) and commanding him to make peace with the Yellow Sea Alliance forces that were currently forming up on the northern border of Commerce preparatory to marching upon South. It also granted him appropriate moneys for the journey and the right to command a small military force of no more than twenty soldiers to serve as his personal guard.
“It seems that Ceo Shrewd Fox is anxious to rid herself not only of me but of the Dog Warrior and his clan as well,” Darger said. “I am sent away with every associate I have save only you, Capable Servant. She is as good as giving me a nod and a wink and saying, ‘Take this small bribe and flee while you can.’”
“Oh, sir! You would not leave me behind?” Capable Servant looked stricken.
“Do not fear. I have no intention of bolting. I shall return to you at the end of this mission. Provided, of course, that I am not dead by then.”
“You cannot die, master. You are destined for great things.”
Thus it was that, the very next morning, Darger and Surplus were sent against the combined military might of three nations, equipped with nothing but the Dog Pack and their own native guile.
* * *
IT WAS a grim ride.
The weather was unseasonably cold, and so Darger wore a black wool greatcoat as similar to those of his native England as the local tailors could be made to understand. Surplus wore something similar, of a Chinese cut with embroidery on the lapels and cuffs. Fire Orchid wore the same hooded cloak she’d had on when she killed the ambusher in South, which daylight now revealed to be of deepest scarlet. The others were dressed in appropriate cold-weather gear. And the land wore a light covering of morning frost, which disappeared in minutes when the sun came up.
Flying the white flag of parley, the company rode along badly maintained roads past overgrown fields, fish ponds that were silting into marshland, and far too many roofless farmhouses. Those houses that were still occupied were not much better than those that were not, with crumbling chimneys and buckling walls. The villages they rode through were desperate, unprosperous places.
“If this is how the land looks before battle,” Surplus said, “then God help this nation when the war passes over it.”
“North is a harsh master,” Darger agreed.
Late in the day, as the afternoon was turning to evening, the Dog Pack came to an inn with a sun-bleached plesiosaur skull hung over the door—that being the common sign for a tavern in all the lands approaching the Grand Canal. “Let us stop for the night at the Sign of the Smiling Sea Serpent,” Darger suggested. “We are all weary, and hungry to boot.”
“An excellent idea,” Surplus said. “We will surely get a warm welcome, for our visit will improve their day’s profit margin astonishingly.”
No stable workers were visible, so the Dog Pack unsaddled and unharnessed their mountain horses, told them not to go far, and set them loose to graze. Then they went inside.
The common room was large, dark, and empty. There was no fire in the hearth. Once, there had been decorations on the walls, but they were long gone. The places where they had been hung before being taken down, presumably to be sold, were lighter than the walls around them.
“Landlord!” Surplus cried. “Service, please! We bring you business!”
But when the innkeeper emerged from the back, she took one look at the Dog Pack and cried, “No room! No room! Full up!”
“Look about you. The building reeks of guestlessness,” Surplus said. “So we know you are lying. Therefore you, knowing now that we know that you know we know you lie, will give us every room you have. But first we must eat. Build a fire and bring us as much food as twenty and one ravenous appetites can make disappear.”
“It is not possible. There is no food. None at all.”
“There are a horde of us, and we are on an expense account,” Darger said. “This should not be a difficult decision for you.”
“Also, we are all skilled and murderous soldiers, and my brother, Vicious Brute, has an uncontrollable temper,” Fire Orchid said. “Step forward, little brother, and let her see how big you are.”
Blushing, Vicious Brute did so.
The innkeeper quailed, ducking her head and wrapping her apron convulsively about her hands. “Sirs! Please!” she cried, the tip of her nose turning pink. “There is no food to feed such a crowd. Go away, please.”
“First there was no room. Now there is no food. Will you never run out of new things you do not have?” Surplus could feel himself about to lose all patience with the creature.
The innkeeper began to cry. “Sirs! Oh, sirs! Please go away. You will destroy me.”
Softening, Fire Orchid said, “I will be the grown-up here. Everybody but me go outside and look for food. Also, find where the firewood is hidden. I’ll speak to this lady and make everything all right. You too, sweetie. I think maybe she is afraid of dogs.”
* * *
BY THE time Fire Orchid emerged from the inn, Surplus had located the firewood, a winter’s worth easily, hidden under tarps and then covered over with thick layers of leaves so that it looked like an earthen garden wall, and Terrible Nuisance had found a sack half-filled with dried yams hanging in a toolshed. “Okay, let’s get the fire started,” Fire Orchid said. “Little Spider, you can carry more than that. Delicate Thistle, get the spices out of your saddlebag and give the innkeeper a hand. I think maybe the food here is going to need a little flavor.”
Inside, Surplus saw that their landlady’s family had come out of hiding to help her work. There was a stout daughter with a limp, three underage grandchildren (one male), and a wizened old man who could only be her husband and whose role seemed to be to issue orders nobody obeyed while getting in everybody’s way as often as possible.
A fire was soon roaring in the hearth. Uncle Gentle Mountain stood off to its side, holding out his hands to cast shadow animals on the wall. One by one, the Dog Pack’s musicians got out their instruments and began to play.
“How much is this evening costing us?” Surplus asked quietly.
“Plenty,” Fire Orchid said. “I had to pay black-market prices for the food. But that is the only way to get fed. Otherwise, we take food away from her family that she cannot replace and she will put nasty things in it.”
The meal, when it came at last, was sorry stuff—dandelion greens, yams, and wild roots, served on millet rather than rice. But the Dog Pack got the innkeeper and her family to eat with them, and by the end of the meal, they were all on good enough terms that Surplus was able to coax the woman into telling her story.
“You will be gone tomorrow,” the innkeeper said, “so I will not tell you my name. In such times as these it is dangerous to give such information to strangers. Were you to be taken as spies and tortured, you would willingly give up every name you had ever heard just for a temporary escape from pain. So much for that.
“But you should know that this inn was once renowned for its hospitality. We had pigs that fed on nothing but kitchen scraps and consequently had layer upon layer of fat, which made our cured pork particularly superior, and a roasting fowl that produced layers of turkey, duck, and chicken meat, one over the other. We brewed our own beer, fermented our own wine, and cloned our own signature line of hallucinogenic mushrooms—very gentle, very refined.
“But then recruiters came through, looking for young men to join the army. They made many promises. My oldest son was an adventurous boy, and, against my pleading, he enlisted. For a time he wrote letters. Sometimes they included money. Then he was sent to fight monsters in the Western Hills, and the letters stopped.
“A woman from the army came and said that my son was dead and that, as he had not fulfilled his term of service, I owed them another son. I tried to stop her, but she took my other son away.
“A year later, the same woman returned to say that my son was still alive, but they needed more soldiers so I owed them my daughter. This time I attacked her with a kitchen knife. That was how my daughter-in-law, the widow of my first son, got that limp. She tried to protect me and so received the punishment intended for me.
“You see before you all the family I have left, unless someday my two surviving children return. But I doubt that. The army will keep them until they are dead.
“Mine is a sad story, but not a special one. Every family I know has a similar tale of woe. As a result, there aren’t enough people to harvest the crops. Farms fail. Trade dwindles. Travelers grow fewer. The amount of money raised by taxation shrinks accordingly. So the soldiers—our sons, remember!—are sent to punish us for not being as rich as we once were. Every year is worse than the year before. Soon there will be nothing in all the countryside but emptiness and desolation, with nobody to raise the food the armies require. Then, I think, the armies will turn on one another, and it will serve them right.”
“Your story saddens my heart,” Surplus said.
“It is common, when times are hard, for people to say they have no future. But I think I can safely say that I have no present either. All I have is the past, and that grows smaller and less convincing with every passing day.”
With great dignity, the old woman stood.
“Enjoy the fire. Converse among yourselves. My family and I will place clean linens on the beds now. We shall inform you when they are ready to be slept in.”
For a long time, no one spoke. At last, Darger moved to Fire Orchid’s side and said quietly, “By my accounting, four of the Dog Pack are children.”
“Don’t you let them hear you say that,” Fire Orchid said. “They are growing up fast, particularly Little Spider. And Terrible Nuisance saw his first murder last week.”
“That is commendable, I suppose. But the fact remains that something should be done about them.”
“Something is being done about them. We feed them and look after them and teach them useful skills.”
“No, what I mean is that they should be sent away to someplace safe.”
Fire Orchid looked at him incredulously. “Safe? In a war? Nowhere is safe. At least when they are with the family, we know they are not reading naughty books and picking up bad habits.”
“We are going into an extremely dangerous situation.” All against his will, Darger heard exasperation beginning to creep into his voice. “The children need to be protected.”
“That is why there are adults in the family. To defend the children and make sure they are safe even in dangerous situations.”
“Yes, but…”
“You are sweet. But very misguided. Don’t you worry your ugly foreign head about any of this.” Fire Orchid walked over to Terrible Nuisance and said, “Don’t think I didn’t see you poke your sister with your chopsticks. Go and help our hosts wash the dishes.”
Darger turned away from her and saw Surplus silently shaking. “What are you laughing at?”
“Laughing? I? Well, perhaps I am. I am simply amused to witness Fire Orchid’s dazzling command of logic happening to somebody other than myself,” Surplus said. “That’s all.”
* * *
THE NEXT day, they reached the Grand Canal and turned north. The road, again, was not in good repair. But it was wide and only lightly traveled, so they made good time.
“We’re being watched,” Little Spider said in a low voice. “I have very good eyes, and I am sure of it.”
Surplus, who had matched his mountain horse’s gait with Little Spider’s at her urgent gesture of summons, smiled. “Do you mean the two riders far to the left of us, or the one that appears occasionally on the horizon up ahead, reassures herself that we are still on course, and then disappears northward again? She’s the only woman, incidentally. The others are both male.”
“Okay, so maybe your dog senses are better than mine,” Little Spider grumbled. “It’s rude of you to rub it in.”
“You are a promising artist, a decent musician, and your aunt tells me that someday you will be a first-rate pickpocket and card sharp. Nobody’s best at everything.”
“What will we do?” Little Spider asked.
“Nothing. Everything is as it should be.”
The Dog Pack proceeded northward, stopping at inns and monasteries when they could and commandeering farmhouses when they could not. Always they paid well, behaved couthly, and left behind assurances of the Hidden Emperor’s benevolence. Ever were they greeted with fear and bade farewell with relief.
They followed the Grand Canal Road. Only rarely did they see a half-laden barge go by, pulled by a team of canal lizards. When one did, it had burly guards squatting to the front and rear, looking alert and suspicious. Clearly, trade was almost nonexistent and banditry was common.
That evening, as they were making camp, a murmuring arose among the Dog Pack. Someone pointed and said, “Look—flames!” In the darkness beyond the distant fire, there was another sudden glint of light, rendered much smaller by distance. “And more!”
“Those are beacon fires,” Fire Orchid said. “We are being tracked, and our progress is being reported ahead.”
