Chasing the Phoenix, page 5
“That is the most wondrous thing I have heard in years,” Darger said, “for I understand not a word of it.”
“Arrow I understand,” Surplus said. “But—guided missile? Antitank? Ballistic device?”
“A guided missile is a sophisticated rocket, used as a weapon. The tank was once believed to be a mythological beast but is now understood as an armored cannon-carrying machine used in the wars of old. The device is ballistic because, once launched, its flight cannot be influenced by its operator.”
“Ah. Very good. I understand completely. Pray, continue.”
“It was our intention to demonstrate the HJ-73 today,” White Squall said. “However, it is the Hidden King’s whim that you should first fail to negotiate a happy settlement with Prince First-Born Splendor and then be hung for wasting our time. So we must wait until tomorrow to demonstrate it.”
“Demonstrate it how?” Surplus asked.
“By destroying the inn.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Ceo Powerful Locomotive’s face shifted noticeably, the mouth widening and the brows becoming heavier and more menacing so that he looked almost demonic. This was surely, Darger reflected, habitual, a quirk so commonly used to intimidate subordinates when they questioned an order that he was no longer conscious of doing it. “All you need to know is that tomorrow the Red Arrow will fly through the air from here to the inn. There it will explode, destroying the building and all it contains. Nobody will be in it at the time, of course. The prince and his people will all be here. He is a useless fop and an irresolute fool. However, when he sees how easily a place he had lived in and whose beauty he had surely admired could be destroyed from a distance by a single instance of the many weapons provided by, as I said, this beautiful lady … then even he will become fully cognizant of the real benefits of signing a treaty with us.”
His speech done, Powerful Locomotive’s face returned to its normal lineaments and he smiled insincerely. “But now I have real work to do. White Squall will see to your needs.”
For the space of a breath, White Squall glared after the departing ceo. Then, wordlessly, she lifted the tent flap. They all went outside again and stood blinking in the sunlight. “Any questions?” she said.
“How did the ceo come to have such a … mobile face?” Surplus asked.
“You did not know? But of course you are barbarian strangers and so gossip that is common to all the court is new to you. Powerful Locomotive’s parents were landowners, minor nobility possessed of wealth but little political influence. To promote their family’s fortunes, they invested in prenatal gene work to make their son a face dancer. Several collateral ancestors were in intelligence, you see, and they thought that on reaching his majority he could easily become a spy and from that position work his way upward. How were they to know that he would possess a natural genius for military command and a corresponding detestation of deceit? The irony of so straightforward a man possessing so ambiguous a talent is lost on no one.”
“I see,” Darger said. “Well, there is work to be done. How much time do we have to prepare?”
“The prince and his people will come here in early afternoon. Three hours, let us say. In the meantime, Ceo Powerful Locomotive and I have been directed to give you anything you may need.”
“Then we must begin preparations immediately. I shall require—ho! You!” At Darger’s summons, a scurrying servant came to an abrupt stop. “Is that wine you are carrying? Of what quality is it?”
“Of the very finest, sir, for it is meant for the prince of Southern Gate himself.”
“Excellent!” Darger said, snatching the bottle from the startled man’s hands. “Where is Capable Servant?”
“Here, sir,” said that admirably unobtrusive fellow.
“Fetch me a gourd with a leather strap, such as travelers use to carry water on their voyage. Nothing fancy, mind you. Borrow it if you can, buy it if that’s required, steal it if you absolutely must, but get it to me in five minutes.”
“Sir!” Capable Servant disappeared.
“It is too early for you to be drinking,” White Squall said, reaching for the wine bottle, which was promptly whisked away from her.
“This wine is but one element of an intricate plan.” Darger took White Squall’s folding chair from the servant who had followed them, carrying it. Setting the chair in the shadow of the nearest tent, he sat. “The Noble Dog Warrior has a list of our other requirements.”
“There is no need for a list, for I have committed our needs to memory.” Surplus could not possibly have done so, for Darger had come up with his scheme on the spot; nevertheless, Surplus held up a finger. “First, a spool of crimson thread along with three embroidery needles, a plate of water crackers, and five glass tumblers.” He held up a second finger. “Next, a giraffe—full grown, mind you, and in perfect health. It must be here before the prince arrives.”
“A giraffe!” White Squall said in a tone such as would be employed only by a woman who was overcome with indignation. “How am I supposed to find an African animal, full grown or not, on such short notice?”
“Madam,” Surplus said, “the list is long and enumerating it will take forever if you are going to raise objections whenever it strikes your fancy. I suggest that you jot down notes so that we can discuss your quibbles after the first read through and see if it is possible to make substitutions. Next, a lobster boat.”
White Squall put her hands on her hips. “Now that is simply impossible. We are twenty-five hundred li from the ocean.”
“Such negativity ill becomes you, great cao. Fourth—”
As the discussion grew more heated—Surplus could be infuriating when he put his mind to it—Darger accepted a gourd from Capable Servant and filled it with wine. Then, unobtrusively, he slipped away.
* * *
IT TOOK Darger an hour to circle around the woods and so approach the country inn from its far side. The inn was handsomely situated near a small lake, with a grove of flowering peach trees around the back. A man who could only be the innkeeper stood in the doorway, taking a break from his duties. Cheerily, Darger hailed him. “Hello, my good fellow! Do you have a room free to rent to a wandering scholar who is for a brief time uncharacteristically affluent? Preferably one with a window looking out upon the lake, though from the exterior I judge that all your rooms are excellent.”
“In this you are correct, sir. The elegance of our rooms is famous far and wide and the landscaping such as to give pleasure from every aspect. But unfortunately a delegation from Southern Gate is staying here. Would they were not! By order of our own government, I must provide them food and lodging for free, and, since all princes have enemies, I am not allowed to rent out the empty rooms lest they be taken by assassins.”
“That is a great pity. Perhaps I could trouble you for a cup of water?”
“Hospitality is my business, good scholar, and my nature as well.” The hotelier went away and came back with a ceramic cup filled with cold spring water. “Would you like me to fill your water gourd while I am at it?”
Darger laughed. “Impossible! This gourd is full of the finest wine from the Hidden King’s own cellars. It was a gift from him for some small services I was able to do. May I offer you some?”
“Ordinarily, at this time of day I would not. But how often does a man have the opportunity to taste a monarch’s wine?” The innkeeper stepped inside, returned with a second cup. Darger poured. “Ahh! How pleasant to be a king, if only for one sip.”
“Allow me to top up your drink. The prince of yours—would that be the famous First-Born Splendor? They say he is an exemplary ruler. But perhaps your experience has been different?”
“Just as no man is a hero to his servants, sir, no prince is a hero to the man at whose inn he stays without paying. But he is a well-spoken young fellow who has no idea of the financial calamity he is visiting upon me and my family, so I bear him no personal ill will.”
“To the prince, then.” They clicked cups and the innkeeper drank while Darger daintily absorbed a few drops of water. “Allow me to refill that. You know, in my business it pays to meet as many princes as possible. Do you suppose there is any way I could chance to encounter Prince First-Born Splendor?”
“Well … at midday, he likes to walk alone in the peach orchard, in order to collect his thoughts and cultivate serenity. I gather that the negotiations with the Hidden King’s ambassadors are very trying to his spirit. It’s possible that, if you promised to … to…”
“Your cup is almost empty, sir! Let me refill it.”
For a time they stood thus, chatting pleasantly. Then the innkeeper declared himself uncharacteristically woozy and went indoors to lie down for a while.
Darger washed the two ceramic cups at a nearby spigot, strolled into the peach orchard, and chose a tree to sit beneath. There he waited.
* * *
PRINCE FIRST-BORN Splendor emerged from the inn, hands behind back, lost in thought. Slowly, he strolled among the peach trees, taking no particular notice of the nondescript scholar sitting with his back against the trunk of one until he was upon the man. Then he merely nodded slightly and passed on.
“The Hidden King,” Darger said to no one in particular, “is a homicidal maniac who must be killed if this land is ever to know peace.”
The prince whirled. “Who is this who speaks such treasonous words about his own monarch?”
“The king is mad.” Darger did not stand, but raised his eyes to meet the prince’s. “You have heard the rumors, and I, having stood in his presence, can assure you that they are true. But as I am but a mendicant scholar of no family or reputation, that is nothing. Ceo Powerful Locomotive also knows this fact, and that is a great deal. Not that he would ever admit to such a thing, of course. Not to your face.” He produced the two wine cups and filled them from his gourd. “Drink?”
The prince squatted upon his heels and accepted the cup. He did not raise it to his lips until Darger had done so first, and then he only took the lightest sip. “Is it him you represent?”
“Perhaps,” Darger said. Then, addressing the sky, “War is not a pleasant thing. But it is coming to your land.”
“Our soldiers are ready and the mountain passes are narrow. It would cost the Hidden King dearly to pass through Southern Gate without my leave.”
“Indeed. Only a madman would even consider such an act.”
The prince said nothing.
Still peering at the distant clouds, Darger said, “If only there were a way to turn this situation to your advantage.”
“What do you mean?”
“A traveler who is confronted by a pack of wolves does not raise his vision to consider the beauty of the mountains. He sees only the gleam of their teeth and eyes. So, too, all your thoughts are focused on what will happen when the Abundant Kingdom’s armies enter Southern Gate. If they do so with your permission, it will be the easiest thing for them to, in passing, take your country and absorb it into the Hidden King’s territories. If they are resisted, your cities will burn, your armies will be slaughtered, and your nation will fall anyway. So disastrous are your prospects that you cannot see that there is a third way.”
“What is that way?”
“Hold your hands up before you, prince.” After the slightest hesitation, First-Born Splendor did so. “See how clean they are! Spotless. Would you be willing to put up with a little dirt if it meant they would not be stained black with the blood of thousands of your subjects?”
Tense and wary, the prince said, “Perhaps.”
“Then listen to my proposal and say nothing until I am done speaking, for a conspiracy is like a machine, made up of a myriad of moving parts whose purpose may not be clear until one considers them all together and a plot which seems abominable midway through the telling is sometimes redeemed by its outcome. Pretend that I am a storyteller and all that I say but a fanciful tale to idle away a pleasant hour.
“Now. Let us imagine the possibility that rather than merely granting the Hidden King’s armies permission to pass through your land, you were to propose an alliance with the Abundant Kingdom, one in which Southern Gate would be a subordinate territory. Sit down, sir! By beginning to listen to me, you made an implicit promise to hear me out—and, as I said, without your willing participation this is but a tale.
“That is better. Remember, you have committed yourself to nothing as of yet. I am a fellow of no importance. You have no reason to believe I have any influence with the Hidden King or, more significantly, with any members of his court. It does not compromise you to listen.
“Where was I? Ah, yes. You were about to propose an alliance. Not only do you pledge the resources of your country—your intact, unplundered country—to the Hidden King’s war but you contribute military forces of your own to his armies. Led by you personally and loyal to yourself alone. That automatically makes you a member of his court and one of his advisors. You will not be trusted, of course. Secretly, the Hidden King will consider you a fool. But you will be useful to him and thus treated well. You will also have the opportunity to make friends among his advisors—and one whom I would most ardently advise you to befriend is Ceo Powerful Locomotive.”
The prince’s eyes were unreadable. His lips were white and thin.
“The king, as I said before, is mad. However his war goes, in victory or defeat, there will inevitably come a time when his orders become so clearly disastrous that those closest to him must decide who is to survive—he or they. In that extremity, someone, and I cannot say whom, will see to it that the king is no more.
“Now, when a king dies, the matter of succession is a thorny one. If a general or even a ceo were to assume the title, grave suspicion would rest upon him. But if there were a potential figurehead close at hand, someone of noble birth yet not born in the country in question, well, he would be an obvious choice. For a year or three, provided that figurehead king were cooperative, he would issue commands and edicts on the advice of his most trusted advisor. Then, when said advisor—a military man, no doubt—had consolidated his power and felt ready to take the throne in his own name …
“Well, a second regicide would be an inauspicious beginning to the new king’s reign. But suppose the figurehead king were a provincial from a small mountain kingdom of no great importance to anyone but himself. Imagine that his ambitions were modest. He might express a weariness with the duties of ruling a great nation and a yearning to retire to the land that gave him birth. In such a case, his successor would certainly feel grateful enough to present him with Southern Gate as his own possession, free and clear.”
Darger ceased speaking and waited.
“All this in exchange for letting your nation’s armies through?”
“And for your promise to return to your own nation after two years’ reign.”
“Exactly who are you again?”
“As far as you are concerned, I am a fellow of no importance. But a harsh truth from the mouth of a man you distrust is surely worth more than the most reassuring lies from the lips of those who would pretend to be your friends.” Darger stood, and First-Born Splendor did likewise. Stooping to pick up the wine cups from the ground, Darger said, “You and I have barely touched our wine. Are you willing to drink to our mutual understanding?”
The prince’s face was hard, but he nodded. They drained their cups.
Then Prince First-Born Splendor squared his shoulders and turned back to the tavern. “I will have my scholars draw up a treaty immediately.”
* * *
WHEN DARGER returned to the embassy tents with the treaty, Ceo Powerful Locomotive and Cao White Squall were waiting to confront him. But when he presented the parchment, their indignation turned to astonishment. The ceo snatched the document from his hands and read it through, scowling in disbelief. At times, his face looked inhuman. Then he handed it to White Squall, who was equally incredulous.
“How did you ever convince the prince of Southern Gate to see it our way?” she asked.
“I lied to him,” Darger said. “Funny that it never occurred to you to do the same.”
4.
Those who never met the Dog Warrior may be scandalized that human women would be so strongly attracted to one whose genome was purely canine. Those who stood in his presence and experienced his charisma, however, understood perfectly.
—EXPLOITS OF THE DOG WARRIOR
TO A civilian, watching from a distance, a great army being marshaled is a stirring sight. It flows endlessly down the road like a dragon in its strength and energy and perseverance. For the long hours it takes to pass, always changing and ever the same, it comes to feel as substantial and enduring as a stone-walled metropolis, a state of being that must surely last forever. Nothing, it seems, could possibly resist it. But to those responsible for the operation, it is one continual catastrophe. Wagon axles break and teams of horses panic and stampede. Soldiers are crushed under the feet of colossal machines and must be treated on the fly. The reports of scouts, imperfectly phrased or inaccurately transmitted, cause battalions of men to go astray, and when those in the lead, realizing at last that there is no way forward, give the order to turn back, those in the rear continue marching, to the confusion of all. Supplies are not what their providers promised and food arrives tainted. Fords prove impassable, so bridges must be built. Oxen wander off. Nightfall forces the troops to pitch their tents prematurely, far from water and on stony ground. All these misfortunes, though regrettable, are perfectly ordinary and doubly so when the army is inexperienced and new to warfare.
Thus it was that while the Hidden King’s armies were struggling toward Battlefield Pass, word of their progress had gone before them all the way to the ancient city of Peace, capital of the Land of the Mountain Horses. There, the ruling council had quickly abrogated their treaties with Southern Gate and, sweeping southward across its borders, seized Dynasty along with the rich basin lands surrounding it. Then, knowing that there was but one way north from the Abundant Kingdom, they sent their armies south to the city of Bronze and from there set about building fortifications in the valley through which all traffic must go. By the time the armies reached the pass, there was an earthen wall stretching across its narrowest point and the soldiers behind it were dug in strongly.
