Chasing the Phoenix (18 page)

“Such wanton destruction is undesirable, for logistical reasons if for no other,” White Squall said. “A city is a treasure trove of supplies and materials that an army on the move requires.”

Darger shook his head in wondering agreement. “As I understand it, the only defensible justification for a war is so that men of enterprise may have the opportunity to loot cities. This before me is waste, pure and simple.”

“What would you do instead?” Surplus asked.

“Rather than waste our strength destroying the river cities, I would bypass them and proceed directly to the capital city of Crossroads, so named because it is there that all the roads of central China meet. Once it was taken, the lesser cities would have no choice but to sue for peace.” A wide road led from the camp to the burning city. Halfway down it, crude, X-shaped wooden frames were being erected. The faint sound of hammering could be heard in the distance. “Please tell me those are not what I think they are.”

“They are what you think,” White Squall said. “But I have never seen them in such numbers.”

“Alas, Powerful Locomotive also believes in the deterrent effect of crucifixion. But enough of that. Dwelling on the negative only gets in the way of a proper appreciation of the myriad joys of life. Welcome back, my friends! Was your journey a success?” Surplus asked.

“An hour ago, I had thought so.” Darger rubbed his chin thoughtfully, a gesture that from long experience Surplus interpreted as meaning:
There is a fiasco before us. How can we turn it to our advantage?

For his part, Surplus did not believe this was immediately possible. But, aloud, he merely said, “We can but wait for circumstances to change. Is there not a classic of Chinese philosophy that advises patience?”

“All of them, I believe,” Darger said.

As they were thus conversing, Ceo Powerful Locomotive returned from the destruction of Mountain Slope and the execution of the enemy soldiers, reeking of sweat and machine oil. Separating from his troops, he grinned at the sight of White Squall and glowered at the presence of Darger and Surplus. “Ah! You have returned in time to witness my glorious success,” he cried.

“What have you done with all my beautiful weaponry?” White Squall's eyes flashed. “I am told that a good tenth of it is destroyed beyond any hope of repair.”

“I have but put your toys to their proper use. I in turn hear you've brought us something new and special.”

“We have brought the emperor his Phoenix Bride, as commanded.”

“Excellent! I look forward to seeing it in action.” The ceo wheeled his horse and rejoined his men.

“From all I have heard,” Darger murmured, “you had best pray that it is never used.”

Among the troops trudging up the road to camp were the Southern Gate contingent. Before they could pass, Darger hailed their leader. “Prince First-Born Splendor! Stop and tell us of your brave deeds and daring exploits. My tent is nearby, equipped with soft couches and chilled wine. Capable Servant will rub down your horse and see that it is watered and fed while you recover from your fighting.”

First-Born Splendor pulled up his steed. He looked weary and dispirited. “Welcome back, Perfect Strategist—and you, too, White Squall. Your offer is tempting, but I really should see that my men are restored to their quarters in good order.”

“That is what subordinates are for. Come, relax in the company of friends.”

The prince's handsome face twisted briefly with indecision and then cleared. “You are kind, sir, and I will take you up on your offer.”

In minutes, they were all four lounging in the tent that Darger had had set up on a grassy hilltop abutting the main encampment but separate enough to ensure a degree of privacy. Prince First-Born Splendor did not recline but sat tensely upon his couch. “Now, when it is too late to turn back, I begin to doubt the wisdom of my alliance with Powerful Locomotive,” he said.

“White Squall,” Darger said. “Please pour the prince some wine.”

“Am I a servant? Do you expect me to—?” White Squall was silenced by a look. She fetched the wine and poured a cup for First-Born Splendor, who accepted it graciously.

“I am not a child,” the prince said. “I understand that war requires sacrifice and a willingness to kill. But today was mere butchery. I had to fight to keep the ceo from killing noncombatants and children.”

“White Squall, help the prince off with his breastplate. He is so weary that he has forgotten he is wearing it.”

“Am I? I suppose I am.” First-Born Splendor leaned forward so that White Squall could tug at the straps and ease away the armor from his sweaty blouse. “I thank you, cao. That is kindly done of you.”

Darger poured water into cups for Surplus and himself, setting the jug out of sight behind his couch. To White Squall, he said, “You should top off the prince's cup.”

White Squall did so. The prince nodded his thanks.

“When the city was taken, I was sent with my troops to torch it. We rode through its streets, setting fire to all that would burn, and barely escaped being engulfed in the conflagration.”

Darger nudged White Squall and then, when she did not take the hint, said, “That must have been very hard on you.”

“A warrior must do such things, occasionally. But when we emerged from Mountain Slope, I turned back to look upon our work and saw paper balloons, dozens of them, rising from a burning workshop. There is a festival in Southern Gate, where small candles are lit beneath such balloons and they rise into the night like so many bright lanterns. When I was a boy, that was my favorite day of the year. Now, seeing the balloons spiraling up among the smoke and sparks, it seemed to me that all the simple joys of my childhood were burning. That there would be nothing good in my life ever again.”

“A sad observation. Is that not so, White Squall?”

“Yes.”

“You should refill the prince's cup.”

“No, I have had enough, and perhaps more than I should have.” Prince First-Born Splendor stood, picked up his breastplate, and tucked it under one arm. “I thank you for your hospitality. It is greatly appreciated.”

Then he left. White Squall stared yearningly after him.

“This is your opportunity, cao,” Darger whispered to her. “Seize it with both hands.”

White Squall looked stricken. “I … I have no idea what to do.”

“Are you serious?” Darger took White Squall by the shoulders and shook her. Then, still whispering, he said, “Listen to me: You are to follow Prince First-Born Splendor into his tent and tell him his sorrows move you greatly. Bring the wine! Ask him to tell you more. You will then listen to him sympathetically. You will not interrupt him. You will not offer advice. If he falls silent, ask him about his childhood. If he asks you questions about yourself, answer honestly but briefly. Then turn the conversation back to him. Make it clear that you wish you could ease his pain. Make it evident that you have no idea how to do so. Possibly, you will have ideas on how to do so—do not share them! If he cries, you may hold him and make comforting noises. Further ideas may come into your head—keep them to yourself! If he comes up with an idea or two of his own, however, you may then react as you wish. Have you got all that?”

“I—”

“Then go!” Darger handed White Squall the wine jug, spun her around, and shoved her out of the tent.

When the cao was far enough down the hill that she would not overhear him, Surplus said, “That certainly took long enough. What
do
mothers teach their daughters these days?”

“White Squall is a half orphan,” Darger explained, “and her father was distant and unaffectionate.”

“Ahhh.”

“That is her version of the story, anyway. My own theory is that she was abandoned at birth and raised by machines.”

*   *   *

AFTER SO
long a separation, Darger and Surplus had a great deal of catching up to do, information to trade, and plans to make. So they stayed in the tent, talking. They had been at it for some time when Capable Servant appeared and said, “Sirs, Fire Orchid, the noble Dog Warrior's wife, sent me to ask if you have any thoughts on new sources of illegal revenue.”

“Well,” Darger began, “As a matter of fact…”

At which moment, Capable Servant lifted the flap and walked into the tent.

For a heartbeat, the two Capable Servants goggled at one another. Then the newcomer threw his arms about his doppelgänger and cried, “Sirs! You must beat us both immediately. With sticks!”

It took only the briefest of hesitations to understand and to comply. Darger snatched up a broom and applied its handle to both Capable Servants with impartial ferocity. Surplus, meanwhile, laid on them with his cane.

“Harder!” one of the identical servants shouted. The two men rolled and tumbled on the floor beneath a rain of blows.

“Stop!” yelled the other. “Is this the way you treat a faithful retainer?”

At that, Darger and Surplus both turned their attention to the one who had begged them to stop, thrashing the man until he howled with pain. Luckily, the true Capable Servant wore a red shirt, one of Fire Orchid's family's castoffs, where the false one's tunic was drab, so it was easy to distinguish between them.

“Cease immediately!” their victim cried then in a voice deeper and more commanding than Capable Servant's. “As your superior officer, I command it!” His face warped and twisted, and abruptly Darger and Surplus realized that they were beating Ceo Powerful Locomotive.

Surplus whipped his cane back under his arm and took three quick steps backward, away from this uncanny sight. Darger threw aside his broom, appalled. Capable Servant leaped to his feet, pulling Powerful Locomotive with him, and then, realizing with horror that he and his former twin were still entangled, pushed himself away from the ceo with all his strength.

Powerful Locomotive staggered backward and fell against the central tentpole with a
crack
of the skull that made all who heard it wince.

He slumped to the ground.

Solicitously, Surplus bent to help his superior to his feet. But the ceo's eyes remained closed. “Capable Servant,” he said then, “go fetch Vicious Brute immediately. Then Fire Orchid.”

*   *   *

VICIOUS BRUTE
arrived quickly, with Little Spider scurrying after him. The imp darted into the tent before Surplus could order her to stay out. On seeing the prone form of Powerful Locomotive, her eyes opened wide. “Is he dead?”

“No,” Surplus said. “But I need to move the ceo out of here without anybody seeing it done. Vicious Brute, you must surely have had abundant experience disposing of bodies. Your expertise in this matter should prove invaluable.”

Vicious Brute coughed into his fist. “Well, sir … to tell you the truth, sir … the need never came up before this.”

“You could cut him into pieces,” Little Spider suggested. “Then carry him out in boxes.”

“To clarify matters,” Surplus said testily, “not only is Powerful Locomotive not dead, but I sincerely wish him to remain alive.”

“Oh,” Little Spider said, disappointed.

Darger, meanwhile, was kneeling by Powerful Locomotive's body. He had already checked the man's breathing and pulse and placed a hand on his forehead to see if he had a fever or chills. Now he removed his jacket and folded it to make a pillow for the man's head. Finally, standing, he said, “Well, this explains a lot.”

“Not to me,” Little Spider said.

“I also am confused,” Vicious Brute admitted.

“We all knew that Powerful Locomotive was a face dancer. White Squall once told me he was raised to be a spy. The package of genetic improvements to give him flexible plates in his skull and fine control over his facial muscles would be an obvious birth gift for doting parents to bestow upon such a child. But he made us think it was a skill he did not knowingly employ. His loudly proclaimed distaste for deceit was itself a deceit, allowing him to wander unsuspected about the camp and learn firsthand the quality of morale and the fitness of its soldiers. So much is obvious. Only … why would he wish to spy on us, who have always served him so faithfully?”

Fire Orchid burst into the tent. At the sight of the fallen ceo, her eyes narrowed and her hair turned slowly black. Then, addressing Darger, she said, “This had better mean that my husband is getting a big promotion.”

Involuntarily, Darger smiled. “That is entirely possible. First, however, he must avoid being executed for assaulting a superior officer. As must we all. Which means that we must immediately move Powerful Locomotive out of this tent, so that he may be discovered elsewhere.”

“It would be easier if he were dead,” Fire Orchid observed.

“That's what I said,” Little Spider threw in.

“It would also be safer. Who knows what lies he might tell about my husband when he comes to?”

“Nobody is being murdered today. With the possible exception of enemy combatants. And even then, not by us. Now give me a moment to think.” Darger stroked his chin. “I have it. We'll throw a drinking party for the Dog Pack.”

“Hurrah!” Little Spider cried.

“All except you, Little Spider,” Surplus said. “Adults only.”

Whenever she was feeling indignant, Little Spider screwed up her face so that she looked like a pug. “I'm old enough to do bad things. I'll have you know that I've already—”

Raising a paw to cut her off, Surplus said, “Your father is Vengeful Ox, is he not?”

“Um … yes?”

“He is my fourth in command, and as such I must confide in him all matters which he would consider important to know. Reflect on that for a moment and then, if you wish, finish your statement.”

Little Spider glowered, but said nothing.

“I'll let you be the decorating committee. We'll need as many colored lanterns as you can find.”