Heart and Soul (44 page)

“That the main dynasty lost all right to the throne by not making any attempt to recover it through all the centuries of dispossession,” Judge Bao said. “When a man has a field he does not till or look after, and which is taken over by someone else, that someone has the right to the field, after a time. Or the field reverts to the emperor and may be purchased from him.”

“But it is not true,” Wen said, frowning a little, “that the Zhang line has any claim to the throne, either. Or at least, not above my family. While I might not have been involved in the running of my own patrimony, my illustrious father ran his, and his illustrious father before that. Zhang’s ancestors were no more than ministers. And they, too, made no attempt to recover the throne from the usurpers.”

“It says here,” the judge shifted papers around, “that the pirate Koxinga—a were-dragon and Zhang’s ancestor—made an attempt at unseating the Machu Dynasty from its throne, two centuries ago in Nanking. In his flying boats, he laid siege to the town for twenty days, and only the magic of the city’s ancient walls and its ancient inhabitants managed to defeat him.”

“Koxinga was an ancestor of Zhang’s,” Wen said, his voice so steady that it surprised Third Lady. “But so is he mine, on both lines.”

The judge looked up and made a gesture. “Bring me the genealogical records of the Dragon Boats,” he said, to no one in particular. Several shadows scurried to lay what seemed to be an immense scroll on his lap. He looked at it for a long time before saying, “It is true that he is the ancestor of both your mother and father and Zhang’s mother and father. How do you know this? Had you prepared your response?”

“No, Your Excellency. The fact is that there are so many dragons in the world, and in the Dragon Boats, we cannot help being related to one another.”

“Um…” the judge said, and looked through the documents some more. “But this is the oldest lawsuit. There is a more recent one, since your father’s death, and in that one the more important testimony brought by Zhang and his ancestors is that your father said you failed to fulfill your duties as the heir and prince, and that Zhang performed them in your stead. As such, he is invoking the privilege of tradition. As Shun named Yu as his successor because he thought him better for the people of China and for his kingdom, so your father, Yi, chooses to name Zhang as his successor, instead of you. How do you defend yourself from this?”

Wen looked too shocked to speak. For a long time he looked up, seeming utterly without words. Third Lady was about to protest for him, when Wen said, “Excellency, are you sure my father said that? Is the testimony sworn? Because, before he died, my father showed me all the papers and the seals and the rings I would need to be an emperor. Surely he would not have done so unless he believed I should be the emperor. What was the good of instructing me, if he preferred for Zhang to reign?”

Judge Bao frowned, then ordered, “Bring me the shade of Yi, True Dragon Emperor and former Emperor of All Under Heaven.”

There was a longer wait this time, and Third Lady wondered what they would do if his father had already been sent to the wheel of rebirth. Would they truly summon him from whatever he had become in his next life, and bring him here to give testimony on behalf of or against his son?

But after a while, her father-in-law appeared, and he looked much as he had in life. He was tall for a Chinese man, which, combined with her foreign-devil genes, probably accounted for Lady Jade’s ridiculous height. His features looked like Wen’s—the same oval face, and the same regular features. Although, where Wen looked youthful and almost eager to listen to others, Yi had a forbidding expression. He tilted his head, and pursed his lips so that one could not but think that he was very proud and unwilling to listen to anyone else.

“I am Yi,” he said. “True Dragon Emperor. Once Emperor of All Under Heaven. Why do you call me forth? Was not my testimony clear?” He did not look at his son, and Third Lady’s stomach clenched in worry, because if he wouldn’t even look at Wen, it was unlikely he had come to vindicate him.

She knew that, in life, Yi had never been very fond of Wen. This came from not being very fond of Wen’s mother. Instead, he’d lost his heart to the strange redheaded concubine he’d stolen from a carpetship.

Third Lady supposed, as far as that went, she could not fault him. Doubtless his first marriage had been arranged by his father. Wen’s mother had been a great lady of the Tiger Clan, as were all the first ladies of Dragon Emperors when no marriageable dragon lady was available, from time immemorial. As such, Wen’s mother had in a way been born to her position, as much as Wen had been born to his. She was simply the most eligible of the ladies of the Tiger Clan; all the ladies of the Dragon Clan who were of age were probably too nearly related to marry Yi. Besides, the lady had probably been descended from a lot of Dragon Emperors herself, since the daughters tended to marry into the Tiger Clan again if no suitable dragon was available.

It was perhaps not strange that Yi had not fallen in love with his arranged wife. Neither had Wen when it came to that. And if Yi had fallen in love with the foreign concubine, it was just, Third Lady supposed, that he should have preferred it if his concubine had given him a son, and his first lady a daughter. That would, doubtlessly, have fit his notions better. And so far, she could forgive him for being no more than human.

What she couldn’t forgive, though, was the way he treated Wen, as though it were Wen’s fault that he had been born male and Jade female. And beyond that, the fact that his blinkered affections refused to recognize that even had Jade been male, it would have been almost impossible for her to inherit the throne, since this hypothetical male would still have been the son of a foreign-devil concubine, and all the clans would rebel against that.

But she knew—not through experience, but by being taught by older and wiser women who made it their business to instruct the girls—that when men took a notion into their heads, no matter how unreasonable, it was near impossible to dissuade them or disabuse them. And in Emperor Yi’s mind, Wen had stolen the throne from the son he’d never had.

Now he stood, with head thrown back, and a flash of pride in his eyes, and said, “It is the duty of the emperor to choose the most worthy successor to his throne, and this son of mine was never worthy. Even from childhood, he was slow and lagged behind his sister in development. And as a young man, he had no interest in government. I invoked the privilege of Shun, who, choosing the best ruler for his people chose Yu and not his own son, because Yu was the best and the best equipped to rule the people.”

“Well, it is your father’s privilege as emperor—or late emperor—to choose his successor,” Judge Bao said, even though you could tell he was not pleased with having to say it. After all, the purpose of the law was not to please people—or even judges—but to make life more just for the majority of the people. “And the law is the law.”

“But consider, sir,” Third Lady said. “Lady Jade is dependent on her brother’s benevolence to continue living as well. If Wen should die—and Zhang cannot ascend the throne otherwise, in the land of the living—then the Lady Jade’s life will be forfeit.”

Emperor Yi shook his head. “No, for Zhang has sworn to me, on the tomb of his ancestors, that he will marry Jade and create with her a new line of emperors. He’s none too satisfied with that oldest boy of his, the one they call Grasshopper, and certainly they cannot afford to have him inherit such a responsibility as the Dragon Throne.” He looked at Wen and Third Lady for the first time. “I had not meant it to be so,” he said, in a softer voice. “In fact, the truth is I thought it would be best if Wen lived, and if he ruled, at least for a time, while Jade found herself a husband and got her feet under her. I would prefer Jade has her choice in husbands, which is why I’ve never chosen one for her. But once I arrived here, I was informed that my successor will regain the physical Dragon Throne—that the Mandate of Heaven, so long against us because of the path my ancestor Qu set us on, has turned once more and that it was inexorably true that my descendent would rule the True Land of All Under Heaven, and not just the were-clans and their magic.

“Wen—or rather, Jade in his stead—would have done well enough to rule the Dragon Boats and to organize the occasional raid against foreign carpetships. But neither of them, and certainly not Wen, could control the vastness of all under heaven. As such, I had to change my mind and give the throne to Zhang, who served at my right hand for many years, and who already knows everything that can be done and should be done to establish a just empire. Thus did Shun choose, and get Yu, the great flood tamer. While Yu bent to the dictates of his heart and the demands of family and chose his son, Qu, who oppressed the non-weres and eventually led us to losing the Mandate of Heaven.”

There was a long silence, and then Judge Bao rustled the papers with an air of finality. He looked ready to pronounce a verdict, and Third Lady was very much afraid that she knew what that would be. She reached for her husband’s hand again, touching his cold fingers for a moment before he reacted and clasped her hand convulsively.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t even look at each other, but Third Lady knew that Wen was thinking, just as she was, that they’d come so far and done so much for all of it to flounder like this, on the shores of Yi’s old obsession with his son not being worthy enough of him or of his throne.

“Just because Yu made a mistake,” she exclaimed in despair, “it is not true that doing the opposite will not be a mistake.” She remembered what Yu had said. “I call on the soul of Yu the Great, to help me in my case.” When nothing happened, she continued, resigned and steeling herself to fight on alone. “Zhang has imprisoned Wen’s soul in this underworld, since Wen was a very young man. And Zhang gave Wen’s body opium—which he got from the English traders, probably in exchange for favors when he got the throne—and introduced him to it and encouraged him in taking it, until he was thoroughly addicted. How could he be a proper heir to you, Oh Emperor Yi, if neither his soul nor his mind were fully present? How could he have shown you that he deserved the Dragon Throne, when he could barely think?” She shook her head and, driven by her pain, continued. “It is only because you are not a real father, and never had any care of your only son, that you didn’t notice he was addicted to opium, and didn’t suspect where it was coming from. Oh, the Lady Jade tried to hide it because she was afraid of what your reaction would be, and what it would do to her brother’s chances of ruling. But she didn’t hide it so well from anyone else, and everyone else in the Dragon Boats knows the cause of Wen’s distress. And knows who is responsible for it. Except you, Emperor Yi.”

“You dare talk to me like that, fox-girl? You were no more than a singer and dancer in a singsong troop when I purchased your contract for my son.”

“And she’s the lady of my heart and always will be,” Wen said quietly.

“You speak now in defense of your wife?” Yi said. “You didn’t speak in defense of your inheritance. Zhang might not be as worthy as Yu, but at least he would have defended his right to inherit the Dragon Throne.”

“Oh, no,” a booming voice said from the back. “Never underestimate Zhang.” Third Lady started and would have turned, ready to defend herself from some attack from Zhang or his emissaries, but she heard, as an undertone to the words, the sound of running water. And before she could turn, she realized it was Yu’s voice. “He might not have had my interest in defending my people and protecting them from the flood, but if making all contrivances possible to inherit the throne makes one worthy to occupy it, then Zhang is very worthy, indeed. Not only did he contrive to imprison the soul of the prince and heir”—he gestured to the papers on Judge Bao’s lap—“if Your Excellency will look, you will note that the date at which it was imprisoned was when Prince Wen could be no more than twelve, and therefore not ready to take charge of anything…and he also introduced him to opium, which he obtained from British agents, with promises of granting them favors once he ascended to the rule of the Dragon Boats—as Third Lady surmised. As for the opium, as well as for other things necessary for his plans of takeover…” While he spoke, Yu gestured to two of the clay men, who entered carrying what looked like a giant mirror. Third Lady recognized it as one of the mirrors from the first hell, the ones in which one could see one’s own life. However, at a wave from Yu, the mirror displayed Zhang meeting with men in English uniforms, in a town that was clearly Hong Kong. It displayed him giving the very young Wen opium. “He also,” Yu said, as the scene showed on the screen, “poisoned your drink for years, oh Emperor Yi, so you seemed to suffer from a lingering illness, which eventually killed you, when he chose to up the dosage.” He crossed his arms on his chest. “This is the man you compare to me, and to whom you want to entrust all under heaven?”

Yi looked…deflated, and Third Lady felt a sudden sympathy for him, because he looked so much like Wen when he’d been caught at fault and was embarrassed to admit it.

He lowered his head, and when he looked up again, he was frowning, perhaps to hide an expression of contrition. “No,” he said. “No, Minister Zhang is not worthy of having the Dragon Throne. I only wish to know if my son is.”

“That,” Yu said, his voice almost caustic, “none of us can know until we’ve given the child the power and watched him succeed or fail. There are no guarantees, Emperor Yi.”

“Do you then abandon your willing of the throne to Zhang?” Judge Bao asked.

“Yes,” Emperor Yi said. “I will it instead to my son, Wen, True Dragon Emperor, Future Ruler of All Under Heaven.”