Path of the Eclipse (2 page)

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Authors: Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

Tags: #Fiction, #Horror, #Fantasy, #Historical, #Dark Fantasy

BOOK: Path of the Eclipse
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In regard to the questions of the personal habits of the foreigner Shih Ghieh-Man, the Candidate Feng must plead much ignorance. It is not fitting that he should intrude on the privacy of his master. However, there are certain things which this humble person knows and will divulge to the August Magistrates. The foreigner lives in a large enclosed compound to the west of the old walls of the city, near the Temple of the Taoists. He has one servant who accompanied him from the West, Ro-Ger, whose family name is unknown to this person. Shih Ghieh-Man has a large staff of servants, all of whom appear to be well-treated. He has three concubines who live in their own wing of the compound and are said to be beautiful, though this humble person has often observed that all concubines are rumored to be beautiful. The foreigner Shih Ghieh-Man, as the August Magistrates must know, often entertains in a tasteful and lavish manner. His guests are among the most distinguished officials and scholars of this city. It is said of him that some of his personal habits are unusual, but this humble person has observed that the personal habits of all foreigners are unusual. While it has been remarked that Shih Ghieh-Man does not dine with his guests, there is nothing to suggest to the candidate Feng that this is in any way significant.

It has been bandied about by certain irresponsible persons, doubtless known to the August Magistrates, that Shih Ghieh-Man is actually a Taoist monk who has, through their sorcery, transformed himself with the intent of embarrassing the university and the teachers. While it is true that Shih Ghieh-Man is most interested in the alchemical studies that are the main thrust of the reprehensible Taoists, he is also firmly committed to the principles of Kung Fu-Tzu and has said within this humble person’s hearing that though he is a foreigner, he understands the benefits of the correct life and personal integrity, and that he himself reveres the ties of blood.

In regard to the question of the foreigner Shih Ghieh-Man’s honor, therefore, this humble person, though not truly qualified to speak of the matter, believes that there is no one he would wish more to have beside him in battle than this foreigner, and no one who is more determined to excel in scholarship. The worst that can be said of this dedication is that he is often driven to tasteless studies of all manner of crude things; rather blame his zeal for knowledge than any Taoist perversity.

Written by the Candidate Feng’s own hand and submitted in person to the Municipal Tribunal in accordance with the instructions of the August Magistrates, with the hope they will excuse the lack of elegance in this report.

1

Custom dictated that she address the official from her knees, though she was of the martial nobility and the official was little more than a glorified clerk.

“And the nature of your request, General T’en?” the bland man said as he smoothed his beard.

“Is for troops!” she declared. “And I fear the Elevated One has suffered a lapse of memory. It was my worthy father who was a General. I, being a mere woman, by law, can only be a Warlord.” Her tone of address was offensive and T’en Chih-Yü knew it, yet she refused to abase herself further to this expressionless, long-nailed old fool.

“Your worthy father, in the celestial realms where he receives the judgment of his forebearers must surely be distressed to realize that his daughter has conducted herself in such an inappropriate manner,” the clerk said severely, eyes narrowing. “It is not seemly that those who have petitions should be so uncivil in their address.”

T’en Chih-Yü touched her forehead to the floor with such elaborate courtesy that it was more insulting than she had been before. “This most insignificant person begs and beseeches the Elevated One to overlook her lamentable boorishness, since it is born from her fear that her district is in danger of being overrun by Mongols!”

The official sighed. He had received eight petitions that morning, all of them demanding the full attention of the Emperor. “He who wears the Imperial Yellow,” he began to this irate young woman, “has all of the people of his country in his thoughts at all times. It is impertinent of you to suggest that he is not aware of the difficulties we have on our borders, and disrespectful to imply that he would make any decisions that would be to the disadvantage of his subjects.”

“Of course. How could this insignificant person have forgotten?” T’en Chih-Yü asked, feeling helpless. “When our villages are burned and the dead are hacked to pieces, and the screams of the wounded are loud, then this insignificant person is apt to assume—obviously most incorrectly—that the court and the army and the governing bodies have temporarily turned their attention to other things.”

“General Wei is even now on the march to drive the Mongols from Pei-King.”

“Doubtless that is necessary. The Northern Capital is of great strategic importance. The Elevated One must forgive this insignificant person for reminding him that her stronghold, such as it is, is in the west.” Her voice had risen and her slender hands were clenched on her knees. “Is there an army on the march for Hsing-ch’ing? That would be of some use to us.”

The clerk’s face had grown colder. He had not wanted to receive this unfeminine woman, he remembered. He had remarked to his scribe that she would be unreasonable and demanding, and would bring him nothing but ingratitude. He tapped one of his long nails on the lacquered wood of his tall desk. “Your request shall be examined for merit, and, if it is appropriate, an investigation will be made.”

“Investigation? Examination?” she repeated, starting to rise. Her empty scabbard scraped on the painted tiles of the floor. “Did you hear nothing of what I said? Fully a third of the villages around my district have been razed and their people slaughtered. I have only two hundred militiamen at my command, and that is not enough. I have ordered patrols, but half the time the riders are caught and killed before we can be warned. I need soldiers, and weapons and supplies and horses and spies. By the time you send some doddering old philosopher to assess our danger, there will be nothing left but skeletons and burned buildings!” Her linked-segment tunic jingled as she strode forward. “We must have help immediately!” She knew she was only making it worse, but the disappointment of her ten days in Lo-Yang made her reckless now.

“That is quite enough, Warlord T’en. Your unseemly conduct will be reported.” He stepped back and removed the official cap from his head, indicating that the interview was over and that T’en Chih-Yü was dismissed. He refused to look at her, but said to his scribe, “Yao, I will walk in my garden to restore my peace of mind. And should that terrible young woman who fancies herself as one of authority—though it is everywhere acknowledged that it is the duty of the father, not the mother, to carry the onerous burdens of authority—present another petition to this officer, you are to deny her access to me and all of those officials within this ministry.” As the scribe bowed, the official left the room.

During her days in Lo-Yang, T’en Chih-Yü had been rebuffed, but never so comprehensively rejected. Though she was aware she had overstepped the bounds of propriety, she was not prepared for the treatment this official had given her. She slapped her hand down on the tall desk and swore by the excrement of turtles.

Yao, the scribe, looked offended at this obscenity, but hesitated as he turned to gather up his writing equipment. He put the ink cake and brushes aside and turned to the young woman. “This humble person, though unqualified to make recommendations to the Warlord T’en, nevertheless takes it upon himself to offer a suggestion, if the Warlord will hear him out.”

“Warlord T’en,” she responded in surprise, “is grateful for any aid the scribe is willing to give her. It is the first help she has received since coming to this city.”

“It is often so,” Yao agreed with a somber nod. “What this official said was extreme, but it is true that we rarely see women, particularly unmarried women, presenting petitions to officials. It is not remarkable that he should receive you so … severely. Surely you have relatives here, with more immediate recognition in the world, than you have who, for the sake of the honor of the family, would be willing to present your requests at a higher level of government.” Yao spoke with great delicacy, but there was no flattering aversion of his eyes, and no false sympathy to his comments.

“If you mean a well-placed male relative, it is unfortunate, but my only living kin in this city is my father’s aunt, who, though the widow of a distinguished man, the great scholar Fei S’un-tsin, lives retired and has not been to Court for more than ten years. My nearest male relatives are in Hang-Chow and do not have the leisure to travel here. Not that they would be heard.” She folded her arms and the scale tunic rang softly. “Scribe Yao, I did not exaggerate when I described the conditions in the west. They must be worse in the north. I have seen severed heads piled into pyramids for carrion birds to feast upon. There was a raid not more than fifty li from my stronghold. We could see the farms burning and there was a stench on the wind for days afterward that made all of us retch. Without soldiers and equipment, the same thing will happen to us.”

Yao studied her, and was pleased with what he saw. She was distressingly masculine, but he supposed that those were the required qualities in this situation. “Have you told others of this?”

“They have been like Lun Shui-Lun,” she sighed, able now to use the departed official’s name since the man himself was no longer present. “They have told me all things I must have are impossible, and have refused to tell me where I might find aid.”

“That is most unfortunate.” The response was only what good manners required, but the scribe was sincere. “You have come a long way to meet with such great disappointment.”

Chih-Yü could not bring herself to answer. She clasped the top of her empty scabbard, then paced the length of the chamber with a long, mannish stride.

“Is there no one else you might call upon to assist you? There must be someone who knows you and will address members of the Court on your behalf.” He knew that the relationships of blood were complex and intricate, but he was well aware that this young woman, warlord or not, could not gain her ends by the simple presentation of petitions.

“My not-to-be-spoken-of brother was in this city for a time and he made himself odious to all of those whom I might have been able to call upon. It is profoundly disquieting to realize that a person of rank who does not have well-placed friends cannot bring petitions before the officials and have them attended to at once. The danger I have spoken of does not affect my stronghold alone, but all of this country. We have lost Pei-King. Must we lost Lo-Yang as well before the officials will decide that there is real danger in those Mongol warriors?” She stopped before the scribe and stared at him, as if hoping he could give her an answer.

“It is true that there are unwarranted difficulties in approaching the highly placed ones,” Yao said with careful circumspection. “That was why I suggested that you have a high-ranking kinsman present your requests, but that is not possible, it would seem.” He sighed. There were often such knotty matters as this to be decided, and he always felt the helplessness of his station when he listened to the pleas of those who needed aid and would, in all likelihood, not get it.

“What am I to do?” Chih-Yü demanded of the air. “If my brother were still here, I might have a way to reach someone in authority through his friends. Oh, he was debauched,” she said bitterly to Yao. “He was debauched, but only with those of the highest rank. If he had not discovered two poison attempts and fled, he might still know well-placed persons.”

Yao pursed his lips. “Is there a way you might be able to speak to your brother’s friends?”

Chih-Yü laughed unpleasantly. “A woman would have to be a great fool to present herself to such men. They would not assist me. My brother had some hold on them, but I do not.” She put her hands on her hips. “I killed a highwayman who tried to assault me. I would do the same to a Prince.”

“Of course.” Yao once again took up the writing implements from his low table. “I am sorry that there is nothing more I can suggest, except…” He paused, considering T’en Chih-Yü carefully. “If you do not mind going among soldiers, you might want to visit the temple of the God of War. Soldiers, though rough fellows and well below your rank, still are more apt to listen to your plight with understanding. Officials like Lun”—he nodded toward the closed door which Lun Shui-Lun had used a little while before—“are ignorant of the reality of your struggles. Soldiers might not be.”

The Warlord inclined her head. “I thank you, Scribe Yao, for your wise and sympathetic words. I am desolated to inform you, however, that the priests at the temple of the God of War have more requests for audience than even men like your Lun Shui-Lun.” She turned and started from the audience room.

“Forgive this further impertinence, then,” Yao said quickly, stopping her before she could leave.

“What is it?”

He studied the brushes clutched in his left hand. “Have you considered going to the university?”

“The university?” Chih-Yü looked at the scribe, her dark eyes alive with impatience. “No, I have not. What good are students to me?” She felt what little hope she had left desert her. There had been too many disappointments these last ten days.

“No, the Warlord misunderstands me,” Yao said with a placating smile. “I was not implying that the Warlord would find support among the students—though that is a possibility—but rather, I meant that the Warlord T’en would find others. There are men of great learning at the university, and where you cannot find help from those with power and arms, you may find another strength, that of well-honed and patriotic minds. Men who are trained to observe and remember are often fine spies as well as good professors. Those who can make elixirs to save lives can help your soldiers and poison your enemies. Those who can smelt metal compounds may use them for arms as well as for ornaments. The man who can translate a book can act as interpreter for a captured foe-man.” There was almost no expression in his lowered eyes, but his hands were so tense that they shook.

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