The Stone Road (26 page)

Haung let his gaze wander the room again. Checking no one was paying him much attention and was satisfied that they were not. He took another sip of wine, then drew a scroll out from his robe and gave that his full attention, right hand resting lightly on the table top.

Three pulses against his fingers. He tapped once back. The target had been spotted and was approaching. He placed the scroll down and took another sip of wine, the liquid barely touching his lips. Haung noticed his hand shaking a little. He took a few calming breaths and picked up the scroll again, pretending to read.

Two pulses, one tap back. The target was nearly at the door. Haung kept the scroll still and took a glance around the room. Nothing had changed, all was quiet and calm.

One pulse, one tap. The target was opening the door. Haung focused on the scroll but could feel the air lighten as the door opened, letting the early afternoon sun and breeze into the quiet, closed environment. He looked up to take a look at the newcomer and the other customers did the same. He returned his disinterested gaze to the scroll. The light disappeared, the door closing. Haung tapped twice, target in sight. One pulse back, all ready. He put the scroll down, flat on the table, and leant forward, furrowing his brow at the script.

“The bartender said you have a message for me?” the voice from the other side of the table said.

Haung looked up. The stranger was, he judged, a little shorter than him with dark eyes and long black hair tied up into a ponytail.

“Sorry?” Haung said. Three taps, contact made.

“The bartender,” the man pointed, “said you wanted to talk to me.”

“Ah, you are Lu Tian, the timber merchant?” Haung rose to deliver a short bow and with an open palm indicated the stool opposite and the readied rice wine. “I’m so glad you could spare the time. I had thought that you had been unable to make this meeting. Good fortune must smile upon me today. Please, sit, drink. You would like some food?”

“I am not Lu Tian nor do I deal in timber.” The man glanced at the scroll and wine.

“Really? I am so sorry. I specifically told the bartender to direct Lu Tian, the timber merchant, to my table when he came in. This is very embarrassing.” Haung wrung his hands, the picture of apologies. “At least let me get you a drink. It is the least I can do.”

“No, thank you,” the man said. “I have business elsewhere and must go.”

“Go? Surely you just arrived, honoured Sir,” Haung said, “Allow me to introduce myself so you may know no slight was intended. I am Haung, a factor for the timber purchasers in the Capital. I was hoping to meet Lu Tian, to negotiate a large order for the extension of the emperor’s palace grounds. Mostly, to be honest with you, a small project in the extensive gardens but worth much to my masters.”

“You come from the Capital?” Haung nodded his answer. “Well, perhaps I can share a drink at least as you have travelled so far. My name is Shing, I operate a modest transport business in the town.”

“It is good to meet you, Honoured Shing,” Haung waited until Shing was sat down before he followed suit.

“It may be that I can assist you in your project and at the same time extend my business interests as far as the Capital,” Shing took a sip of the rice wine. Haung watched the man’s hand shake a little as he placed the cup back onto the table. “I can provide the haulage to get all the timber you wish to purchase to the Capital and, for the opportunity to do business in the Capital, I’ll even give you and your master a discount.”

“Well,” Haung smiled, “this was a fortuitous meeting. My next step was to organise the transportation and I can see nothing wrong with changing the order of my plans around. Here, have some more wine.”

They raised a cup together and began to discuss the amount of wood, distances and costs.

“Master Shing,” said a small boy, wearing the uniform of a waiter, who had approached the table. “Master Bo wonders if he could have a private word with you.”

Haung watched as Shing looked across the room towards a large man dressed in the finest silks in the place.

“Of course, I will be right there.” Shing turned back to Haung, “Forgive me for a moment, I will be right back.”

Haung nodded and smiled as Shing rose from the table and made his way between the rows to reach Master Bo. He continued to watch as Shing and Bo began to speak. Bo was the more expressive, waving his hands and a red hue rose to his face. Haung could not hear the words but when they both stopped speaking and looked over at him, he guessed that his cover had been broken. Still, he smiled at them both and gave Master Bo a small bow, a mere nod of the head but respectful nonetheless. They both walked over to him.

“My apologies, Honoured Haung, but I must go,” Shing said, his hands clasped together in front. “Master Bo has made me aware of a potential opportunity that I must act quickly upon. Perhaps we can meet again soon to discuss the plans.”

“Of course, Master Shing, I would be delighted to…” Haung began.

Shing nodded and turned away, hurrying towards the door. Haung stood and went to follow but Master Bo moved to block his path.

“I am afraid your discussion will have to wait, Master Haung.” Bo’s hands were held loosely at his side but Haung noted the veins that stood proud through the olive skin, pulsing quickly, a reflection of Bo’s heart rate.

Haung gave a slight bow and stepped to the side to go around Bo.

“Perhaps we can discuss your plans,” Bo said, moving to block Haung’s way once more.

“Move aside, Master Bo,” Haung said in a dead voice.

“Make me,” Bo replied, his hands forming into meaty fists.

Haung brought his left hand up to his face. On its upraised palm a small quantity of blue powder which, with sharp exhalation, he blew into Bo’s face. The effect was immediate. Bo took a step back and struggled to raise his hands up to his face. The large man’s eyes rolled back in his head and he fell in a clattering heap to the floor.

Haung stepped over the fallen fat man and raced towards the door, wrenching it open and darting out into the sunshine. He squinted and looked up at the rooftops. His fellow
Jiin-Wei
pointed down the street. Haung set off in pursuit.

Chapter 31

“I don’t have a knife,” Zhou said.

“You can’t lie to me,” said the serving girl, “not in here. For instance, your right hand is, as we waste time discussing this, gripping the hilt of the very knife you claim not to have. So, let it go and come with me, if you want to live.”

Zhou stared deep into her brown eyes, seeking the truth. She returned the stare, unblinking, and he let go of the hilt.

“There, that’s better. Now follow me.” The girl stood and turning her back to him walked away. He hurried to follow.

They passed by the crowd of men who, still arguing about the poster and the soldiers, paid them no mind. In the corner of the inn was a small door that was visible to Zhou only now that he was so close. As she approached, the door swung open without a sound. Zhou, the taller of the two, could see, beyond the door, a staircase leading downwards.

Must be the cellar, he thought. Once she has got me down there, there’ll be no escape route.

“You’ll be quite safe,” she said without turning, “the door only opens from the inside for others and the outside only for me.”

With no better option, Zhou followed her down the narrow stairs. The wooden walls here glowed with a soft green light, and there were no candles, lanterns or other forms of illumination. He watched the girl descend ahead of him. One hand brushing the wall as though she was dipping it into a lake from the side of a slow moving boat. Where her fingers touched the wall the green glow rippled and pulsed. The more he watched, the more it looked as though the ripples were not moving away but being draw toward her hand. His eyes narrowed and he directed his focus at the wall, he reached out his own hand towards the wall.

“I wouldn’t do that,” she said, but he ignored her.

The moment the tip of his finger made contact with the wood he yelped in pain and snatched back his hand. He placed the burned finger in his mouth and tried to suck away the pain.

“I told you not to,” and there was laughter in her voice.

Zhou glared at her back while he blew cool air onto the burnt skin.

“It doesn’t know you. If every stranger you met poked and prodded you, I bet you’d react in some way,” she said. “We’re almost at the bottom.”

“You talk like the stairs are alive,” he said.

“They are,” her answer began, “and not just the stairs, the whole inn is alive. I thought you knew.”

“Why should I know?” he replied.

“As soon as you walked in, I knew that you were alive.”

He shook his head, “Of course you did. I am alive.”

“No, you are alive,” she stressed the last word. “All those other men in the inn, they have life but are not alive. They walk, talk, eat, drink, reproduce, but they are not truly alive. They do not see or feel.”

The stair way came to an end and before him a large room opened up. The room was more than twice his height and larger than the floor of the inn above. The walls were not the brick, or wood, he had expected. Instead, rising from floor to ceiling, were twisting, intertwining roots and tendrils. Perhaps, he pondered, it should be the other way around, the roots fell from the ceiling to the floor. The floor was a carpet of roots and he saw that, wherever the girl trod, the roots rose to meet the fall of her feet. Underneath his own, they were still and immovable.

“I don’t understand,” he said and she turned to face him. Zhou took an involuntary step backwards. The girl’s eyes, deep brown upstairs, had taken on the green glow of the walls. More than that, filaments of browns, yellows and red, all the colours of autumn fell like rain through her irises.

“Don’t you?” she said. “Then open your senses, open the eyes of your spirit and look around you.”

Zhou took a calming breath and sought, within his mind and heart, the spirit of the animal he had bonded with. The process was still not natural to him and it took him a few moments but when his thoughts touched the spirit, a swell of joy crashed over him. His eyes opened and looked at his surroundings. But what he saw in his spirit enhanced vision was confusing. Draped across everything, he could see a second layer. Zhou relaxed into the vision, just as the Bear had taught him, and the two merged into one.

The scent of the forest wormed its way up his nostrils and he took a deep breath, the taste of green life, of oak and pine, grass and herb. The air was fresh and cleansing. He took another breath and a surge of energy rose from his lungs into his brain, thoughts scattering and reforming, renewed and alive.

“You see it now?” she said, her voice like a bird’s mating call on a spring morning. “You feel it. This is alive.”

Memories of Wubei came to the fore of his mind. Playing with his child in the courtyard, the kite he had made for him, the kiss goodbye in the mornings, the awkward run and scoop into the return-from-work embrace, the warm embrace of his family, his wife’s smile and her smooth skin at the end of the day.

“Stop it,” he choked.

“No.” Her voice was a winter storm. “Understand life. You have lived, loved, lost and now live again. You are young and have suffered but you do not understand. You have the chance to live for hundreds of years, if you desire it. You have the spirit to do so. You will love and suffer again. You will know joy and heartache, trust and betrayal, the good and bad of all life.”

The attack on Wubei. The screams of the injured and dying. Faces of friends, stilled and lifeless. The wreckage of his house, of his family. The fires of the first night, the charnel smoke of human flesh.

“Stop it,” he cried and fell to his knees.

“No,” her voice the clap of summer thunder. “You are alive. All those things are yours. They are you. Accept them all and know them all. Then you’ll be ready.”

“No.” His tears splashed down onto the roots. They rose to meet them and carried on rising, climbing over his shoulders and hips. The roots embraced him and drew him down into the heart of the inn.

# # #

Zhou bit into the apple. The skin popped as it parted under the sharp edges of his teeth, juice flowed across his tongue and dripped down his chin.

“You’re a dryad,” he stated.

“Of course,” she replied as she nibbled on an apple of her own. “This inn is my tree. It has stood here for over seven hundred years. When men came, I hid. The village grew into a town and I knew I could not hide forever. When they came to my tree I fought, at first. Men died and they called the land cursed. They built around the tree, keeping their distance but the town grew large and I, the tree, was trapped.”

“How did it become an inn?” Zhou asked.

“I made it change. It took some time.” She took another bite of the apple, “I hired some men to do the work, to look as though the inn was built, but it wasn’t. The inn grew over the years, my tree and I took care of that.”

“Haven’t they noticed you don’t age?” Zhou took a sip of the cleanest, most refreshing water he had ever drunk.

“Men come and go, they don’t notice a serving girl,” she answered, “and it is not hard to change my appearance.”

Zhou almost spat out his water as the dryad’s hair changed hue to brown to black and back again, her eyes changed colour to match and her skin tone shifted.

“Do you still want to kill the Duke of Yaart?” She asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“Then I can help you.”

“Why?” Zhou put the wooden cup down onto the table of roots.

“The duke seeks to expand his holdings to the east, into the forests. The guardian of those is aged and weak. It has asked for my help and I am happy to give it, though there is little I can do from here. However, I can help you to do what I cannot.”

“You really are tied to your tree.”

“I am the tree and the tree is me. We cannot be separated. I do have some contacts in Yaart who will be willing to help you. I can even get you into the city with little difficulty. Once you are in, you are on your own.”

“Tell me how.” Zhou leant forward, intent on her words.

# # #

“This tunnel leads all the way under the city and out beyond the walls,” the dryad said. “You’ll emerge in a small wooded area and someone will meet you there.”

“Thank you.” Zhou bowed to her.

“You can thank me by killing the duke. I’m sure your family will be proud of you too.” She handed him a pack which he swung onto his back and settled the straps across his shoulders. “There is enough food and water in there for many days, some money and a letter of introduction.”

“A letter?” Zhou queried.

“To a man of power in Yaart. You can read it if you want, it merely details an order the inn placed with a factor in Yaart but, give it to the right man and he will know what it means.”

“What is the man’s name?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, “and he doesn’t know who I am. That’s how we work, through intermediaries who themselves don’t know one end of the chain to the other.”

“Sounds confusing,” he said.

“It is safer. The Blue Dragon Clan has always operated this way. No one knows anyone more than two or three steps up or down the chain and even then, there are the intermediaries who don’t know they are working for us. In that way, should one get captured only a few are ever at risk and the chain breaks before it can be followed too far.”

“Blue Dragon Clan? A terrorist group,” Zhou spluttered.

“Terrorists?” She stared at him with narrowed eyes and underneath his feet he felt the root floor writhe. “We are the people of this land and we stand up against those in power. Those who abuse their power and don’t listen to the people.”

“You kill people.” Zhou stared back at her.

“So do you,” she stepped toward him. “You have in battle and you want to kill the duke.”

“I want revenge. I want justice for my family. You want power and don’t care who gets in the way.” Red and black began to cloud his vision. His jaw ached and warmth was spreading down his arms, pooling in his fingertips.

“I don’t want power. I want someone in power who respects the people, who works for them and,” she raised her arms and roots snaked upwards from the floor pinning Zhou’s own arms against his sides, binding his legs together, immobilising him, “yes, people get hurt. But I will not stand aside while a greater number suffer because of the will of a few. I will not hide behind pretty words, promises and treaties. We both know that pretty words get dirty, promises get broken and treaties torn up.”

Zhou struggled in the group of the roots. The more he fought the tighter they became, breathing was becoming difficult and soon the pain in his ribs forced him to admit defeat. He swallowed the beast back down.

“Now, for the moment we have an aim in common.” She lowered her arms and the roots began to relax their constricting grip. “It may not always be that way little
Wu
but if you come back here, come back with good intentions. In this tree, in this inn, your spirit will not be enough. Come back with the duke dead and we will be friends. The choice, as always, is yours.”

The last of the roots faded back into the tangled mess of the floor. Zhou rubbed his arms and took an experimental deep breath. His ribs creaked as they expanded but there was not the sharp pain of anything broken. “I will kill the duke but I don’t think we will meet again.”

He settled the pack once again and picked up the short staff of wood that she had provided him. The wood was smooth and the staff was just the right length, more than that there was the feeling that the staff was his and there was something else within it. Against his palm he could just detect a slow pulse in the wood, the sap flowing or a heart beating in the rhythm of a long lived tree.

“I thank you for the gift and the chance to avenge my family and city.” He gave her a shallow bow this time.

“Kill him then get yourself off to the Blue Mountain. Learn what you need, expand your vision to see the reality of the world. Then you’ll be back little
Wu.
” She smiled at him, devoid of the anger a few moments ago. “The trees see the seasons come and go, the years pass and the centuries pile up against each other. They see the patterns in things and my tree tells me there is a pattern here. You will be back.”

Zhou watched her for a moment then turned and headed down the tunnel.

# # #

              That had been two months ago and now the city of Yaart was slowly coming into view.