The Paladin

Chapter Twenty

"Chun?" Shoka asked, arriving with Taizu at that door in the Peony's upstairs hall.

"Captain," came from the other side, muffled, and a bar lifted and thumped. Chun opened the door. The men were on their feet, anxious: so was master Yi and his man, but Jian whipped out a sword and master Yi and his man sat right back down again.

Chun shut the door.

Shoka folded his arms, leaned against the wall and stared at master Yi, stared at him grimly, a long, long, considerate moment, while the men asked him questions he made no attempt to answer.

"I'm sure you understand," he said when the questions had died away into deathly silence, "master Yi, —we're talking about life and death here. I'm sure you know—I've gone to a great deal of inconvenience to keep you safe. Another man might just have cut your throats. Do you understand, master Yi?"

"Yes, m'lord," Yi stammered.

"You can go."

"Please—"

"Don't worry, master Yi. You or your man. Unless somehow the Regent's men can trace that cart or the jars. I'm afraid it's in an inconvenient place right now. We'll have to depend on you to cover it with your friend. I'd tell him someone stole it. I don't think he'll want to know more than that. I don't think you do."

"No, m'lord." A whisper, in a room where a whisper was audible.

"I wouldn't let them trace it, master Yi. You're a wise man. You know how the police are. It doesn't matter whether you're in with us or not. You procured the incriminating cart. Your friend knows you did. I suggest you tell him how dangerous it would be to file a theft report—because I'd hate to see you arrested, a foreigner, being asked questions you can't answer. Ignorance is much the safer course—because we'll be watching you, master Yi. You can depend on that. You see we've kept you alive. We will. We remember favors. They don't. Think about that, master Yi."

"I will. I will, m'lord."

"Make your friend believe it, master Yi. Tell him how dangerous it is. Tell him what he can be involved in. You have time, if you leave now. And I trust you can guarantee your man's silence."

"Yes, my lord!"

"Go on, master Yi."

Master Yi hesitated a moment to look at the men around him. Then he got up and his man did, and Shoka stepped aside from the door. Chun opened it and master Yi bowed his way out, rapidly, herding his man with him.

"We missed him," Shoka said after the door was closed. "We had to get out. But we found the Emperor."

Faces showed their shock.

"Here and in secret," Shoka said. "We met. He said, Help me. And by that time the guards were coming. I couldn't stay to ask him against what, or whom. My guess is, Ghita's worried about what he'll do, left in the capital—worried, maybe, that he might take power into his own hands. I don't know. Right now we've got to get moving."

"Yes, m'lord."

Shoka looked at Chun.

"Captain," Chun amended.

"Let's get out of here," Shoka said. "Are we set?"

"Two streets north, captain," Eidi said. "Place called the Felicity."

A sharp lot, Reidi's men. A word passed while they were changing clothes and putting master Yi under guard, and everything had shifted, money had passed, Eidi had kited off quietly and arranged them another bolthole while they kept this one paid for as well. The Peony's owner did no bed-check on his tenants; and in this neighborhood, it was not likely he would dare double-rent the place or bother the horses, not dealing with clients of their sort.

"By twos and threes," Shoka said. "Down the alley. Just what you have to have. Afraid we can't take the mats, just the blankets. We don't want to be that conspicuous."

Heat landed on Shoka's back: he clenched his teeth and tensed his arms, face down on the floor, while Taizu fished rags out of the pot and applied them with, he was sure, a certain satisfaction for what he was suffering.

Thank gods the escape had been downhill.

Another rag. Breath hissed between his teeth.

"Hurt?" she asked.

"No."

"Sorry. That was the bottom of the pot."

They had the room with the small stove and the cooking-pot, the Felicity's one elegance. Chun and the lads had the other, a little crowded: not bad, captain, Chun had said.

If the landlord knew how the rooms split up, it needed no guesses what he thought.

"You've got a bad bruise back here," Taizu said.

"Lucky it's not worse than that." He knew the one she was talking about. "Damn bushes."

"What are we going to do?"

He started to draw a deep breath. It hurt too much. "Reconnoiter. Again. We moved. We'll need to know what Ghita's doing. I don't know what the Emperor's situation is, but you sure as hell don't bring your Emperor to a battlefield. He's changed. He's not well...."

"You can't feel sorry for him!"

Another breath. Nothing made sense. I tried to teach him. I don't know if I could have done better. Maybe if I'd had more patience....

Innocent people died for him. More will die, because of him. Damn, why did I stop? Why in the gods' name did I stop?

He saw Beijun's face, white, swollen, terrified—but not of him. Not of him, despite the sword. As if he saw him as a rescuer.

Taizu touched his back, rested her hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes to be rid of Beijun's face, looked straight ahead at the brown boards, the dingy yellow brick of the wall, the post that held the roof off their heads.

"Ghita!" Taizu hissed. "That's what you said!"

"Damn right." He propped his chin on his fist. "The question is how much to tell around town—about the Emperor being here. There's a chance they'll kill him tonight."

"And blame you."

"If Ghita knows it was me, he'd be damn tempted. And once the word gets out I'm here—there's some danger. There are a few people in this town who've seen me up close. Ghita's surely not going to be surprised at anything I do, but I'll bet he's asking the Emperor some real close questions tonight. Real close."

"Like—the Emperor was in on it, with Reidi?"

"With Reidi and with me."

A silence. Then, quietly: "Damn."

He twisted around to see her face, saw the frown. "Damn what?"

"Damn Ghita and Gitu and the Emperor and everybody with them! They kill people and burn their houses and they get away with it, and you can feel sorry for them!"

"I've had two students. One was you."

"The other was the Emperor?"

"He thought I came to help him." Like he'd been waiting all these damn years. Like Meiya at the window, believing I'd come.

What did the young fool get himself into?

Did he run to Ghita?

Quiet morning. Very quiet—the way the conversation at the tables in the Felicity's common room fell away when mercenary soldiers came downstairs, the way soldiers gathered in knots on the street—talking together.

"What in hell's going on?" Shoka asked, of the small group a few doors down from the Felicity. Alone. Taizu was back in the room, a matter of no little argument, but things were getting close, he had reasoned, she had a fresh new bandage (a discreet, almost-healed kind of bloodstain he had contributed) and she was too brightly conspicuous for a morning when people were asking questions—like this one.

Which got raised eyebrows and an estimating look, before a Fittha said, in a low voice, "They broke in at headquarters last night."

"Rebels?"

The mercenary spat to the side, "Twenty dead. They're saying the Regent was asleep upstairs. Slept right through it."

The hell. Shoka put on a bewildered face. "How'd they get in?"

"Service gate."

"Had to have help," another man said.

"Shit," Shoka said, and walked off shaking his head.

To another group, outside the Peony, he said, gruffly, his best officer-voice: "Any of you heard anything about the Regent?"

"What?" an officer asked, regarding him cautiously.

Shoka nodded toward the side of the building, drew the officer that way. "One of my men picked up a rumor the Regent's dead. They say they're hiding it. They're afraid there'll be a riot."

"Who said?"

Shoka scratched under his stubbled chin. "Oghin. Over on Flower Street. You ain't picked up on it?"

"No."

"Hell. Just checking it out. Men're asking me. They're saying the rebels got somebody on-staff. Maybe real high up. That the whole thing was inside."

"Shit."

"Yeah. What have you heard?"

"Just it was up from the kitchens, got the gate open, got maybe twenty, thirty of 'em inside. But they're saying they ain't got that number of bodies. Ever' one of them was on staff."

"Hell. And how many of 'em stitt on staff, walking around searching for the assassins?"

"Ain't us. My money's on the Guard."

"Hell. We got out of Taiyi, cut to pieces. I got half my company dead. Sent us up here, said the line was here. I ain't seen a line, and the HQ can't even hold its own wall, what kind of shit is that?"

The Fittha scratched and held onto one of his amulets. "They pay."

"Yeah," Shoka said. "So far. I'm hoping he's alive. What've we got, if he ain't?"

The Fittha's face shadowed.

"Why in hell ain't they said?" Shoka asked. "That's what makes me nervous. You don't know what these damn pig-lovers are going to do. They better put out some patrols. ..."

And collaring a yellow-robed monk in an alley near the bakers' street: "You! You know an old man, a scoundrel named Jojin?"

There was dismay on the monk's face. "No." It was outright shock for a moment, amid the natural panic at being held by the throat against a wall.

"Tell him, if you see him—in Celestial Light monastery, if he's where he was—that the boy who took the plums is sorry, and he's in town. Remember that!"

"I'll remember it." The monk was about fifty, old enough to be a religious monk, not the sort who got their divine enlightenment around soldier-age. And he was curious enough to stare Shoka in the eyes.

"Do that," Shoka said.

Not hard at all to find a whole caravan in the market—in a town no one could freely leave. A lot of people in the market, not much buying but a great deal of talking in small groups, with a quick and anxious glance and a silence when a soldier walked by, or when a soldier came and fingered expensive things on a wagon's let-down counter.

Easy to get a merchant's attention then, in the little knot of men close by.

Easier yet when the merchant recognized him.

"This yours?"

The merchant came over fast.

"Where's Yi?"

The man did not want to answer that. Plainly.

"You'd better find him," Shoka said. "I don't care what he's told you. You'd better get him. Tell him his friend's here."

The man left in a hurry. Shoka browsed, picked up a trinket for Taizu. And walked back alongside the wagons, watching where the man went, up the steps into the centermost of that little cluster.

So he followed, up the steps, into the dim inside, where two frightened merchants stared at him,

"Hello," he said, folded his arms and leaned his shoulder against the wall.

"Get out of here!" master Yi said. Not to him. To his associate; and that man darted for the open door and outside.

Shoka walked over to the alcove at the front of the tiny wagon where Yi sat on his pillows, and carefully squatted down with elbows on knees—the sword at his back hindered further courtesies. So did the bruise on his backside.

"How are you doing this morning?"

Yi stared at him.

"I just thought I'd check," Shoka said. "Don't be anxious. I trust you got everything taken care of. How's your friend?"

"Scared!" master Yi said testily.

"Everything's fine, then," Shoka said, and picked a sweetmeat off the low table. "Mmmn. Don't worry. But the real reason I came: I'd advise you just have a bolthole in mind. Just rent a place somewhere in town, get some of the nicer pieces out of the wagons...."

Yi looked anxious. Abruptly he cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together. "Considerate, m'lord."

"I told you. I return favors." He picked another sweetmeat from the bowl. "Mmmn. So you knew me when we met on the road. I don't suppose the village talked about me."

"I knew when we'd gotten to Ygotai, when we talked about the bandits—all of them dead—"

"Quite a night, that was. So you spread rumors about us all the way."

"No, m'lord! We weren't the only caravan. Rumors were everywhere."

Pigeons, Shoka thought. And said: "Just call me captain. —What rumors?"

"That you'd come back, m'lord. I knew—then—who we'd met. But by then we'd gone too far, we couldn't come south again—we were afraid what we'd meet going back, so we kept going. We hoped Lungan was safe."

"Wrong about that. And I don't suppose they'll let you go down to Anogi."

Yi shook his head. "We're trapped here. Myself not the only one. They've confiscated our horses, they give me a paper they swear will make it good—but we can't move these wagons without our horses."

"Terrible mess."

"I want to see my wives, m'lord, all of them, that's all we think about now, just how we're going to get out of here and home again, damn this trip! I don't want to be involved any further! Don't ask me anything!"

"Captain."

"Captain, m'—" Yi choked it off. "Please don't ask me anything."

"Just pass the word among your men: tell them what I've told you. We're here in force. You can tell that to anyone else you think is reliable. The fighting's coming in the next few days. And you'd be wisest to get to the west end of the waterside and stay there when it starts. Don't worry about the outcome. We have help."

"Yes, m'—Captain."

"Word is back from the north," Shoka said lazily, taking another sweetmeat, "the army is coming home. On our side. You can pass that word too. It's just as well people know it. And just as well the mercenaries hear it the same as the people do. You understand." He picked out another couple of sweetmeats. "Have you a paper? My wife would love these. You don't mind, do you?"

"No. —No, of course not." Yi snatched up a cloth napkin and gave it to him, frowning. "Have all you like."

"She's delighted with such little things." Shoka dumped the bowl into the napkin, looked up into Yi's eyes and saw the cold fear. "Really. You'd think otherwise. I know I wasn't sure what—well, I wasn't sure I could keep her, you know, satisfied." He cleared his throat and wrapped up the candies, devoting his attention to that. "Came up to me at dusk, she did. Gods! Damn near killed me. Seems she'd been watching me, in the mountains. Seems she had this personal grudge with Gitu of Angen, and I was the way she picked to get here."

Master Yi's eyes were absolutely round, his under lip caught in his teeth.

"I wasn't sure," Shoka said, "I'd survive the honor. But she's a damn good wife in a lot of ways. Cheerful. Stubborn as hell, terrible temper—but damn good in bed. You could guess."

Master Yi plainly did.

"There's a certain—difference making love with her. Especially in thunderstorms." Shoka gave a twitch of his shoulders. "But she's a good ally in a thing like this. Damn good. And I wouldn't be in Gitu's place right now. Would you?"

"No," master Yi breathed.

"Limb from limb," Shoka said. "You don't cross her kind."

"What did he do to—?"

Shoka shrugged. "Had to do with some pigs."

"P—"

Shoka lifted a brow. "She's rural, you know. I've got a bargain with her. She helps out on this and she and I—you know. I think she's halfway in love with me. And I don't mind. She's damn good in bed and I've gotten used to her—little peculiarities."

Master Yi stared.

"Ah, well," Shoka said. "I explain that because you've met her, and you know—certain facts. I wouldn't be standing in her way—when things break loose. In case you should be in that position."

"No," master Yi said. "No, m'lord."

"You spread that word, master Yi. She's damn hard to control. Sometimes she doesn't understand where to stop. That's why only our enemies should be in the streets. They may see things—you understand."

"Yes, m'lord."

"Shutters barred. That's safest. Just stay inside and don't look outside." He tucked the napkin into his belts. "She will like this. I'll tell her who it's from."

"A walk around the block!" Taizu cried, with Chun and the others in the Felicity's upper hall. "My gods, where have you been?"

So much for Taizu's reserve in front of the men, who, with mutiny begun, gave him dour, worried looks.

"I told you not to worry." He dropped the napkin into Taizu's hand. "Have a sweet."

"You said—"

"Wife, —"

Taizu glared above the bandages, opened the napkin and popped a sweetmeat into her mouth, possibly to restrain herself, as Chun opened the door to the room the men shared.

"Settle," he said. "I'll tell you what I've learned."

The men and Taizu sat. The napkinful of sweetmeats went the round, man to man. And by afternoon, in the Felicity's commonroom, Jian, lounging there in ordinary clothes, had picked up a collection of rumors.

One, Ghita had been killed by, variously, shape-shifting demons who had slaughtered from ten to fifty of the Guard; or by twenty to thirty assassins led by or ordered by Saukendar; or by a conspiracy among the Imperial Guard officers, who were, variously, dead, in hiding, secretly in power, secretly negotiating with the rebel lords southward—who were, variously, ten to a hundred leagues south of the river, allied with, variously, one to fifty demons, the bandits of Hoisan, assorted mercenaries, and one to three dragons which were variously, the soul of the Old Emperor, the guardians of the Hoi and the Chaighin and the Hisei, or a mountain dragon which had been stirred up by the demons Saukendar had been consorting with for ten years.

Two, Ghita was alive and Saukendar had been killed in the attack, or had escaped, or was presently on his way to the capital, or had been captured and was presently held prisoner by the Regent, or was loose in the city with from twenty to two hundred rebels and a number of shapeshifting demons.

Three, some priests had declared the dragon auspicious for the Regent; but certain others had been heard to say it was an omen of calamity.

Four, the whole rebel army had crossed the bridge disguised as mercenaries and peasants and tradesmen, and was waiting some signal, when it would launch an attack on the camp and on the headquarters.

"One could wish," Shoka said, chin on fist, listening to the report from downstairs. "But not likely. I had a look. They're damn careful who passes."

"I could," Taizu said, lifting a brow, more cheerful, having glowered through the reports about demons and dragons. He knew how she would do it, by that look, remembering the basket. Probably the men had more fantastical notions.

"We'll manage without that," he said. "We'll know when we need to." They were careful naming names and details even here, in guarded privacy—because bad habits, he had told the men, otherwise encouraged deadly slips in public. "I'm going up to the bridge tonight."

"Us," Taizu said.

"You're too damned obvious."

Taizu held a lock of hair across her upper lip. He scowled at her.

"A boy can't grow a mustache like that."

She dropped the hair. "Basket," she said.

"The hell."

"Well, I'm not staying here!"

She had gotten all too easy with the men. She sat now sulking, he could tell it past the bandages, the all too conspicuous bandages.

"You're too easy to describe, wife. You want to see all of our heads on Lungan gate?"

She said nothing. She just looked at him. And then he worried, seeing her trekking right along the street behind him.

"We'll think of something," he said. In fact the thought of her across town and alone worried him—Taizu with her fear of cities, her inexperience in such simple things as walking through traffic.

None of which would stop her once she made her mind up. Nothing ever had.

"Someone's in the hall," Jian said. A board had creaked on the stairs, and there were quick footsteps.

"Eidi," Chun said as Jian sprang up to get the door: Eidi was the one of them on watch.

A thump at the door, a low voice: Jian unlatched the door and let Eidi in.

"Captain," Eidi panted, with a bow. "They're saying the Regent's going to give a speech, in the camp, to prove he's alive. That everybody's supposed to report in. That we're—that the rebels are in sight the other side of the river. That the Emperor's come in and he's going to be in the camp with the Regent."

That last was the bit that surprised him—that Beijun was alive. That the Regent made the move he did—

"Ghita's making his move," he muttered, and rubbed his neck, under a greasy fall of hair. "And our friends could be here a day early; or scouts could've spotted their camp; or engaged them; or Ghita knows damn well where they are and he's hoping to get us to move on a fake report and commit ourselves too early."

Worried looks surrounded him. "What do we do?" Taizu asked.

"I'm thinking," he said. He was, desperately—sat there with arms on knees, staring at the age-grayed boards of the floor, and figuring how to establish reliable contact with Reidi.

Dry, age-grayed boards.

"It's our turn," he said smugly—he could not help it. Things had gone amazingly well, considering he had improvised continually. And gotten the targets out into the open.

Maybe, he thought, considering it was Chiyaden at stake, the complacent gods were waking up.

Or maybe a certain old monk was praying them out of bed.

In his younger, more pious days he would have worried about a thought like that.

It looked like a parade, the general flow of soldiers toward the camp this late afternoon, all carrying their gear and their bedrolls; groups on foot and groups on horseback—but for a parade, Shoka thought, it had a scarcity of cheering onlookers. What citizens were on the streets or looked on from windows or shopfronts, just stared glumly at the forces that were, ostensibly, their own.

They had the remaining bow—Chun carried it and the quiver wrapped in the sole sleeping mat that had covered it on the way from the Peony to the Felicity.

Only blankets otherwise: everything else was still at the Peony. They were a poor-looking company that trekked up the street in the tail of the afternoon.

A gong crashed in the distance. All up and down the street soldiers looked up from their conversations and their preoccupations, and the heads of townsfolk turned, everything in the city attentive to that one sound.

"Must be Ghita," Shoka said, and after a moment more of walking: "Bringing the Emperor into camp. Where assassins can get at him. Or we can. It's a trap. Both ways it's a trap—to draw us out early and to draw us into Ghita's reach."

A few more paces.

"So what will we do?" Taizu asked.

The summons to the camp. The Emperor for bait.

Hell.