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thousands of pounding hooves caused it.
Moments later, dozens of Shou pengs appeared out of the smoke. They had thrown down their weapons
and were running for the Shou lines, arrows sailing about their heads like a swarm of insects.
Tzu Cheng bowed very low to Hsuang. "I will send the or-der to destroy the bridge," he said. "Our best
chance is to flee under cover of darkness."
10
The Spy
"Qwo, what is troubling you?" Wu asked, her voice a frustrated hiss as she struggled with her samfu.
Wu's fingers were trembling so much that she could not thread the tog-buttons through their holes.
Without answering the question, Qwo gently pulled Wu's hands aside and began fastening the samfu.
The gray-haired servant studiously avoided the eyes of her mistress, a sure sign that she disapproved of
Wu's intentions.
"It distresses me when you are sullen," Wu continued, let-ting her hands drop to her sides. "Please say
what you are thinking."
Qwo finished closing the samfu, then stepped back and studied Wu with watery eyes. Though not yet
sixty, the ser-vant appeared much older. Her gray hair was thin and coarse, and her doughy skin was fallen
and creased with age. She had the hunched back and stooped shoulders of a woman twenty years her
senior.
The two women were in Wu's sleeping hall. The samfu Wu had not been able to fasten was her black
one, the one she had been wearing when she had surprised Batu and knocked him unconscious.
Qwo reached into the sleeve pockets of her cheo-sam, an embroidered robe with huge sleeves and a
high collar, and removed Wu's black scarf. "What's the use?" the old woman asked. "You are the mistress.
You will do as you please, no matter what I say."
Her tone was more that of a mother than of a servant. In a certain sense, that was appropriate. Born
into the Hsuang household only a few years after Wu's father himself, Qwo had spent her entire life serving
the family. When Wu's mother had died, it had only been natural for Qwo to as-sume a maternal role as
well as that of nursemaid.
As Qwo unfolded the black scarf, Wu said, "I have no choice—"
"Phaw!" the old woman objected. "Sneaking about in the night, looking for spies. This is man's business!"
"It is my business tonight," Wu replied, taking the scarf and wrapping it around her face.
With no moon out and a low-hanging cloud cover, tonight was truly black. Wu had been waiting for such
a night for five weeks, ever since the emperor had confined her to the house. The nobleman's daughter
intended to enter the home of Ting Mei Wan, who she believed had betrayed Shou Lung.
Unfortunately, the emperor would never condemn Ting on the basis that had convinced Wu the
mandarin was a spy. The only real proof the nobleman's daughter possessed was that Ting perfumed
herself with jasmine blossoms, and that the spy in the Virtuous Consort's garden had smelted of the same
flower. However, the scent of jasmine was hardly rare inside the summer palace. Ting could easily, and
rightfully, claim that hundreds of women scented their bodies with Jasmine.
None of those other women had expressed so much inter-est in Batu's plan, however. After the
audience with the em-peror, the Minister of State Security had personally accompanied Wu home. Ting had
been very friendly and curious about the whereabouts of the provincial armies. When Wu's answers were
evasive, the minister had turned the conversation to other things. During the next four weeks, the lady
mandarin had visited almost daily under the pretext of bringing gifts for the children. Each time, the minister
had gently probed after Batu's whereabouts. Of course, Wu had refused to answer, and the minister had
deftly changed the subject.
Wu had not been anxious to believe that Ting was a spy, for the minister treated her and her family with
such kind-ness that the children had begun to refer to the mandarin as their aunt. When Ji had let slip that
Ting had asked him if he knew where his father was, however, Wu had finally been forced to accept that
her seeming ally was a traitor.
Though Wu had been careful to hide her suspicions, Ting had not visited in the last five days. Wu feared
that the man-darin had learned what she wanted to know from some other source. If so, Wu was
determined to stop the minister before she could pass the information to the enemy. Being completely
convinced that Ting was a spy, Wu felt sure that the female mandarin would take advantage of tonight's
un-usual darkness to meet a Tuigan messenger. Wu intended to be at that meeting, both to safeguard the
secrecy of Batu's plan and to gather the evidence she needed to prove her suspicions.
Qwo shuffled around behind Wu to tie the scarf. "You're disobeying the emperor," she said
reproachfully.
"I know," Wu responded. The admission sent cold shivers down her spine.
"And of course you don't care," Qwo said, pulling the scarf uncomfortably tight. "You've always been a
disobedient child."
"I haven't been a child for twenty years," Wu said, reach-ing behind her head to loosen Qwo's knot.
"Well, you've been disobedient much more recently," the servant said, slapping her hands against her
thighs. "Why can't you just send a message to the emperor about this spy?"
"Who would the Divine One believe," Wu asked, looking herself over to see if she had forgotten
anything, "the daughter of a country noble or a mandarin?"
"You," Qwo said simply, giving Wu a hard look. "Even if he didn't, you would have done your duty."
Wu frowned, though she knew Qwo would not see the ex-pression behind the black scarf. "This is not
about duty to the empire," she said. "It's about my father and my husband. If the enemy discovers their
plans—"
"The Divine General alone determines the outcome of war. Such matters are not left to the hands of
mortals, and no good will come of trying to interfere. Your concern is your household and your children,"
Qwo lectured. "By risk-ing the emperor's wrath, you are failing in your true duty."
Wu sighed and looked away from the old woman's severe gaze. About that much, at least, Qwo was
correct. So far, Wu's boldness had brought her household nothing but embarrassment and inconvenience. If
she were caught dis-obeying the emperor's direct command, however, she would not suffer the
consequences alone. In such matters, the entire family carried the burden of dishonor and guilt.
Though Wu was prepared to face any danger for her hus-band, she could not bear to watch her children
pay for her crimes.
A polite cough sounded in the courtyard outside. Qwo's son, who served as Tzu Hsuang's steward, said,
"Lady Wu?"
"Come in, Xeng," Wu responded.
A paper wall panel slid aside, revealing a slim man with a hawkish nose and a mild-manner. He was five
years youn-ger than Wu, having been born to Qwo in the absence of a husband. Though no one had ever
admitted it, Wu sus-pected that Xeng was her half-brother. He had the same nose and firm expressions that
she had seen so often in her father's face. More telling, however, was the jade medallion Xeng wore around
his neck. The dragon-shaped pendant could render a man nearly invisible, and had been in Wu's family for
hundreds of years. Nevertheless, Tzu Hsuang had given the priceless medallion to Xeng. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]