Five Kingdoms (30 page)

Over the years
, Song Bin Ce had been very economic with her time allowance for trips outside of the inner city. Song Bao had been firm friends with Zhu Meng, which was how her marriage to Song Lu initially came into being. Even though she was being taken into the Song, the late emperor had no desire to deprive a father of his daughter. Still, there was form and protocol to consider. Frequent trips to the outer city could have formed rumors of dalliances with men who were not Song Lu. It was an unfortunate aside to life in such a populated and important city as Jianfeng. Since the Chancellor’s rise of internal tyranny, Song Bin Ce had exercised even more caution, and gone many long periods without seeing her father at all outside of the court. For that reason, her sudden request for leave so soon after Xu Liang’s return was nearly an act of foolishness. She could tell that the Imperial Tutor had been dismayed by her choice that evening, to near blatantly follow him into the People’s City. He could not have known about Han Quan’s threats—at least not yet—so perhaps he would view it with even more censure later. She had very nearly delivered herself into Han Quan’s marked and posted trap. But she had become desperate. Barely a day went by without he Chancellor pestering her to contribute to his conspiracy. She hoped that Song Da-Xiao would not be deliberately misinformed by the elder and make assumptions, but Song Bin Ce had also hoped to protect herself by first promoting the Empress’ visit to her brother’s tomb, with Xu Liang.

A part of her wanted to encourage the Empress’ interest in so suitable a husband as Xu Liang, but she could not do so and continue to honor her deceased husband and father-in-law. She doubted that their hopes for Song Da-Xiao would ever have culminated in marriage to an official with the charisma and talent to overtake her as Sheng Fan’s ruler, not even if that official was Xu Liang.

Upon returning to the palaces, Song Bin Ce was directed to where the Empress was currently located. She was escorted by two guards, who passed her along to another set before she was released into the company of the Empress’ flock of handmaidens. The long journey through paneled rooms and painted corridors, past terraces and ultimately to a pillared chamber that was a veritable shrine to Mei Qiao had been strenuous after an evening already spent largely on her feet. She endured without expressing complaint, though felt grateful to return to the luxury of the young women she helped to oversee. She was absorbed into their ministrations, as if a pebble on the beach, taken by a gentle surf. Her robes were taken and she was ushered to a low bath behind screens painted with images of the moon. A statue of the moon goddess formed the greater part of a fountain, her slender arms cradling an urn from which water streamed into the bath, by way of plate-shaped stones, as if from the heavens. Her hair was unbound and combed out, then oiled and wound once again, in a style appropriate for what would soon be time for sleep.

They all attended to one another, always after the Empress. That Song Bin Ce had received her turn at once meant that the Empress would be retiring at a more appropriate hour than she had as of late. When she stepped out of the bath, her peers wrapped her in the proper layers for a night’s rest, and she proceeded through the chamber afterward, to the furthest end of the vast palace room. A brief stair led her to a doorway marked by relief work of Cheng Yu and Mei Qiao’s union, and into the bedchamber of their empress. Several of the other handmaidens were within the room already, occupying various beds spaced aesthetically throughout the room, large enough to accommodate several girls each. The canopied bed of the Empress was as large, but would only ever hold the Empress. Even if she were to marry, this would not be her wedding bed.

And it was with that thought that Song Bin Ce approached the open curtains of the centermost bed, its entire frame carved with figures of various spirits and elementals meant to guide and protect her during her dreams. She knelt while she bowed to the beautiful girl draped in layers of the Moon Goddess’ pale blue and green tones, her hair brushed down as she preferred it for sleep. Rising to sit herself upon the edge of the bed, she looked upon the face of Song Lu’s sister and could barely see past the girl. She was a woman, yes, but still so young. Of course, she had hopes for marriage. Song Bin Ce had been no different at her age, anticipating union with Sheng Fan’s prince. The difference between them was that by Song Da-Xiao’s age, Song Bin Ce had already been betrothed.

“You went to see your father,” the Empress presumed, her eyes more interested in the pattern of her bedding than the return of her senior handmaiden.

“Yes,” Song Bin Ce replied, and it was no lie. She had gone to the Palace of the Prefect in the outer city, immediately following her brief meeting with Xu Liang. And on that mental note, she decided to flatter the Empress’ interest, for the sake of avoiding the hurt a miserable man such as Han Quan would press upon her with lies. “You seem distracted, Empress. Could it be with thoughts of love?”

Song Da-Xiao looked up, her pale petal lips parting to respond. It was in that gesture—that young hesitation—that Song Bin Ce was revisited by the younger sister the Empress had once been to her. “Willow,” the Empress called her, reverting to the title of endearment she had given Song Bin Ce when she was just five, and Song Bin Ce’s marriage to her brother was new. “Xu Liang brought a letter from the governor of Ying.”

Song Bin Ce nodded. “Yes, I remember him presenting it in court.”

“I have not shared its contents with him yet,” the Empress admitted.

The information was cause to hesitate, and Song Bin Ce did. “It must be very important.” It occurred to her quite suddenly that Han Quan might not have stopped at her in his hunt for betrayers. He might well have persuaded one of the more naïve younger handmaidens. For that reason, she said, “After you’ve slept, you’ll be prepared for his advice on whatever the matter is.”

The Empress lowered her gaze to the bedding once again and Song Bin Ce thought about retreating to allow her to take her rest, but the words of her young ruler stopped her. “Xiang Wu suggested marriage.”

Song Bin Ce could only frown, concerned by the information. She glanced around to locate each of the other handmaidens in the room—all in sight appeared to be occupied in pre-bed reading or games—then asked, “To whom?” She knew it would not have been the governor himself. His wife was yet living and in good health. He did have a young son, however, though Song Bin Ce did not think him old enough yet for marriage. A betrothal would still be possible, and that would mean Xiang Wu’s plan—whatever it was—would be one he expected to grow to fruition over the course of five or six years.

“He suggested Xu Liang,” Song Da-Xiao said quietly, and with a look of hope juxtaposed against one of sadness. “The Ying Governor has mentioned this before…that a marriage between myself and my tutor would solidify the strength and balance of the Empire. It has been said by some that he is more qualified than the first Song Emperor and more devoted to the land.”

Song Bin Ce was quick to insert when the Empress paused for breath. “And in some ways, he may be. There is no one in Sheng Fan who denies the brilliance of Lord Xu Liang, or his commitment. I believe his commitment is first to you, Empress.”

She had to stop herself before she went in a direction that might appear dissuasion that could be wrongly translated. She knew, however, that both her husband and father-in-law would have opposed the idea, even though both greatly admired the Imperial Tutor. She also strongly suspected that Xu Liang would advise against it. He had been opposed to any marriage for Song Da-Xiao. It was simply too risky. The Song were under attack, and they could ask for no greater defender than Xu Liang. His goal was to restore them to the security and glory of the days of Song Dai and Song Bao. The dynasty was still so young. It pained Song Bin Ce to think that it would end abruptly, after all Song Bao and Song Lu—and Xu Liang—had worked to build.

“I understand Xu Liang’s commitment,” Song Da-Xiao eventually said, and again her tone of expression was mixed. “He works tirelessly, so that I may safely guide the people, in honor of my father and my brother, and all of my ancestors. When we began the sequestering, I was afraid that it might somehow be the end, but then we joined through meditation…and I’ve never felt closer to him. I could feel his spirit, Willow. It was beautiful.”

The Empress spoke with the articulation of a bred leader, and with the aspiration of a lovelorn young woman. It made Song Bin Ce want to hold her close, and comfort her as if she were a mere child again. Simultaneously, it inspired the desire to celebrate her transition from childhood to womanhood, to become the support Song Da-Xiao should have had in her mother or a sister. The Empress had lost both figures, one when she was too young to realize the loss and the other when her brother was brutally taken from her as well. Song Bin Ce would always love her as a sister, but their relationship was now of Empress and handmaiden. It was closer than if Song Bin Ce had returned—or been returned—to her father, but it was not the same. The Empress was reaching for a relationship that she could have, and keep…and that could keep her safe as well. And in that role, she could see only Xu Liang.

And in this matter, though it grieved her to know that the Empress would yet be denied her vision of safety, comfort, and love, Song Bin Ce could only cast her hope to Xu Liang, that he would continue to advise against marriage, to anyone.

The day had
been long, but when the world moved as swiftly as a river current, one had to become as steadfast as the tortoise. Though he had not overcome the shock of the assault that had taken place within the Temple of Divine Tranquility, Xu Liang had moved his thoughts from it and toward the matter of Xun’s defiance. Jiao Ren accompanied him to the Hall of Military Glory, neither of them speaking much since parting ways with Haung Shang-san. Somehow the silence did not seem to slow the journey from the west court to the south court. It also did not allow his mind the freedom of movement it usually did. He suspected the hour had simply pressed too late, and he had not yet fully recovered from the strain of his travels.

After securing their horses to stone posts rimming the wide path in front of the hall, Xu Liang and Jiao Ren proceeded to the stairs and up toward the broad structure at the top. It’s blue and red wood framing gleamed in the lantern light, and beneath a round, bright moon. Other officers of the Empress’ military were also making their way up to the hall. Some of them had been loitering out of doors, their forms skewing the perceived dimensions of the railing in the illuminated darkness. It was upon noticing the arrival of Xu Liang, that all of them began to file into the hall. Those whose paths Xu Liang crossed exchanged formal greetings with him.

The massive doors to the hall were open to receive the men attending the night’s meeting, exposing a corridor the height of two floors, which extended the length of the structure. It was wide enough to accommodate a line of forty soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder. Banners of the Blue Dragon and of the sun dominated the walls to either side while down the middle of the passage were rows of bronze tiger statues leading toward a rendition of the god Cheng Yu, also cast in bronze. His armored form was stretched to wield a depiction of the
Spear of Heaven
in one hand while in the other he held a sun.

Cheng Yu occupied the center of the passage, to either side of him were open doorways to the east and west chambers of the hall. The east was for ceremony, the west for conference. To the south of the building lay the training yards and the west barracks. To the north was the Pavilion of Military Valor and the Chamber of Military Affairs. Had the meeting been with Yuo Shang alone, Xu Liang would have gone to the latter, or even to the Supreme General’s home.