Even lesser generals and workers of magic had attendants who did such things for them. Her father had found adjusting to having no servants very difficult.
Honey Dream looked down at Righteous Drum, wondering if he would shrink from meeting this stranger in his
current, mutilated condition. Instead, she found him watching Albert Yu’s entrance with a certain amount of eagerness.
Still hoping to find a new emperor there
, she thought with disgust.
Can’t he realize how hopeless these people are? No real magic, limited knowledge of what’s important. We need sanctuary of some sort if we’re to get home, but didn’t Father see that today Flying Claw was twice as useful as any one of them?
This was not the time to raise the point. She’d tried yesterday, when they were alone, but Father hadn’t been willing to listen. So Honey Dream schooled her features to polite listening while Pearl—assisted by Des, who had come down a few minutes after Albert’s arrival—related the events of the morning.
Riprap came in bearing a huge tray of sandwiches, then went back for a couple of bowls of chips, and even some fruit. By the time the tale ended, everyone had eaten. Albert went out to the barn to see the bodies. As he was coming back inside, his features grave, Brenda and Nissa drove up. Flying Claw was called in, went upstairs to wash, and came down in his third set of clothes for the day.
Waking Lizard was awakening, as the group reassembled in the living room. He was still weak, but the inability to speak clearly had vanished with the worst of his exhaustion.
Albert turned to him. “Waking Lizard, my understanding is that the attackers owed their ability to cross not only into a warded area, but also into our world, to you.”
“He is a traitor!” Honey Dream hissed.
Pearl gave her a very cold stare. “I told you before, young woman, the treaty we all signed—the treaty that was sworn to on my blade of that same name—would make it impossible for Waking Lizard to break our agreement without my knowing.”
Albert interceded. “Pearl, Honey Dream does have a point. These people have magics of which we know only parts. Perhaps
there are ways around Treaty our ancestors did not anticipate.”
“Ancestors!” Pearl sniffed. “My ‘ancestor’ was my own father. He was determined to cram into me every iota of knowledge he could.”
“Nonetheless,” Albert said, “I would like to hear Waking Lizard’s explanation for how this could have happened.”
“I suppose,” the old man said in a voice far softer than was usual for him, “that in some sense Honey Dream may be correct. I may indeed be a traitor, but if I am, I am an unwitting one. I told you how I decided to flee the Lands when I realized that our side—Righteous Drum’s, Honey Dream’s, Flying Claw’s, and mine—was losing.
“The bridge by which Righteous Drum, Honey Dream, and Flying Claw had crossed from the Lands to here was still intact, although inactive. As is usual in these cases, one point of the bridge is physical, the other is a powerful mage. As the mage moves toward his destination, the bridge is drawn out behind him, enabling others to follow.”
Honey Dream looked around. She could see that several of the Thirteen Orphans wanted to ask how a person could travel on a bridge of which he was also an endpoint, but they had learned something of manners in the few days since the alliance had been signed, and held their tongues.
“As one of our emperor’s allied Twelve,” Waking Lizard continued, “I had a link to Righteous Drum and the others—but most powerfully to Righteous Drum, because his magic was the most powerful.”
Is!
Honey Dream thought angrily.
Is! Even without his right arm, my father is more powerful than any of you.
“I used that link to place myself upon the bridge of which he was an endpoint, and was drawn through to him. Shortly thereafter, the bridge was destroyed at the other end, thereby making it useless. I thought I had escaped, but now I suspect that I was
permitted
to escape.”
“And that,” Riprap said, showing predictably doglike
eagerness, “instead of your enemies destroying the bridge entirely, they did something that changed the link from Righteous Drum to you.”
“Actually,” Waking Lizard said, “I think they did destroy the bridge, but that they had set in place the means to create a new bridge. I wonder now if the reports I was brought of our complete losses on the battlefield were correct, or if, in fact, they…”
He stopped, took a deep breath, and went on, “… counted on my fleeing. I then would become an unwitting endpoint for their own bridge, one that would take them directly to those they desired to find—and within any protective wards as well.”
“I wonder why they waited this long?” Brenda said. “I mean, six days have passed since your arrival, long enough for us to work out the treaty, to free the remaining Thirteen Orphans from your crystals, and do a bunch of other things.”
“I suspect,” Waking Lizard said, “that they were not in a position to do so until recently. Remember, if the battlefield reports were indeed false, then their position was even less secure than we thought—and we thought they would need at least a month to consolidate and send forces after us.”
Flying Claw said, “That was when they would have had to create their own bridge, even so… I think you may be right. I think they have spent these days consolidating their conquest, and rather than waiting, they have actually moved quickly. Several of the bodies I undressed showed cuts and bruises older than could have been received today, but still fairly fresh.”
Brenda gave a short, hard laugh. “Wow! Did they ever pick a bad time. I mean, what if they’d come through when we weren’t here and all of you were asleep? Instead they came through not only when you had reinforcements, but when we were all wearing at least some magical protection, and several people were holding weapons.”
Desperate Lee had been unusually silent for him—normally
he was almost too chatty. Now he looked over at Righteous Drum.
“Honored Dragon, is there any possibility that the treaty might have had anything to do with their bad timing? Waking Lizard did swear to do everything in his power not to bring harm to any of the signatories. Therefore, he would have been under conflicting obligations. From his condition, it’s apparent they drew heavily on his ch’i to power the bridge. Therefore, the bridge could not be established unless he thought—even unconsciously—that no harm would come to us.”
Righteous Drum’s eyes lit with the scholarly fire that Honey Dream knew all too well. He was forgetting that he’d lost an arm, that harm had definitely been done. All he thought of was the fascinating problem.
“That is likely, Desperate Lee. The unconscious mind is closely allied to the vital energies. Some theorists argue that dreams are needed for ch’i to truly replenish, which is why even if a spellcaster is loaned ch’i to enable him to work a complex spell, still he cannot go on indefinitely without being depleted. Yes. That theory is sound.”
Waking Lizard’s brief speeches had tired him, so that he had sunk back against the pillows, but now he pushed himself up onto one elbow and met Righteous Drum’s eye.
“I didn’t manage entirely, I fear. I am sorry.”
Righteous Drum smiled bravely. “As Brenda Morris has noted, we were very fortunate in the timing of the attack. We could have all been slain in our beds.”
“They weren’t taking any chances, though,” Riprap said. “All sixteen wore armor. All had weapons. Flying Claw says that several were capable of casting spells. Certainly whoever attacked you came armed for Dragon.”
“That brings me to another question,” Albert Yu said. “Did any of you recognize any of the attackers, living or dead?”
“I didn’t get a very good look,” Righteous Drum admitted. “I was down almost immediately. I did not know the
man my spell killed, even though he was a sorcerer of some power.”
“I didn’t,” Honey Dream said, “but I also didn’t see much because I protected my father.”
Waking Lizard shook his head, but Flying Claw, who had been waiting with the admirable patience of a Tiger who knows the kill is his and sees no need to spring prematurely, nodded.
“I knew several among the dead. Good soldiers all. All ones I heard had joined the other side. Among the living, I knew one. I don’t know what he is called these days, but when we were in school together, he was called Twentyseven-Ten.”
“Twentyseven-Ten?” Brenda asked. “That’s a weird name.”
Flying Claw grinned at her. “We all had names like that. The first number is the order in which you were enrolled in your year. Mine was three. The second was the number of years you had completed in training. The examination at the end of the tenth year is particularly difficult. Candidates are fifteen by then, and those who do not show promise in both magic and fighting arts are not permitted to continue. Ten, therefore, is an admirable designation, and therefore he may have kept that name.”
Honey Dream thought that Brenda probably had a lot more questions. She’d been sniffing after Flying Claw since the poor man had been an amnesiac captured by Pearl Bright’s trickery, and held as if a fair prisoner of war. They’d called him “Foster” then, as if he were some little bottle-fed lamb.
Today had been the first time Brenda Morris had seen what a student of the hard school from which Flying Claw was an honored graduate could do. Honey Dream had thought Brenda’s ardor dampened, but now she wasn’t so sure.
Albert Yu broke in before Brenda could ask any more of her doubtless insipid questions.
“Shall we question this man, Twentyseven-Ten?”
“We can try,” Flying Claw said. “Each of the four captives
is being held separately. Would you like me to bring Twentyseven-Ten to you?”
“Please do so,” Albert responded. “Let’s see what we can learn about the nature of our enemy.”
“And,” Pearl said, “about how immediate is the danger we face.”
Superficially, Twentyseven-Ten
resembled Flying Claw. There was something of the same combination of strength and grace in how he moved. There was confidence in his bearing. He was even handsome. But there were differences as well, differences that had nothing to do with him being brought before them wearing what Brenda guessed were the padded shirt and trousers he had worn under his armor.
He walked into the room, head held high, chin slightly raised. Defiant. Arrogant, even in defeat. And despite admiring the courage that let him show that arrogance, Brenda felt there was something coarse about Twentyseven-Ten, something hardened.
Flying Claw introduced the captive to the group.
“This man is Twentyseven-Ten. He says he is willing to answer your questions, but first he would like to know what is intended for him and the other three captives.”
Pearl said quickly, “That will depend on what we learn.”
Brenda noticed that Twentyseven-Ten did not seem surprised to see an older woman asserting herself in such a fashion. It was another reminder that just as the Lands did not operate by the same rules as did her own world, so they were also not China.
In China, only rare women rose to positions of power, but in the Lands Born from Smoke and Sacrifice duality was
taken very seriously. Six of the original Twelve had been women, yin to the six male yang signs. Twentyseven-Ten would be accustomed to women in positions of authority.
“Ask your questions,” Twentyseven-Ten said. “I will endeavor to be worthy of my life.”
Pearl inclined her head to Albert, letting him take the lead. Brenda suspected that in a game of “good cop/bad cop,” Pearl would much prefer to be the “bad cop.”
Albert asked, “When you and your associates came here, what was your goal?”
“Our orders,” Twentyseven-Ten said, putting a slight stress on the second word, as if to distance himself from personal intent, “were to capture the three renegades who had come here from the Lands.”
“Then?”
Twentyseven-Ten paused. Brenda thought he was considering disclaiming any other knowledge, but a flickering glance in Pearl’s direction showed that he had decided this would be unwise.
“Then, based upon what we learned from the renegades, we were either to take them back to be interviewed by our gracious emperor, or to remain here and enable the renegades to gain favor in our ruler’s eyes by assisting us in achieving our goal.”
“And that goal?”
“Regaining the Twelve Earthly Branches that had been lost when the twelve advisors of the emperor were exiled a century ago,” Twentyseven-Ten replied promptly.
“What were your specific duties?”
“To use any combination of my abilities, both magical and martial, to facilitate the action. Our goal was to bring back alive at least one of the three renegades, preferably Righteous Drum, on the assumption that he would be the most useful.”
“Then the others were considered disposable?” Albert asked.
Spontaneously, a really nasty look flickered across Twentyseven-Ten’s face. His gaze flickered toward Flying Claw.
“Yes,” he said, triumph in the single word. “They were disposable.”
Albert paused a moment to let that sink in, then asked, “Who was in command of this expedition? Is he still alive?”
“The commander was killed by Righteous Drum’s spell.”
There was something odd in Twentyseven-Ten’s tone of voice when he said that
, Brenda thought.
He’s both frightened and somehow relieved. Is it because he’s glad the boss won’t be around to yell at him? Is it because the boss went down so hard, so fast?
Brenda didn’t ask. She didn’t think she was the only one to have noticed Twentyseven-Ten’s reaction, and Albert’s next question showed she was right.
“Tell me about your commander. What was his name? How did he come to be in charge of such an important expedition? Righteous Drum said he did not recognize him.”
“I did not,” Righteous Drum agreed, “and the more I think about that, the more peculiar it seems. I thought I knew my enemies—I thought I knew my peers. But this man was a stranger. I am sure of it.”
“He…” Twentyseven-Ten faltered. “He told us to call him Captain. He gave us no personal name. He was a stranger to me as well, to me and to all but two of our company.”