Path of the Eclipse (14 page)

“Excellent,” Shao said quietly. “You put the rest of us to shame,” he added with a meaningful glance at Tan.

“What about your livestock and farmers?” Hua Djo-Tung put in. “Around my fortress we have nineteen separate farmholds, and there is not enough room in the fortress for all of them. The farmers would resist the idea of traps, for what would keep their goats and pigs from straying into them? Not that I fault you at all, Warlord T’en. You have done more than the rest of us, it would seem. Your stronghold is on a ridge, is it not? Mine is at the head of a lake. Your methods are most praiseworthy, but how may I adapt them?”

Chih-Yü knew that Hua Djo-Tung was saying this for her benefit as much as for any information he might gain. She smiled slightly at the burly Warlord as she gathered her thoughts. “You say you are at the head of a lake. Then it would be an easy matter to surround your fortress with water, with one or two bridges leading to your gates. Such defenses are used for Imperial castles, why not for a district fortress? You have seen the raised bridges of those castles. Make them for your own. I will ask my alchemist to send your armorer some of the alloy he has provided, if he has any to spare. It is unfortunate, but it cannot be made quickly or in great quantity.”

“Anything is welcome,” Hua said eagerly, “but it should be distributed throughout the district. To those who want it,” he added with a sidelong glance at Suh and Tan.

Suh was quick to take offense. “You, Kung, are you going to stand for what these men are saying, and this frightful girl?”

The disquiet that had whispered in the back of Chih-Yü’s mind now grew loud. She looked at the five men, seeing the canny experience of Kung, the steadfast strength of Shao, the ambition of Tan, the independence of Hua, the hostility of Suh. She could not bring herself to look at Magistrate Wu, for she could feel the gelid despair that engulfed him. There are only six of us, she thought, and Temujin commands thousands. Her face was set as she spoke. “We cannot afford pettiness, Warlords. For our little strengths are nothing in the face of the Mongol armies. Which of us could meet his ancestors and expect their approbation if we fail now, and leave our people and our district open to the predation of Temujin?”

“Fine speeches,” Suh scoffed, looking toward Tan for help.

Kung Szei regarded his comrades. “I am appalled that any of you would be willing to reject any help at this time. I hear you bicker and I am covered with shame for you.” He fingered his long braided beard. “For as long as I’ve been entitled to wear a helmet, I’ve made a point of listening to every opinion offered, and making the most realistic decisions I could. That is why I am forty-three and still alive. I listen to you and I fear for all this district.”

At that, Tan’s face darkened and he glared at the oldest man. “I assume it is your intention to insult me with these words, Kung?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Shao said quietly, attempting to divert the young man. “He’s perfectly right, you know. He is the oldest and we should all be giving him our full and respectful attention, in order to benefit from his experience.”

From his place at the desk, the Magistrate Wu Sing-I looked up at last. “We need order,” he said in a tired voice. “There are things we must plan now. Warlord T’en is right about that.”

The six Warlords were surprised to hear the Magistrate speak up. They turned to him as a group and watched as the gaunt man got to his feet and came around his desk.

“I have much to answer for, you need not remind me of that. There are great errors I have made and it is too late to change them. But I do not intend to compound them. The Emperor has entrusted me with the Shu-Rh District, and I will administer it to the best of my capabilities. That means that I will require your assistance and your advice. Each of you is necessary to Shu-Rh, and each of you will be expected to aid the others.” He had tucked his hands into the full sleeves of his sheng liao and had assumed a more authoritative attitude. His eyes were still haunted, but their focus was sharp, unafraid.

“What is it you wish of us?” Hua Djo-Tung asked with a lowering of his head in recognition of Wu’s position.

Tan Mung-Fa made a coarse sound. “Do you really plan to listen to this old fool? A man who admits that he did not plead your case to the Emperor? How does he deserve your loyalty, Hua?”

“He is District Magistrate,” Hua reminded the young man solemnly. “Whatever else he has done, he still has his office, and we are part of his jurisdiction. We are bound by the law to work together through this crisis.” He was only repeating what they all knew was so, but Hua spoke with a dignity that gave the words meaning. “If it is necessary, we will die on our own lands, which is fitting.”

Tan rolled angry eyes upward. “First we get pious statements from this Magisterial eunuch, and now you start spouting off with all the usual patriotic platitudes. No wonder no one in Lo-Yang or K’ai-Feng would help us.” His stance was a challenge now, and he waited for one of the others to answer him.

“You’re mistaken—” Kung began, only to be cut off by Tan again.

“You can tell the Ministry of War that if they want their soldiers, they’ll have to come and get them. I’m not sending them back, and that is final. I know what can happen, and I’m not going to disarm myself because some self-important clerk in Lo-Yang thinks the soldiers should be elsewhere.”

Chih-Yü, remembering the infuriating interview she had had in Lo-Yang with the official Lun Shui-Lun, nodded sympathetically. “I know how you feel, Tan, and I agree with you.” She saw the alarm in the men around her. “No,” she went on swiftly, “think a moment: he is right. We have been given so little to defend ourselves that we must keep everything we have in order to have any hope at all. If fifty soldiers will make a difference in attacking Temujin in order to recover Pei-King, when there are more than sixty thousand soldiers in the army, then our whole country is in much more desperate straits than any of us know, and we should be sending diplomats to negotiate a peaceful surrender to the Mongols and not be preparing to fight them.” She sensed the anger of the men once more, and decided to use it. “And we are asked to help them. We are expected to bow to Imperial will and give up the few soldiers we have, and to stay here, vulnerable to every attack, making only the most meager of defenses so that the army may be wasted in the attempt to win back Pei-King.”

“Defiance of the Emperor’s order is punishable by dishonor and a lingering death. I am not anxious to endure the Thousand Cuts,” Suh growled. “The Magistrate has given his order.”

“Has he?” Chih-Yü looked at Wu Sing-I and met his eyes steadily. “Perhaps you were not able to give us the message because it had not been delivered?”

Wu sighed. “My chop and the date are affixed to the copy of the order. They will know that I have seen and read it.” He shook his head as he looked from one Warlord to the next. “I have no way to stop this order, good defenders. If there were a way, I would.”

Shao stared down at his boots, his lips drawn into a thin line. “I think it may be wisest to offer explanations to the capitals later, when the worst of the conflict has passed. It can always be argued that the danger of attack from the Mongol was so great that we dared not risk the Imperial soldiers on the road where it was known that many attacks had occurred. Which,” he added with a grave smile, “is no more than the truth. No one can argue that the danger does not exist.”

“They won’t believe that,” Suh protested. “They will insist that we were in the wrong and we will be killed.” His voice had risen and he stepped back from the little group as if wishing to demonstrate that he was not part of them any longer.

“Time to worry about that after we survive the Mongols,” was Kung’s laconic observation. “If we come through the battles, then we can turn our attention to dealing with those turtles in Lo-Yang.”

Wu Sing-I gasped at the insult Kung had so casually offered the Ministry of War, but could not bring himself to contradict the Warlord. Instead he gave Suh a critical look, saying, “We are exposed to greater danger than Imperial wrath, that is certain. We must think of ourselves as isolated, and proceed as best we can.” He was aware that he had spoken the most serious sedition and could be given a traitor’s death for those words, but he could not retract them. With a lighter heart than he had had for many days, he regarded the Warlords around him. “The Imperial troops will have to remain here because we are not willing to send them into enemy territory: that much is plain. But that alone is not enough. Shu-Rh District is remote enough that it will be difficult for Ministry inspectors to reach us, should any decide to investigate. In a way,” he went on sadly, “I wish they would investigate, because then we might get the aid we require. The one promised inspection has been delayed for a year, which probably means forever.”

Kung Szei grinned with humorless ferocity. “Then we will make our own plans. So long as they are in the archives, we should be blameless, for the records will be here, if the Mongols don’t burn the town.”

Chih-Yü closed her eyes. They’re talking in circles, she thought. They none of them know what to do now. We’re adrift, and no one is willing to give directions. No one. She realized with a touch of bitterness that she did not want to be the one to initiate a plan, and was aghast to hear herself say, “We need a system for getting messages from stronghold and fortress to stronghold and fortress. That way, if an attack comes, there will be ways to give warning and ask for help before the fortress or stronghold is completely cut off. It might be wise to have a regular number of messengers who would ride through the district on stated routes, and that way, if one was late, all would be alerted. That would mean we would have several messengers, but it might be worthwhile.”

Shao was staring at her, and Suh was already beginning to protest. “A group of messengers, you say, who must be mounted and fed and housed, and are of use only if they are missing? You’re demented!”

“Wait,” Hua said, motioning for silence. “What sort of messages would they carry?”

“I…” Chih-Yü forced herself to think clearly, all the while chiding herself for putting the idea forth. “They would take any messages. Perhaps Tan might know of suspicious travelers and could warn Kung of them, in case they turned up in his area. Or I might have a need for arrow shafts and would be willing to trade them for quarrels. There are many things we should know. If there were”—she stared up at the ceiling—“ten messengers, two from each of us, one going one way and the other the opposite way on the same route, none of us would be more than two days away from news. Hua and Shao are in the most remote locations, and it would take more than a day to reach them, but it might be worth it.” Now that she had spoken, she could see all the flaws in her plan, but could not bring herself to utter her doubts as she saw animation come back into Wu Sing-I’s face.

“An excellent beginning,” Wu said.

“A piece of nonsense!” Tan countered, striding about the room and stopping before the tapestry showing a unicorn. “This beast, I must remind all of you, is the symbol of perspicacity, which not one of you appears to possess.” He came back toward the others with long, impatient strides. “All of us admit that we haven’t enough men to protect our holdings, and yet you rush to embrace this lunacy that would lose you two men apiece as well as making it possible for all our plans to fall into the hands of the enemy. Have you gone demented with fear, or what? I will tell you this: I will have no part of this madness. Whatever ridiculous solution you reach, do it without me and my Imperial troops.” He gathered his wide-sleeved jacket around him and paced out of the hall, refusing to turn when Kung and Wu called after him.

“I’m sorry,” Chih-Yü said, her voice faltering. “It wasn’t a very sensible plan. I didn’t take any time to think it out.” She knew she agreed with every point of protest Tan Mung-Fa had expressed.

“No, no,” Wu assured her. “It is true that your plan is not very complete, but it is the only plan any of us has offered. For that alone it is welcome.” The Magistrate adjusted his stiffened-silk cap and looked at the others. “Well? Do the rest of you agree with Tan? Do you think each of us should fight in isolation?” His face was calm but he could not disguise the worry in his tone. “If any of you feel that you cannot work in concert with the others, then perhaps it would be best if you left.”

Suh Son-Tai folded his arms again. “I’ll listen to what you have to say, but I make no commitments, none at all.”

Wu shrugged unhappily. “I cannot compel you, not as we are now.” He turned to the other men. “Have any of you more suggestions?”

“The messengers might work,” Kung Szei grumbled, “but Tan is right, you know, we can’t afford to be shorthanded.”

Shao looked up sharply. “What if we do not use fighting men? We surely know of old farmers who can ride, and would be willing to take the work on.”

“And what happens when they’re confronted by Mongols?” Hua asked with a touch of contempt.

“They will probably be killed. But if a farmer is carrying a sealed message, he cannot reveal what it says, and most of the Mongol soldiers cannot read or write. We would lose a messenger, but our plans would be fairly secure.” His brow drew down as he thought of the matter some more. “Of course, it would mean that we must choose farmers who understand the risk, and that might not be easily done.”

“Appoint someone,” Suh said from the corner of the room.

“No. This is not the work for an unwilling man to do.” Shao began to move restlessly about the room. “The messenger system is necessary, I see that, and T’en is right—we must not use fighting men.”

A tentative smile crossed Wu Sing-I’s face. “It would make it possible for us to keep one another apprised of the general state of each fortress and stronghold. We would be able to distribute horses and supplies where they are most needed—”

“No!” Kung burst out. “No, none of that. I will not share either my supplies or my horses with any of the rest of you. I need them for my people.” His face had darkened with his anger and he turned on the Magistrate. “Wu, you don’t have any idea what this war will be like, and nothing I can say—”