Path of the Eclipse (17 page)

His senses had warmed to her. “This,” he murmured as his hands slowly, persuasively caressed her shoulders and breasts, sliding her sheng go away from her, letting it drop to the floor.

“Shih Ghieh-Man…” She knew that her nudity should distress her, but found instead that she was proud of the excitement she felt.

“And this.” In one swift, easy move he had lifted her into his arms and held her close as he crossed the room to the low couch where it was her custom to receive official visitors. He lowered her to the silken cushions, pulled the long jade pins from her casually knotted hair and ran his fingers through those ebony tresses, as he knelt beside her.

Her heart was buoyant and the apprehension that had flickered in her as bleak as the lightning was stilled as she felt her need join with his.

“And this.” He was aware that Chih-Yü had never experienced fulfillment before, and it was a keen delight to rouse her gently, letting her experience each new sensation thoroughly. He showered kisses that barely touched the skin on her arms, the arch of her ribs. His tongue traced the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hip, the petal-soft interior of her muscular thighs. As he brought her desires to their first tumultuous peak, he touched her throat.

“And this.”

Neither Chih-Yü nor Saint Germain ever knew when the storm rolled over them and on into the fastness of the mountains. They were caught up in the joyous discovery of their rapture, and for them the world, that night, was far away.

A petition from the District Magistrate Wu Sing-I to the Imperial court.

On the second day of the Fortnight of Great Heat, in the Year of the Ox, the Fourteenth Year of the Sixty-fifth Cycle, from the Tribunal of Shu-Rh District.

To the Most August Wielder of the Vermilion Brush and Glorious Master of the Dragon Throne, with most profoundly reverential respect:

This most unworthy person has been honored with the task of serving as Magistrate of the Shu-Rh District. He was before the Magistrate of the Tai-Lon District and before that the Chief Tribunal Officer of Hsia-Jan. He has been favored by Heaven to be part of a most distinguished family whose members he venerates with every devotion of filial piety.

The Wielder of the Vermilion Brush must wonder, then, why this unworthy person has so far exceeded the sensible limits of society to address the August presence directly instead of proceeding properly through those Ministries and Secretariats most closely allied with the Dragon Throne. This most unworthy person seeks to assure the August and Elevated Son of Heaven that had not the need been overwhelmingly great, he would never have transgressed so far as to send this petition.

The Shu-Rh District has been under attack by Mongol raiders since spring, and there is no sign that this will cease until winter snows make such raids difficult and uncomfortable for the despised men of Temujin. Our district capital, Shu-Rh, was burned some time back, and there are no less than seventy-three communities which have fallen to the Mongol wrath in the last three years.

Though in comparison to the larger cities these villages seem little, yet it has been shown that the people there are as loyal to the Imperial Presence as any others, and their suffering is as great as the suffering of the people of Pei-King.

It came to the attention of this most unworthy person that one of the local Warlords had attempted to gain access to those personages who have power to deal with the army. It is most unfortunate that there were few willing to listen to T’en Chih-Yü and there was no aid granted us. That some officials in the capital do not take the time to familiarize themselves with the gravity of the conflict in the west is most lamentable, though with the current state of warfare demanding more forces in the northeast, it is understandable that some officials might, in their zeal to reclaim Pei-King, be unaware that the Mongols are also active in the west. This most unworthy person is not seeking to blame any person in Lo-Yang or in K’ai-Feng. He wishes only to state that only the judgment of the August Occupant of the Dragon Throne is sufficiently attuned to the will of Heaven to make true evaluations possible.

Therefore, this most unworthy person has dared to petition the Wielder of the Vermilion Brush directly, and begs that the Elevated and August Presence will be sufficiently compassionate to overlook the reprehensible lapse of the Magistrate and hear out the plea this paper carries.

This most unworthy person is desperately in need of armed troops. The people of Shu-Rh are subject to the most severe assaults and criminal uses by the troops of Temujin and though the local Warlords have done all that is possible with their militiamen, it is not enough. By numbers alone the Mongols are able to triumph. Where they have been, there are ruined crops and burned buildings and slaughtered families. No matter how much we try to resist, it is not possible for a fortress manned by one hundred militiamen to withstand six hundred mounted Mongols. All the men here have acquitted themselves most valiantly, and those who have lost their lives in the struggle have made good account of that loss. It is not a lack of courage that is the question here, but of numbers and equipment. The Warlord Shao Ching-Po of the stronghold of Tsi-Gai pass has been attacked not once but twice. Thus far he has been able to resist the onslaughts of the Mongols, but he is low on arrows and quarrels and bows and spears and pikes. Though he has barrels of pitch in reserve, the enemy has not come close enough to allow him to put those barrels to good use. His manpower has been reduced to thirty-two trained militiamen and eight armed villagers. Tan Mung-Fa of Shui-Lo fortress has been asked to lend a few of his fighting men, but has not been able to spare any because of the great danger of attack. T’en Chih-Yü was able to send arrowheads and twelve coats of scale armor, but that is not sufficient. Warlord Shao has said to this most unworthy person that he is aware that his stronghold will fall when next the Mongols attack. He has set many traps within the stronghold so that the Mongols will pay a great price for their prize. Warlord Shao is a man of great courage and integrity and his men are willing to follow him into battle against demons if he asks this of him. Warlord Tan has said that he will make every attempt to send troops to Warlord Shao’s aid when the next assault comes, but does not know if he himself will be in battle at that time. Warlord Kung has informed the Tribunal that he has armed his villagers, but does not believe that there are sufficient numbers of them to put up a significant defense should the Mongols attack in earnest. Warlord T’en has made excellent preparations to resist the Mongols, but her stronghold has only eighty militiamen at this time, and they are not all seasoned fighters. Warlord Hua has sent word to this insignificant person that he has lost more than forty of his men to raiding parties, and he suspects that there may be spies in this region. If we had even half a garrison here, such activities would cease, for it would be possible to enforce the edict that came from the Vermilion Brush regarding such acts. Warlord Suh has sent the Tribunal weekly reports on the stage of his preparedness, and though he has done well, he has depleted his stores, and unless there is aid, he will not be able to feed his militiamen through the winter. There is not time enough to devote more men to the harvest, and the women are not content to work the fields alone and exposed to Mongol raiders, who, as has been reported throughout the Empire, use women most savagely.

This most unworthy person therefore most humbly requests that the August Son of Heaven will be inclined to send troops to alleviate our desperate situation here, and assist us in turning back the soldiers of Temujin. Without such help, we must all prepare ourselves for honorable death at the hands of the most malific of enemies.

From the city of Bei-Wah, temporary capital of the Shu-Rh District, by my own hand with the most profound submission to the will of the Presence of the Dragon Throne.

The Magistrate of Shu-Rh,

Family name Wu, personal name Sing-I

his chop

9

Two Mongol scouts had been captured the day before and now hung from trees not far from the Mao-T’ou stronghold. Their skins had been peeled back in strips so that their naked bodies seemed dressed in tattered rags.

“You should not have killed them.” Jui Ah glowered at Saint-Germain. “They are the enemies of this land. Killing them was not appropriate.”

Saint-Germain regarded the militia Captain narrowly. He could sense other men in the courtyard were listening to their exchange, though he made an effort to speak quietly. “They were past being men when your soldiers finished with them. What is the point in preserving life, if you call a heartbeat life, in broken flesh?” He felt tired as he asked, and hooked his thumbs into the wide leather belt he wore around his Frankish pelisse.

“Of course!” Jui Ah scoffed. “This is not your land, foreigner. These are not your people. You have not heard the screams of your loved ones come from the flames of a burning house—”

“I have,” Saint-Germain corrected him grimly. “More than once. But let it pass.”

Jui Ah was not going to be put off. “It means nothing to you if the Mongols come. You have only to offer your skills to them and you may leave us to our fate with no more than a single backward glance. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do it,” Jui Ah went on, his tone accusing, “because we all would, if there were any way to do it.” He folded his arms, making no effort to conceal the sneer he wore.

“I doubt you or I or anyone else here will have that option.” He had asked himself how it would feel to die the true death at last. The Mongols beheaded their captives and burned buildings. Either way, he would be dead at last. He had been thinking of his home, far to the west, and those of his blood who were left behind. Saint-Germain raised his fine brows and regarded Jui Ah.

“How do any of us know what you would do?” The taunt was deliberate, and again the Captain of the militia waited for Saint-Germain to reply.

“You don’t,” Saint-Germain said dryly, noticing that there were a dozen men watching now, Jui Ah’s men.

“Then you must not be offended if we question your loyalty.” There was a glint in his eyes as he stared at Saint-Germain. He was clearly hoping to provoke Saint-Germain to action.

“Would my offense make any difference to your opinion?” Saint-Germain inquired before he turned away.

Jui Ah reached out and grasped Saint-Germain by the shoulder. “You haven’t accounted for yourself, foreigner.”

Saint-Germain stopped. “Remove your hand.” His voice was cool and formidably controlled. He did not look at the restraining hand at all.

“Not until you explain yourself.” There was a kind of feral glee in Jui Ah’s burst of laughter and he jerked at Saint-Germain’s shoulder in an effort to turn him around.

“Remove your hand.” This time it was a command. Saint-Germain had not responded at all to the force in Jui Ah’s arm.

The other man had turned pale with wrath and uncertainty. He knew that Saint-Germain should have stumbled when he pulled at his shoulder, but the foreigner had done nothing. “You’re not answering.”

“Nor will I until you take your hand away.” His dark eyes were intense as live coals, but Jui Ah could not see them and did not read the warning there.

One of the militiamen started forward as if to warn his captain of the sudden danger he saw in the black-clothed foreigner, but Jui Ah was too angry and waved the man away before he could speak. “I won’t have any man talk to me that way. I am Captain here. I am the Commander. I’m the one the men will follow in battle, not you. I am the one who will defend the Warlord. You’re lower than turtle excrement. You’re not suited to feed crows.”

“I tell you one last time to release me.” Saint-Germain’s tone was almost conversational. There was an expression on his mouth that might have been a smile had it the least humor in it. He was poised lightly.

“Release you?” Jui Ah repeated with mockery. “I’ll release—” He did not finish, for Saint-Germain had rounded on him, his arms coming up so that they caught Jui Ah low in the chest with a resounding thump. The militia Captain staggered back, gasping for air, his arms swinging wildly.

Without a word, Saint-Germain started away, heedless of the men watching him in amazement. He was almost to the corner of the courtyard when a brick smashed into his back.

Jui Ah could barely speak. His face was contorted and his steps were as unsteady as an infant’s, but he glared at Saint-Germain with open ferocity as he lurched toward him. “You!” The word came in a rasp.

Saint-Germain watched as the militia Captain picked up the long curved blade of a pike from where it had lain beside a stack of unfinished shafts. Jui Ah swung the steel blade so that it hissed through the air in lethal promise. “This is madness,” he said, knowing that the men would not listen to him. With deep resignation he began to unbuckle his belt.

“You think I don’t know about you?” Jui Ah demanded. “You, with your fine foreign airs and your sorcery, you’ve enchanted Warlord T’en, you’ve made her your slave.” Sparks flew from the courtyard paving stones as the pike blade glanced off them. “You’re the one who has convinced her to make that ditch. You’re the one who has turned her against us. You’ve seduced her!” He was less than ten paces away from Saint-Germain now, and the pike blade was held at the ready. It was fine steel, Saint-Germain thought, for he had made it himself.

“Jui Ah,” he said as he wrapped the ends of the belt once around each hand, “if you must fight, there is an enemy beyond these walls who will give you more than enough battle. It is foolish to fight here.” He sidestepped the first angry thrust of the pike blade.

“Coward! Liar!” The steel descended again, missing Saint-Germain’s foot by less than a handbreadth. Jui Ah was grinning as he took another step closer to Saint-Germain.

It was no use to talk, Saint-Germain knew. The trouble was far beyond that. With unhappy determination he set himself to the fight. The belt was taut between his hands and he moved into a partial crouch. His stance was oddly graceful and as Jui Ah took another swing at him, Saint-Germain dodged swiftly, much faster than the Captain of militia had anticipated.