The Crystal Empire (52 page)

Now the Sun Incarnate Zhu Yuan-Coyotl swept one brown, j
e
wel-bedecked hand from the satin sleeve it rested in, indicating a small bench—an unadorned metal shelf suspended by a pair of chains—fastened to a third wall.

Upon it lay a huge, curved butcher knife.

“Seat yourself, old man. You appear surprised. Did you suspect We’d leave you here to die?”

Oln Woeck avoided answering by limping backward to the bench—for a dozen reasons he felt he daren’t turn his back—lowering himself into mortifying contact with the metal. The shelf was hard, his bones unpadded by much flesh. The bench was cold. His shivering was, by now, quite beyond his control.

“The Sun”—Zhu Yuan-Coyotl passed slender long-nailed fingers across his own chest, refolded his arms; his breath, too, formed little clouds of steam—“is the sole source of light and warmth in Our World, thus the wellspring of all life.”

He stepped closer to Oln Woeck.

“’Tis an impressive object-lesson to be deprived of its manifold blessed attributes. ‘Let the bastards freeze in the dark’ is a common curse among the Han-Meshika, as well as the crudest, most demeaning form of corporal or capital punishment—which, of course, depends u
p
on its duration—We practice.”

Another step forward.

“In the minds of Our subjects, to be put to death by freezing in the darkness isn’t just to be denied humanity—a quality all forms of pu
n
ishment possess in common—nor is it just to be denied the dignity of exi
s
tence itself.”

Huddled with his knees against his chest, his arms wrapped about them, Oln Woeck blinked. What was this maniacal child trying to tell him? If they intended to kill him, by the Suffering of Jesus, let them do it without all this talk!

“’Tis to be denied,” the Sun Incarnate stated, “in life’s uttermost moments, the oneness with the source of life—which is the aim, We’re certain you’ll agree, of all one’s strivings here upon earth—and thus the cruelest fate imaginable.”

The Sun stepped closer once again until Oln Woeck, had he been c
a
pable of movement, not frozen where he sat, might have reached out, touched the rich, brocaded robe. As it was, the moisture from the Sun I
n
carnate’s breath condensed in a light film upon the Cultist leader’s upraised knees, which, to their owner, appeared as bloodless and tran
s
parent as if they’d been fashioned out of candle-tallow.

“Upon some concentrated study of the matter,” the boy continued, “We’ve arrived at an understanding that this theology isn’t alien entire to your own beliefs.”

Here the Sun Incarnate Zhu Yuan-Coyotl paused, as if to let some profound lesson sink in. Oln Woeck was fervent in the wish it would, but in this he was disappointed.

At length, the Sun spoke again.

“There elsewhere flourishes an entire family of languages with which Our Dreamers have familiarized Us, in which the word for Sun also conveys a secondary meaning, ‘provider of opportunities’—somewhat of the same spirit in which your people, the Helvetii, are wont to say, ‘Make hay while the sun shines.’”

Zhu Yuan-Coyotl turned his back, gazing in absent idleness as he spoke at beads of condensed moisture trickling down the tarnished metal wall beside the heavy-hinged door.

“’Tis an appropriate turn of phrase, howe’er esoteric its origin. An auspicious one. We enjoy to think of Ourselves as such a beneficent provider of opportunities, Oln Woeck. Observe how We’ve provided you with an opportunity to sample, in a small wise, existence without the benefit of Our effulgence—”

He craned his neck about, pointing to the butcher knife which Oln Woeck hadn’t touched.

“—or to attack Us whilst Our back was turned.”

He laughed.

“Likewise, We’re certain you heard Us explain e’er now to your traveling companions how upon occasion We provide certain opportun
i
ties for Our subjects to sink themselves in vice, that they who can’t r
e
sist its bla
n
dishment might be weeded from Our, er, garden.”

Oln Woeck remembered well enough, but just now he was more pr
e
occupied with the wish that he could cease shivering. He was no longer ce
r
tain whether the cold was responsible for it.

Aught about this boy-child frightened him.

“We provide other opportunities, as well, for measured advancement, unmeasured greed, dutiful obedience, self-aggrandizement, assiduousity, betrayal...”

He turned about again, to face the old Helvetian. Oln Woeck hoped the boy might come at last to the point of this otherwise meaningless le
c
ture. Its meaninglessness—he was discovering—was the principal terror of the thing.

“But We didn’t visit you to prattle of philosophy or linguistics. We observe that you grow more uncomfortable, thereby less attentive, each minute. Here—”

In a single, liquid motion, the Sun Incarnate Zhu Yuan-Coyotl unfa
s
tened his sash—the paired knife-scabbards clattered upon the deck—flung the colorful quilted robe from his lithe, athletic body, snugged it about Oln Woeck.

He helped the old man tuck it into place beneath his frozen buttocks. In an instant, warmth began to wash across the old man’s body, pen
e
trating his flesh as if the robe itself radiated heat and were more than just its preserver.

Relief was to be followed by shock. He watched with widened eyes and wider mouth as Zhu Yuan-Coyotl retied the weapons-sash about his now-naked waist. Beneath the robe, the boy had worn nothing. Despite his su
d
den exposure to the cold, he showed no sign of discomfort. Oln Woeck confronted half a dozen conflicting feelings: relief, uncertainty, wonder, the first faint tinglings of something else. Lean, hairless, well muscled, the boy he looked upon was
beautiful.

Showing no awareness of thoughts Oln Woeck feared written bold upon his features, the Sun went on.

“Howe’er, We did come to spin for you, Oln Woeck, the tale of an i
l
lustrious ancestor of Ours, one Zhu Yuan-Xiang, who lived some six and one-half centuries ago, also with whom We’re honored to share both a gi
v
en and a family name.

The boy glanced at the railed ceiling, eyes half closed, as if summo
n
ing long-unexamined memories.

“When he was a young man—he was known, at the time, by the name ‘Hung Wu,’ a humble monk not unlike yourself, born of a poor family of farm laborers, wiped out in one of many epidemics when he was but seventeen—his homeland languished in the iron grip of a sa
v
age foreign conqueror. Thus it had been for as long as anybody could remember. These ba
r
baric dogs had perpetrated many terrible acts, the worst of which was opening the land to adventurers from e’en further regions, contamina
t
ing it with unsettling customs, unproven ideas, alien pestilences.”

A small noise came at the door, a timid knocking which interrupted the Sun’s narrative. A plump-cheeked, red-gold, oval-eyed face peeked round the metal frame.

The Sun nodded.

Many additional distractions followed as an endless parade of l
i
nen-jacketed servitors entered the tiny room, one by one, depositing nume
r
ous rich and fascinating burdens within it before departing once again to return with even more.

A floral-decorated screen-curtain, depicting, the Sun explained to Oln Woeck, wisteria and plum blossoms, willow and oleander, they placed before the hanging carcasses. Beside it, sandalwood incense smoldered in a vase of jade upon an ebony tabouret.

The cold tile floor the servants covered with a thick layer of carpe
t
ing. Over this they laid a reed mat upon which the servants placed a la
c
quered rosewood tea-table, its blackwood top inlaid with alternating bronze and copper tiles. Upon this they placed, to begin things, towels in a polished copper basin of hot, scented water.

Vapor rising from the vessel all but obscured Oln Woeck’s view of Zhu Yuan-Coyotl.

The boy-ruler selected one of the towels, cleansed both face and hands. He invited the elderly Helvetian—to whom cleanliness was no deep-grained habit—to follow suit.

Yet he obeyed.

The steaming towel scalded the old man’s frozen face and fingers, but refreshed him. The soiled towels they threw back—with some relu
c
tance upon Oln Woeck’s part—into the copper basin, which the servant r
e
moved with promptness from the room.

As the servants continued with their tasks, Zhu Yuan-Coyotl took up his topic once again.

“Yet, as Our Dreamers assure Us, naught there is which lasts eternal, Oln Woeck. Harsh oppression strengthens the weak. The most disc
i
plined conquerors grow corrupt, bloating themselves into helplessness upon the places and people they plunder.

“There came into the land a final, terrible sickness, slaughtering co
n
queror and conquered alike, nine hundred out of every thousand. At the age of twenty-five, having cast aside the saffron, with clever effort Zhu Y
u
an-Xiang initiated a rebellion of his disarmed countrymen. As this time but one family in ten was permitted possession of a kitchen car
v
ing-knife. He o’erthrew the conquerors while they coughed and qua
r
reled among the
m
selves and died.”

The servants had by this time hung decorative bamboo fans over the locker-doors. A string of paper lamps shed softer light than that afforded in the kitchen outside. A landscape, scroll-painted upon rattan, they u
n
furled upon the wall above the metal bench, itself draped in snowy da
m
ask, employed as serving-table. Platters of onion-flavored corn-cakes the se
r
vants placed there, along with bowls of fried rice, boiled yams, baked potatoes, salted vegetables, ricebowls of noodles, what Oln Woeck prayed was roast pork, something else Zhu Yuan-Coyotl told him with amusement was pickled snake and chilis.

“Taking the dynastic name Ming, he ruled his people for another forty years. The Emperor Zhu realized ’twas not enough to take the place the conqueror had vacated. Such had come to pass ere this in his land, coun
t
less times. Also, the land rotted with the stench of death. Rumors brought from other lands by the previous rulers attributed this to a disease borne by rats.”

Oln Woeck’s much-distracted attention divided itself between the Sun’s words, a less intellectual interest in the boy beginning to tease his loins, and the food whose aroma filled the tiny room, overpowering even the incense.

Still, Zhu Yuan-Coyotl had neither seated himself upon one of the rattan stools which had been brought in for them (the old man had v
a
cated the bench—it hadn’t been difficult to persuade him) nor as yet pa
r
taken of any refreshment.

For the moment were they given candied fruit, dried melon seeds, something which the Sun told him was a bowl of deep-fried locusts, crusted with oily salt.

Oln Woeck watched the boy, admiring the fluid grace of his mov
e
ments, the unblemished smoothness of his flesh. Soon there appeared a teapot, the vapor pouring from its delicate spout smelling of jasmine and crabapple. A steward brought a skullcap for Oln Woeck, a loincloth and black lacquered gauze headpiece for his master.

“Thus did Zhu Yuan-Xiang decree a vast fleet of ships, some thi
r
ty-seven thousand in number, whereupon he, his court, aught that might be gathered up of the remaining population, might—having taken the ster
n
est possible measures to rid themselves of disease-bearing rodents—sail off t
o
ward the sunrise, and a new land.”

The Sun seated himself.

Employing a pair of slender tapered sticks as tools, he selected a moist tidbit from a platter. He waved Oln Woeck to the other chair. From ou
t
side the door there issued the mellow voice of a young woman reciting poetry. Other voices, sweeter, sang. Past the doorjamb, the He
l
vetian glimpsed the silhouettes of people dancing to the tune of lute, guitar, ba
m
boo flute, silver violin.

“Thus it came about,” offered the Sun, “that, fleeing the selfsame Greater Death which drove your own ancestors scuttling to what you call the New World, Ours discovered it first, in the year you reckon 718, there—or rather, here—establishing colonies which, after a time, fused with the leading native culture.

“The Han were circumspect regarding the Meshika. For them there’d be no going back. To the unstable vitality of these savages they contri
b
uted much knowledge, the stability of bureaucracy. The respective ari
s
tocracies interbred.