The Mandate of Heaven (5 page)

Yun Shu took a deep drink from the gourd-bottle: the water tasted earthy. Hsiung had also bought some steamed buns which she ate hungrily. Then she froze. Voices out in the bamboo groves, calling and whistling to the rhythm of sticks threshing the undergrowth. She winced her way to the crawl-way and peered out through leafy branches. Lights in the wood, flickering red demon eyes moving methodically towards her. Yun Shu pulled the concealing foliage tight and wiggled back, stifling a cry when she stubbed a tender, bruised toe.

In the dark ruin she felt the panic of all trapped creatures. Was it best to flee before they reached the tower? Or remain hidden? Her feet were too damaged for a swift escape.

Yun Shu gingerly ascended the round stairway and crawled into a corner. Too late she realised the water-gourd and pile of clothes remained in full view: anyone peering into the tower would spy them immediately. By now voices surrounded her; she even picked out words.

‘Here’s the cliff. If she’s gone further she has wings.’

‘Hey, P’ao! What’s that hole?’

Yun Shu tried to merge with stone.

‘Some animal’s been digging,’ came the reply.

‘What about this tower? Perhaps the little bitch is in there listening.’

‘Hush! Master might hear.’

‘How? He’s dining at Jebe Khoja’s while we search for his precious daughter. That’s how much he cares about her.’

‘I’ve heard Jebe Khoja likes to invite Golden Lotus to dinner along with Master.’

‘Ha! Ha! You’re bad!’

‘Who’s this Jebe Khoja?’ asked a new voice with a strange accent.

‘Only Prince Arslan’s favourite nephew.
And
Deputy Governor of the Province. You can be sure Master will rise alongside him.’

‘I didn’t agree to this kind of work,’ said the new voice, crossly. ‘What kind of man can’t protect his own daughter?’

‘It’s not his fault she was taken by rebels.’

‘
If
she was taken. Maybe she ran away. The maids say she isn’t afraid of anything and disappears for hours at a time. I’ve heard she even reads her father’s books when he’s not around.’

‘What about this tower?’

Their torches flickered beyond the walls and she sensed them staring up at the ruins.

‘Nothing here,’ called P’ao. ‘Let’s tell Master.’

‘Not yet,’ suggested another. ‘Wait for a while on the Hundred Stairs. That way it looks like we searched longer.’

So saying, they left. Yun Shu listened until their noise faded into the sounds of a wood at night.

The puppies had instinctively gone silent at the sound of human voices. Now, in their hunger, they mewled once more. Yun Shu descended to the lowest step and arranged her spare clothes as bedding.

What use was it to stay here? Teng was right, sooner or later she would be forced home. The longer she hid, the deeper her disgrace and Father’s anger. Yet as Yun Shu hugged herself on the step, gazing up at the clear night sky, she thought of Immortals floating through patterns of stars. Then she remembered another occasion she had slept out beneath stars, in an open river junk bound for Hou-ming and Father’s wonderful new appointment as Salt Minister. She’d been just four. Her mother was already thin and pale with the nameless disease that killed her not long after Golden Lotus became Father’s concubine.

Yun Shu stared up at the constellations, longing to hop across them like stepping stones. She had read in Father’s books that invisible threads connect night to day, river to land, moon to stars, earth to water. For the first time she understood properly. The Eternal Dao joined all things.

This odd thought comforted her until she fell asleep.

Doves were perching on the tower’s jagged walls when Yun Shu woke. She stretched and winced. Yet her feet no longer felt aflame. Though purple and blue, they were already mending. She massaged her toes in the dull light of an overcast morning. The pale sun was higher than she had expected. In her exhaustion she had slept late. Yun Shu heard boots tramping in her direction.

‘Is this the place, boy?’

Sergeant P’ao’s voice! Yun Shu ducked fearfully before accepting the futility of further concealment. No, she would not be found cowering or dragged out. Instead she crawled out into the sunlight and tottered upright.

At that moment Salt Minister Gui turned the corner of the tower, carried in a sedan chair by two sweating porters. Behind him, escorted like criminals by Father’s soldiers, came Teng and Hsiung. Last of all, the hunchbacked scholar, Deng Nan-shi.

Yun Shu tried to find Teng’s eye but he evaded her. She became aware Father was gripping his abacus with white knuckles.

‘Cover your feet!’

She struggled to her knees and bowed, trembling.

‘Is this where you hid her?’ he demanded, turning to Hsiung.

Hsiung said nothing, his face blank.

‘Sergeant P’ao, if he does not answer, hit him!’ commanded the Minister of Salt.

‘Your Excellency,’ broke in Deng Nan-shi, ‘my son has already explained. A stupid child’s game, that is all! They could not imagine the upset they were causing.’

‘A g-game?’ snorted Gui. ‘Then I hold
you
responsible.’

Hopping from foot to foot, Teng cried, ‘Father didn’t know! It’s our servant’s fault. I warned Hsiung … Oh, he never listens to me! But I found the tower and showed it to her. I should take the punishment, not Father!’

Gui’s glassy, slightly bulging eyes flicked from child to child, one defiant, the other tearful. He turned to Sergeant P’ao. ‘Search the tower, as you should have done yesterday.’

No one spoke until he returned. In his arms were diverse things: Yun Shu’s clothes, the empty gourd and the mother
dhole
’s corpse. A second soldier retrieved the puppies, blinking and wriggling.

‘Otherwise, Master,’ said P’ao, ‘there’s only old bones.’

Gui turned back to his daughter. For the first time wariness softened the anger in his voice. ‘Is this where you chose to spend the night? In a charnel house? With a wild dog? It’s b-big enough to be a fox fairy!’

She was too afraid to reply.

‘How did the creature die?’ he asked, fingering a protective amulet attached to his silken girdle. ‘P’ao, how do you think it died? Was it through magic?’

The soldier bent over the corpse.

‘Skull crushed inwards, Your Honour,’ he said. Then Sergeant P’ao turned to Hsiung. ‘Boy, is that how your leg got injured? Fighting this wild dog?’

Hsiung would not answer. He met the sergeant’s eye then looked away in contempt. P’ao bent forward and whispered: ‘Better to answer Master’s questions, son.’

‘Honoured Excellency!’ cried Teng. ‘Our servant saved your daughter! He fought the wild dog when it was attacking her and killed it. Hsiung saved her life! I was too afraid. But not him!’

The bodyguards murmured their approval at the boy’s courage. Sergeant P’ao went so far as to slap his back.

‘Is this true?’ demanded Gui, turning to his daughter.

She nodded. ‘It was scared for its pups, Father! Hsiung arrived and …’

‘Enough!’

The Minister of Salt turned to the silent boy. He raised his abacus and rattled the beads. ‘Lucky for you the accounts b-balance. Therefore, you shall not be punished.’

The soldiers grunted approvingly until their master silenced them with his fishy stare.

Deng Nan-shi cleared his throat and smiled affably. ‘It appears the matter is settled, Your Excellency! We shall leave you to your delightful daughter …’

‘Shut up,
you
!’ said Gui.

The soldiers reacted to such grave discourtesy with narrowed, expectant eyes. The boys stared miserably at the ground. A dark look transformed Deng Nan-shi’s urbane face and his smile froze. Had he possessed the power of his ancestors, things would have gone very cruelly for the Salt Minister.

‘Are you aware,’ said Gui, crimson with rage, ‘what g-grade of human the Great Khan classes
scholars
?’

‘I believe we are classified ninth in the ranks of human beings,’ said Deng Nan-shi, ‘one below prostitutes and one above beggars. At least, according to the Northern Edicts.’

Salt Minister Gui nodded. ‘Precisely. And now your …’ He groped for a suitable word. ‘Your
b-brat
has kidnapped my daughter.’

‘Teng didn’t, Father!’ cried Yun Shu. ‘Teng urged me to return home!’

‘B-be quiet! Cover your feet!’

Deng Nan-shi stepped forward, laying a hand on his son’s quaking shoulder.

‘He’s just a child, Your Excellency. They’re just children. Perhaps it is we who should reproach ourselves for not keeping a closer watch on how they grow.’

For a long moment the bamboo grove was silent. Lights glittered on the blue waters of the lake as the overcast sky cleared.

‘Do not cross me again,’ said the Salt Minister, ‘not one of you. Sergeant P’ao! Carry my daughter. I will lead the way.’

‘Master,’ said P’ao, ‘what shall I do with these puppies?’

There were three squeaking plaintively. Salt Minister Gui considered. ‘Throw them over the cliff.’

‘No!’ protested Yun Shu, stepping forward too hurriedly. Her feet screamed with pain and she stumbled.

Again Gui examined her suspiciously. ‘Are not these the whelps of a fox fairy?’ he muttered to himself. ‘Why does she wish to preserve them? Are they her familiars?’

Yun Shu covered her eyes as P’ao hurried to the cliff edge. One by one the puppies were hurled into space. No one stirred.

‘Carry her,’ ordered the Salt Minister, ‘and her clothes.’

She shot Teng a look of pure hatred. The scholar’s son met her gaze defiantly. But Yun Shu knew she’d been wronged. He had pretended to be her friend. Now she was forever worthless in Father’s eyes.

Before long, only the Dengs were left beside the tower of bones. Hsiung stood straighter and prouder than before. He stared avidly after Sergeant P’ao and the other soldiers until they vanished in the trees.

What of Yun Shu’s journey through the dark wood, her palanquin a spear shaft held horizontally between two men, her pillow rough, unfriendly hands? So intense was her defeat she entered a thoughtless daze. Father brooded in his sedan chair. He did not acknowledge her in any way. When they reached home he stalked to his bureau without a backward glance.

She was carried through darkened corridors to the same disused section of the mansion where Golden Lotus had attempted to bind her feet. A maid waited with a flickering candle by the open door of one chamber. Even in the soft light Yun Shu detected concern in the girl’s face.

‘Master told me to tell you, if you leave this room without permission, you must leave his house and never come back.’

Yun Shu entered and the door closed. A bolt clicked behind her.

At first the darkness in the chamber seemed absolute. As her eyes adjusted, Yun Shu noticed the outlines of a window and drape. Hobbling over, she lifted the thick hemp curtain and peered through a lattice of diamond-shaped wooden bars.

Outside was a strip of abandoned garden that terminated in the cliff edge. The lake sparkled with moonlight. The moon revealed her only comforts: a low, sagging divan and pile of blankets. An open chamber pot in one corner. Yun Shu used it, wondering when she would be given water. It took a long while to achieve even a troubled sleep.

The next day brought a dawn summons. Yun Shu was shaken awake by the maid from last night, Pink Rose. Today the girl seemed afraid.

‘Quickly,’ she hissed, ‘your father wants you.’

So urgent a summons allowed no time to straighten her dress or hair. When the maid opened the door to her father’s study, Yun Shu’s robes were still stained with mud and the mother dog’s blood.

Salt Minister Gui sat on a high-backed chair like an emperor, his expression forbidding. Golden Lotus hovered behind. Yun Shu sank stiffly to her knees and kowtowed, resting her forehead on the cool earth. No one spoke.

‘You’re obedient now,’ said Father, finally. ‘Let’s hope your change of heart is sincere. Otherwise you’re no use to anyone.’

Although Yun Shu dared not look up, she sensed Golden Lotus stirring. The concubine whispered in Father’s ear.

‘Quite right, my love,’ said the Salt Minister, ‘the only real proof will be lotus feet. That’s what my contract with your new family in Chenglingji specifies!’