Shadow Sister (22 page)

“I kneel before you, Langhai,” Fo Tu Deng said, sinking unsteadily to one knee.

Tao had not heard the term before. It meant wolf child. He guessed it was the title given to the man next in line to be Chanyu – the leader of the Zhao.

“You should have sent word you were arriving,” Fo Tu Deng said. “I would have arranged a welcome feast.”

The monk’s hair was standing on end, his outer robe thrown hastily over his shoulders, scarcely covering his skinny body. He was too busy bowing to Jilong to notice that Tao had a packed bag and was ready to leave.

“Where are my men?” Jilong asked.

“They are sleeping, Langhai.”

The warlord glanced at the sun, which was almost halfway along its journey to midday. “At this time of day?”

“We have been up all night,” the monk said. “Searching for the Black Camel Bandits.”

“I have ridden all through the night,” Jilong said. “But I am not asleep. No one else should be.”

“I will rouse them immediately.” Fo Tu Deng waved over a blinking Zhao soldier who had got up to pee. “Wake the men. Get someone to prepare food for the Langhai.”

The man scurried away.

“I will explain our new tactics, but first you must have food and refreshments.”

The warlord got down from his horse in a single smooth motion. He glared at Fo Tu Deng, who hadn’t stopped bobbing and bowing since Jilong arrived. Then the warlord’s eyes fell on Tao and Kai. He sneered at them as if he’d discovered not one but two cockroaches in his food. “What are they doing here?”

“I have captured them to serve you, my lord.” The prospect didn’t seem to please the warlord. “Or to dispose of, if that is your wish.”

“Is the girl here too?” Jilong asked.

He meant Pema, who had tried to kill Jilong’s uncle, Shi Le.

The warlord scowled at Tao and Kai. “If it wasn’t for these two, that murderous little savage would not have escaped my punishment. Kill them both.”

Fo Tu Deng had a problem. The monk needed Tao alive.

A young nomad, no more than a boy, was so tired he’d fallen asleep on his horse. He slid to the ground with a thump.

“The Langhai did not give any orders to stand down!” the captain of the guard snarled. He was a huge man with muscular arms and one ear missing. “Put that man in irons and give him no rations.” The lad was hoisted up and taken away.

Jilong surveyed the compound. “This place will make a good headquarters.”

He went over to the peony pavilion and sat on Wei’s couch, leaning back and putting his red-booted feet on the cushions. He called for some
kumiss
.

But Jilong and his men weren’t the last visitors to arrive. No one had bothered to close the gate. A covered carriage drawn by four horses came into the compound. Tao recognised it immediately. It was the same carriage that he’d seen at the horse-riding contest outside Luoyang. Then it had contained beautiful young ladies, favoured by the warlord, whose job it was to flatter him and look attractive on his arm.

Tao remembered the last time he’d seen that carriage, when Pema had stepped out, almost unrecognisable in a fine gown and with painted lips and eyelids. Tao’s stomach clenched as the carriage door opened. He was half expecting Pema to emerge again among a chatter of ladies, wreathed in perfumed silk. But just one woman stood at the carriage door and waited as servants rushed to place steps for her to climb down. It wasn’t Pema, and this woman was no court beauty. She was short, fat and old. Her hair had been tied up inexpertly in the style of Huaxia women, and had fallen to one side. She wore a creased and ill-fitting gown that was an ugly shade of green. She struggled awkwardly down the three steps. Jilong hurried over to give her support as she descended.

The woman stood in the compound, cooling herself with a bamboo fan. Her face was red from the effort of climbing down the few steps. Her brow was deeply wrinkled from scowling; she had an enormous nose, and the lines around her mouth turned down as if she’d never smiled in her life. She reminded Tao of a painting of a demon at Yinmi. The compound fell silent. Jilong bowed low before her.

“Mother,” he said. “What are you doing here? Quarters have been prepared for you at Luoyang.”

“I spent last night there. I didn’t like it. The bed was uncomfortable. There were rats. And I couldn’t see the stars.” She spoke with a harsh accent, unlike Jilong whose Huaxia was perfect. “I was hoping for one of those imperial palaces I’ve heard so much about, but they were all in ruins. Your men told me you were here.”

“As soon as I have defeated the Black Camel Bandits,” Jilong said, “my first task will be to build a grand palace for you.”

The woman grunted. “In the meantime, I will stay here.”

Jilong turned to Fo Tu Deng. “See to it that the best room in the compound is prepared for Lady Wang,” he said. “Unless I am mistaken, that will be the one
you
are currently using.”

“I will do it immediately, Langhai.” Fo Tu Deng backed away to Mrs Huan’s room, bowing as he went.

Jilong took his mother’s arm again and led her to Wei’s couch.

Tao didn’t recognise the kind and caring person that Jilong had transformed into.

“I am honoured that you have made such a long and uncomfortable journey to visit me,” he said, stroking her arm.

“I want food,” she said, whacking his hand with her fan.

Tao waited to witness Jilong’s anger. Surely this woman would be executed for such disrespect. But the warlord’s features rearranged themselves. His eyes filled with tears, his mouth turned up at the edges, his teeth were revealed. Something unfamiliar appeared on his face. It was a smile – not the mean sneer Tao had seen before, but the sort of soft smile women wore when admiring babies. It was like watching a tiger roll over to have its tummy tickled.

Jilong shouted orders at his personal cook. “Prepare a meal for Lady Wang immediately!”

“Get my chest,” the old woman snapped. “I don’t want one of your stupid men carrying it. They’ll probably drop it.”

“Of course, Mother.”

Jilong scurried back to the carriage and hauled down a huge chest, like a child proud to be asked to do a task beyond his age. Some of his men went to help him.

“I’ll carry it!” he insisted, though his knees were buckling under the weight.

Jilong staggered to Mrs Huan’s room. Lady Wang followed.

Tao and Kai glanced at each other. It seemed there was one person in the world who had no fear of Jilong. His mother.

The Zhao troops were gathered around the peony pavilion where Jilong and his mother sat framed by its delicate carvings and double roof with the turned up corners. It was the sort of setting that the young warlord liked – something that made him look imperial. He stood up to address his men and they fell silent.

“You have heard the news,” he said. “Our enemies have the upper hand. They have taken back Jiyuan, which I won less than a month ago.”

He made it sound like he’d done it single-handedly.

Lady Wang sat on the couch, her knees apart, her feet dangling. Next to her were the remains of a small feast of four courses – roast deer, rabbit stew, baked pangolin and pickled eggs. She wasn’t listening to the speech. She was still pushing food into her mouth.

“They attacked at night wearing their black clothes,” Jilong said, “sneaking up on our comrades and killing them silently in the darkness.”

“Cheats,” the men muttered. “Cowards.”

“They have no pride in battle. They will use any means to beat us.”

Tao and Kai were watching from the kitchen doorway.

“Remember the tactics the Zhao soldiers used in the contests at the White Horse Temple?” Tao said. They had been prepared to do anything to win.

Kai nodded. “And that was when they were pitted against their comrades.”

One minute Jilong was shouting that the nomads were useless soldiers, not fit to clean his boots, the next he was describing the wonderful victory they would have because of their superiority over their enemies.

“It is up to you.” He left them to imagine what would happen if they failed. “Even I cannot defeat the Black Camel Bandits alone. You must find strength and fight with me. Your hearts must be filled with hatred for these spineless thugs. We fight for the honour of the Zhao!”

The men cheered and clashed their weapons. The warlord didn’t need to give them
kumiss
to win them round. They were ready for a fight.

Jilong helped Lady Wang get down from the couch. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve and put her arm through his. The men were still cheering their leader as Jilong turned and walked straight into the orb spider’s web. The sticky threads clung to his face and his crimson jacket. The more he tried to free himself, the more entangled he became. The huge spider crawled out of the vine that wound around the pavilion. It descended on a lengthening thread of silk until it was dangling a finger-width from Jilong’s nose. A look of horror spread across the warlord’s face. The spider was reaching out to him with several of its yellow-striped legs. Jilong seemed unable to move. Tiny Lady Wang tried to bat it away with her fan. The spider stepped delicately onto Jilong’s nose. The warlord screamed. Lady Wang hit his nose so hard it started to bleed. The spider, meanwhile, descended on its thread and sat on Jilong’s hand. He jumped into the pool to wash it off, but the water barely came up to his knees. He slipped on the slime in the pond and fell on his bottom, still waving his hand to try to dislodge the spider.

Kai’s jingling laughter rang out. “Did you make the spider do that?”

“No. At least not intentionally.”

Tao wondered if his
qi
power really had influenced the spider. He moved forwards and bowed. “If I may assist, General.”

Tao stepped onto a rock in the pond and reached out to the spider, which climbed onto his hand. He stepped back off the rock. The men were biting their lips, trying not to laugh. Jilong got up and stalked off to his quarters, leaving behind his mother and a trail of wet footprints. Tao put the spider safely back among the vines.

Fo Tu Deng grabbed Tao by the arm and pushed him into the peony pavilion.

“Quick,” he said. “I need to know what advice to give Jilong. You must seek another vision.”

“But …”

“I haven’t got time for your excuses. I need a vision now! He hates to be humiliated. At any moment, one of his men will make a comment or a small mistake and Jilong will have him executed on the spot. I have seen it before. And then he will attack some unfortunate town and kill the inhabitants, just to improve his mood.” The monk put his arm around Tao’s shoulders. “You can stop people from dying.”

That was the one thing that would convince Tao to help Jilong. Kai made a deep rumbling sound.

The courtyard was quiet. The soldiers had all gone to their quarters to sleep. Jilong was still sulking in his room. Tao had no distractions. If he could save people’s lives, it was his duty to try.

“Tell me what Jilong wants to achieve.”

“The Zhao have been victorious for more than ten years under Shi Le’s leadership.” Fo Tu Deng was whispering, though there was no one around to hear him. “Jilong isn’t content to leave a trail of destruction behind him – though he has a talent for that. He is planning to take over from his uncle. He wants his own empire. He dreams of rebuilding Luoyang and making it his capital. The recent setbacks don’t help his cause. Shi Le will not hand over the reins of power to Jilong while he is losing towns to bandits.”

“It makes no difference to me which band of nomads is in power,” Tao said.

“If you do not value the lives of your fellow Huaxia, it comes down to whether you value your own life and that of your dragon. If you don’t seek a vision, I will see to it that you are both tortured.”

Kai looked at Tao. “You may as well try.” Tao heard the dragon’s voice in his head. “If no vision comes, make one up. We have nothing to lose but our lives.”

“I need to know as much about the situation as possible before I seek a vision,” Tao said. “Tell me about Jilong’s mother.”

Fo Tu Deng didn’t argue. He sat down on an embroidered cushion.

“Lady Wang is not his natural mother. She is his uncle Shi Le’s mother. When Shi Le took Jilong in when he was a boy, she adopted him as her son. He became devoted to her, as you see.”

“How is Shi Le?” Tao ventured.

“He lives, but the wound that wretched girl inflicted has left him unable to walk. Or so he says. Anyway, he rules from his bed, which he never leaves. Jilong still answers to him, but he would like to be the one they call Chanyu.”

Tao shuddered at the thought of Jilong’s ruthless uncle who had killed Pema’s family. She had tried to seek revenge and kill the Zhao leader herself, but had failed. She was wandering around the countryside somewhere. If Jilong’s men found her, they would recognise her and take her to Jilong.

Kai’s voice echoed in Tao’s head again. “You must invent a vision. Something that will enable us to escape.”

Tao’s head was spinning as he tried to come up with a plan. What could he make up to convince Fo Tu Deng that he’d had a true vision? He needed something that would be an advantage to the monk, but at the same time help them escape.

Fo Tu Deng put a cushion on the floor for Tao to sit on. The monk was impatient for him to start. Tao removed the oil from his bag.

“I must calm my mind,” Tao said.

“Do you want some incense?” the monk asked. “Should I recite a sutra?”

Kai made his jingling-bell sound, amused by the monk’s eagerness to help.

“Ah, good,” Fo Tu Deng said. “The dragon is providing bell ringing. That always helps to create a holy atmosphere.”

Tao smiled to himself. That brief moment of lightheartedness calmed him. Sunila had come down from the wall to watch, as if he thought this was an important moment. He helped add to the sense of occasion.

It gave Tao an unfamiliar, malicious pleasure to see the monk squirming with impatience. He slowly rubbed the oil into his hands and stared at them. He was thinking about a way to escape the clutches of the Zhao, not a vision he was certain would not appear. He examined his palms, mirror images of each other, except for a scar on one and a splinter in the other. The sun was making him drowsy.