Spirit Gate: Book One of Crossroads (17 page)

“He is still unmarried, so he leaves no obligations behind, and he is almost twenty, old enough to be considered a man. We’ll send a slave with him and provisions and traveling gear, so he’ll be no burden on you. Once he reaches the eastern border, he can make his way north to this place called the Hundred and look for this battlefield near a town called Horn. If he can find our brother’s remains, he can bring them home.”

“A long journey,” mused Captain Anji, “and far beyond the boundaries of the lands the Qin claim.”

“Merchants go there. Peddlers go there.”

Anji grinned as at a private joke. From this new angle, Shai could now see Mai’s face. She was pretending to look down quiescently at her folded hands but in fact she was studying the captain. Her eyes widened slightly; her lips twitched. Although she and Shai had grown up together, lived in the same compound all their lives—she as the cherished, pampered daughter, and he as the unwanted and despised youngest brother—Shai did not understand her. What did this flash of emotion portend? Impossible to say. Mai was as sweet to him as she was to anyone. She had no hidden depths, no reserves of deep feeling. Most likely she was frightened out of her wits.

But Shai wasn’t, not as the first shock faded.

“Merchants travel where soldiers fear to ride,” said the officer. “Shai is welcome to come, but I cannot guarantee his safety after he leaves my protection.”

“If you set him on the right path, that is all that I ask,” said Father Mei, pompous and condescending as always. “Then we will be square, our debts equal and canceled. Do we have an agreement?”

“We have an agreement.”

With those simple words, Shai was released. Unchained. He was free.

Leave-taking turned out to be a troublesome business. In the last three generations the only person in the Mei clan who had left Kartu Town by any road other than Spirit Gate was Hari. Everyone knew what trouble he had caused.

Ti had left off clinging to Mai indoors and come outdoors, where she was now yanking on Shai’s left arm and crying while trying to speak. Her sobs gusted up straight from her belly. Shai admired her capacity; she’d be a natural for one of the touring acting companies that plied the Golden Road.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! You didn’t even try to talk him out of it! You just hid! What will become of me, all alone? Hu! Hu! Hu! I can’t bear it!”

Captain Anji had arrived at dawn with the same pair of soldiers who had accompanied him last time; his officer’s escort were gathered outside the gate. He waited with apparent patience in the shadow of the arbor although it was by now almost noon. The wives had been in an uproar all morning and had repacked Mai’s trunk
twice even though Mai had packed it herself yesterday with only the aid of her slave Priya. That linen shift isn’t nice enough; the yellow of that silk doesn’t go well with her complexion; she’ll need thread and her embroidery frame; she’ll need a prayer silk; she can buy thread at any town market; cooking spices. No! Hairpins! Shai and Younger Mei had retreated to their alcove and huddled there while the storm raged. In the end, a rare vase was thrown and broken, and Father Mei had intervened with slaps and shouting.

Now they stood in the courtyard waiting for Mai to be escorted out by Grandmother. Captain Anji was seated on a stool. He was smoking terig leaf, dried leaves rolled up in paper to make a burning stick whose smoke you sucked into your lungs. Periodically, he handed a stub back to his attendants, who were standing behind him, and they finished it off. Shai had never tried terig leaf because it was one of many things forbidden to those who weren’t Qin. The smoke stung in his nostrils, laced with a faintly sweet afterburn. The wisps drifting over to the entrance gate made Girish’s ghost even more irritable than usual, and his wraith-like form danced and gibbered by the hanging tree to the right of the gate, so furious that for once Shai couldn’t understand what he was saying.

Poor Girish. Mother had spoiled him after Hari’s departure, and, as Mai had once said in a moment of startling and unexpected clarity, he had fermented. He’d never forgiven the family for his death, although it had been his own selfishness and cruelty that had gotten him killed. His anger had chained his ghost to the gate for almost a year.

Shai caught Captain Anji’s eye. The Qin officer smiled ever so slightly at him, like a conspirator, and all at once, so strongly that the feeling almost knocked Shai right off his feet, the last two days of tempest focused into a single thought.

I’m glad to be rid of Girish! And the rest of them, too!

Glad! Glad! Glad! None of them could peer into Shai’s mind. He’d made sure of that ever since he was old enough to think twice about keeping his mouth shut. They’d never know the truth of his impious thoughts.

He was free!

Until he found Hari’s bones and had to come back.

The door opened. Father Mei appeared in his best clerk’s silk jacket, flowing to the ground and clasped with intricate knots in three places across the chest. Grandmother tottered beside him, leaning on her eldest son, who was ever burdened with the knowledge that he had never been her favorite. Behind them, Younger Mei escorted his twin, Mai. She wore a blue silk robe fit for display but not traveling; her hair was done up in a complicated series of loops and braids festooned with slender gold chains and tiny brass bells.

Younger Mei was a homely boy; the contrast with his twin sister always astounded no matter how many times one saw them together. The round face, thick lashes, exotic eyes, and flawless bronze-dark complexion that made Mai the best-looking girl in Kartu Town had a doughy lack of firmness in Younger Mei, like bread left to rise too long. Tears streaked his face; he’d get a beating once the cavalcade left. Shai had already said his good-byes to his favorite nephew, the only person
he would miss. Younger Mei looked at him despairingly. Ti sniveled; an almost inaudible moan escaped her.

They kept silence while Father Mei made a long speech about the Mei clan’s honor and the exceptional value of its most precious orchid, Mai’ili. Captain Anji remained seated throughout, which in any man but a Qin officer would have been a deliberate insult. The entire household stood as Father Mei declaimed. Everyone’s eyes were red, even the uncles’. They all loved her. Mai was the flower of the clan, and it had shocked them all when the captain had claimed her.

Now they would lose her. They all knew it was unlikely they would ever see her again.

Even Shai would have to leave her once the captain’s regiment reached its new garrison posting, wherever that was to be. Mai’s expression, as Father Mei wound down his speech, had the placid good nature of a cow’s. Her eyes were a tiny bit red, but the only people in the courtyard as composed as she was were her new husband and his stolid attendants.

At last, Father Mei finished. Captain Anji rose while, behind him, one of his attendants folded up the stool and tied it to the back of a packhorse. The girl was handed from one to the other, the contracts, signed yesterday at the law courts, were exchanged, and Ti crumpled to the ground in a dead faint. Mai looked back toward her. Captain Anji, who already held her hand, turned as well, alerted by her movement. There was a pause. Mai’s eyes were very wide but as she came up against Captain Anji’s grip, she stilled and did not tug.

The officer released her hand. She glanced at him with a look of astonishment, lips parting, then spun and returned the few steps to kneel beside her half sister and kiss her brow. But Shai, beside Ti, saw this out of the corner of his eye; he felt Mai’s gesture more than watched her because he was studying Captain Anji. The Qin officer had a peculiar quirk to his lips, unfathomable, as he surveyed the pretty scene of Mai comforting poor Ti, whom grief had silenced. Father Mei began to speak, but caught himself short. Mai was no longer his to scold and discipline.

Ti stirred, regaining consciousness. The girls kissed one last time. As Mai returned to her husband, Ti buried her face in her hands. The captain gestured, the attendant went to the gate, and four slaves entered carrying the palanquin in which she would journey. He twitched the curtain open. Mai ducked inside without a word and without looking over her shoulder, and the curtain slid down before Shai could get a glimpse of the cramped interior. Her chest was hauled away to another packhorse. Mai’s slave Priya waited beside the palanquin.

Ready to go!

Shai gestured to Mountain. The middle-aged slave earned zastras by hiring himself out before dawn hauling night soil to the fields for other families, and five years back he had been given the choice between buying his freedom or using his zastras to pay for a marriage contract between him and Priya. He’d chosen Priya. Now he was being sent with Mai into the unknown. As part of his duties he would attend Shai, until Shai left the company. The big man knelt, fastened the carrying strap
across his forehead, and rose with Shai’s small chest of belongings balanced across his shoulders.

Captain Anji beckoned to one of his attendants, who brought a horse forward.

“Uncle Shai.” He gestured toward the saddle. It was not a request.

Panic struck as an eagle might, plunged straight down and gripped him by the throat. He lost his voice.

Father Mei said, “But it’s forbidden, Captain. You know our people are forbidden to ride horses, by the law of the Qin. It’s a hanging offense.”

Captain Anji nodded. “Among the Qin, only slaves walk. If he does not ride, my soldiers will treat him as a slave. It is up to you, Uncle Shai.”

The formal mode of address calmed Shai. Anji was about ten years older, but he used the honorific appropriate to Shai’s station relative to the captain’s bride, not to the captain himself. The kindness was similar to that Anji had shown Mai by letting her give Ti a final kiss good-bye. Whatever man Anji was, he was not a simple one. He was not a faceless triumphant conquering overlord grabbing what he most coveted. Or he was playing a very deep game.

“Thank you.” He forced the words out and stepped up to the horse, which was absolutely massive and terrifying, and of course he hadn’t the least idea what to do.

The captain leaned close enough to whisper. The terig had a musty, sharp smell, not displeasing. “Loop the reins around the pommel, that post there. Hold on as well as you can. The horse will follow the rest. Trust me.”

No one else heard. Ti had started to wail again, and all the wives were crying, with the children sniffling and coughing and blowing their noses on their sleeves.

Be a brave man, like Hari. Hari wouldn’t have balked! A soldier came forward and gave him a hand up. He had a moment of disorientation, up so high; then Captain Anji left his side and went to his own mount, held by one of his escort.

Father Mei approached. For the first time in his nineteen years, Shai had the satisfaction of seeing his eldest brother look daunted as he walked up beside the horse, which mercifully stood perfectly still. He pulled a suede bag out of his sleeve and handed it up to Shai, who almost overbalanced as he took it. It was heavy, filled with coins and other valuables; he recognized their heft and shape through the pliant leather.

“Take this,” Father Mei said in his softest and most menacing voice, switching daringly to banki, the local language, which they were forbidden from using in front of the Qin. “But use it only for an emergency. To bring Mai home if things don’t go well. If he beats her. If he gets tired of her and tries to sell her into slavery. Use that gold to bring Mai back. If you use it for anything else, knowing she is suffering, then you aren’t my brother any longer. I’ll turn my face away from you and in this house it will be as if you were never born.”

Shai nodded. If he spoke, he would fall off. It was difficult enough to get the pouch safely into his long left sleeve, and Father Mei had to help him tuck it into the thief-pocket sewn into the lining.

“There is one other thing I am giving you for the journey,” added Father Mei.

Shai’s heart skipped and stuttered. Cold fear tightened his gut. Now what?

“For the sake of peace in my house I should have got rid of her earlier, but you know how it is.”

Merciful One! Worse than he had thought!

Father Mei gestured, looking toward his senior wife, Drena. She smiled, victorious at last, and snapped her fingers. Cornflower padded forward out of the crowd of servants and slaves. She wore a sturdy linen knee-length tunic over loose trousers, undyed; slave’s clothing, suitable for hard work. She wore her hair, as always, in a trident braid—one by each ear and one running down her back. She did not look up. Shai broke into a sweat more drenching than he had suffered waiting out under the midday sun. He couldn’t go against Father Mei’s orders. He hadn’t been bound legally into another man’s jurisdiction; Father Mei remained his head of household.

On the street beyond, the captain’s escort was moving out. The slaves hoisted the palanquin and carried it outside, where packhorses and soldiers fell into line. Captain Anji lifted a hand as a signal and led them forward through the gate, and without any effort on his part Shai moved after them. As they passed the hanging tree, Girish’s ghost screamed in fury, knowing he had lost the only family member who could hear his complaints.

“She’ll get you, too! She’ll kill all of you, just like she killed me! Bad luck! Bad luck!”

As Shai passed under the gate, he heard Father Mei scolding Younger Mei in a loud voice. “Strong blood! That’s what you have inherited. You must keep the family strong, marry the girl we pick for you, and have strong sons and pretty daughters like Grandfather Mei did. Like I did. Remember only: Don’t make the overlords angry, don’t do anything dishonorable, and don’t lose the family’s money. None of this simpering. Mai is gone now. We all knew she was too good to keep. That’s what comes for girls as pretty and good-natured as she is. Nothing but grief!”

The cavalcade passed out of range, but those last words ran round and round in Shai’s head. Although meant for Younger Mei, the force of Father Mei’s anger crashed down on him as well, as it always had no matter how carefully he had kept himself separate and silent. He clutched the pommel of the saddle, swaying this way and that. It didn’t matter. He was free of him, now. Free.