The Tapestries (23 page)

“You would only be wasting your time, sir. The Nguyen family never shares its secrets with an outsider, including the in-laws,” he said. For the first time, he realized his prisoner was no longer by his side. He spotted the short, dirty young lord cowering behind his father, chewing a fingernail. The rope that had bound him lay at his feet.

Dan held his face in his hands, realizing his mistake.

“I hope you are right,” said Toan. “But somehow my instinct tells me different. Do not worry. I have plans for both of you, fates that are more gruesome than death. You might, perhaps, find yourself surrendering any information I have requested more willingly than you anticipate. Ah—”

“Enough, Sir Toan,” Minister Chin snapped. “I did not expect you to be such a malevolent old demon. Just to think that this morning I still considered accepting your family's proposal of marriage. What a mistake that would have been! You can rest assured that I will take pride in pursuing this investigation until it reaches the Imperial Court's attention. You will be reproached fairly for the sorrows you have inflicted upon these unfortunate souls. Stop now, or you will lose yourself forever.”

Magistrate Toan gave a gloating laugh. As he raised his hand from under his tunic, a sharp report sounded somewhere between his fingers, followed by a trail of sparkles like the brilliant tail of a shooting star. Dan jolted to his feet. Somewhere in the dark near the back entrance, he heard a woman's voice, rising above the horses' frightened neighing.

The old man paused, tilted his head, and listened to the men yelling. Under the harsh glare of the dark sedan's headlights, the rusty pistol in his hand breathed thin traces of white smoke. Minister Chin did not move or speak, looking stonily at the magistrate. Then, like a tree falling, he toppled to the ground. His face sank into the wet grass, and his hands stretched out, embracing the earth. A few steps behind him stood his son, babbling in his shock. Streaks of precipitation ran down the teenager's face, blending with his tears.

“Now you shall disclose nothing,” said Toan. “Foolish man, you should have remained quiet. You gave me no choice but to kill you. I do not need any more witnesses, except for a handful of my devoted servants. Who else wishes to stand in these lowly peasants' defense?” His eyes scanned the crowd.

Dan watched Bui collapse to his knees. His head rolled from left to right as if he were trying to wake from a bad dream. He touched the wine-colored bullet hole on his father's back and examined the blood that tainted his fingertips. He looked up with an expression of disbelief.

Across the veranda, looking back at him was the dark vacant eye of the gun muzzle. Bui gave a loud wail and clapped his hands together in front of his chest. His eyes rolled back in their sockets as he tried to avoid gazing at the gun. “No, please do not shoot.” His teeth chattered with each word. “I cannot die. There is so much that I have not yet done. Please, sir! Have mercy on me and put that weapon away before—”

Another explosion, and the shooting star once again soared its magnificent streak across the yard. This time, the noise seemed to carry higher into the sky, and the dark branches above Dan came alive with the flapping of birds' wings. The young lord fell back against the soft bed of grass. From the tiny black dot that the bullet had torn into his forehead, blood trickled out, almost as dark as his hair. He lay on the cold ground, eyes wide open, forever trapped in an expression of disbelief. Faintly, his lower lip was still moving, but his words had died away.

“Elder Toan, you have not lost your excellent aim,” remarked the captain of the guards.

The magistrate replied with a chortle.

Female voices again sounded from the back entrance. A torch glowed through the pitch-black space, disappearing now and again among the thick, droopy willow branches. Then came the hasty footsteps splashing across the rain-soaked ground, and the guards roused from their stupor. They turned to face the intruders, and the iron bars gleamed in their fists. Dan saw his wife step toward him. Her robust frame blocked him from the sinister old man. Yet his fiendish laughter was something she could never save him from.

“Quick, while they are not looking,” she urged him. “Run and save yourself. That old devil will not kill you, not while he is still searching for the map. Leave this place while you can.”

He shook his head. “I will not leave you behind, Ven.”

As he worked to unfasten the tight knot on her wrists, a guard approached from behind him. The man lifted his metal club, preparing to swing at Dan. He heard his wife's loud screech. She lunged forward, and her shoulder shoved him from the soldier's path. She lowered her head and charged into the guard's chest. The collision knocked the man backward; his weapon slipped from his fingers. She fell on top of him. The knife that she had been concealing leapt out from inside her waistband. It lay a few steps away from her, its keen edge gleaming against the dark soil.

“Run, I tell you,” she said. “I am only a peasant. Dead or alive, it is the earth that I belong to. You must not worry about me.”

He took off at a run, his knapsack bobbling on his shoulders. Something flashed ahead. It was the same torch Dan had seen earlier. Now it tossed its bright head several times and charged toward him. The outlines of two women, clutching each other's arms, emerged at the single remaining step of his house. Dan recognized the familiar figures of Tai May and her mother. Seeing him, Lady Long screamed, her voice piercing the night like a police whistle. Behind them was the coachman. Long scratch marks, as if made by an animal's claws, cut along his right cheek.

“Ah, Mouse, thank Heaven, you are alive.” Tai May fell into his embrace, panting and smiling. The torch wobbled in her hand. “I heard gunshots. The thought that something might have happened to you nearly made me die of fright.”

Over his shoulder, she saw the approaching guards, and her smile faded. Their shiny weapons reflected the fire in her hand. She whirled her flame at them as though warding off a pack of wolves. “Get away,” she shouted. “Leave him alone! I'll scorch your faces if you come nearer.”

The men paused in their tracks. Lady Long picked up rocks and threw them at the confused soldiers.

“I must go,” Dan said. “Farewell, Tai May.”

“No,” she said, seizing his hand. “Take me with you. My carriage is waiting by the entrance. I will not stand by and watch them kill you, Mouse.”

“I cannot,” he said, pulling away like a wild calf. “Stay away from me. You are the enemy's daughter. I must live to get revenge for my family.” He saw her wince, so he stopped. His hands slipped off hers, and he experienced a painful sense of loss.
I will never kiss her again,
he thought. Then he started to run.

“No,” she said, running to keep up with him. “I cannot give you up. Take my hand and let us go together, if you want to get out of this town alive.” Dan slowed his pace. He was trying to be cruel to her, but his attempt failed miserably, for her compassion had melted the anger in his heart. He grabbed her hand and together they flew into the shadows of the old kitchen.

Shifting on his chair, the old magistrate called out to his guards, “Pay no mind to that foolish girl. Kill her if you will, but do not take that rascal's life. Not yet. I want him alive enough to speak.”

Master Long shouted to the men with all of his might, “Stop your chasing this instant.” He pointed his forefinger at his father. “If my daughter is harmed, I will personally strangle you with my bare hands. You may have banished my ill-fated wife into a world of insanity, stripped her of any last shred of confidence, but you will not destroy my daughter. No more! Look around you. The dead are everywhere. Because of you and your miserable thirst for fortune, I became a criminal. But it must end here.”

The stunned magistrate shrank away from his son's outburst. Whirling, Master Long walked toward the sedan. The old man muttered, as though talking to himself, “She is just a girl! There will be plenty more children who could make a man happy. Why must you allow one child to ruin our plan?”

Before getting into the driver's seat, the mayor turned to his father. “Do not worry,” he said. “I will bring that slave back. And as for my daughter, I shall take upon myself the responsibility of educating her from now on. She is mine, and you cannot take her away from me.”

He hurled himself into the leather seat and slammed the door. As the car rumbled down the sandy hill, he felt each bump of the uneven ground under his feet. Through a break in the tree line the pasture opened up. He saw his daughter and the slave, their bodies close together, running. In her hand, the torch sputtered like a sick heart, dying yet refusing to relinquish its life.

D
own the familiar path Dan ran, his arm around Tai May's waist, pulling her along. The rain had stopped, but the willow branches, sodden with water, whipped at their faces. He stumbled at times, aware of the steep shelf of rock cutting into his bare feet. Although she was small and delicate, she was able to keep up with him. About fifty yards ahead under a couple of torches, he sighted the back gate. Behind it stood a couple of men. They were smoking hand-rolled cigarettes and whispering together, guarding the three horse-drawn carriages thirty paces away.

Dan halted and fell into a crouch, pulling Tai May down next to him. The rough grass poked at his legs like crawling insects. “Not another step,” he whispered, “or they will see us.”

Behind them, the black car climbed the same path Dan and Tai May were on. Its grumble stirred the guards, and they turned to look in its direction.

“What should we do?” asked the girl. Somewhere in their flight, she had dropped her torch, and now they were in darkness.

Dan rose and searched the fence line, barely visible ahead. His eyes found a small breach in the hedge, where some stray animal had dug through. “Let's go,” he hissed, and sprang up. Without looking back, he could hear her delicate panting a few steps behind. Straight into the steaming night, he guided her toward the opening in the fence. She crawled through first as he stretched the escape route wider with his body, forming a canopy over the ground. The hedge creaked above him, threatening to snap in half.

Once she was safely on the other side, he wiggled through the mud, slick as an eel. The last carriage was parked a short distance away. On the narrow lane, the silhouettes of the guards danced in front of the sedan's window. Their hands gestured in midair as they appeared to converse with the driver, whose car was too large to pass through the gate.

He grasped her arm and threaded the way down the sparsely covered slope that led to the road. Her white dress flapped like a frantic bird's wings, prompting the men to spin around. The dark sedan roared, retreated, and leaped forward. Its grille tore through the gate, ripping at the loose vines. The car burst into the lane with strands of greenery wrapped over the hood like a wreath. The two guards fell off the path into a shallow ditch nearby, as flakes of wood rained on them.

Dan hopped into the coachman's seat and stretched his hand down toward Lady May. Sweating, he waited as she struggled to mimic his jump. After a few unsuccessful tries, one of her feet found a post, which she used to propel herself higher. Dan caught her in his arms, feeling his knees buckle the instant her body was crushed against his. Gently, he deposited her on the bench, finding it difficult to peel himself away from her touch. The automobile turned its headlights in their direction. Its engine puffed at a standstill, and the driver honked his horn.

As Tai May settled into her seat, Dan seized the reins and urged the animals into motion. The horses strained against their harness under his expert guidance. The carriage rushed forward, then spun around. The U-turn nearly sent both of them flying off the ledge. The driver of the dark sedan poked his head out and yelled something. Dan looked back and recognized Master Long's face, but the coach was already too far away to hear him.

The clouds parted, and a sliver of the full moon drifted into view. Bars of silvery light slid across the bobbing heads of the horses. He could only distinguish a short section of the road ahead. Dan held the animals to a steady speed, relying on his familiarity with the surrounding cornfields. The sound of Master Long's car engine reverberated a short distance behind, and occasionally its headlights, like a pair of wayward suns, lit the side of his carriage.

“Where are we going, Mouse?”

He heard her timid voice, like the silver bells that hung from the stallions' necks. He turned to her and shouted over the bellow of the wind, “My name is not Mouse. It is Dan Nguyen.”

Cornfields, more cornfields, and a banyan tree around the corner of an intersection moving backward at a furious speed—his mind played these images he knew so well. And then he heard her voice again, saying, “I know what your name is. Song told me.”

The carriage was climbing the hill. A hundred yards ahead, he spied the town entrance. The two ancient wooden gates, bolted and studded with iron, were closed. Next to these opulently decorated portals was a small vent that was cut into the brick wall as a way for animals to enter or leave the village. The market, normally bustling with rich villagers in satin clothes and vendors hawking their wares, was now flooded with guards. Dan counted at least ten men, mounted on horseback, their backs erect. He gave the lead a quick yank, and his vehicle came to a stop. Behind him, the sedan stretched across the road, blocking his path.

He felt the warmth of Tai May as she snuggled near him, taking the reins. She looked at him, and he saw his own reflection in her eyes. Dan put his arms around her and hugged her, breathing her sweet smell, feeling her tears fall onto his shoulder. He tilted his head and kissed her cheeks. Her face was hot against his skin. She brushed her lips along the side of his neck. He gasped with surprise and excitement.

And then she said what he dreaded. “I cannot leave with you. If I do, my grandfather will never stop chasing us. We are young, inexperienced, and we have nothing.”

He grabbed her shoulders. “We have each other. Is it not enough?”