"Discretion begins at home."

She led Ju-Hai through the black, winding paths of her park. Though he knew Ting kept a man to care for her garden, it seemed overgrown and ominous in the darkness. All sorts of mosses and vines dangled from tree limbs overhanging the paths, and the shrubbery was feral and imposing in both size and shape. Ju-Hai felt as though a band of murderous thieves might leap from the brush at any moment. It was just the sort of place he imagined Ting would find enjoyable.

A few moments later, they reached the main hall. Ting showed Ju-Hai to a couch and summoned a servant to pour tea, then excused herself to change.

A few minutes later, she returned wearing a white robe brocaded with the pattern of the mythical phoenix. Though the loosely fastened robe reached clear to the floor, it was cut to make the most of Ting's enticing form. It also revealed that she no longer had the ebony tube with her.

She sat on the couch opposite Ju-Hai and crossed one sculpted leg over the other. "So, Minister, what is more important than the diversion I had planned?"

Ju-Hai glanced at the servant uncomfortably, as if reluctant to speak. He was buying time. Though he had developed several excuses for calling Ting away from her rendezvous, none seemed particularly convincing.

The seductive mandarin dismissed the servant, then turned back to Ju-Hai.

Her expression was openly curious. "Well?"

Ju-Hai looked away and sipped his tea. "I don't know how to begin," he said.

Ting raised an eyebrow. "Begin at the beginning, Minister."

Ju-Hai hesitated, asking himself if enough time had passed for Wu to find the ebony tube. Next, he wondered whether or not the nobleman's daughter had been in the alley and knew what to look for. Finally, he began to worry that he had misjudged her. It would not be unlikely that her concern for her children would prevent her from risking the emperor's wrath, even to expose a spy.

The minister forced the last thought from his mind. It would do him no good to doubt his plan now. His only course was to proceed as if Wu had followed him and was even now searching Ting's house. The more time he bought, the better would be Wu's chance of success.

"This isn't easy for me," Ju-Hai began, setting his tea cup aside and glancing at Ting's willowy legs.

An expression of comprehension crossed the Minister of State Security's face. "Say no more," she said. "I understand."

"You do?"

"I think so."

Ting rose and stepped around the table. She took Ju-Hai by the wrists and pulled him to his feet, guiding his hands inside her robe. "Even if my rendezvous had been with the emperor," she said, "I wouldn't have missed this."

Ju-Hai kissed her. It was a cold, dispassionate kiss, the kind to which he imagined the seductress was accustomed.

Ting returned the kiss with a warmth and vigor that surprised the Minister of State, then turned to lead the way into her sleeping hall.

Two hours later, Ju-Hai was exhausted. Ting pulled him toward her yet again, but he slipped out of the bed and said, "Enough! I'm an old man. I must conserve my energy."

"Nonsense!" she replied, pulling him back. "Let me rejuv—"

A wall panel slid open, interrupting Ting. The sergeant of her guard rushed into the room. "Minister, there's been an intruder."

The sergeant noticed Ju-Hai's naked form, then flushed with embarrassment and bowed.

Ting leaped out of bed and grabbed her robe. "Intruder?" she repeated, immodestly dressing right before the guard's eyes. "Where?"

"The alley entrance," the sergeant reported.

Ting immediately started for the door. Ju-Hai quickly donned his own clothes and followed, catching up to Ting in the garden. She was firing questions at the sergeant, who could tell her only that the sentry posted at the gate had been found dead.

At the kiosk, several guards holding lamps stood around their fallen companion. As Ting and Ju-Hai approached, they backed away. The dead sentry lay sprawled on his back, his chiang-chun at his side. The polearm's blade was bloody.

"This is how we found him," the sergeant reported.

Ting kneeled and examined the body. When she found no wounds on the chest or head, she angrily rolled the corpse over and examined its back.

"There are no wounds on this body," she snapped, returning to her feet.

"Then this is the intruder's blood," the sergeant concluded, picking up the dead man's chiang-chun.

"Yes," Ting replied, taking the polearm and examining the red blade.

"Tomorrow, we shall find the intruder and finish the job."

She glanced at Ju-Hai, then asked, "I wonder why he picked tonight to come?"

"It is a moonless night," Ju-Hai answered. He focused his eyes upon the dead guard, but was thinking of Wu. If she were wounded, she would need help and, come morning, protection. He had to leave Ting's house and assign a contingent of the emperor's guard to protect the Batu household. He stepped toward the gate. "I should return home," he said. "My presence here tonight will generate quite a scandal."

Ting signaled her guards to block the gate. "I won't hear of it," she said, eyeing Ju-Hai with an emotionless, calculating gaze. "Whoever killed this guard is still free, and for all we know he was after you. You aren't leaving the safety of my house."

"I really must return—"

Ting lifted her hand. "I insist," she said. Holding her jaw set firmly, she studied her mentor with narrow, menacing eyes. "You will go nowhere until I find the intruder."

11

Yenching

On the Shengti River, as in the summer palace, the night was humid and black. Despite the warm drizzle, the General of the Northern Marches remained on deck with his ship's first mate. The wiry riverman hung over the gunwale with a lamp in his hand, watching the dark waters for any hint of trouble. The man's shirtless torso glistened with what might have been rainwater, but was more likely a nervous sweat. Periodically, he called out an instruction that another boatman promptly relayed to the helmsman.

The hull bumped something pulpy, and Batu inhaled sharply. "What is it?"

When the mate did not answer promptly, Batu feared they had hit a sandbar. The summer flood season had ended two weeks ago, and the river had since returned to normal, exposing hazards that had not previously troubled the general's fleet. Already tonight, a dozen ships had run aground.

Batu was beginning to regret his decision to continue up-river in darkness.

"What did we hit?" Batu repeated, laying a hand on the mate's bare back.

The man did not look up. "I don't know, General, but there's no cause for worry. If it was anything dangerous, it would have slowed us down."

The mate's reassurance did little to make Batu breathe easier. The moonless night was stifling and ominous, silencing even the owls that lived along the riverbanks. Only the sloshing of the fleet's oars disturbed the quiet.

Behind his own junk, Batu could see another dozen bow lights twinkling in the drizzle. An additional four hundred and seventy boats followed the twelve he could see, but the weather was so close that it obscured the rest of the fleet completely. Had the other ships not been behind him at dusk, the general would have found it difficult to believe that they were there now.

Two more pulpy thumps sounded at the ship's waterline. Swearing at the river dragon, the mate pulled himself back onto deck. His eyes were opened wide, and his face was as pale as ivory.

Another soft bump sounded against the hull.

"What?" Batu demanded. "Is something wrong?"

The mate pointed at the river. "Spirits. They're blocking the way."

Batu took the man's lamp and peered over the gunwale. The smell of rancid meat assaulted his nose. He retched and nearly dropped the lamp. A bloated white form with stiff arms and puffy legs drifted into view. It bumped the hull and slipped away into the darkness as suddenly as it had appeared.

Though he had glimpsed the figure for only a moment, the general had seen and smelled too much death to mistake it for anything but a decaying corpse.

Another half-dressed cadaver came into view, bringing with it the renewed stench of rotten flesh. Batu steeled himself against the awful odor and examined this body more closely. It had once been a woman, but the flesh was so gruesome and pallid that he could not say of what age or appearance.

She lay tethered in a bed of dark weeds.

The vegetation alarmed Batu more than the dead woman. Pulling the mate back to the gunwale, he said, "Weeds! It's getting shallow."

The wiry man peered over the side, but remained unconcerned. "The plants are nothing, General," he said. "This close to Yenching, the river is slow and broad. There are many weed beds, but they won't stop our junks."

The boat pushed past the woman's corpse, but another came into view immediately. The mate tapped the gunwale like a drum, a gesture that supposedly attracted the attention of the thunder god Lei Kung, whose duty it was to escort reluctant spirits to the Law Courts of the Dead. "It's the river spirits we must worry about," the riverman said.

"Those aren't spirits," Batu replied, waving a hand at the river. "They're nothing but corpses."

The shirtless man looked doubtful. "Where'd they come from?" he demanded.

"Do you have relatives in Yenching?" Batu asked.

The mate raised an eyebrow. "My father's brother lives there with all his children."

"Then you don't want me to answer your question, especially if we are as close to the city as you believe."

The man fell silent, considering the meaning of the general's words. Finally, he frowned and firmly clasped Batu's shoulder. "If I say we are near Yenching, General, we are near Yenching. I just pray you remember these bodies when you catch the barbarians."

Batu did not object to the mate's familiarity. Like the rest of the boatmen crewing the fleet, the man was a merchant sailor and lacked military discipline. Fortunately, the mate and his fellows made up in expertise for what they lacked in discipline. Counting the twelve junks that had run aground that night, the fleet had lost only seventeen ships and a handful of men.

Considering the circumstances and the pace of the last six weeks, Batu was more than pleased with his hired boatmen. For much of the journey up the Shengti, they had struggled against the heavy runoff waters from the distant mountains. To make matters worse, in order to hide the fleet from onlookers and spies, the wu jens from the High Ministry of Magic had kept it buried in a cloak of bad weather. Even with these precautions, the ships had often dropped anchor while the cavalry masqueraded as Tuigan scouts and drove riverside villagers from their homes.

Despite the hardships and delays, the rivermen had maintained a steady pace. Working in shifts and aided by Batu's soldiers, they had kept their boats moving twenty-four hours a day. Thanks to their skill and tireless effort, the general was arriving at Yenching nearly a week ahead of schedule. When he returned to the summer palace, Batu decided, he would recommend to the Divine One that he consider recruiting commercial boatmen as officers in the imperial navy.

The merchant rivermen were far more superstitious than their military counterparts. The first mate still had not returned to his post. Instead, he was casting frightened glances over the side and tracing mystic symbols in the air.

"The bodies in the river are just corpses," Batu repeated. "They're not going to hurt you. On the other hand, if we hit a sandbar or rock ..." The general touched his sword hilt meaningfully.

The gesture reminded the riverman of his duty. "Forgive me," he said, resuming his position as guide. Batu stood nearby, eyeing the weed bed with as much suspicion as the mate eyed the corpses.

As the boat continued forward, the bodies came into view with increasing frequency. After several minutes more, it seemed the river was choked with corpses. The smell of rotten flesh grew stronger. Even Batu, who considered himself to have a strong stomach, found each breath a sickening experience.

Several pengs came topside under the mistaken impression that the air would be fresher. Soon, the junk was buzzing with subdued discussions of the terrible smell and speculations as to why so many bodies were in the river.

Though he did not tell any of his men, Batu knew the reason for the awful scene. His great grandfather had told him tales of Tuigan atrocities on unimaginable scales. Assuming those stories had been even partially true, the general had no doubt that the corpses belonged to the citizens of Yenching. In the face of the enemy's advance, the inhabitants had no doubt retreated into their city, thinking they would be safe inside its walls. After Yenching fell, the Tuigan had probably punished the inhabitants with extermination, dumping the bodies into the Shengti.

Thirty minutes later, the general noticed a lamp shining through the drizzle ahead. The holder stood on the shore, swinging the light in a circle. Batu ordered the fleet to drop anchor. The circling light was a signal from his cavalry scouts indicating they had something to report. If, as the mate insisted, the fleet was within a few miles of Yenching, the message would be important.

Batu dispatched a sampan to fetch the officer of the scouts, then sent for his subcommanders. Next, he went below and awakened Pe, who it seemed could sleep through a battle. When the adjutant was dressed, the pair returned to the deck.

The provincial generals and the scouting officer were already waiting.

Wasting no time with pleasantries, Batu looked directly to the cavalry officer.

"What do you have to report?"

After a nervous glance at Batu's subordinates, the officer began.

"Commanding General, Yenching is only five miles away. As you expected, it has been taken by the enemy." The young man paused and grimaced, clearly quite reluctant to continue.

"And?" Batu prodded.

"The enemy is still there," the scouting officer said.

"How many?" demanded Kei Bot Li, the stocky general from Hungtze.

"The entire army," the scout replied.

Batu frowned, thinking of his conversation with Tzu Hsuang just four days ago. His father-in-law had been expecting a major confrontation, and had not reported since. Batu could only guess at the reason. Hsuang might have been killed, the noble armies wiped out, or the mirror abandoned during retreat.

Whatever the cause of the silence, however, Batu felt sure of one thing: the nobles had met a large force of Tuigan.

Addressing the scout, Batu said, "What you report is impossible."

The cavalryman inclined his head. "If that is what you say, General."

"Don't be so ready to change your report, young man," Kei Bot interrupted, stepping closer to the officer. "What makes you think the barbarians are still in Yenching?"

The officer glanced at Batu nervously, clearly afraid to contradict the commanding general of the greatest Shou army ever assembled. Batu nodded to the young man.

After receiving permission to speak, the officer said. "Horses. There are one hundred and fifty thousand or more outside the city."

"How certain are you of the numbers?" Batu asked, his mind reeling at the thought of so many horses.

The young cavalryman looked at the deck. "We can't be sure," he admitted.

"We didn't dare approach their camps until dusk, and there were too many beasts to count in the short time we had. Still, I'm confident we haven't exaggerated. The beasts cover the plain like a blanket."

"What of the barbarians themselves?" asked Kei Bot.

"Yenching is well lit," the officer reported, glancing toward Kei Bot but addressing Batu. "It appears the enemy is taking shelter in the city."

"They're not sleeping with their horses?" Batu asked, frowning.

"No more than three hundred campfires burn outside the city," the scout said confidently. "Perhaps many of the barbarians are sleeping without fires, but then who is lighting the city?"

Pe pointed to the body-choked river. "Certainly not the citizens."

"This makes no sense," Batu said, leaning on the gunwale. "Why would there be so many barbarians in Yenching?"

"Evidently, the residents tried to hold Yenching," Kei Bot offered, nodding at the corpses. "Perhaps they didn't burn their grain before the city fell."

"The Tuigan must have taken the city weeks ago," objected one of the other generals. "Why would they remain here, consuming what must be a very limited supply of food? It would be wiser to eat their fill, then carry what they could and press forward."

"Our enemies are barbarians," Kei Bot snapped, turning on the man who had contradicted him. "After two months of starvation, they must now be content to feast and rest."

Batu stepped between Kei Bot and the other general. "Our enemies may be barbarians," he said, "but they are cunning and disciplined. Whatever their reason for remaining in Yenching, General Kei, it is not lethargy."

Batu deliberately delivered the comment with a scornful tone. Kei Bot received the censure with a bow and an apologetic expression, but Batu knew from experience that the reproach would have little permanent effect.

"The Tuigan must be ready for us," Pe said, addressing his commander.

"Perhaps a spy learned of your plan, General."

All six commanders grimaced.

"That's impossible," Batu responded, shaking his head. "Only one person at the summer palace knows where we are, and she would never reveal the plan."

"The summer palace is far away," Kei Bot responded, looking toward the southeast. "Who can tell what is passing there."

Kei Bot's ominous comment sent an unaccustomed pang of concern through Batu's breast. He cast a disturbed glance toward the distant palace, wondering what his family was doing and if they were safe. The concern was a new emotion, for the general had always felt confident of his wife's ability to care for the family when he was gone. During their last two weeks together, however, Wu had seemed anything but assured or strong. Diplomacy had never been one of her gifts, and it had been clear that she felt insecure in the political atmosphere of the summer palace.

"Is something wrong, General?" Pe asked, daring to touch his master's sleeve.

Batu shook his head, forcing his family from his mind. This was no time to let such thoughts interfere with his duty. If familial concerns keep a soldier from focusing on the task at hand, Batu reminded himself sternly, he had no business having a wife and children. In war, there was too much at risk to let personal affairs take priority over military matters.

The general turned back to the cavalry officer. "What do you make of the horses and the lights in the city?" he asked.

The officer's eyes widened in shock. "Me, General?"

"Yes," Batu snapped. "You're the only one who has seen the enemy camp.

Do they appear prepared for battle?"

The young cavalryman looked from one general to another, as if begging for mercy.

"Answer!" insisted Wak'an, the officer's direct commander.

The scout licked his lips nervously. Finally, he answered, "In truth, they aren't prepared for battle. They have established a wide perimeter of guardposts, of course. But the rain has made the ground muddy. Their patrols move slowly and do not range far. They have displayed a surprising lack of concern about the river—"

"They don't realize it's a means of transport," Kei Bot observed, a condescending smirk on his face. "The barbarians are not boatmen."

"No doubt," Batu agreed. He turned back to the cavalry officer. "Continue."

"There's little more to report. By moving only at night, our scouts have engaged but one patrol, and we destroyed it to a man. We haven't made any blunders, and the enemy's lazy deployment suggests they don't suspect our presence. They look as though battle is the farthest thing from their minds."

"They sound more like a garrison than a battle-ready force," Pe observed, furrowing his brow.

"Perhaps you're right," Batu said. "They might be only a garrison."

"With a hundred and fifty thousand horses?" objected another general.

Batu nodded. "Yes. Even if the Tuigan don't know our plan, their spies have certainly reported the disappearance of our five armies. As he has demonstrated so far, the barbarian commander is no fool. The only bridge across the upper Shengti is at Yenching. Yamun Khahan knows as well as we do that if he loses that city, he will be cut off from his homeland and trapped in Shou Lung."

"So he would garrison the city," Kei Bot observed. A moment later, he frowned. "But not with a hundred and fifty thousand men. From your estimates of the enemy's strength, General Batu, that's three quarters of the barbarian army!"

The other generals muttered in agreement, but Batu shook his head thoughtfully. "The Tuigan are as rich in horses as Shou Lung is in people," the general said. "Each man leads an extra mount, sometimes two. There are probably no more than seventy-five thousand warriors in Yenching."

"Even so, seventy-five thousand men is no garrison," countered Kei Bot, meeting Batu's gaze with a critical expression. "Until we know why there are so many barbarians in Yenching, we must proceed with the utmost caution."

Batu suffered a sinking feeling. "As much as it pains me to admit it, your counsel is wise," he replied. The General of the Northern Marches looked over the gunwale toward the city. "What can they be doing with so many men in Yenching?" he demanded, his voice betraying more frustration than he cared to reveal to his subordinates.

After a long and anxious silence, it was the cavalry officer who dared to speak. "If I may, General, I can offer one possible answer." He inclined his head to show that he did not mean to be presumptuous.

"If you know the reason for the barbarian behavior, it is your obligation to report it!" Batu snapped, irritated that the man's timidity had kept him from fully discharging his duty. "Speak!"

The officer paled at his commander's tone, then quickly wet his lips and began. "I have only a few thousand horses in my command," he said, staring at Batu's feet. "Still, we have found it difficult to feed them, especially in the areas the peasants have burned. With a hundred times as many horses, the problem must be a hundred times as severe."

Batu nodded. "Go on."

The cavalryman dared to look up. "If I were the enemy commander, I'd leave my extra horses and as much of my force as prudent at Yenching—

especially if the granaries were full when the city fell."

"You're right," Batu declared, laying a commending hand on the scout's shoulder. "They aren't foot soldiers, so the Tuigan ignore the possibility of using the river for transport. We aren't cavalrymen, so we forget the difficulties of feeding the horses and don't recognize the obvious problems our enemy faces."

The other generals voiced their agreement with the cavalry officer's analysis. Presently, however, Kei Bot scowled. "What difference does this enlightenment make, General Batu? Your plan is spoiled. Even if we had the proper equipment, it would take weeks to siege Yenching. Before it falls, the rest of the barbarians would return to aid the garrison."

Batu meet the stocky general's scowl with narrowed eyes. "Then we must take the city by surprise," he said. "Tonight."

His subordinates gasped. The cavalry officer nearly choked with shock. "B-But that's impossible!"

"Nothing is impossible," Batu replied, a smile of anticipation creeping across his lips. The general loved nothing more than testing himself and his men in battle, and storming the city might well prove a challenge worthy of their talents.

Still, Batu harbored no hope that Yenching would be a truly magnificent combat. The circumstances were not right for the epic confrontation he coveted. There was nothing illustrious about taking an enemy by surprise, especially when the opponent was outnumbered and far away from the supervision of a bril iant commander.

There was no chance, Batu realized, that Yenching would be the illustrious battle of which he dreamed. On the other hand, there was no chance that it would prove boring, either.

After standing for several moments in dumbfounded silence, the scout bowed deeply. "Please forgive me, General," the young officer said. "I didn't explain the situation clearly. The barbarians will see us coming. There is a guardpost two miles outside the city. They will see your boat lamps as soon as you round the next bend. That's why I stopped you here."

"The enemy is not as poorly prepared as you had hoped," Kei Bot said, a satisfied smirk creasing his lips. "There is no way to surprise the Tuigan. You have no choice but to siege the city."

"I repeat" Batu said flatly. "We'll take Yenching tonight. I have just the way to do it."

Ignoring his subordinates' open mouths, Batu turned to the cavalry officer.

"Can you stampede the barbarian's mounts?"

A grin crossed the scout's lips. For the first time that night, he looked certain of himself. "It will be a simple matter. The animals may be tethered, but no rein in the world will hold a frightened horse—much less a hundred and fifty thousand of them."

"Good," Batu replied, giving his subordinates a confident smile. "Yenching will be ours by morning."

He outlined his plan, assigning each general the responsibility for coordinating one particular aspect. When he finished, he ordered the fleet commander to begin debarking the army on the river's northern shore.

Batu took a few minutes to help the feng-li lang and his assistants from the Rites Section kill a hunting falcon. The feng-li lang claimed the sacrifice would persuade the spirits to grant favorable weather for the coming battle. After the bird's body had been ritually burned in a bronze caldron, Batu turned his attention to the most crucial part of his plan. He had a hundred and fifty volunteers, armed with swords and torches, hidden deep within the bilges of two cargo junks. Next, he had the boats loaded with grain, taking care to make sure that his pengs could not be discovered easily.

Batu ordered the two junks to light all their lamps and sail upriver, then returned to his cabin to write his customary letter to Wu. No sooner had he set out the ink and writing brushes, however, than Pe came below.

"The pengs are debarked and formed into units," the adjutant said, standing in the tiny cabin's door. "The Most Magnificent Army of Shou Lung is ready to march."

"Good," Batu responded, dipping his brush into the ink well. "We'll begin as soon as I finish writing to Wu."

Pe looked concerned. "More than half the night has passed, General, and we have a long march ahead."

"I am aware of the hour and the distance to Yenching," Batu snapped, irritated by Pe's presumption. He felt sure the adjutant had meant to imply he was wrong to delay the army while attending to a personal matter.

The adjutant blanched. "Forgive me, General."

"Don't apologize," Batu replied, realizing that Pe was correct to criticize him. Every minute he delayed increased the likelihood of the sun rising on his army before it reached Yenching. If that happened, even the Ministry of Magic's wu jens could not keep such a vast number of men concealed.

Batu laid his writing brush aside and stood, fastening his chia. "Issue strict orders that no peng is to speak. Every man is to secure all loose equipment.

We don't want enemy sentries hearing even the faintest voice or the most distant piece of clanging metal."

Pe did not turn to leave. Instead, still looking at the floor, the adjutant said,

"But your letter, General. I didn't mean you should not finish it, only that it might be wise to send the army ahead."

Batu cast a regretful eye at the blank paper. "I must be with the army at all times, in case the enemy discovers us," he said. "Anyway, I can't send the letter to Wu. If the Tuigan captured the messenger, they would certainly learn our position. The risk is too great to take just to keep a personal promise."

He motioned Pe out of the doorway. The adjutant led the way up to the deck and into a waiting sampan. After the general and his aide reached shore, Pe issued the orders concerning talking and clanging equipment.

A few minutes later, the army began marching through the mud, the cavalry leading the way. Within half an hour, the drizzle stopped and a brisk wind blew out of the west.

Batu had no idea whether the change in weather was the spirits' doing or not, but he whispered a silent thanks to them anyway. The breeze would carry any sounds his army made away from the enemy.

At regular intervals, the scouts sent guides back to lead the infantry over the next section of ground. The guides took the army through a labyrinth of shallow valleys. Because of the absolute darkness, men were constantly stumbling and falling on the broken, muddy ground. For the largest part, they avoided cursing or calling out, but it was impossible to prevent loud thuds and clangs.

Twice, the army paused while the cavalry surrounded and attacked an enemy outpost. During these times, Batu could hardly restrain himself from riding forward to direct the small engagements personally. If one of the enemy sentries escaped, the Shou armies would lose the element of surprise.

Fortunately, the cavalry proved up to the task and most of the Tuigan died with their weapons sheathed.

Three hours later, the armies were still struggling through the mud and the cavalry scouts had not yet called a halt. It was nearly morning, and the first gray streaks of false dawn were appearing in the eastern sky. Batu feared the barbarians would be awake by the time his army arrived at Yenching.

Just when he felt sure the scouts had lost the way, the cavalry commander returned. Pointing at a hulking silhouette that loomed ahead, the young man said, "Yenching is over that hill, General."

"Let us see what there is to see," Batu replied.

The general and the scout dismounted and crept to the hilltop, Pe following close behind. The three men were careful to stay low to the ground, lest they cast a silhouette against the false dawn.

Yenching lay in the shallow valley of a tributary to the Shengti. The streets were barely discernible from the buildings at this early hour. A dark band, which Batu took to be a wall, surrounded the city. Outside the wall, thousands of dark shapes that could only be horses milled through the valley. The cavalry officer had not exaggerated their huge number.

A canal had been dredged from the Shengti River to Yenching, entering the city through a fan-shaped gate designed to accommodate boat traffic. Batu could see little else, for the night remained dark and moonless.

Pe pointed at the Shengti. "There are the junks, General."

Two sets of lights were slowly moving up the river. As the three men watched, it became apparent that the barbarian sentries had also noticed the junks. The trio caught several glimpses of mounted silhouettes skulking along the shore behind the boats.

Within a few minutes, the junks reached the mouth of the canal and turned toward the city. To Batu's relief, the enemy did not stop the boats. It appeared the Tuigan were every bit as desperate for supplies as the cavalry officer had suggested. Assuming the craft to be ladened with cargo, the barbarians were not making any moves that might frighten the crews and send the junks back down the river. The horsewarriors would probably not seize the boats until they were inside the city, where fleeing would be impossible. Shortly afterward, torches in hand, the pengs hiding in the bilges would rush from the junks. They would set fire to everything they could, burning Yenching from the inside and forcing the barbarians to flee into the arms of the Shou armies waiting outside.

The boats' progress up the canal seemed painfully slow. False dawn faded, then reappeared a few minutes later as first light. Batu could barely stop himself from giving the order to stampede the horses. He was anxious to start the battle, and not just because he was looking forward to it.

The general from Chukei was relying upon at least partial darkness to keep the barbarians confused. Every minute closer to dawn reduced his chance of victory. At the same time, if he attacked too early, the enemy would smell a trap and close the river gate. The junks would remain outside Yenching, forcing a siege.

Finally, the boats reached the gate. Batu turned to the cavalry officer.

"Prepare your men."

A broad grin spread across the young commander's face. "Yes, my General."

As the cavalryman turned to go, Batu spoke to Pe. "Order the generals to advance behind the cavalry. Position one thousand archers along the canal to prevent the enemy from swimming out of our trap. Return here after you are finished."

"Yes, General," Pe replied, creeping down the hillside to relay the orders to the messengers.

A few minutes later, the river gate closed behind the two junks. Behind Batu, the cavalry assembled just below the crest of the hill. The Shou riders numbered less than three thousand, but Batu thought they would suffice for what he wanted today.

A sliver of orange sun appeared on the horizon, casting reddish light on the eastern side of the hill. Fortunately, the western side remained plunged in shadows. Thanking the night spirits for this small favor, Batu stood and waved the cavalry forward. Immediately, the line advanced. As they passed the general, the mounts broke into a trot, then into a charge as they descended upon the valley.

The infantry followed a moment later, rushing forward at a disciplined double time. They paid less attention to formation than to speed, for their goal was to surround the city as quickly as possible. Nevertheless, the officers did their best to keep the men grouped into assigned units in order to avoid confusion during the battle.

On the western side of the hill, the light was still dim. Batu could not see how the enemy sentries were responding to the charge. Nevertheless, he heard guttural shouts of alarm being raised all around the valley.

Pe returned to the general's side and stared down the hill. "What now, my commander?"

"We wait," Batu said, keeping his eyes fixed on Yenching.

The adjutant nodded. "The battle is in the hands of the spirits."

Batu raised an eye to the sky. Without taking any credit away from the spirits, who seemed to be on his side so far, the general had to disagree with his adjutant about who governed the outcome of the battle. "You are mistaken, Pe. Like us, the spirits have done their part." The general waved a hand at the valley. "The battle is now in the hands of something less predictable than spirits. It is in the hands of our pengs."

As the general finished his observation, the cavalry began to shout and whistle. A muffled thunder built deep within the valley as the first Tuigan horses fled the Shou charge. A few hundred barbarians carrying torches rushed from the city.

Though the enemy was responding earlier than he expected, Batu was not concerned. The more barbarians who left the city, the better. Any horsewarriors trapped outside of Yenching would be unavailable to defend the city against the second part of his plan.

As the Shou cavalry rode deeper into the valley, terrified whinnies filled the air. Within moments, the ground began to tremble. The great barbarian herd was stampeding.

The sun cast a few long rays into the valley, and Batu could see more Tuigan pouring from the city. As often as not, the flood of frightened horses swept away the confused barbarians. At the same time, the first Shou armies reached crossbow range. They fired at enemy soldiers and horses in-discriminately, doing more damage by further panicking the herd than by directly inflicting injuries.

"Your plan is working, General," Pe observed.

Batu did not answer, for he was far from convinced that the battle was won.

Clearly, the horsewarriors would be deprived of their mounts. A few thousand of the barbarians had already died attempting to leave the city. As of yet, however, the general saw no sign that the most important part of his plan was working. Chasing the horses away and surrounding the city would be of little use if the enemy remained holed up inside.

As the sun lit Yenching more brightly, the Shou cavalry drove the last of the enemy's horses away, easily overwhelming the few confused sentries on the far side of the valley. The five provincial armies moved into position around the city, training their weapons on its gates. As Batu had ordered, one thousand archers took up positions along the banks of the canal.

"Not even a rat will escape," Pe said, studying the deployment.

"I don't care about the rats, but I would be glad for a few escaping Tuigan,"

Batu replied, his heart sinking. "The most important part of our plan seems to have failed. Yenching is not burning."

Though it no longer mattered, Batu wondered what had gone wrong inside the city. The volunteers could have been discovered before the cavalry charge distracted the barbarians. Or perhaps Batu had been wrong to think that a handful of men could burn an entire city.

"The battle is not over yet, General," Pe said, pointing at a column of smoke rising from the center of the city.

"It is," Batu snapped, shaking his head in disgust. He was not upset at his adjutant, but at his own failure. "The enemy knows we're here. One small fire will not chase the Tuigan out of Yenching. They'll just put it out."

Pe furrowed his brow. Though he was looking at the same scene as his commander, he clearly did not see the same thing. "How can they fight fires and us at the same time?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" No sooner had he finished the question than the general understood exactly what his adjutant meant. Batu had never intended to storm the city, but the barbarians didn't know that. With a little prodding, the Shou commander could keep the Tuigan at the city walls, leaving the volunteers inside Yenching free to burn the city.

"Send the order quickly," the general said.

"What order?" Pe asked, uncomfortable with the vagaries of what amounted to mind-reading.

"To prepare for storming the city, of course," Batu answered. "A brilliant plan, Pe!"

"Thank you, General," Pe replied proudly.

"However, your plan needs one minor adjustment," Batu added, frowning in concentration as he studied the city. "We've got to convince the Tuigan our attack is real. Order General Kei Bot to storm the gates on his side of the city."

"He could be wiped out," Pe objected.

The general hesitated, remembering how Kwan Chan Sen had selected the Army of Chukei as a decoy. There was little difference between what Batu intended to do and what Kwan had done. Still, Batu could see no other way to hold the enemy's attention while the city burned.

"Issue the order," Batu said firmly. "Inform Kei Bot of the true nature of his mission. Tell him that I selected his army because I know his pengs will perform their duty honorably. We will withdraw the survivors as soon as possible."

A pained expression flashed across Pe's face as he, too, recalled the destruction of the Army of Chukei. Nevertheless, he simply bowed and turned to obey.

Kei Bot did not protest the order. Within minutes of receiving the message, his twenty thousand pengs charged Yenching's eastern gate. The other armies supported his attack by moving forward and lobbing tens of thousands of arrows into the city, both fire-tipped and normal.

As Batu had expected, the enemy held fast. There were simply too many Tuigan, and they were too good with their weapons to let the Shou breach the wall. Kei Bot's men fell by the thousands, a constant rain of barbarian shafts pouring down on them. The ground near the city wall took on a red tinge, though Batu could not tell whether the color was a result of the morning sun or the fallen pengs' blood.

Still, the feint was working. Although only Kei Bot's men were attacking a gate, the aggressive posture of the other four armies kept the barbarians at the city walls. Inside Yenching, the plumes of smoke grew more numerous and much heavier.

Unfortunately, the barbarians remained at their posts for the next thirty minutes. Kei Bot's losses mounted steadily, but the pudgy general continued to press the attack fiercely. The smoke from Yenching poured over the walls, covering the Army of Hungtze in a thick blanket of haze.

Finally, the archers that Batu had assigned to guard the canal running out of Yenching began to fire into the water. The young general instantly realized that the barbarians had reached their breaking point. They were attempting to escape the burning city by swimming under the river gate.

"Recall Kei Bot!" Batu ordered, pointing at the archers. "Warn the other generals to expect the enemy to sally."

Pe bowed and left to relay the commands. Aside from the instruction for Kei Bot to withdraw, the orders were unnecessary and tardy. Before the messengers could reach the valley floor, Yenching burst open like an agitated anthill. Heedless of the Shou armies awaiting them outside, the barbarians rushed from every gate in Yenching, madly firing their bows.

The Shou armies greeted the Tuigan with wall after wall of arrows. The men did not pause even an instant to give the barbarians a chance to surrender. The sight of Yenching's citizens choking the Shengti river with their bloated bodies was too fresh in the soldiers' minds.

For many minutes, the Tuigan poured out of the burning city in a steady flow. From seventy yards away, the Shou ranks met the barbarians with an equally steady stream of arrows. Soon, the bodies of horsewarriors lay piled in front of the gates in fan-shaped heaps. Still the barbarians came, scrambling over their dead and wounded fellows without regard. Billows of smoke rolled over the city, and great tongues of flame shot out of every opening in the wall.

Finally, the bell towers collapsed and disappeared into the city's ruins. The Tuigan rush dwindled away to nothing. The air reeked of burned flesh, and Batu knew that thousands of Tuigan had not escaped the fires inside Yenching. The largest part of the army, however, lay outside the walls, one or more bamboo shafts protruding from their bodies. The loud, steady hum of thousands of groaning men filled the valley.

The Shou ranks stared at the heaps of Tuigan bodies in dazed silence.

After a few moments, a single soldier drew his chien. The man walked to a wounded horsewarrior, then quickly and efficiently beheaded the moaning barbarian with his sword. As if by command, the rest of the pengs drew their swords and followed the man's lead.

It did not cross Batu's mind to stop the slaughter.

12

The Ebony Tube

One thousand miles east of Yenching, Batu's wife lay half-awake, oblivious to the great victory her husband had already won that morning. It was well past dawn, and golden sunlight filled the sleeping hall. By now, Wu realized, Ji and Yo would be anxiously awaiting her presence at breakfast.

The general's wife tried to sit up, and her stomach filled with fire. Wu cried out, then collapsed back onto her pillows. She placed a hand over her stomach. A wet bandage swathed her midsection.

Qwo appeared out of a corner and dabbed a wet cloth on Wu's forehead.

"Be still, mistress."

Wu withdrew her hand and stared at the blood on her palm. "What's this?"

She was still struggling against her sleepy confusion.

"You know better than I," Qwo replied pointedly. She wiped the blood off her mistress's hand. "You came home in this state last night."

As Qwo turned away to rinse the cloth, the events of the previous night returned to Wu: following Ju-Hai to Ting Mei Wan's house, the hurried search that yielded only the ebony tube Ting had been carrying when the Minister of State arrived, meeting the unexpected guard on the way out of the house. The sentry had taken Wu by surprise, stepping out of a kiosk that had been empty when she had passed it earlier.

If the guard had challenged her before attacking, he might still be alive.

When she had felt the blade of his chiang-chun burning across her abdomen, however, Wu had reacted instantly. She had lashed at the bone in front of the man's ear with an eagle-beak finger strike. The sentry was dead before he dropped his weapon.

Doing her best to staunch the bleeding, Wu had rushed home without regard to silence or stealth. She had not dared to examine the laceration's severity. As soon as the stinging blade had slid across her abdomen, Wu had known that she was badly hurt. Inspecting the wound would have increased her chance of fainting before reaching help.

At her house, only the gate guards had returned from searching for Ju-Hai's mysterious spy. Even wounded and dizzy from the loss of blood, Wu had scaled the wall and slipped into her home in silence. The last thing she remembered was stepping into the courtyard, feeling her knees buckle, and calling for Qwo.

Qwo finished rinsing the cloth and turned back to her patient.

"The tube," Wu asked. "What was inside?"

Qwo sighed. "I didn't look. Spying is not a woman's business."

Gritting her teeth against the pain, Wu pulled herself into a half-seated position. "Bring it here."

Qwo fetched the tube from the night cabinet. When Wu moved to accept it, her hand was sticky with blood. "You'd better read it to me," she ordered.

Scowling with disapproval, the old servant opened the end cap and removed a piece of paper. She unrolled it and squinted at the writing.

Speaking slowly, she read.

" 'Mighty One: Your humble servant begs forgiveness for her lengthy silence. The guards captured your messenger of three fortnights ago as he fled the summer palace. Though he died rather than reveal my identity, security within the grounds has been tightened. Illustrious Emperor of All Peoples, not even I can pass freely, though I have tried several times to reach your agents in the city.'"

Qwo paused to look at Wu. "Who is this 'Illustrious Emperor of All Peoples?'"

"The enemy commander," Wu said anxiously. "Read"

Qwo turned her eyes back to the paper." 'I have much to report. The emperor has relieved General Kwan of responsibility for the war against your indestructible armies, and surprised the Mandarinate by placing a young general from Chukei, Batu Min Ho, in command of the war. Batu is highly regarded by the wisest men of this court, who are but candles next to your brilliance. It is whispered that Tuigan blood runs thick in his veins. If he is as cunning as they say, perhaps this is the reason.' "

The old servant paused, unable to suppress a smile at the flattering reference to her mistress's husband.

"Go on," Wu urged.

Qwo scowled at Wu's impatience, but did as instructed. " 'The emperor has given Batu one hundred and fifty thousand soldiers. These troops consist of five provincial armies numbering twenty thousand apiece. The balance comes from twenty-five small noble armies. You have already engaged and defeated the noble armies under the leadership of Tzu Hsuang Yu Po—' "

At the mention of Hsuang's defeat, a catch developed in Qwo's throat. She paused to clear it, then continued reading a moment later. " '—and news of the outcome was received quite sorrowfully by the court.

" 'I can tell you nothing of General Batu's armies. He has disappeared with his entire force, and no one knows how. I will attempt to discover where they have gone. In the meantime, I have taken advantage of his disappearance to start several rumors suggesting General Batu has deserted and joined the mighty forces of your irresistible horde.' "

"I'll choke her with her own eyes!" Wu spat. The fervor of her words sent a wave of pain through her abdomen. She could not stifle a groan.

"Not soon, you won't," Qwo observed.

"Keep reading," Wu instructed. "I must know what else this traitor has done to my family."

Qwo returned her eyes to the document. " 'I have only one other item to report, Dispenser of Ultimate Justice. Emperor Kai Chin had nothing to do with the attempt on your life, and even now does not know of Shou Lung's involvement. Two of my fellow mandarins, Ministers Kwan Chan Sen and Ju-Hai Chou, were the ones who sent the hu-hsien assassin against you. After your ultimate victory, it will give me great pleasure as your Shou regent to dispense the final punishment to these murderous dogs. Until we meet, I remain your dedicated and faithful servant.'"

Qwo looked over the top of the paper. "Can this be true?" she asked. "Did it take only two men to start this war?"

"Perhaps," Wu said, astonished by this last revelation. "It doesn't matter.

The war can't be stopped now, perhaps not even by one hundred thousand men. We must take this message to the emperor."

Rolling the scroll, Qwo said, "I'll fetch Xeng and have him take this to Minister Ju-Hai—"

"No!" Wu snapped, her abdomen once again filling with fire. "It must go directly to the emperor."

"But Xeng will never get an audience," Qwo protested.

"He must," Wu countered. She was simultaneously afraid to charge Xeng with such an important mission and resigned to the fact that she had no other choice. Clearly, she could not deliver the message herself.

"We can't trust Ju-Hai," Wu continued. "This letter accuses him of some terrible acts. He might not wish it to reach the hands of the Divine One."

The old servant frowned. "But your father trusts him."

"My father didn't know of the minister's involvement in starting this war," Wu said, "and my father didn't see him sharing a spy's bed."

"That can't be possible," Qwo objected. She raised the hand holding Ting's message as if warding off an evil spirit. "Your father's alliance with Ju-Hai goes back ten years. There must be an explanation for what you saw."

"Perhaps," Wu replied, "but I'm not willing to take that chance. Summon your son, then get a brush and paper. An explanatory letter might gain him a faster audience."

Qwo left the hall, then returned a few moments later with a brush and paper.

Wu dictated a message to the emperor. In it, she apologized for disobeying his command, then explained what she had discovered. As she signed the letter, she hoped the Divine One would not be offended by the blood that smeared off her hand onto the paper.

Xeng arrived just as his mother sealed both Wu's letter and Ting's message into the ebony tube. Wu quickly explained what she wanted, telling him twice to ask the emperor to send a contingent of his troops to replace Ting's.

After Wu finished, Qwo handed the ebony tube to Xeng, then kissed him on the brow. "Take care, my son," she said. "If Ting's troops see you leave, I doubt you'll reach the emperor alive."

Xeng placed a hand over the jade pendant hanging beneath his robes.

"There is no need to worry, Mother," he said. As he spoke, his body and clothes changed colors to match the hues of the chamber walls. "I won't fail Lady Wu."

By the time Xeng finished speaking, Wu could no longer see him. Qwo's son was not so much invisible, she knew, as perfectly camouflaged. As her father's steward slid aside a wall panel and left, the one weakness of his magic medallion became apparent. When he moved, Wu saw a watery, man-shaped blur against the backdrop of the wall.

After Xeng left, Qwo peeled Wu's cover back to reveal a thick swath of crimson bandages. "You need a doctor," she said, her tone almost chastising.

Wu nodded. "After Xeng returns with help, but no earlier. Ting may not know who stole her message. Until the emperor arrests her, it's too dangerous to reveal my injury. A doctor could lead her right to us."

"We must hope Xeng reaches the emperor soon," the old maidservant said.

She unfastened the bandage and changed the dressing. As Qwo finished, two sets of small feet sounded in the stone courtyard outside.

"The children!" Wu gasped, pushing her maidservant away. "Don't let them see me like this!"

Qwo threw the cover over Wu, then stepped to intercept Ji and Yo.

She could not move quickly enough. A wall panel slid aside, then Ji burst into the room, his sister in tow. "Mother!" he cried, pointing a slender finger toward the front of the house. "The emperor's wife is coming!"

Wu and Qwo looked at each other, confused and alarmed. "The Shining Empress?" Wu asked. "Are you certain?"

Ji nodded. "She has a whole bunch of soldiers!"

"How do you know it's the empress and not a consort, child?" asked Qwo, fixing her eyes on the boy.

"Because I saw her before," Ji responded, scowling at being doubted. "In the emperor's house—"

"You've never been in the Forbidden Halls," Wu objected.

"Yes we have!" Yo interrupted, stamping a foot. "You remember. I went to sleep!"

"We weren't in the Forbidden Halls," Wu explained. "We were in the Hall of—" She stopped in midsentence, realizing Ji and Yo were mistaken about more than the building they had been in. Aside from Wu, the only woman in the Hall of Supreme Harmony that night had been Ting Mei Wan.

"Qwo," she gasped, "they're talking about Ting!"

The old woman's face blanched. "What are we going to do?"

Wu threw her covers aside and tried to rise, but the effort hurt too much.

Fleeing was out of the question. It would be a marvel if she made it out of the room.

"Meet them at the gate and then stall," Wu instructed her servant.

"Stall," Qwo repeated, half dazed. "I'll try." She scurried toward the front of the house.

Wu turned to Ji and Yo. They were both staring at her bandage with big, frightened eyes. A lump formed in Wu's chest and she almost began to cry.

She was more frightened than she had ever been, but only for her children.

"Come here, little ones," Wu said, holding out her arms.

They obeyed, their eyes still fixed on their mother's wound. Tears came to both their eyes, and they began to sob.

"Shhh," Wu urged, embracing them closely. She could barely restrain her own tears. "Mother has been hurt, but you must be brave. Some bad people are coming."

"What should we do?" asked Ji, choking back his sobs and wiping his eyes.

Wu wished that she had an answer. She might be able to move long enough to help Ji and Yo climb over the exterior wall. Even if they escaped, though, the little ones would be lost and alone in the immensity of the summer palace. Her only choice was to hide her children and hope Xeng returned with help soon.

Releasing her son and daughter, Wu said, "Do you know a good place to hide?"

"Under the floor!" Yo said, pointing a stubby finger toward the center of the room. "When I hid there, Ji couldn't find me."

"You were cheating!" Ji objected, furrowing his smooth brow.

"That doesn't matter now," Wu said, laying a gentle hand on her son's shoulder. "These people will search for you much harder than you look when you play games. Are you sure this is a good place to hide?"

They glanced at each other uncertainly. Finally, Ji said, "It's very dark and small."

"Good. You must go there quickly. Don't come out until Xeng, Qwo, or I tell you it's safe."

Wu kissed each of her children, then sent them away.

They had barely left the hall before Qwo's voice echoed across the courtyard. "I insist, Minister Ting. Lady Wu is ill. She is not receiving visitors."

"All the more reason I must see her," Ting replied tersely. "Now stand aside."

"I refuse," Qwo replied.

"Guards!" Ting roared.

The sound of a short scuffle followed, then twenty boots clattered across the stone courtyard. Wu adjusted her cover so that it concealed her bloody bandage, then prepared to receive Ting.

She did not wait long. Within moments, a soldier grabbed a wall panel and thrust it roughly aside. Two green-armored guards stepped into the sleeping room, their weapons held at the ready. Ting came next, followed by an angry Qwo.

"What is the meaning of this?" Wu demanded, scowling at the mandarin.

"Can't you see that I'm ill?"

"Please forgive this intrusion," Ting said curtly, obviously unconcerned with whether Wu forgave it or not. The minister turned to a guard. "Uncover her."

The soldier frowned at being asked to invade a noblewoman's privacy.

Nevertheless, he did as ordered.

Ting pointed at the freshly changed bandage, which was already spotted with new blood. "So you were the one," she said. "How disappointing."

"What do mean?" Wu demanded.

"Last night, a spy broke into my house and stole an important state document," Ting said, stepping toward the bed. "This spy killed a guard on the way out, but not before being wounded. As we can see, you are wounded."

"This?" Wu asked, indicating her bandage. "Qwo and I were cutting some silk. Her knife slipped."

"Not likely," Ting replied. "Save me the trouble of searching your house.

Return the document and no harm will come to you or your family."

Even if the ebony tube had been in her possession, Wu would not have returned it. She had already seen that Ting was an accomplished liar, and the minister could not afford to spare the life of anyone who knew the truth about her.

In response to Ting's demand, Wu simply shrugged her shoulders. "What document?" she asked.

She had decided to feign innocence, but not because she hoped to fool Ting. If Ting's guards were not part of the mandarin's plot, and Wu suspected that they were not, Ting would have to go through the pretense of firmly establishing Wu's guilt before causing the noblewoman any harm. That would take time, and the longer Wu could stall, the better the chance that Xeng would return with help.

Xeng was not having much success, however. He stood at the gateway to the Square of Heavenly Delight, in the center of which rose the Hall of Supreme Harmony. His medallion remained activated and he was still perfectly camouflaged. Unfortunately, the pendant's magic only worked for a certain amount of time and it would soon fade. He would not be able to reactivate it for at least a day.

The emperor's guards stood shoulder-to-shoulder around the Hall of Supreme Harmony, their weapons drawn. The great square surrounding the tower was filled with the green-armored guards of the Ministry of State Security. Xeng did not doubt that Ting had arranged the tight security measures, probably by claiming to have discovered a plot against the Divine One's life. Still, considering the evidence he carried in the ebony tube, Xeng thought he would attain an audience—providing he could reach the chamberlain.

To do that, however, the steward had to slip past Ting's guards. Xeng had no doubt their orders were to detain or kill anyone attempting to see the Son of Heaven. Still, he had to try, for Wu's life clearly depended upon his success.

There had been a time when the steward would not have cared about Wu's safety. At the age of fifteen, a friend had remarked on his uncanny resemblance to Tzu Hsuang, and Xeng had finally realized why the lord took so much interest in his well-being. Instead of being thankful for Hsuang's attention and love, though, Xeng had grown resentful and bitter because his true lineage would never be acknowledged. Nevertheless, Wu had treated him with nothing but respect and kindness, tolerating his snide remarks with an easy-going grace that only infuriated him further.

Xeng had remained hostile for nearly five years, until his own mother finally grew so tired of his attitude that she asked him to leave the Hsuang castle. It had been Wu, the object of so much of his enmity, who had interceded on his behalf and asked Qwo to reconsider. Though Wu had not said as much, it had been clear that she realized their relationship and did not want to see harm come to her half-brother. After that, Xeng's attitude had reversed itself. Wu had subtly acknowledged his lineage and hereditary rights even more than his own mother. As a result, he was not about to allow any harm to come to his half-sister now.

Xeng stepped forward, moving slowly to take maximum advantage of his magic camouflage. Though he often used his dragon medallion to spy upon his father's enemies, the steward had never before attempted to sneak past so many armed men.

In the next minute, he advanced thirty steps and came to the fringe of Ting's troops. They stood at attention in small units of ten, each formation turned to face a different section of the park and separated by ten feet. Xeng selected the two groups closest to him. He slipped forward ever so slowly, carefully watching his footing so he did not trip or disturb a loose stone.

Though his heart beat like a hammer and his panicked lungs craved air, he forced himself to breathe in small, even breaths.

Nevertheless, on several occasions a sentry squinted or shook his head as Xeng moved. Each time, the steward froze and did not move again until the guard looked away.

Finally, disaster struck. Two guards noticed him simultaneously.

As the one on the left rubbed his eyes, the one on the right asked, "Did you see something?"

"A blur," the other responded.

Xeng knew he was in trouble. He turned and, heedless of how easy it would be to see him, rushed toward the gate. The two guards shouted an alarm, then ran after his hazy form.

Well-practiced in escaping pursuit while camouflaged, Xeng did not panic.

He suddenly stopped and dropped to his belly. A moment later, he slowly crawled a short distance back toward the Hall of Supreme Harmony and did not move. The soldiers began yelling in confusion, issuing contradictory reports of his whereabouts.

Xeng remained on his stomach for several moments, considering his next move. Ting's troops clearly wanted to capture him, for over a hundred of them ran about the square, wildly swinging their polearms at the air. As the steward studied his pursuers, it became clear that they were more concerned with preventing him from reaching the Hall of Supreme Harmony than with catching him. The largest number moved to form a wall between him and his objective. Behind Ting's guards, the emperor's troops watched the square with interest, but did not budge from their assigned posts.

Two units began moving toward the gate, trying to cut off Xeng's escape route. Realizing he had no chance of reaching the emperor alive, the steward reluctantly decided to flee.

Xeng stood and ran along the wall, away from the gate. When the troops noticed him, he dropped to his belly again, then slowly crawled toward the gate. He had failed in his mission, he thought, but all was not lost. He still had the ebony tube, and Wu would be able to develop another plan for delivering it to the Divine One.

But Wu was in desperate need of the emperor's help at that very moment.

She lay crumpled on the floor, where Ting's troops had dumped her when they began searching for the stolen document. Qwo sat beside her mistress, and Wu's head now rested in the old servant's lap.

In the space of a few minutes, Wu's house had been reduced to a shambles. Even with a hundred men searching the compound, the troops from the Ministry of State Security had found nothing, not even Ji and Yo.

Ting Mei Wan angrily paced back and forth, forcing her personal escort of twenty soldiers to stand crowded together at the edge of the chamber.

"Where is it?" Ting demanded for perhaps the hundredth time.

"I have no idea what you want," Wu gasped, also for perhaps the hundredth time.

"Liar!" Ting responded. "My patience is at an end." She turned to two guards, then pointed at Qwo. "Take her."

Wu forced herself to sit up. "No!"

Two guards seized Qwo by the arms and dragged her to Ting's side.

"She knows nothing!" Wu said.

Ting studied Wu with narrowed eyes. "Tell me who does," she countered.

Qwo spat in the minister's face. "Tell this traitor nothing!"

A soldier quickly took a cloth off Wu's night cabinet, then gave it to Ting.

Staring at the old maidservant, the mandarin slowly wiped the spittle off her brow. In a calm voice, she said, "Kill this woman."

The guards blanched, but one dutifully drew a ten-inch pi shou. The dagger glinted ominously in the morning sunlight.

"Wait!" Wu yelled. She was barely able to force the words from her throat.

Qwo's entreaty and the guards' reluctance had given her one last idea.

Addressing the soldiers, Wu said, "We're not the traitors; Ting is." Her voice quivered with stress and fatigue. "The document she's looking for is evidence of her treachery."

A veteran with a missing ear frowned and looked to Ting. The mandarin appeared momentarily stunned and confused, but she recovered quickly. "If what you say is true," the minister said, "produce the document."

"Don't!" Qwo urged, feebly trying to pull free of her captors. "My life is worth nothing."

Ting and the soldiers turned to Wu expectantly. The noblewoman considered revealing where Xeng had gone. If the treacherous minister realized she was defeated, perhaps she would see no use in harming an old woman. Unfortunately, Ting did not seem like the type of woman who gave up easily.

Wu shook her head.

"Kill the servant," Ting ordered. As she spoke, she did not take her eyes off Wu.

The guard holding the pi shou obeyed without hesitation. Qwo let out a terrible, woeful scream, then quivered as the last traces of life fled her body.

The guard twisted the dagger and plunged it farther in to finish the job. Finally, he withdrew the pi shou and allowed the old woman's body to slump to the floor.

Ting turned back to Wu. "Now, will you—"

She was interrupted by sobbing children. "Where is that coming from?" the minister demanded of nobody in particular.

A guard kneeled and put his ear to the floor. "From beneath the house."

Ting pointed at the floor. "Get them!" she ordered. "Perhaps they'll persuade this traitor to confess."

Several guards rushed outside, and several more used their weapons to begin prying up floorboards.

"They're just children!" Wu pleaded. "Leave them alone!"

"Nothing would please me more," Ting replied. "I have no wish to injure a child. Their fate, however, is in your hands."

Wu crawled into a kneeling position, ignoring the agony in her midsection.

"I won't allow you to hurt Ji or Yo," she warned.

"Then tell me where you've hidden my paper!" Ting shouted.

They stared at each for several moments, Wu breathing slowly and evenly, gathering her remaining energy to defend her children. Several guards moved into defensive positions to either side of Ting.

Wu knew now that the minister intended to kill her whether or not she gave up the document. She could accept her fate because she had no other choice. The noblewoman was not ready to sacrifice her children's lives, however, not even for the sake of the empire. Fortunately, she could think of two ways to save them. Only one involved giving Ting what she wanted.

After prying up the fifth plank, a guard said, "Here they are."

He reached below the floor and extracted Yo. She was curled into a stout little ball, covered with dirt and sobbing loudly. The soldier passed her to the veteran with the missing ear, then reached into the opening a second time. He screamed and cursed loudly.

"He bit me!" the guard snapped, holding his hand.

"What do you expect?" asked the veteran. He set Yo aside, then stuck his head and shoulders below the floor. "Come here, little tiger!"

Yo took advantage of the opportunity to scurry over to her mother. Without looking away from Ting, Wu guided her daughter to her side. She continued to breathe evenly and steadily, focusing her mind on what she intended to do.

The guard emerged with Ji a moment later. Tears and dirt streaked the boy's face, but his expression remained determined and angry. He reached out and raked at his captor's face with his fingers, but his arms were too short to reach.

Ting looked away from Wu, settling her gaze on Ji. "Which shall it be?" she asked. "Your son—or the document?"

"Neither, traitor!" Wu yelled, releasing the store of energy she had been building.

The noblewoman's wound reopened as she sprang forward, but she felt no pain. Her thoughts, her spirit, and her body were focused only on one thing: reaching Ting.

Wu moved so quickly that she took all but three guards by surprise. The first stepped in front of her, his polearm held across his body like a staff. Wu stiffened her index and middle fingers into the secret sword position, then drove them into the man's throat. His larynx popped, and he collapsed, dropping his weapon and gasping for breath.

The next guard swung his chiang-chun at Wu's knees. She leaped into the air, catching the soldier simultaneously with a camel kick to the groin and a ram's fist to the nose. As he finished the swing, he collapsed into a twisting mass of groaning flesh.

Wu was not so lucky with the third guard. When she descended from her jump, he stepped forward and jabbed, using his weapon like a lance. Wu tried to knock the blade aside with a crane's wing block, but the guard was a strong man and held the shaft in place. The blade slipped between the noblewoman's ribs and punctured her lung.

Having seen the fate of his two fellows, the guard took no chances with Wu. The blade felt icy and painful in the noblewoman's lung, and the strength to continue fighting escaped with her final scream. The guard's thrust carried her a full two feet. She landed on her back with the polearm protruding from her chest. The guard still held the other end.

Ting had not moved. The minister stared at her attacker with a look of uncomprehending shock, hardly registering that she had come within a breath of dying.

Wu lay on the floor for what seemed to her like an eternity of silence, struggling to breathe through the cold agony in her lungs. The only thing she could see, the only thing she was aware of, was the guard at the other end of the polearm. He was a young man, no older than Batu had been when she had first met him. The youthful soldier looked deathly afraid.

Ji and Yo screamed and rushed toward their mother's side. The earless veteran caught and restrained them before they arrived.

Recovering from her shock, Ting stepped to Wu's feet and pushed the frightened young guard aside. The anger had drained from her face. It had been replaced by something between incredulity and sadness. "Why?" she asked. "Why such a foolish attack?"

"For. .. children," Wu gasped. Each word made her lungs ache as though she were breathing ice instead of air. An agonized half-scream escaped her lips.

Ting looked at the veteran holding the children. "They don't need to see this! Get them away from here!" She waved her arms at the other guards.

"Get away from here, all of you!"

The veteran obediently took the children and left the hall. The rest of the guards retreated to the edge of the room.

Ting returned her attention to Wu. "Where is the ebony tube?" she asked, kneeling at the wounded woman's side. "It doesn't matter now. Tell me."

Wu shook her head. "Children are safe."

"What do you mean? Why are they safe?" the mandarin asked as she leaned close.

"No good to kill—if I'm dead," Wu said.

"Is that what you think?" Ting sighed, her voice breaking with regret and guilt. "They must die anyway."

Wu lifted her head. "Why?" Though she had intended to yell, a hiss was all that escaped her lips.

Ting could no longer meet Wu's gaze. "Because they might know."

"No!" Wu's arm shot up from her side, and she clasped Ting's throat. Her fingers closed into the dragon's claw choke, but the last breath left her lungs before she could crush the mandarin's larynx.

13

Besieged

Hsuang Yu Po had never thought the odor of roasting meat would make him so miserable. The smell was rich and sweet, for the meat had been basted with honey. A desperate longing stirred in his stomach, and his mouth watered with a hunger that he knew would not be satisfied.

"Knaves," commented Cheng Han. The tzu's powder-stained face was drawn with starvation. His good eye bulged from its sunken socket, but the useless one had receded even farther into his haggard skull. His breath stank from the internal effects of starvation, and his k'ai hung off his frame as though his body were an armor stand.

With the other commanders of the noble armies, the two men stood in the highest room of Shou Kuan's bell tower. Save for a rough-hewn table, several benches lining the walls, and a window overlooking the city's main gate, the room was barren. Even the plastered walls had never been painted.

The window looked over the gate to the dusty road running from Shou Kuan to Tai Tung, the location of the emperor's summer palace. Although the road ran eastward, it entered Shou Kuan from the south, as was customary. If the main gate had been on any wall but the southern, it was commonly believed, evil spirits would have found it easy to enter the city.

Before turning eastward, the road ran seventy yards south and climbed to the top of a knoll. On top of the knoll stood two hundred shirtless Tuigan.

From the bell tower's window, Hsuang could barely make out their long braids of hair and the shaven circles on the tops of their heads.

The half-dressed barbarians were tending fifty large, smoky fires. Over each fire, huge slabs of meat were roasting. As the enemy clearly intended, the morning breeze was carrying the smell directly to Hsuang and the others.

Hsuang tore his eyes away from the tormenting sight. To the right and left of the bell tower, the city walls were manned by soldiers of the Twenty-Five Armies. Like Tzu Cheng and the other commanders, the soldiers appeared gaunt and haggard. To a man, their glassy eyes were fixed on the smoky fires outside the city. Although the men's appearance and obvious hunger concerned Hsuang, he was far from shocked or surprised. In the three weeks since the battle at Shihfang, nobody had eaten more than a few handfuls of grain.

After the battle, the Twenty-Five Armies had retreated under cover of darkness. The Tuigan had followed close behind, preparing to attack.

Fortunately, the peasants had obeyed Hsuang's messengers and burned their lands that very night. As the noble armies retreated down the road, their flanks had been protected by blazing fields. Only a small rearguard had been required to keep the Tuigan from overtaking them. Most of survivors had reached the safety of Shou Kuan's walls shortly before dawn.

Up to that point, everything had gone according to Batu's plan, and Hsuang had remained confident that his son-in-law would overcome the barbarians.

However, the noble's confidence had deteriorated when his subordinates reported the city's condition. Upon hearing of the noble armies' defeat, the efficient citizens of Shou Kuan had obeyed the directive Hsuang had sent before the battle. They had burned their food stores and fled, leaving the city deserted and barren.

Hsuang had begun each of the twenty-one days since by cursing himself for not sending a special messenger to the city prefect. Of course, his self-derision had done nothing to alleviate his mistake, and now he was in danger of failing Batu. The troops of the Twenty-Five Annies were starving. It would not be long before they lacked the strength to keep the barbarians from the city. Already, men were dying of hunger, and illness was on the rise.

Hsuang wondered where his son-in-law was. Two days ago, the tzu had promised his subordinates that help would arrive soon, but he knew they placed no faith in that vague reassurance. Unfortunately, without the Mirror of Shao, he could not contact Batu to ask when the provincial armies would arrive. Nebulous promises were all he had available to keep up his men's morale.

Hsuang was the not only one concerned with the army's morale. Pointing at the dusty knoll outside the gates, Cheng Han said, "Those cooking fires are within archery range. Let the men occupy themselves by making the enemy pay for his fun."

Hsuang considered the request, but finally decided against it. "No. We'll need the arrows when help arrives."

"Of course," Cheng said, bowing modestly. "What could I have been thinking?" There was a barely concealed look of mockery in his eyes, but he made no further protest.

Hsuang did not blame the man for his doubt. The gray-haired noble still had not told his subcommanders that Batu intended to surprise the Tuigan at Shou Kuan. If the enemy stormed the city and happened to capture one of the nobles, Hsuang did not want his son-in-law's plan revealed.

The old lord was beginning to doubt the wisdom of this decision. Shou nobles did not fear death nearly as much as they feared dying like cowards.

Yesterday, one young lord had actually suggested mounting a suicidal charge before the pengs grew too weak to fight. To Hsuang's alarm, several wiser nobles had voiced support for the young man's idea. The commander wondered how long it would be before the rest of the lords urged him to choose battle over starvation.

Considering their restlessness, Hsuang decided it would be wise to allow his men some fun at the barbarians' expense—providing it didn't cost too many arrows. Turning to his subordinates, he said, "On further thought, I think Tzu Cheng is right: we should make the Tuigan pay for our misery. Each of you may select ten archers. Give each archer four arrows. We will see which of our armies kills the most barbarians."

The nobles all smiled and voiced their approval. Within seconds, each lord was laying wagers that his archers would kill more barbarians than those of any other army.

Cheng approached Hsuang. "A wise decision," said the scar-eyed lord. "By tomorrow, our men may be too weak to pull their bows."

"Let us hope they remain strong a few days longer than that," Hsuang countered, catching the tzu's eyes with a meaningful gaze. "I am confident that help will arrive soon."

Before Cheng could respond, a sentry knocked on the stairway door. "My lords, it is most urgent!" he called.

Hsuang cast an eye out the tower window to see if the enemy had moved.

The fires on the knoll were smoking more than previously, but the Tuigan appeared no closer to attack than they had been at dawn.

"A messenger from Tai Tung has passed through the enemy lines!" the sentry added.

An incredulous murmur rustled through the room. Hsuang called, "Bring him in."

The door opened and the guard escorted an exhausted man wearing a purple, dust-covered waitao into the room. Though he had more flesh on his bones than the soldiers of the noble armies, the man looked every bit as drained. His face was pale and weary. Blood seeped down his brow from beneath a fresh bandage on his head.

Hsuang stepped forward to greet the messenger, but Tzu Cheng held out a restraining arm. "For all we know, this man is a barbarian assassin."

The old noble gently pushed Cheng's arm aside. "This is no barbarian," he said. "This is my steward."

The sentry's eyes widened in shock. Glancing at the wound over Xeng's brow, the soldier bowed. "Forgive me, Tzu Hsuang. Your steward knocked at my gate, but when we opened it, there was nothing there. We saw a blur entering the city, and thought he was an enemy spy!"

"It is only a cut, and there is nothing to apologize for," Xeng said to the soldier. He turned to his father. "It was my fault, Tzu Hsuang. I should have identified myself."

Though he did not feel as magnanimous as his steward, Hsuang dismissed the guard without punishment. He turned to Xeng, forgetting himself and holding out his arms to embrace his son. Fortunately, the younger man suffered no such lapse of decorum and simply bowed to the lord.

Flushing at his slip, Hsuang returned the gesture of courtesy. "I am both happy and sad that you have come, Xeng," the old noble said. "Seeing you again gives me joy, but I regret that you now share our danger"

"There is nothing to regret, Tzu Hsuang," responded Xeng, using his dusty sleeve to wipe a trickle of blood from his brow. "When I left the summer palace, I knew your circumstances. It was my choice to join you."

As the steward spoke, his knees began to wobble and he looked as if he might collapse.

"Perhaps you should sit," Hsuang said, directing his son to one of the benches along the room's stark walls. After Xeng was seated, Hsuang asked,

"What are you doing here? Why aren't you watching over your mother and Wu?"

Xeng looked away. "I failed," he said. "They're dead."

Hsuang studied his son for a long moment, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. "Who? Who's dead?"

"Everyone," the steward replied, still unable to meet his father's gaze. "Ting Mei Wan killed them all."

The old lord backed away as if withdrawing from a leper's presence. "What are you saying?"

"I couldn't save them," Xeng said, his voice weak with grief.

Hsuang finally grasped what his son had come to tell him. His eyes grew vacant and glassy, as if his spirit had fled his body. "Ji and Yo?" he asked hopefully.

"I have heard that your grandchildren did not suffer. Ting had that much mercy."

Hsuang's knees buckled. He would have fallen had Cheng not caught him and helped him to the bench. Though the pained tzu found the strength to keep from crying out or sobbing, he could do nothing else but stare into empty space. Finally, the old noble asked, "Why?"

Xeng turned to face his father. "Before she was killed, Lady Wu asked me to deliver this to the emperor." He withdrew an ebony tube from his robe and gave it to his father.

Hsuang took it, then removed two papers from inside. The first was Wu's letter to the emperor. It explained how she had come by the second paper, which was Ting Mei Wan's report to the "Illustrious Emperor of All Peoples."

When he finished reading, Hsuang looked up. In a quivering voice, he told the other nobles what the letters contained. After the murmur of astonishment died away, the old lord asked his son, "Why did you bring these to Shou Kuan?" Though he did not intend it to, his voice held a note of reproach.

Xeng's lips dropped into a mortified frown. "I didn't know what else to do.

Minister Ting's soldiers had surrounded the emperor, and she was searching for me in every corner of the summer palace."

"You could have hidden anywhere in Shou Lung!" Hsuang yelled, his grief finally overcoming his self-control. "What good do you expect these letters to do here?"

At Hsuang's outburst, the other nobles uncomfortably shifted their glances to the wall and stood motionless.

Xeng looked at the floor. "I failed you."

The old noble regarded Xeng for many moments, sorry that he had taken his anguish out on his son. Finally, Hsuang rolled the papers and returned them to the tube.

"No," the old noble said, grasping Xeng's shoulder. "You haven't failed me, but you will return these letters to the summer palace. See that they reach the emperor. Ting Mei Wan must pay for her crimes."

"He's wounded!" Tzu Cheng objected. "He won't last a day!"

Hsuang looked at his son with demanding eyes. "My steward is a strong man" he said.

"Tzu Hsuang," Cheng said, daring to meet his commander's severe gaze,

"in your grief, you are asking too much of your servant. It is a wonder he reached us at all. That he could pass back through the enemy lines wounded is unthinkable."

Xeng returned to his feet. "I will try, if that is what my lord wishes."

Hsuang gave the ebony tube to his son. "That is what I wish," he said. The old noble was not being callous or cruel. Hsuang could not bear the thought of his son being in Shou Kuan if the city happened to fall before Batu arrived.

"Unless you wish your servant to flee during battle, it may not be possible to fulfill your wish, Tzu Hsuang," said one of the young nans. He was looking out the tower window.

"What do you mean?" Hsuang asked, stepping to the nan's side.

There was no need for the nan to answer. On top of the knoll, two thousand barbarians sat astride their horses. A stiff wind was carrying the smoke from the cooking fires directly over the city wall, partially obscuring Hsuang's view.

However, he could see well enough to know that the horse-warriors wore armor and held bows in their hands.

Beyond the knoll, at a distance of three hundred yards, a dark band encircled the city. Hsuang had no doubt that he was looking at the rest of the barbarian army. As the lord studied the enemy, a short man carrying a white truce flag separated from the group on the hill.

The messenger spurred his horse forward, stopping within thirty yards of the bell tower. Though the rider wore a fine suit of barbarian armor, his features were slender, with smoothly rounded cheekbones. The messenger had shaven his head in the fashion of a monk, and he was thinly built. The man's appearance was clearly not that of a Tuigan, and Hsuang guessed he might be Khazari.

Without preamble, the rider called, "The mighty khahan has grown weary of waiting for you to come out and do battle." He spoke the Shou language with a Khazari accent. "He sends me to accept your surrender, and offers a meal as proof that he will treat his prisoners kindly."

Hsuang did not believe the envoy, and would not have considered surrender even if he had. The old noble had lost his daughter and grandchildren, but he had not lost his honor. He had promised to hold Shou Kuan until Batu arrived, and he would do it or die trying.

"Your khahan underestimates our number," Hsuang yelled back. "He cannot hope to feed all our armies with so little food."

The rider smiled broadly and without sincerity. "We have been hunting for many days," he returned. "More than two thousand dressed beasts await you in our camp."

A murmur ran down the wall as the men repeated the rider's words. Even the nobles seemed to be discussing the idea of surrender.

Hsuang turned to his subordinates, completely ignoring the rider for the moment. "He's lying. They're trying to trick us."

"How do you know?" asked a young nan.

Hsuang pointed out the window. "Do the barbarians look like they expect us to surrender? They'll attack the instant we leave the city."

"Then we must fight," another noble replied.

"We are not leaving Shou Kuan!" Hsuang snapped. "That is my command!"

Many of the nobles met the tzu's gaze directly, indicating their disagreement with his decision.

"The emperor placed General Batu in command of our armies," Hsuang said, looking at the nobles who dared to oppose him. "Batu gave me command of your armies. To defy my word is to defy the emperor's. Are you prepared to do that?"

It was Cheng Han who replied. "No one would dare defy you, Tzu Hsuang.

Yet, our armies are too weak to last much longer. Soon, we will have no choice except to surrender or die of starvation. Perhaps it would be wise to consider fighting now, while the option is still viable."

Hsuang felt irritated by the words. Although Cheng had questioned him before, the scarred noble had always yielded when Hsuang invoked his authority. Despite the man's careful politeness, it appeared Cheng intended to do no such thing this time.

"I will tell you when we will fight," Hsuang responded through clenched teeth. "We will fight when the provincial armies arrive to help us, or when the barbarians storm the city walls. Until then, I will not throw away our armies by sallying against five-to-one odds."

"Staying in Shou Kuan to starve is the same as surrendering," Cheng countered. "If we sally, at least we will kill some barbarians."

"There is no use discussing the matter further," Hsuang declared. Though he normally would have handled Cheng with more tact, he was too upset by the news of Wu's death to deal patiently with the man's challenge.

Cheng, however, would not be put off. "We wish to die honorably in battle.

It is our right as noblemen."

"It is your right to die when I tell you to," Hsuang snapped, stepping over to stand face-to-face with the scarred noble. "If you wish to do it honorably, you will wait until I say it is time to fight."

With his one good eye, Cheng met Hsuang's angry gaze and did not flinch.

"Your grief is interfering with your judgment, Tzu Hsuang. Otherwise, I would do as you ask."

A rage boiled up from Hsuang's stomach. As if it belonged to somebody else, he watched his arm rise and saw his hand lash out. He struck Cheng's face with an open palm, leaving a red print on the man's cheek.

"Apologize!" Hsuang ordered.

The nobles stood in awkward and dumbfounded silence, Cheng staring at his commander with an expression of disbelief. Finally, the scarred noble said,

"It is understandable that you are upset by the news of your daughter's death, Tzu Hsuang. Nevertheless, we must look at our options with a clear head."

Cheng turned to address the other nobles. "We must attack now or surrender."

The other lords turned away from Hsuang and gathered around Cheng Han. Casting nervous glances at their legitimate commander, they discussed the two options Cheng had proposed.

Slapping the scarred noble had been a mistake, Hsuang realized. The other lords had interpreted the action as a loss of self-control, and he had to admit they were correct. Otherwise, he would have handled Cheng's challenge to his authority with much more tact. He certainly would never have struck the man.

Nevertheless, he could not allow the nobles to abandon the city before Batu arrived. "Tzu Cheng," Hsuang said, pushing his way into the circle surrounding his rebellious subordinate. "Even if what you say is true, I am still in command of this army. There are no choices except those I present."

Cheng met his superior's gaze with steady eyes. "That might be true under normal circumstances," he said, his voice betraying no trace of anger or indignation. "But it is clear your judgment has been impaired by your loss.

Otherwise, you would realize that we stand to gain nothing by delaying our final battle. With every hour, we only grow weaker."

Many nobles murmured their agreement.

Reassured by the show of support, Cheng added, "I am sorry, Tzu Hsuang.

Your orders don't make sense."

Several nobles echoed their reluctant agreement. In their eyes, Hsuang saw apology and sympathy, but no sign of support. Like Cheng, they all believed their commander's grief had overcome his logic.

As far as Hsuang could see, he had only one hope of retaining command.

"You're committing treason," he said to Cheng, taking care to appear as rational as possible.

The accusation did not daze the scarred noble. "If the emperor or your own son-in-law were here, they would agree with our decision. At such a critical time, it's not in Shou Lung's interest to leave a grieving man in command."

The deft counter overcame any last doubts the nobles retained about disobeying Hsuang. The group voiced their approval of Cheng's reasoning, clearly shifting command of the Twenty-Five Armies away from Hsuang.

The old noble studied his mutinous subordinates for several moments.

Finally, he turned toward the tower door, motioning for Xeng to follow. Before descending the stairs, however, he paused and addressed Cheng. "If I may ask, Tzu Cheng, what do you plan to do?"

Cheng lifted his chin. "Fight." As an afterthought, the scarred noble added,

"Of course, you and your troops are welcome to join us."

Hsuang shook his head angrily. "I have better uses for my army," he said.

With that, he left the room and abandoned his fellow nobles to their planning.

Though he knew it was impossible to hold the entire city with only his pengs, he intended to keep his promise to Batu. Somewhere deep within the city, he would find a compound that a small force could defend.

As Hsuang and his son descended the stairs, Xeng walked one step behind his father. Halfway down, the steward stumbled and almost fell. The old noble stopped and grasped his son's shoulder. The steward's face looked pale.

"How is your wound, Xeng?" Hsuang asked. "Should I summon help?"

Xeng shook his head. "I'm a little light-headed, but it's nothing to worry about."

Hsuang scowled. "Somehow, I doubt that. We'll find someplace safe for you to recover."

"You don't wish me to leave?" Xeng asked.

Hsuang shook his head. "It would be pointless until those fools have had their battle, would it not?" He continued down the stairs, supporting his son by the arm.

When he opened the door and stepped into the street, Hsuang was surprised to hear the pengs on the walls calling to each other in alarm. The noble looked up. The soldiers were cocking their crossbows and staring at the knoll in front of the gate. From the streets, Hsuang could not see what had alarmed them, so he ran back up the stairs.

Xeng followed several steps behind, moving more slowly because of his wound. "What's wrong?" the steward called.

"The enemy must be attacking!" Hsuang answered, glancing over his shoulder at his son's bandaged head. "Don't strain yourself. I'll meet you up here."

The gray-haired noble reached the top of the tower a few seconds later.

The other lords barely noticed as he entered the room. They were too busy overwhelming Cheng Han with contradictory advice. Hsuang slipped over to the window, peered out, then swore a vile curse in the name of the Celestial Dragon.

The Tuigan had resorted to magic. A single barbarian stood in front of the two thousand horsemen gathered on top of the smoky knoll. The man was dressed in a long silk robe covered with mystic symbols. In his hand, he held a scepter capped with a human skull. The barbarian's arms were lifted skyward and his eyes were fixed on one of the fires.

The shaman had magically braided the smoke from all fifty cooking fires together. The smoke columns now formed a wide gray ribbon that stretched from the hilltop all the way to Shou Kuan. The smoky bridge crossed the city wall directly over the gate, just a few yards to the right of the bell tower.

As Hsuang watched, the first horsewarriors spurred their mounts toward the hazy bridge. The frightened animals reared and tried to shy away. The determined riders kicked the beasts and lashed them with their reins, guiding the horses onto the gray ribbon as if it were solid rock. When their hooves found solid purchase on the smoke, the horses calmed and began galloping forward. The riders dropped their reins, then pulled their bows from their holsters and began to nock arrows.

Hsuang turned to his fellow nobles. "Get to your armies!" he yelled. "The Tuigan are topping the wall!"

The nobles stopped arguing and stared at him with varied expressions of incomprehension.

"What do you mean?" Cheng Han demanded. "They don't have siege equipment."

"They don't need it," Hsuang replied, pointing toward the knoll. "Look!"

When the tzu looked out the window again, sheets of arrows were sailing back and forth between the smoke bridge and the city walls. The horsewarriors were already so close that Hsuang could lock eyes with the lead rider. The barbarian was a ferocious-looking man with a hungry smile that appeared at once jubilant and brutal. He had a drooping black mustache, a flat nose with flaring nostrils, and dark slit-like eyes that sat over broad cheekbones. The rider wore a filthy, greasy hauberk and a conical skullcap trimmed with matted fur. He guided his horse with his knees so that both hands were free to use his bow.

With a sinking heart, Hsuang realized that the Tuigan had tricked him. The barbarians had never expected the Twenty-Five Armies to leave the city. The roasting meat and the offer to accept a surrender had been ruses designed to mask the preparation of the shaman's smoke bridge.

The plan had worked all too well.

Turning his thoughts to countering the Tuigan plan, Hsuang looked back to the other nobles. "Send for your best archers," he ordered, automatically slipping back into his role as the group's commander. "We've got to kill that shaman—"

Something buzzed through the window and struck Hsuang's ribs like a hammer blow. His armor clinked once, then a painful vise clamped down on his chest. He looked out the window and saw that the lead rider was already passing the bell tower. In preparation for leaping onto Shou Kuan's ramparts, the warrior was holstering his bow and drawing his sword.

Hsuang grasped at the arrow lodged in his chest, then collapsed to the floor. As darkness filled his sight, the tzu heard the clatter of hooves on stone outside the tower, then the chime of sword meeting sword told him that the barbarians were inside the city.

14

Shou Kuan

Batu and a subordinate, General Kei Bot Li, lay on their stomachs at the crest of a hill. The mordant smell of burned grass filled their nostrils, and the dry acrid taste of soot coated their tongues. Normally, they would have avoided lying face down in a field of ash, but the best place for watching Shou Kuan happened to be this scorched hilltop.

The three miles of rolling terrain between them and the city was as black and as barren as the hill. Before fleeing, the citizens of Shou Kuan had set fire to most of the land surrounding the city. The barbarians had overgrazed the few fields the peasants had left untouched, turning them into bleak patches of ground.

The over-grazed land is a good sign, thought the general from Chukei. By forcing the enemy to siege Shou Kuan, Tzu Hsuang had greatly complicated the already difficult task of feeding so many horses and men. The Tuigan would be anxious to complete the siege and move on to better lands.

From what Batu could see, Yamun Khahan had already reached the end of his patience. Even now, the barbarians were preparing to attack. At this distance, the walls of Shou Kuan looked like no more than a ridge of clay surrounding an anthill. However, a dark band that could only be an enemy battle formation encircled the city. Batu guessed that there were over one hundred thousand riders in the dark ring.

More telling than the riders was the smoke in front of the main gate. From three miles away, the smoke appeared to be nothing more than a band of haze, but Batu knew that only a large fire could create so much fume.

Pointing at the smoke, Batu asked, "What do you make of that, Kei Bot?"

The stocky general squinted at the gray column and watched it intently, as if he could magnify the image through obstinate study. It was a gesture typical of the general, Batu was learning. More than anything, it seemed to symbolize the headstrong determination that was the heart of Kei Bot's personality.

After the stocky general's assault on Yenching, Batu had made the ambitious man second in command. Though he had used the survivors from Kei Bot's army to garrison Yenching, it would have been an insult to leave the pudgy general with his troops after he had displayed so much bravery.

Therefore, Batu had been forced to reward Kei Bot by promoting him.

It was an exigency the General of the Northern Marches regretted. In order to hold Kei Bot's dogged ambition in check, Batu kept the pudgy general with him at all times. Unfortunately, the two men did not enjoy each other's company.

Kei Bot finally finished his study of the smoke column. "I would guess that they're burning prisoners," he announced.

"To what purpose?" Batu asked, frowning at his sub-commander.

"Intimidation," Kei Bot answered. "I've seen it before."

Batu shook his head. "They wouldn't hesitate to commit such butchery, but they don't take captives." He pointed at the riders encircling the city. "To me, it looks like they're preparing to attack. The smoke must have something to do with storming the city."

"If that's what you think," Kei Bot answered stiffly, miffed that his conclusion had not been accepted. "Shall I send the order to advance?"

"Not yet," Batu said, still watching the city.

"But we've been here for three hours!" Kei Bot objected.

"We'll wait a while longer." The young general faced the stocky commander. "If we move before the enemy is fully engaged, it will stop its attack and turn to meet us."

"From what we saw at Shihfang, the nobles are outnumbered five to one,"

Kei Bot countered. "The longer we wait, the greater the chance the enemy will sack Shou Kuan."

"I know," Batu replied, turning back to the city. "Still, we can't move until the barbarians are fully engaged."

Kei Bot's jaw dropped in open shock. "The nobles will be wiped out! They'll never hold against those numbers."

"Don't underestimate the nobles," Batu replied, "not while Tzu Hsuang still commands them."

At Shihfang, Batu had discovered the reason for his father-in-law's long silence following the battle: the Mirror of Shao had been shattered. He was sorry to lose the artifact, but not nearly as sorry as he would have been to lose Tzu Hsuang. Still, the mirror's destruction was a serious blow. Batu had been counting on it to coordinate the attack with the noble armies. Without the Mirror of Shao, the general had to rely on nothing but his best guess to time his attack.

More to reassure himself than Kei Bot, Batu said, "Tzu Hsuang will hold.

His pengs have had three weeks of rest. Besides, even if the Tuigan breach the walls, they will find that city streets are poor places to fight from horseback."

"Don't you think you're risking Hsuang's armies without sufficient reason?"

Kei Bot asked. "If the nobles collapse, the Tuigan will retreat into Shou Kuan when we attack."

"I won't lose the advantage of surprise," Batu replied sternly. He pointed at the ring encircling the city. "From what I can see, the barbarians still have over a hundred thousand riders. Our only chance of destroying them is to catch them completely unprepared."

Kei Bot would not be intimidated. "If you must run this risk, at least send word to make ready for battle."

Batu scowled, but realized that Kei Bot's suggestion had its merits. "I see no harm in doing as you ask," he snapped. Without taking his eyes off the pudgy general, he waved Pe forward.

The adjutant was waiting at the bottom of the hill, where he and Batu's fifty man escort would not be seen. It took Pe a few moments to crawl to the crest of the hill. Upon arriving, he removed his conical skullcap and scratched furiously at his matted hair. "Now I understand why the barbarians shave their heads," he said.

Like Batu and the other men in the provincial armies, Pe was dressed in Tuigan clothing. In addition to the fur-trimmed skullcap, he wore a greasy knee-length hauberk and wool trousers. The hauberk had an arrow hole and a bloodstain in the breast, and the trousers were so filthy that crawling through ash had done nothing to darken their color. In contrast to Batu, who felt strangely comfortable in the clothing, Pe looked awkward and clumsy.

The adjutant suddenly pulled his hand from his hair. Pinched between his thumb and forefinger was a white, squirming body the size of a rice grain. The youth squashed the louse, then wiped his hand on his pant leg. He renewed his scratching and commented, "Filthy beasts."

Batu was not sure whether Pe meant the lice or the barbarians. After the victory at Yenching, Batu had sent his cavalry to round up the enemy horses.

In the meantime, he had instructed the remainder of the Most Magnificent Army of Shou Lung to clothe itself in Tuigan garb.

The order had not made the general a popular commander. The thought of wearing Tuigan clothing had turned the stomachs of the entire army, even the drunks and criminals. Nevertheless, Batu had insisted that his command be followed.

Two days later, the cavalry had collected more than eighty thousand barbarian horses. The number had been sufficient to mount the four armies that were still in battle condition. After a day of riding lessons, Batu had started for Shou Kuan with eighty thousand pengs disguised as Tuigan horsewarriors.

The General of the Northern Marches was wise enough to know that news of a large Shou army would quickly reach the ears of Yamun Khahan. That was why Batu had disguised his men as Tuigan. The presence of another barbarian force would not provoke nearly as much comment. Even if word of the army reached the khahan, Batu thought the reports would be less likely to alarm the Tuigan leader. It seemed possible that the khahan would dismiss the accounts as mere rumors or exaggerations. The last thing he would believe, Batu hoped, was that four Shou armies had disguised themselves as Tuigan in order to sneak up on him.

Unfortunately, in order to make the disguise believable, Batu's men had to act like barbarians. Several times, his scouts had given chase to frightened peasants. Once, they had even attacked and burned a Shou village the barbarians had overlooked. It was then, Batu realized, that he had begun to feel comfortable in barbarian clothes.

A few days after burning the village, Batu's outriders had begun to see signs of far-ranging enemy scouts. Since the khahan had left so many men in Yenching, Batu had hoped the Tuigan leader would feel secure and not bother to scout behind him. The general should have known better, for it was apparent that Yamun Khahan was a careful commander.

So, for the last three days, Batu's troops had moved only after sunset and under the heavy cloud cover summoned by the wu jens. The armies had traveled along streambeds and through secluded valleys, on routes selected by survey parties during daylight hours. Of course, the outriders had occasionally encountered smaller parties of Tuigan scouts. In most cases, the disguises had served the surveyors well. After a friendly wave, the enemy had simply ridden away.

Four times, however, enemy patrols had approached Shou scouting parties. In each instance, Batu's men had ambushed the Tuigan riders before the scouts realized they were impostors. Not a single enemy soldier had escaped such a meeting alive.

Last night, the provincial armies had finally reached an isolated valley in the hills southwest of Shou Kuan. Batu had stopped the advance five miles from city. At dawn, he had taken a party and rode forward to scout the enemy.

The army was still waiting in that valley. Even without being there, Batu felt certain his subordinates were all as impatient as Kei Bot. The general could hardly blame them. With every hour, the danger of discovery increased. Already he had received a report that an enemy scouting party had been destroyed because it had come too close to the Shou armies. If Tuigan patrols continued to disappear, Batu knew that the khahan would soon suspect something was amiss.

Still, with such a capable commander leading the enemy, Batu had to scout the horsewarriors carefully. Though the Shou armies were also mounted now, they would be no match for the barbarians in open combat. The Tuigan carried short bows ideal for fighting from horseback, and they were uncannily accurate with their weapons. Batu's soldiers, by contrast, were still equipped with clunky crossbows and were accustomed to fighting from rigid ranks. Only a fool would believe that because they now had horses, the Shou would be a match for the barbarians.

As the General of the Northern Marches had known all along, Shou Lung's best chance of victory lay in attacking while the enemy's attention was completely absorbed by something else. That was why Batu's original plan had called for the nobles to sally out of Shou Kuan as his forces attacked from the rear. However, with the Mirror of Shao destroyed, coordinating the two maneuvers had become an impossibility. Fortunately, it appeared the enemy was about to oblige Batu by occupying itself with an attack on Shou Kuan.

Batu directed his attention to Pe. "Tell the armies to prepare for the attack."

Pe smiled. "Then the war will be over soon."

A knot of excitement formed in Batu's stomach, and he answered, "One way or the other." With a little luck, he thought he would finally fight his illustrious battle.

"The enemy still does not know we're here," Pe said, his face betraying his absolute confidence. "We cannot lose."

"In battle, nothing is ever certain," Kei Bot warned.

Pe looked at the stocky commander with barely concealed contempt. The adjutant made no secret of his dislike for Batu's second in command.

"Begging your pardon, General, but what you say is not true for this battle."

Placing a fatherly hand on his adjutant's shoulder, Batu said, "Pe, the only thing I am sure of today is that we shall fight a great battle." He reached beneath his hauberk to withdraw the letter he had written before dawn for Wu.

Though he had not been able to send his customary letter at Yenching, today there was no reason to break his vow.

Batu gave the paper to Pe. "You know what to do with this."

"I'll send it to Lady Wu."

Kei Bot raised an eyebrow. "I had not thought you so sentimental, General."

The General of the Northern Marches flushed. He had repeatedly directed his subordinates to think of nothing but fighting until they destroyed the barbarians. Batu felt as if he had been caught in a lie.

"I'm not," he said sharply, looking from Kei Bot to Pe. "Send the order."

Pe crawled down the hill to the escort, and Batu turned back to Shou Kuan.

The wind still carried the smoke over the city wall. The general from Chukei studied the hazy tendril for several moments. The more he watched, the more it seemed something was moving across the gray ribbon.

Batu wished that Minister Kwan's wu jen was with him, for the wizard would have found a way to show him more of the scene outside Shou Kuan. It was not the first time the general had wished for the wizard's company. After arriving at last night's campsite, Batu's first thought had been to establish some magical means of spying upon the enemy. Unfortunately, none of the wu jens supplied by the Ministry of Magic knew an appropriate spell, and the feng-li lang would not ask the spirits to perform such a mundane task. So the general had been forced to rely upon physical scouting.

Batu watched the scene for another ten minutes. Finally, Kei Bot pointed at the dark band of horsemen encircling Shou Kuan. "The enemy is moving!

Shall I send the order to advance?"

"Not yet," Batu replied, laying a restraining hand on his subordinate's wrist.

Although it did look as though the barbarian circle was tightening, Batu did not think they were charging.

"What are you waiting for?" Kei Bot asked. "As it is, it will take our armies thirty minutes to reach the battle."

"It won't take the enemy thirty minutes to know we're coming," Batu countered, pointing toward the valley where the Shou armies waited. "When eighty thousand horses gallop toward the city, they'll raise a dust cloud that will blot out the sun. If the Tuigan aren't fully engaged, they'll break off to meet us."

Kei Bot frowned and stared at Batu. "Your wife's father is in Shou Kuan.

How can you allow the nobles to bear this attack alone?"

"I can do it because it increases our chances of winning the battle," Batu returned coldly. He looked back toward the besieged city.

Kei Bot stared at his commander with thinly veiled disgust. "You are a callous and cold man."

Without taking his eyes off the city, Batu calmly asked, "Could any other kind destroy the Tuigan?"

Kei Bot looked away, uncomfortable with both his own comment and Batu's easy reply.

A moment later, the barbarian circle stopped shrinking. Batu estimated the horsewarriors were within medium bow range of the city walls. Though he could not see them, the general knew that droves of arrows were flying between Shou Kuan's ramparts and the enemy lines.

"See?" Batu said, pointing at the circle. "The Tuigan would have seen us coming. It won't be long now."

The general could see that the Tuigan were pressing the battle hard. Volley after volley of Shou arrows opened holes in their ring, but instead of retreating to a safer range, the barbarians shifted to fill in the gaps. In front of the gate, the smoke still drifted over the city wall. It still seemed to Batu that something was moving along its spine, but he could not imagine what.

For several minutes, he and Kei Bot silently watched the battle. The longer they watched, the more convinced Batu grew that he had made the correct decision. The enemy maneuvered with such precision that he knew they would easily meet any obvious attack.

On the southern side of the city, the horsewarriors began to gather in a great mass. Within seconds, the throng was swarming toward the main gate.

"They're assaulting!" Kei Bot declared, pointing at the mob. "They've taken the gate!"

"Yes," Batu agreed, waving his adjutant up the hill. For the first time since the battle had begun, he was worried. The barbarians had breached Shou Kuan's defenses much faster than he had expected.

When Pe arrived, the general from Chukei addressed the youth immediately. "Send the order to attack," he said. "The Army of Wak'an is to secure the western perimeter and the Army of Hai Yuan the eastern, cutting off any avenue of enemy retreat. The Army of Kao Shan is to smash the throng at the gate, with the Army of Wang Kuo in close support."

"Yes, General," Pe said. He started back down the hill.

Batu grabbed his adjutant's shoulder. "Deliver these orders yourself.

Remind the generals that no one is to attack from horseback. They are to dismount and fight in formation. After all, we must remember that we aren't true barbarians, mustn't we?"

Pe smiled. "Yes, General."

"Now, go," Batu said, turning back to the city.

After watching the assault for a few moments, the general from Chukei realized that something was terribly wrong inside the city. The Tuigan throng in front of the gate was decreasing in size at a steady rate.

Batu's heart sank. What he saw could only mean that the barbarians were pouring into the city with little opposition. When his provincial armies sprang their trap, the enemy would simply take refuge inside the walls of Shou Kuan.

Rising to his feet, Batu said, "Come, General!"

Kei Bot also rose, saying, "Why such a hurry now?"

"You were right," Batu said, starting down the hill.

"Of course—"

"Now is not the time to offend me," Batu said sharply, halting. "It would be a pity to execute you while you can still serve the emperor."

The stocky general stopped in his tracks. "You wouldn't dare!"

"I would," Batu hissed. "At the moment, I have enough on my mind without your perfidy."

Kei Bot clenched his jaw and stared at Batu angrily. When the younger man's gaze did not falter, Kei Bot asked, "What do you want?"

Batu grasped his subordinate's shoulder and guided him down the hill, formulating a new plan as he walked. "We can prevent the barbarians from seizing Shou Kuan if we move quickly. We'll follow them straight into the city."

Batu spoke rapidly, his excitement growing with each breath. Although the nobles' collapse had caused him some serious problems, he was determined to overcome these troubles. After all, a battle could hardly be considered illustrious if a commander did not make a desperate decision or two.

"Here's my plan," Batu said, still gripping his subordinate's arm. "I'll meet the Armies of Kao Shan and Wang Kuo to change their orders. We'll mount a cavalry charge and fol ow the barbarians right into the city."

"To attack inside Shou Kuan?" Kei Bot gasped.

"Exactly," Batu confirmed. "The Tuigan are horsemen and nomads. City combat will be as foreign to them as fighting from horseback is to us. The odds should be even."

Kei Bot stared at the General of the Northern Marches as if he were mad.

"What do you wish me to do?"

"We'll need all the strength we can gather inside the city," Batu explained.

"You must meet the other two armies. Send the Army of Wak'an to support the charge. They must also remain mounted and follow on my heels, or the assault will lack the momentum to take the city."

Kei Bot nodded. "Wak'an is to follow you, and you will be with Wang Kuo."

"Good," Batu said. "You must take the last army and encircle the city at one hundred and twenty yards. Use your horses' mobility to make sure that no stragglers escape our trap."

"As you wish," Kei Bot answered, unable to hide his skepticism.

They reached the bottom of the hill. Batu turned to face Kei Bot straight on.

"One other thing," he said. "If I fall, you will take command."

At first, Kei Bot's expression seemed puzzled, for Batu was merely stating standard military procedure. Slowly, however, he realized the full implication of his commander's words. "You expect to be in the thick of the fighting?" Kei Bot asked. There was an ambitious glimmer in his eye.

"I'll be in the cavalry charge," Batu answered, hardly able to suppress a grin. "Once inside the city, our armies will need me." Though this logic seemed valid enough, the general from Chukei had a deeper reason for joining the charge. He simply did not want to miss the best part of the battle.

For a long moment, Kei Bot studied Batu with an unreadable expression.

Finally, he asked, "Anything else?"

"Only this: whether I was right or wrong to hold the attack, our best chance of victory now lies in the streets of Shou Kuan. I hope you agree."

"Whether I agree or not is unimportant," Kei Bot said, turning away to mount his horse. "I have my orders."

Batu mounted his own horse, wondering if the stocky general could be trusted. There was something in the man's manner that made the general from Chukei uneasy, but there was no time to worry about it now. Batu spurred his horse, leading Kei Bot and the remaining escorts in a mad gallop toward his armies.

Batu and the others rode down into a dale. Even sitting astride his horse, the general from Chukei could feel the ground trembling. Behind the blackened ridge on the valley's far side, an immense dust cloud eclipsed the horizon. Realizing that his army's approach army was responsible for what he saw and felt, Batu reined his mount to a stop.

A line of riders nearly a mile long appeared atop the far ridge and started into the valley. Within seconds, the slope was covered with horsemen wearing filthy hauberks and fur-trimmed skullcaps. Most had scarves or shreds of cloth wrapped around their noses and mouths. Though the swarm was riding at only a canter, their mounts' hooves churned up so much dirt that an impenetrable curtain of dust hid the largest part of the army.

The throng was roughly divided into four groups. One hundred men from each group held Tuigan standards that the Shou had substituted for their own banners.

Batu pointed at one of the standard-bearers. "There is Wak'an, General. Do not fail me." He could barely make himself heard above the rumble of the approaching army.

Kei Bot galloped off without another word. Batu remained a moment longer, searching for the golden yak tail that now served as Wang Kuo's banner.

Finally, he found the standard he sought and spurred his horse forward.

As soon as Batu wheeled his horse into line, dust and ash coated his throat so thickly he could hardly swallow. Filthy as it was, he pulled the collar of his Tuigan tunic over his face. He found Wang Kuo's lanky commander as the army started up the other side of the valley. Shouting to make himself heard, he explained the change in plans. A messenger was then sent to the Army of Kao Shan with the new orders.

Finally, the Shou armies crested the ridge. The twenty thousand pengs from Kao Shan were in the lead, followed by Batu and the Army of Wang Kuo.

The general from Chukei could no longer see the armies of Wak'an and Hai Yuan, but he assumed they were close behind.

A quarter mile ahead, ten thousand mounted Tuigan sat in a double line at the base of the ridge. They had turned to face Batu's army and held their bows in their laps. Beyond their lines rose a dusty knol with fifty smoky fires burning on top of it. Several hundred men stood on the hill, still tending the fires. Past the hillock stood Shou Kuan's bell tower. The main gates hung wide open, and the streets beyond were filled with thousands of soldiers.

A flat arc of smoke nearly twenty yards wide ran from the hilltop over the city walls. Though nothing moved on the smoke bridge now, several dead horses and men lay strewn along its length. Batu felt sick as he realized how easy it must have been for the barbarians to charge over the bridge and secure the main gate.

The general turned his attention back to the first obstacle between him and retaking the gate: the ten thousand barbarians at the base of the ridge. As the Shou army started down the slope, the Tuigan signal drummers beat a slow, steady cadence. The other horsewarriors remained impassive and motionless, not even lifting their bows. Finally, a scowling officer rode out and angrily waved his arms at the advancing army, ordering it to halt.

A wave of euphoria coursed through Batu's veins. The Tuigan don't know that they're being attacked, he realized. Obviously, the barbarians were puzzled by the huge army's sudden appearance behind them, but they clearly did not suspect that it was not their own.

Wang Kuo turned to Batu, grinning. "What are your orders, General?"

The question was rhetorical. Even as Batu yelled "Charge!" the men leading the assault drew their weapons and broke into a full gallop. Instead of the curved blades of Tuigan warriors, they held the straight chiens of Shou infantrymen. Upon seeing the double-edged swords, the enemy officer realized his mistake. He hurriedly returned to his own ranks. Once combat was closed, Batu knew, the difference in weapons would be the only means of telling friend from foe.

As the Army of Kao Shan roared its battle cry, a deafening clamor filled the general's ears. Batu's heart started to pound harder. His horse snorted with excitement, and the ground rushed past its hooves at a dizzying rate.

At the bottom of the slope, the Tuigan raised their bows and fired. The volley seemed to hang in the air like a black fog. The wall of arrows didn't seem to fly at the attacking Shou; they seemed to ride into it. Thousands of men and beasts fell to the dusty ground, and the charge faltered for just an instant.

Then it continued faster than ever. Sweat rolled down Batu's body in constant, tickling rivulets. At the bottom of the hill, he saw the Tuigan holster their bows and draw their sabers. Batu found his palm gripping his weapon's hilt, and he did something he had not done in many, many battles: he drew his sword.

The Army of Kao Shan met the barbarians, and Batu felt a thunderous crash in the pit of his stomach. Ahead of him, thousands of Tuigan tumbled from their saddles as the heavy Shou chiens struck them down. An instant later, the Tuigan sabers flashed, cutting down a like number of Shou.

Frightened cries and agonized screams filled the air. Batu's horse galloped even faster, drawn onward, it seemed, by the scent of blood and death.

As he rode toward the mayhem ahead, Batu realized he had become an ordinary soldier. His escorts had disappeared into the mad mob, as had the commander of Wang Kuo. To the general's left rode a rugged veteran with unkempt hair who would not have looked out of place holding a Tuigan saber.

To Batu's right rode a helmetless man with the silky topknot of a Shou officer.

Batu no longer saw the barbarian ranks, for he had reached the bottom of the slope and did not have a good view. Directly ahead, all he could see were the backs of his own men. Beyond them rose the knoll with the smoke bridge.

Thousands of his pengs were already riding up the small hill. Hundreds sat slumped in their saddles, wounded or dead, carried along only by the momentum of the charge. On top of the hill, a lone Tuigan wearing the robes of shaman gestured madly at the smoke bridge. The priest's escorts were fleeing in all directions.

Batu's horse began swerving and leaping, compelling him to pay attention to his riding. He had reached the Tuigan ranks, though little remained of the enemy lines now. The ground was littered with dead and wounded, forcing the general's mount to dodge wildly to keep from tripping.

As the general flashed through the area, a barbarian rose and fumbled at his arrow quiver. Batu swung his sword. The general was surprised at how good it felt to slay an enemy, for it had been many years since he had fought in the ranks. He did not get to see the Tuigan fall, however, for his mount had already carried him onward.

Batu's horse started up the knoll, and its gait slowed. He took advantage of the curbed pace to peer over his shoulder, then cursed angrily. He had expected to see a third army behind the one with which he rode. Instead, Wak'an was moving toward the western perimeter and Hai Yuan toward the eastern. Clearly, Kei Bot had not informed the armies' commanders of the revised plan.

Batu briefly wondered whether Kei Bot had deliberately disobeyed his orders or had simply not found the other two generals in time. Whatever the reason, the blunder meant that Wang Kuo and Kao Shan would be outnumbered once they entered the city. There was nothing Batu could do.

Stopping the assault was out of the question, as was trying to break a messenger free of the charging mob.

Batu did not panic. Once he entered the city, he could send a messenger to fetch Wak'an. As long as his forces held the gate, the delay wouldn't cause him much trouble.

The general reached the hilltop. His horse dodged left to avoid a smoky fire over which hung a blackened side of lamb. To Batu, the knoll seemed a strange place to set up a cookfire, but he gave the matter no more thought.

Ahead, the smoke bridge collapsed, spilling dozens of bodies onto the pengs below. Men and horses tumbled in all directions, but the Army of Kao Shan did not slow. The lead ranks closed to within thirty yards of the gate.

Barbarian arrows began to pour down from the bell tower and the city's ramparts. A column of Tuigan riders rushed away from the gate to meet the Shou charge head to head.

A moment later, Batu saw another group of horsewarriors—perhaps five thousand in all—ride toward the gate. This second group passed easily through the Tuigan rushing to meet the Shou charge. Immediately, he knew the retreating formation was the khahan's bodyguard, for they were uniformly dressed in fine black armor and rode white horses. Even the wealthiest emperor could only afford to outfit his best troops in such a manner.

Apparently, the general from Chukei realized, Yamun Khahan had still been outside Shou Kuan when the Shou attacked. The barbarian emperor had probably been waiting for his men to wipe out the last pockets of resistance before entering the city.

As Batu started down the hill, clanging steel and furious yells sounded from the base of the knoll. The Army of Kao Shan had met the enemy charge.

On the city walls, the Tuigan archers shifted their fire toward the charging Shou. Arrows began raining down around Batu. A scream sounded nearby, then the veteran to the general's left tumbled out of his saddle.

A black streak flashed past Batu's head, then something slapped the leather armor over his collarbone. He gasped in alarm, but felt no pain.

Instinctively, he transferred his reins to his sword arm and felt for a wound with his free hand. He found a deep cut in the leather where an arrow had grazed his hauberk. As he realized how close he had come to perishing, the general's chest tightened.

In the next instant, he left the deadly shower of arrows and entered the melee in front of the gate. A rider leveled a saber at his head. The general dropped his reins and raised his tao in a desperate block. As the two swords met, a terrific jolt ran along his arm. The barbarian found himself holding the hilt of a broken sword. Batu countered with a slash and felt his blade cut through the man's leather armor.

Screaming, the Tuigan slid out of his saddle.

Batu grasped at his loose reins, but lost them. He was unsettled by the thought of having no control over his beast during the melee, but another barbarian slashed at him and the general gave up any hope of recovering the reins.

Batu turned the enemy blow aside, then slipped his blade along the Tuigan's shoulder and opened a wound in the enemy's throat. The barbarian gurgled and dropped his weapon, then kicked his horse onward. The melee became a whirl of flashing blades and dying men. Time after time, Batu blocked and countered, more often than not barely aware of whom he was fighting. Once, he barely ducked a blow from a soldier he had thought to be Shou until the man's curved blade sailed past his head. Twice, only the glimpse of a double-edged chien stopped him from slaying one of his own men.

As the general lifted his aching arm for what felt like the thousandth time, the deep reverberating rumble of Tuigan signal drums rolled from the city.

Batu's opponent sliced at him with a wild cross-body swing, then wheeled his horse around and sprang away. The man was out of reach before the general could react.

To all sides, the Tuigan were following the lead of Batu's adversary and turning away from the battle. A few pengs reacted quickly, downing the fleeing horsewarriors with vicious hacks or beheading them with efficient slashes.

More often, however, the stunned Shou found themselves swinging at empty air while their foes galloped toward the city gates.

An instant later, a spontaneous shout of triumph rose from the Shou pengs.

Though Batu suspected otherwise, to his soldiers the sudden withdrawal seemed as though the enemy had been routed. Screaming their war cries, the Shou tried to pursue.

When they set their heels to their horses, however, the result was pandemonium. Like Batu, most of them had dropped their reins during the battle, so they had little control over the excited beasts. The horses bolted in all directions, crashing into each other or sprinting away from the throng altogether.

Anxious to avoid being carried away by the anarchy plaguing his ranks, Batu quickly recovered his own horse's reins. Once he felt in control of his mount, he turned his attention to Shou Kuan. The last of the Tuigan were slipping between the closing gates. There was no sign of Yamun Khahan or his bodyguard, and Batu realized that the enemy commander had reached the relative safety of the city.

The battle, for now, was over. Dead and wounded soldiers, both Tuigan and Shou, blanketed the ground between the knoll and the gate. Already, over a hundred pengs had dismounted and were efficiently dispatching the Tuigan wounded. It did not even cross their minds to take prisoners, save for the few officers who would prove useful for interrogation.

Atop the walls of Shou Kuan, thousands of Tuigan had gathered on the ramparts to watch the slaughter of their wounded comrades. Their faces betrayed no anger or shock, only cool detachment. Batu had no doubt that if the horsewarriors had been the ones outside the city, they would have done the same thing to the Shou survivors.

As the general scanned Shou Kuan's rampart, however, he was interested in more than Tuigan faces. He was searching the brick-lined walls for a weakness that he could use to bring a quick end to the coming siege.

As Batu studied the fortifications, the Tuigan on the ramparts raised their bows. An instant later, a rain of black-shafted arrows brought an end to his inspection. Amidst a chorus of anguished wails and cries, he wheeled his horse about and galloped away from the city gate.

15

A Caged Tiger

The morning sun touched the exterior of the tent, kindling an orange light inside. In his ire last night, Batu had driven away the engineers before they could stake the pavilion, so now its unsecured flaps slapped wildly in the late summer wind. The general's silk shirt was soaked with sweat, but he barely noticed. As he had been doing since before dawn, he stood motionless, staring out the tent's door.

The pavilion rested on a ridge overlooking Shou Kuan, giving Batu a clear view of the city's walls and towers. The general was trying to think of a way to bypass those fortifications, but he kept losing his thoughts. Over sixty thousand dead and wounded soldiers, both Shou and Tuigan, lay in front of the city. They had fallen in a triangular pattern that reminded Batu of an arrow pointing at the main gate.

A cloud of vultures and other carrion birds were already savoring the feast, Tuigan archers stood atop the bell tower, using tethered arrows to pick off the fattest birds. They were meeting with uncanny success, but the horsewarriors'

accuracy did not surprise Batu. Yesterday, after the gate had closed on his unsuccessful bid to take the battle into the city, the enemy archers had killed ten thousand of his men in less than a minute. Given the precision of the barbarian bows, Batu counted himself lucky to be alive. He had dropped his sword as he fled, but that seemed a small price to pay for his life.

The other generals who had also ridden in the charge had not been so fortunate, however. Wang Kuo's general lay outside, awaiting a proper cremation. Kao Shan's fate remained unknown, though it was hardly a mystery. If the general had still been alive, someone would have brought him to the pavilion by now. The commanders of the Armies of Wak'an and Hai Yuan had both survived, for they had not been involved in the charge. They were seated on the far side of the tent, waiting for their new orders.

Kei Bot was not present, but Batu doubted that his second-in-command had fallen in battle, for the general should have been nowhere near the heavy fighting. Batu suspected Kei Bot was intentionally avoiding him, fearing retribution for his part in yesterday's setback. The tactic irritated Batu almost as much as the failure itself, so the general from Chukei had sent his adjutant to find the missing commander.

The same suspicion kept returning to Batu's mind: Kei Bot had deliberately neglected to give Wak'an the new orders. If so, the stocky general from Hungtze had committed a terrible military crime. Worse, he had lost the fight for Shou Lung and robbed Batu of his illustrious battle.

The General of the Northern Marches turned away from the door. Across the room, both of his subordinate generals rose to their feet expectantly.

Addressing the commander from Wak'an, Batu asked, "What did Kei Bot tell you yesterday?"

The two first degree generals cast uneasy glances at each other. Wak'an asked, "When, my commander?"

"Before the battle!" Batu snapped, pointing at Shou Kuan. "When do you think?" Despite his lack of patience, the general understood the man's caution. When a plan went awry, Shou commanders often selected subordinates to serve as scapegoats, as Kwan had selected Batu himself after the battle of the sorghum field.

To reassure his subcommanders, Batu said, "Have no fear. The blame for this disaster rests on my shoulders alone, but I must know what went wrong."

Wak'an relaxed. "He said you were going to charge the city."

"And?" Batu prompted.

"He was to assume command until you returned."

Batu's stomach churned at the thought of Kei Bot commanding his armies.

"Anything else?"

Wak'an shook his head.

As Batu started to ask his next question, he heard a small force of riders approach the pavilion and stop outside. A moment later, Pe entered the tent and bowed.

"General Kei," the adjutant announced.

The general from Hungtze bustled into the pavilion behind Pe. Kei Bot's bow was very shallow, and Batu did not bother to acknowledge it.