Under Heaven

“You would do this, you would give them to me, all of them, for a girl?”

“For my sister.”

From outside Tai heard sounds again: traffic on the roadway had resumed, creaking cartwheels, laughter, shouts. Life moving, on a spring day. He kept his gaze on the man opposite.

At length, Roshan shook his head. “I would do it. For two hundred and fifty Sardian horses? Of course I would. I am thinking now, right here, of how to do it. But it is impossible. I believe you know that. I might even accuse you of toying with me.”

“It would be untrue,” Tai said quietly.

The man across from him shifted yet again, stretching a massive leg to one side, with a grunt. He said, “Five horses would have been generous as a gift. Princess Cheng-wan has shaken your life, hasn’t she?”

Tai said nothing.

“She has,” the governor went on. “Like a storm shakes a tree, or even uproots it. You have to choose what to do now. You might be killed to stop you from choosing. I could do it here.”

“Only if it did not get back to the Ta-Ming, to the first minister, whose action cost the empire those horses.”

An Li stared at him with those slitted eyes.

“You all want them too much,” Tai said.

“Not if they go to an enemy, Shen Tai.”

Tai noted the word. He said, “I just offered them to you.”

“I heard you. But I cannot do it, since it cannot be done. Your sister is gone, son of Shen Gao. She is north of the Wall by now. She is with the Bogu.”

He grinned suddenly. A malicious smile. No sense of any genial, amusing figure of the court, the one who’d allowed himself to be swaddled like a baby by all the women. “She may be with child to the kaghan’s son as we speak. At the least she will know his inclinations. I have heard stories. I wonder if your brother knew them, before he proposed her as wife to the kaghan’s heir.”

The sweetness of the perfume was almost sickening suddenly. “Why be uncivilized?” Tai said before he could stop himself.

He was fighting anger. Reminded himself again that the other man was not saying these things—was not saying anything—without purpose.

Roshan seemed amused. “Why uncivilized? Because I am! I am a soldier all my life. And my father’s tribe warred with the Bogu. Shen Tai, you are not the only one to be direct by inclination.”

“Let me see the letter,” Tai said. Being direct.

It was handed across without a word. He read, quickly. It was a copy, the calligraphy was too regular. No mention of Liu, as Roshan had indicated. But …

Tai said, “He is clear, Xin Lun. Says he expects to be killed that night. Begs you to guard him. Why did you not send men to bring him to you?”

The expression on the other man’s face made him feel, again, out of his depth. Childlike.

An Li shrugged, turned his neck one way and then the other, stretching it. “I suppose I could have. He did ask for protection, didn’t he? Perhaps you are right.”

“Perhaps?” Tai was struggling, heard it in his voice.

The general betrayed impatience. “Shen Tai, it is important in any battle to know your own strengths and weaknesses and to understand your enemy’s. Your father must have taught you this.”

“What does that have to do—?”

“Wen Zhou would have learned of your horses and your survival as soon as word reached the palace. As soon as anyone learned it that night. That is why Xin Lun knew he was in danger. The first minister could not let him live, knowing what he knew, and with what he’d done. Zhou is a fool, but dangerous.”

“So why not send your soldiers for Lun?”

The general shook his massive head, as if sorrowing for the ignorance of the world. “Where was this happening, Shen Tai? Where were we all?”

“Xinan. But I don’t—”

“Think! I don’t have an army there. It is not permitted to me, to anyone. I am on my enemy’s ground without my forces. If I shelter Lun in the capital, I am declaring war on the first minister that very night, where he has the weapons he needs and I do not!”

“You … you are the favourite of the emperor, of the Precious Consort.”

“No. We are both favoured. It was a policy. But our so-glorious emperor is unpredictable now, too distracted, and Jian is young, and a woman, which means unpredictable. They are not, son of Shen Gao, reliable. I could not bring Lun into my home and be halfway certain of leaving Xinan alive.”

Tai looked down at the letter in his hand. Read it again, mostly to give himself time. He was beginning to see.

“So … you let Lun believe you would. You offered him sanctuary. That led him to start down through the city.”

“Good,” said An Li. “You are not a fool. Are you as dangerous as your brother?”

Tai blinked. “I may be dangerous to him.”

The general smiled, shifted again. “A good answer. It amuses me. But come, work it through. What did I do that night?”

Tai said, slowly, “You did send men, didn’t you? But not to escort Xin Lun. Only to observe.”

“Good, again. And why?”

Tai swallowed. “To see when he was killed.”

An Li smiled. “When, and by whom.”

“The killer was seen?”

“Of course he was. And by the Gold Bird Guards, as well. My men made certain of it. The Guard were persuaded not to do anything yet, but have recorded what they saw that night.”

Tai looked at him, the small eyes, florid face. “One of Wen Zhou’s retainers killed Lun?”

“Of course.”

As simple as that.

“But if Lun is dead …?”

“The honourable Xin Lun is as useful to me murdered as alive. Especially if the city guards know who did it. The letter is what I needed, along with the observed killing of the letter-writer by a known person. The first minister has generously obliged me. Xin Lun in my home might have had me arrested. Xinan was the wrong place for me to begin a battle.”

Tai let that last sink into awareness, stone in a pond.

“Are you beginning a battle?”

There was a silence. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted an answer. Sounds from outside again. The customary back and forth of the road. An irritated outcry, an oath, more laughter. A day moving towards a usual end, sunset and the stars.

“Tell me,” the man opposite said, “were you really burying dead soldiers at Kuala Nor for two years?”

“Yes,” Tai said.

“Were there ghosts?”

“Yes.”

“That was bravely done, then. As a soldier I honour it. I could kill you here, if I decided your horses would somehow determine the course of events.”

“You don’t think they will?”

“They might. I have decided to act as if it is not so, and to spare you.” He shifted position yet again.

“You’d have lost—”

“Rank, title, all granted lands. Possibly my life. And so, Shen Tai, what does that tell you, by way of answering the question you asked?”

Are you beginning a battle? he’d asked.