It was with an eerie feeling that he heard the voices. They were the first distinct and individual voices he had heard since coming into this new land. Other than the hubbub of battle he had heard only his own voice.
A voice of command said: 'Look farther over there. To the right of the pile of Mongs. And do not look for a face, fools, but rather for his armor. You all know what manner of armor the Emperor wore!'
The voice was light, high pitched, with a silky cultured quality and an odd singsong effect, like spoken music.
Blade was not interested in tonal effects. He had just gotten himself into a jam. Or had he? It might be an easy way of getting beyond the wall, though what happened then might not be so pleasant.
Another man said, 'I do not think we will find the Emperor tonight, sir. We are not even sure where he fell. And if the Mongs see the lights they will come to investigate and I, for one, have had enough of fighting Mongs for one day.'
The command voice: 'Do as you are bid or your head will join those of the captured Mongs tomorrow. I promise you this.'
Another voice: 'Why is the Empress Mei so insistent that we find her husband?'
'To do his body honor, of course. What else?' A man laughed. Blade winced.
Another man said, 'And who is afraid of the Mongs? They will not fight at night. We all know this. They are afraid of the corpse spirits, the barbarians.'
Command voice: 'All of this chatter convinces me that you do not value your heads at all. So be it. We shall return behind the wall and I will have the Empress sign the order for your executions.'
Muttering. Grumbling. Blade held his breath. Someone kicked him in the chest. Blade closed his eyes and played dead as he never had before.
No use. Light fluttered over him, a man bent to look at him, then called out softly. 'Here he is. Over here. I have found the Emperor Mei.'
If they take off the helmet, Blade thought, and examine me carefully, I've had it. He had no weapon and there must be at least six of them. Maybe he would have time to start talking - maybe—
Command voice was just over him now. 'Yes. That is the Emperor. See the chain of office. Put him on the litter and let us go. Hurry. I do not fear Mongs but those corpse-eating apes make me nervous.'
Richard Blade could be, when the occasion called for it, a superb actor. It had stood him in good stead many times and it did now. He now gave a terrific performance as the corpse of one Emperor Mei, deceased, whose widow, the Empress Mei, wanted him back to honor him. And this occasioned laughter? His brain, even as they carried his big body off the field of battle on a litter, began to click over like one of Lord L's lesser computers. He was getting into something. But what?
It was a long ride. One of the litter bearers grumbled: 'I do not remember the Emperor as being so heavy. Or do the dead weigh more than the living?'
'You are a fool,' said the command voice. 'Desist. The sooner this task is over the sooner we can all get to our beds.'
'And our women.' Laughter.
Blade dared not risk even a peep. He attuned all his senses, and was aware of being taken through a postern gate in the great wall. Then through a long, echoing tunnel where torches flared and smelled of a pungent incense that Blade could not identify.
Out of the tunnel and into open air again. Into semidarkness. Only four litter bearers and the command voice behind at some distance. Blade risked a look.
He was being carried across a vast formal garden. There were flowering shrubs and trees shaped into the forms of men and beasts and a long, shimmering black pool that cast back the reflection of the torches. They were skirting the pool, on a paved path. Blade glanced down and would have sworn the path was made of jade blocks.
Behind them the command voice said: 'Hurry, you idiots. I want my dinner and bed, and the Empress wants her dead husband.'
One of the bearers laughed. 'Why?' More laughter.
Blade began to wonder again about this Empress Mei to whom he was soon to be introduced - as a corpse.
Command voice said: 'That is none of your affair. And long noses have been cut off. Heed.'
Blade restrained a grimace. They seemed to do an awful lot of cutting off of one thing or another.
A man said: 'I have never seen the Empress, sir. Do you think?'
'No! The Jade Empress is not for your eyes, you fool. She will not enter the Temple of the Dead until we leave. Now will you get on!'
They marched between a long line of flaring torches and Blade closed his eyes again. Not before he had seen a tier of gracefully ascending steps that led to a tomblike structure. Both stairs and tomb cast back glittering emerald sparks as the torchlight laved them. Everything behind this wall seemed to be made of jade.
The Jade Empress! Blade was in peril and knew it. He could very well be dead within a minute, yet he confessed to a growing desire to see what this lady was like.
He was carried into the large room and placed on a jade altar at one end. The only light came from a single torch in a sconce high up on the wall. They left him there and tramped out.
Silence. The torch guttered in a draft that wafted across the long room, bringing with it the same cloying fragrance Blade had noted before. The torch leaped and sputtered and cast its long flame sideways, tossing shadows over the altar. A door had been opened.
Blade lay on his back, his head turned just enough to allow him to survey the long room. There was nothing behind him but the blank cold wall. She must come from the opposite direction.
