She remembered the final moments of her aunt’s life, how Edwina had been forced to die in order to unleash the plague cure on the world. Alice had demanded to know why the world seemed to work on all or nothing, why there was no way to win without so much sacrifice. Aunt Edwina had promised to ask God. Alice herself intended to have a few choice words with the Almighty about the rightness of a world that endangered the lives of children in order to save everyone else.
Lady Orchid studied the stairs. They were marble inlaid with Chinese characters in jade, and they meant nothing to Alice, though the workmanship was absolutely stunning. It seemed a terrible shame to hide such lovely art in the dark on the chance that a single man might tread on it. Gavin would have thoroughly appreciated it.
Gavin. Alice climbed back onto the dragon and glanced upward. Where on earth was Gavin? She had been concentrating on the current plan so she wouldn’t have to think about him haring off-flying off-and leaving her. A strange mixture of anger and worry mingled inside her. She had no idea why he had left after that brass nightingale had sung that song-their song-to him. The voice had been eerily similar to Gavin’s, but it wasn’t his. Perhaps it was a trap, designed to send him into a clockwork fugue and lure him away. But a trap set by whom? And if it were, why hadn’t the person come after Alice as well? She carried the cure. She was the enemy to China. Who here was looking for him?
It couldn’t be his father. Could it?
She turned the idea over in her mind. It made a certain amount of sense. Gavin’s voice was similar to the one recorded in the bird, the way a son’s voice might be like his father’s. Gavin’s father had been an airman, and airmen traveled far and wide, so there was no reason the man shouldn’t be somewhere near a large city. If he were alive, he had to be somewhere, and why not Peking? More than one person had prophesied that Gavin would meet his father again, and although Alice had dismissed such things as superstition, some of them had mentioned a science that she hadn’t been able to follow. Perhaps they had been right after all.
Still, all the explanations in the world didn’t diminish their need for his help.
From her pocket she took the silver nightingale, the one she had thought unique in the world and only recently come to understand was only one of many. She pressed the left eye and murmured to it, “Gavin, where did you go? We need you.” That was stupid. Why was she holding back? She added, “I need you.”
She tossed the nightingale into the air. It sprang to life in the moonlight and fluttered away as Lady Orchid began a careful descent down the deadly stairs.
Still clutching the Ebony Chamber, Cixi finished the phrase to herself: “Under the blessing of dragons.” She reached the bottom, paused, and allowed herself a small sigh of relief. She hadn’t been sure of herself. She had teased the code for the staircase out of Xianfeng more than two years ago after some pillow time together, but she hadn’t been able to write it down and she hadn’t been completely certain of her memory.
She checked behind her. Zaichun was coming down. She wasn’t worried about him-his memory was excellent and he understood the consequences of making an error. The foreigners, on the other hand, were another matter entirely. Lieutenant Li and his soldiers, whom Cixi desperately needed on her side, were loyal only to the foreigners, so she couldn’t afford for any of them to die. It grated on her to work with barbarians; yet it was also fitting, using foreigners to further the ends of the Chinese Empire. And she did have to admit they had figured out the secret of the Ebony Chamber whereas she had not. Clearly Western thought had some merit to it. Kung was right-when Zaichun controlled the Jade Hand, she would have to open wider relations with the West. It wouldn’t mean abandoning everything Chinese for everything English-the very idea nauseated her-but there would be no harm in picking and choosing a few good concepts. This idea of encouraging girls to read, for example, had merit. Cixi’s mother had fought long and hard to teach her the characters, and if she had not known them, she would never have reached her current position. Reading opened doors. Perhaps Lady Michaels would be willing to stay on as an adviser. No, it would have to be Lieutenant Phipps-she spoke a proper language. And there was another intriguing idea: women with military titles. Reading might open doors, but the army smashed them down.
Li arrived at the bottom of the steps, followed by Phipps. Cixi noticed the way Lieutenant Li hovered over Phipps the same way a windup hummingbird hovered about a steel flower. Was either of them aware of it?
With a dreadful crunching sound, the dragon spiraled around the final turn of the staircase. Spikes leaped out of the staircase to snap and ping off the dragon’s feet and underbelly. Alice, her arms and legs tucked in close, sat in the precise center of the seat behind the dragon’s head. It came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs. Cixi backed away, holding the Ebony Chamber like a shield.
“There,” Alice said through Lieutenant Li. “And now we don’t have to worry about one of the soldiers making a mistake.”
“Lady Michaels can be. . direct,” Lieutenant Phipps added.
“I see.” Cixi’s fingers were white around the Ebony Chamber’s dark wood. “Is she aware that it will take one of the Dragon Men most of a week to repair all that? Not to mention the cost in silver?”
“I doubt she’ll much care.” Phipps touched her monocle. “I imagine she would say something about taking the throne requiring a few sacrifices.”
“That was funny.” Zaichun giggled. “She’s a dragon lady.”
“Indeed,” Cixi said as Alice moved the dragon aside for the soldiers.
“Are we going back home now, Mother?” Zaichun asked.
“We are, Little Cricket,” she told him, tearing her eyes away from the damage. “You will destroy the cruel man who has stolen your father’s throne and take your rightful place upon it.”
“Does that mean I’ll have to chop off my hand?”
Cixi hesitated. “You won’t have to do it yourself, my lucky cricket. It will happen with such speed, you won’t even feel it. And then you will wear the Jade Hand and be emperor of all China.”
“But. . I don’t want my hand to be chopped off.”
Anger flashed through Cixi, but she held herself in check. “I know you don’t. But I also know you are brave and that you are willing to make this sacrifice for the good of the empire.”
Zaichun bit his lip, but he nodded once.
“And,” Cixi added, “remember that the Jade Hand will allow you to command the Dragon Men. You can make them do whatever you want.”
“Anything at all?”
“Anything at all.”
“Can I make them sing the yellow duck song and then jump into the moat?”
While they were speaking, the rest of Lieutenant Li’s men came down the staircase. Nothing had gone truly wrong so far. If the Dao’s lessons were at all correct, that meant something would go terribly wrong later. Cixi shuddered to think what it might be.
The tunnel was high and wide, big enough to accommodate a train. Phosphorescent lanterns glowed at regular intervals, casting a bright white and blue light that made a kind of daylight underground. The floor bricks were red and gold, and landscapes painted on the walls and ceiling changed the claustrophobic underground feel into a pleasant garden stroll. The colors looked perfectly normal despite the strangely colored lighting, and Cixi happened to know it had taken months of experimentation with pigment to figure out how to make a tree appear the proper shade of green when lit by phosphorescent blue. Under normal light, leaves would appear a sickly yellow.