“It will be so, General,” he said. “The soldiers of the Nameless Order will stand firm. The Wall must not fall. We will defeat the Tao Tei.” His voice cracked, but with a gargantuan effort he held himself together. “Rest in peace, sir.”
Kneeling beside the stretcher, he and the other commanders bowed their heads. All around them, the action spreading out like ripples from the center of a pond, every soldier present did the same. When the entire force was kneeling, an echoing rumble rolled through the crowd, gradually rising in volume and clarity.
“Rest in peace, General.”
Lin Mae saw the General smile and close his eyes. His chest rose and fell one more time. Then his ravaged body relaxed as the life slipped away from him, and he was gone.
Wiping away her tears, swallowing her emotions, Lin Mae slowly rose to her feet and turned to address the silent, kneeling throng.
“There will be time for memories and offerings later. Today we honor General Shao by letting our weapons do the talking.” Her voice rose, ringing out in the night. “To your stations!”
Immediately the kneeling soldiers rose in unison and began to move in all directions, heading to their various posts. Within a minute or less the area around the General’s stretcher was clear. One by one the commanders rose, turned to Lin Mae and solemnly made a gesture of fealty. After Lin Mae had bowed to each in turn and the commanders had silently filed away, she gestured to the stretcher bearers, a pair of Bear Corps warriors standing to attention nearby, and indicated that they once again pick up the General’s stretcher and follow her into the fortress.
Observing proceedings from the rear of the now thinning crowd of soldiers, Pero turned to William.
“A woman?” he said scornfully.
But William said nothing. In truth he had been impressed, even overwhelmed, by the manner and consequences of the General’s death. Never had he known such bravery as the General had shown in his last moments. Never had he experienced such a sense of community among warriors, or encountered such dignity in grief, such genuine compassion and love for a fallen leader. And as a soldier he had been overawed by the way every single member of the Nameless Order had accepted without question their dying leader’s final wish, by their instant deference to their new commander Lin Mae, and by the discipline they had shown in instantly obeying her orders and returning to their duties.
He understood Pero’s disbelief. A few days ago he would even have shared it. But now, having seen Lin Mae in action, and witnessed the level of respect she was shown by every other warrior on the Wall, he honestly couldn’t imagine anyone but Lin Mae taking on the General’s mantle. He watched her, spellbound, until she had disappeared from view—and it was only then that he realized Shen, the man he had previously seen behind his desk in the Hall of Knowledge, was standing at his shoulder.
Shen’s voice was curt. He barked a string of syllables at them, only one of which William understood—the name Wang.
Before he could respond two hulking Bear Corps soldiers were lumbering forward, prodding both him and Pero in their backs, a silent but unmistakable command that they should follow Shen, who had already turned and was marching away. William flashed a look at Pero—What the hell have we done now? But Pero, scowling, looked just as mystified as he was.
As they were ushered through the now rapidly dispersing throng of soldiers, William caught a glimpse of Ballard, who had disconnected himself from their company (possibly when Shen appeared) and was now skulking in a shadowy alcove nearby. Ballard too looked disconcerted, and William knew instantly that the man was wondering whether their earlier conversation could somehow have been overheard, their escape plans discovered.
Then he was prodded once more in the back, hard enough to make him stumble, and biting back a rejoinder he focused on Shen, who was moving with a kind of fussy imperiousness towards the nearest tower opening. With their menacing escorts looming behind them, William and Pero followed their guide into the gloomy interior of the Wall.
Lin Mae, walking beside the General’s stretcher through the labyrinthine corridors of the fortress, still protective of her leader even in death, looked up as Strategist Wang appeared around the corner ahead and hurried towards her. As Wang squeezed past the stretcher bearers in the narrow corridor, Lin Mae saw tears in his eyes, glistening with reflected lamp light. The expression on his face, though, was not one of grief, but of suppressed urgency, even excitement.
Reaching her, he bowed in fealty, and then to her surprise leaned forward to whisper something in her ear. She listened for a moment and then straightened up, the urgency on Wang’s face now mirrored in her own delicate features. Knowing there would be runners nearby, ready and waiting to carry her orders far and wide, she shouted, “All Commanders and First Officers to the Great Hall! Immediately!”
13
The Great Hall at night was illuminated by hundreds of pine oil lanterns. The effect of the softly glowing light, reflected in the brightly colored armour of the assembled mass of officers, and of the wavering shadows that rose and fell on the walls like a soft grey tide, gave the vast room a tranquil, almost holy atmosphere. The fact that Shen was reading solemnly from a scroll of parchment spread out on the table, with Lin Mae and her staff silently surrounding him and listening intently to his every word, only added to that impression. Across the room, standing a little apart from everyone else, William and Pero were listening to Ballard’s murmured translation of Shen’s words.
Despite the brusque treatment they had received, the two men had quickly realized they were not in trouble. Indeed, their presence in the Great Hall might even be construed as a courtesy, if not a privilege, extended to them by Lin Mae—though William suspected there was a more specific reason why they were here, one that had not yet been revealed to them.
In the meantime Ballard had revealed that Shen was reading from a nine-hundred-year-old battle report. In a low voice he was now translating the imperial liaison officer’s words.
“…at the Hansha Gate, in the middle of a strong wave of Tao Tei, three beasts mounted the Wall. They killed many men as they came forward, threatening our flanks and raising panic…”
He listened a moment, head cocked to one side, and then he resumed.
“And then, by the Grace of the Ancient Gods, the beasts stopped and sat peacefully, never moving as we slaughtered them…”
Ballard fell silent a few moments after Shen. William looked up, to see that Wang, with Lin Mae and her commanders watching the strategist with interest, was walking determinedly towards them.
Still some twenty feet away he came to a halt and said, “I am the Tao Tei. The river is behind me.” He gestured vaguely over his shoulder. “I will come towards you. I want to know the exact distance that was between you and the Tao Tei when you made your attack.”
All at once William realized why their presence had been required here. This was an experiment. Strategist Wang was trying to recreate the moment when William had killed the first Tao Tei out at the camp in the desert, presumably in the hope of finding out exactly how and why he had managed it.
William nodded and stepped forward. Wang began to walk slowly towards him. When he had halved the distance between the two of them, William held up a hand, indicating that Wang was standing at roughly the right distance.
“And the beast stood its ground as I am?” Wang asked.
“A bit larger—but yes,” said William.
Wang looked more than satisfied—in fact, he looked positively energized. Turning smartly he strode back to the table and picked up an ancient-looking book that was sitting there. As he began to speak to Lin Mae and the assembled officers, Ballard translated his words.