“I wanted to say… look, I know you know this, but… gracias. Gracias, amigo.”
He held out his hand, hoping Pero would rise from his bed and shake it. Pero, though, simply stared at William’s hand darkly for a moment, and then glanced up into his face.
“So sweet,” he grunted. “You feel good, huh? A full heart for you.” This time he did rise from his bed, but he was scowling, confrontational. “Maybe you sing a little song, eh? I’ll join you. We’ll sing together about how you saved the grateful Chinos.”
William was taken aback by Pero’s hostility. “You saw what happened out there—and yet this is what you say?”
“I see black powder,” Pero muttered. “I see a man forget his friends.”
William’s ire was rising now. He snapped, “The black powder’s not going anywhere.”
Pero grinned, but it was a nasty grin; there was no warmth in it. Jabbing a finger into William’s chest, he said, “What’s going nowhere, my friend, is you.” The grin became a sneer. “You’ll never get what you want from this. You think they see you as some kind of hero? A man of virtue? Maybe you can fool them, but I know what you are. You know what you are. A thief. A liar. And a killer. And you can never undo the things you have done. And you will never be anything—”
Despite his sore ribs, William moved with lightning speed. Fuelled by rage he smashed a forearm into Pero’s throat and slammed him into the wall. Even as Pero was reaching for the knife at his belt, William’s other hand was already there, whipping the knife from its sheath, tossing it behind him. As it clinked and clattered across the stone floor, William leaned forward, increasing the pressure on Pero’s windpipe. Leaning in close as Pero gasped for breath, he hissed, “Don’t ever forget what I’m capable of.”
With a final shove he released Pero and stepped back. Pero slumped against the stone wall, his legs sliding from under him. He rubbed his throat ruefully, trying to massage some life back into it. Then he looked up at William and grinned again, and this time the grin was genuine.
“Good to see you again, amigo,” he croaked.
William glared at him. Though Pero had meant it as a compliment, he didn’t appreciate his implication that the real William, the ruthless warrior, the beast, was lurking just beneath the surface. No, he was a better man than that. He would be a better man than that. Here among the Nameless Order he was discovering there were greater motivations in life than selfishness and greed. There was courage and friendship and loyalty. There was Xin ren.
Leaving Pero rubbing his throat, he turned and walked away.
General Shao’s open casket lay in the center of the command tower. The General was laid out in full armour, his hands crossed over his stomach with his sword resting beneath them. The flag of the Nameless Order had been draped over his body, though folded back at the waist. Lin Mae knelt beside the casket, head bowed, her lips moving silently as she paid her last respects.
At last she rose and looked down at the General’s peaceful face for a moment. Then she reached out and gently pulled the flag all the way up his body, eventually concealing his features from view. Stepping back, she closed the casket and walked slowly to the edge of the command tower. Below her, lined up on the Wall in their various corps, thousands of soldiers were standing in perfect formation, wearing white mourning headbands and holding long lances, at the ends of which small white pennants fluttered in the night breeze.
William stood transfixed in the dark doorway of one of the exit towers, watching the ceremony. As ever, he was overawed by the majesty and dignity of the spectacle before him. He saw Lin Mae, having closed the General’s casket, descend the stairs of the tower and emerge from it to stand beside Wang. In front of Wang was a platform of some kind, on which were arranged rows and rows of what from William’s vantage point appeared to be large white gourds. He looked on curiously as Wang approached the gourds and bent over them. What was he doing?
Then he gasped as the first of the “gourds”, lit from within by a soft golden glow, rose into the air. The soldiers nearest the platform began to file forward, and within seconds more of the “gourds” began to rise, one after another, taking to the air and floating out over the Wall and across the desert. As the night sky became illuminated with floating balls of light, William suddenly realized his mistake. These were not gourds at all, but paper lanterns. Looking closer, he saw that beneath each lantern was suspended a small metal dish of black powder, which each soldier was taking his or her turn to ignite.
“As if by magic, eh?” murmured a voice beside him. William turned to see Ballard standing there. The man was smiling wolfishly, his thin hands clasped together. “The heat from the fire changes the air and makes the lanterns rise. As the fire dies and the air cools, they descend.” His voice became a purr of enticement. “Black powder magic!”
William turned back to look at the lanterns. Dozens, perhaps hundreds of them, had taken to the air now, and were sailing away through the night, like the ascending spirits of the dead. It was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen.
Black powder magic. Yes, this was magic. This whole place was a land of enchantment, complete with its fairy princess, its wizard and its ogres.
As if to consolidate the fantasy in his head, a row of eight Bear Corps soldiers began to beat their drums in a slow, almost soporific rhythm. After a few moments one of the soldiers began to chant words that William didn’t understand, but which nevertheless struck him as ancient and soothing—a song of peace and beauty, perhaps a touching lament for the dead.
The soldier’s voice was deep and husky, and soon it was joined by other voices, as more and more soldiers took up the song, a rising chorus that spread and echoed all along the Great Wall. William felt a tingle run through his body as he listened to the song of the warriors – a song of love and sorrow and longing – drift out across the vast black desert and into the endless heavens above.
16
The drums were pounding, not slow and steady this time, but hard and fast, calling every soldier along the Wall to their battle stations.
Flanked by Xiao Yu and Li Qing, and escorted by a retinue of Deer Corps cavalry, Lin Mae rode hard and fast along the top of the Wall, leaning forward over her snow-white horse, which was lathered with sweat, its hooves pounding the stony ground.
She was General of the Nameless Order, which meant she was responsible not only for the safety of the million people who lived in Bianliang, but also of the many millions of people who lived in the cities and countries beyond it.
She was ultimately responsible for maintaining the integrity of the Wall, their barrier against the Tao Tei.
But if what she was hearing was true, she had already failed in her duty…
Soldiers from every corps were rushing to their posts, lining up along the Wall, their shields and long lances gleaming in the firelight.
In a corridor in the fortress, Ballard slunk back into a shadowy alcove as a squadron of Bear Corps warriors rushed past, their boots clattering on the stone floor.
Only when the echoes of their footsteps had faded did he cautiously emerge—to see a dark figure approaching from another walkway that bisected the corridor. Instead of hiding from this figure, he hurried forward to greet him, shrugging to alter the position of the heavy sack whose strap was cutting into his shoulder.