“Nothing?” Ballard asked.
Pero shook his head irritably.
Ballard pulled a sour face. “Do we still need his bow?”
Pero was still walking, and Ballard scuttled to keep up with him. “We wait no longer.”
“But how do we know he won’t betray us?” Ballard asked.
“We don’t.”
“He must know that they’ll kill him. Now that he’s seen the black powder, they’ll kill him no matter what.”
Pero flashed Ballard a dark look. “The time they spend killing him is time they’re not chasing us,” he said grimly.
They hurried on.
Illuminated by thousands of torches, the Imperial Palace at Bianliang was breathtaking in its beauty and opulence. Greatest wonder of the Ancient World, seat of power for the Middle Kingdom, it was the crown jewel in the heart of the city, its every wall and turret, its every pillar, gate and fountain burnished with gold and carved with intricately elaborate designs.
As Shen led the covered wagon and his escort of purple-clad Deer Corps warriors through the crowded, torch-lit streets of the city, he felt like a homecoming hero. The citizens of Bianliang gaped at him, many bowing, as he rode past. Shen, for his part, primped and preened, offering a haughty nod here, a dismissive waft of the hand there.
The caravan wound through the streets until eventually it came to a wide walkway leading up to the massive golden gates of the Imperial Palace. As they approached the gates they swung wide, a squadron of Imperial Guards in magnificent red and gold armour filing out to flank the caravan on both sides and usher it through to the palace courtyard.
Waiting in the courtyard were what Shen recognized as the dozen or so men that constituted the Emperor’s Council. He had once looked up to these men, had aspired to be one of them, but now he regarded them with lofty disdain. They were lackeys and sycophants, interested only in gaining favor with the Emperor. But they had lived cossetted lives, achieving nothing, whereas he had been to the Wall, and returned to Bianliang with a captured Tao Tei. As the Council members jockeyed for position, he smirked, thinking of what the Emperor would say when he saw his prize, of how he, Shen, would be rewarded.
From now on he would be regarded with awe and respect. He would become known in the city as the man who could tame monsters.
William hurried towards his barracks. He had come to a decision. Hearing footsteps in the corridor ahead, he ducked behind a pillar. A few seconds later there was a flash of red in the gloom of the corridor and a squad of Eagle Corps warriors sprinted past, heading in the direction of the pounding drums. As soon as they had rounded the corridor and disappeared from view, William emerged from his hiding place and hurried on.
Pero held a torch as Ballard removed the loose stone from the foot of the wall beside his bed. On his knees he stuck his hand into the hole, then leaned forward to push it deeper. He had a look of distracted concentration on his face as he probed about in the gap beyond the wall, and then his eyes widened in triumph. He pulled out one leather bag about the size of his hand, then another, and another. By the time he had finished he had eight leather bags stacked up on the floor, covered with cobwebs and dust.
As he brushed dust from his arm, Pero eagerly lowered the torch to examine the bags more closely.
With a grunt of disdain, Ballard shoved his hand away, causing the torch flame to flap and sending shadows cavorting crazily up the walls.
“Careful with that,” he hissed, and nodded at the bags. “They’re full of powder.”
William rushed into the room he shared with Pero, but saw he was already too late.
Not only was Pero not here, but all his weapons and his few belongings had gone too.
A Bear Corps warrior and a Tiger Corps warrior descended a flight of stairs and began to move quickly along the corridor ahead of them. At the sound of approaching footsteps they scuttled into a nearby alcove and crouched down among the shadows.
Moments later a squadron of Tiger Corps warriors ran past, looking neither left not right. The soldiers hurried up the stairs with a deafening thunder of boots, whereupon the carved black bear’s head atop the concealed Bear Corps warrior’s helmet, its features frozen in a permanent snarl, emerged from the shadows, the face beneath it peering out cautiously.
The face belonged to Ballard. His companion in the yellow Tiger Corps armour was Pero. Both men were carrying heavy sacks, and knew that their disguise would not fool anyone for long. But if the armour deflected attention from them even for a moment, or gave them a few seconds’ grace should anyone question them, then the deception would be worth it. Any advantage was better than nothing, and at least the armour would give their bodies extra protection should they be attacked or fired upon.
They hurried on, Ballard leading them along a maze of corridors and down several more staircases. Eventually, ahead of them, they saw a large dark opening on their left, from beyond which came clattering and splashing sounds.
Ballard raised a hand and turned his head to whisper to Pero that this was the kitchen and that they should move past the entrance swiftly, keeping their faces concealed. Pero nodded and the two men marched boldly forward. As they passed the kitchen entrance, Pero glimpsed a forlorn-looking figure in Bear Corps armour washing dishes in a vast sink, dozens of dirty plates and bowls stacked up on his left. As the figure turned to grab another pile of bowls, oblivious to their presence, Pero glimpsed his face and wondered why he looked familiar. The question nagged at him until, a couple of minutes later, he suddenly remembered where he had seen the boy before. He had been the young Bear Corps warrior who had misplaced the keys to the stockade the day he and William had been taken prisoner.
How the mighty have fallen, he thought with a smile.
Shen stood beside the covered cage in the Main Hall of the Imperial Palace. Ahead of him a flight of marble steps led up to a magnificent golden throne entwined with carved dragons. The Emperor sat on the throne in his golden robes and crown, a boy of fourteen with dark, intelligent eyes but a bored, imperious expression on his face.
Surrounding Shen and the cage was a squadron of Imperial Guards, lances poised, faces tense and alert. Flanking the throne and kneeling on the steps, were the members of the Imperial Council and a collection of eunuchs and courtiers, the ladies in their deathly-white make up fanning themselves furiously, as if pre-empting the swoon that might result from the unveiling of the cage.
Shen looked up at the Emperor, awaiting his response. After perhaps a minute in which no one said anything, the Emperor rose from his seat and began to slowly descend the marble steps. His every movement seemed to send a ripple of excitement through his entourage. His courtiers dropped to their knees as he passed by, each of them bowing so low that their foreheads touched the floor. The boy Emperor ignored them, instead running his eyes over the covered cage, before finally turning his attention to Shen.
Despite his impassive expression, Shen saw excitement dancing in the Emperor’s eyes.
Huge spheres of resin, covered in thick oil and set alight, were lowered on ropes from the Western Tower. They bumped against the Wall a couple of times as they descended, sending sparks flying into the night. Eventually they reached their destination, coming to rest on the sand, a circle of fiercely burning fireballs.
Next, a dozen large metal hooks were latched on to the lip of the parapet, attached to ropes, which were flung down to the ground below. Once all the hooks were in position, Lin Mae clambered up on to the parapet, coiled one of the ropes around her leg and flung herself over the side. With practiced ease she dived headfirst towards the ground, aiming for the center of the burning circle. Within seconds eleven other Crane Corps warriors, their blue armour flashing in the firelight, were diving after her.