Still William said nothing.
Glancing at him, Ballard said, “Where’s your bow?” Then to Pero, “Where’s his bow?”
But Pero didn’t reply, didn’t even look Ballard’s way. Instead his welcoming smile was fading, becoming a frown. Almost wistfully he said, “Last chance, amigo.”
William spoke for the first time. His voice was blunt. “They need us here.”
Pero threw back his head and laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. “Oh, they need more than us. These people are doomed.”
Still crouched in the doorway of Wang’s secret cupboard, Ballard backed up Pero’s words. “Don’t be a fool, man!”
For the first time, William registered Ballard’s presence. He swung round on the little man in his stolen Bear Corps armour, his eyes blazing.
“I’ve been a fool!” he thundered, causing Ballard to recoil. “And I’m done with it!”
Pero raised his hands. “Brother, please…”
“Bouchard called it,” William snapped. “We’ve been fighting for nothing. Fighting for greed and gods, and all for shit! This is the first war I’ve ever seen that was worth it.”
“Nothing?” sneered Pero. “Nothing is what we leave behind when we die.” He took a breath, made one last appeal. “Come on, let’s take our prize and whore away the days we have left. Together.”
William shook his head. “I can’t do that now.”
Pero looked at him a moment, as if trying to find the man he had once known. Spreading his hands expansively, he cried, “William! My filthy bastard friend! Think of it! What wall, what city, what land could we not take with black powder in our saddlebags? Who would dare to stop us?” He had tears in his eyes now. For him, this was the culmination of a long, hard journey, the fulfillment of his wildest dreams. “We win, amigo. After all the pain and cold and blood and shit, we win!”
He looked at William hopefully. Had he persuaded him? Had he managed to bring him to his senses? William looked as though he was pondering Pero’s words. But so intent on each other were the two men that neither of them noticed Ballard slip into Wang’s cupboard and grab a knife from the shelf. Neither of them noticed him creep across to a rope that was stretched taut, holding upright a huge bookcase that was standing directly behind William. Pero only noticed him, as a flash of movement in his peripheral vision, when Ballard suddenly slashed down with the knife.
But by then it was too late. Too late to find out what William’s decision might have been. Too late to attempt to persuade him further should he still say no.
Because the bookcase was falling, scrolls and bronze instruments already sliding out of it, raining down on William as he half-turned. Pero saw William’s eyes widen, saw him half-raise a hand…
…then the bookcase crashed down, smashing William down with it, pinning him to the floor.
Once again, dust rose in a great cloud, the crash reverberating through the length and breadth of the high-ceilinged room. Shielding his mouth and nose with his raised arm, Pero moved forward. He felt regret, but also relief that the problem had been taken out of his hands. He saw blood on William’s forehead, his closed eyes.
“Is he dead?” asked Ballard.
Pero didn’t know, but he bluffed, “It’ll take a lot more than that to kill him.”
He looked at Ballard, whose eyes were glinting, and who was still holding the knife in his hand. He knew what the skinny man was thinking, and although Pero was disappointed that his friend had proven himself a weak and lovesick fool, even now he couldn’t bear the thought of William being finished off in his sleep by this cowardly weasel of a man.
Dismissively he said, “Leave him. Let them kill him.”
Ballard gave him a long, hard stare. Then he nodded and threw away the knife.
18
As the dawn sun smeared its light across the top of the distant hills, Lin Mae once again stood at the mouth of the vast tunnel that the Tao Tei had bored through the base of the Wall, staring broodingly into its depths. She hadn’t slept, but she didn’t feel tired. There was so much at stake, so much anger and fear coursing through her system that rest was the last thing on her mind.
To her right stood Wang, who had changed out of the grime-smeared clothes he had been wearing during his exploration of the tunnel the previous evening, and who now looked as dapper and composed as ever, despite the desperate situation. To her left were Commanders Deng and Wu, their capes flapping in the wind. Deng looked shell-shocked, as if he could barely process the horrifying magnitude of the situation, whereas Wu wore a deep scowl, as though incensed at the sheer insolence of their enemy.
Wang was speaking, his voice clipped, with an almost admonishing tone to it. “As I have been trying to tell you, the Tao Tei change constantly. They evolve. All of the attacks up to now have been a diversion while they created this tunnel.”
He glanced at Lin Mae and her commanders, but they had nothing to say. They simply continued to stare into the tunnel’s black depths, as if unable to believe what they were seeing. He knew what they were thinking, though, because it was what he was thinking too. It was what everyone who knew about the tunnel was thinking. He sighed and decided to vocalize it, if only to bring it into the open.
“If the Tao Tei reach Bianliang, they will have unlimited food. There will be no containing them then.”
Wu scowled at him, as if he had unveiled a dirty secret—or raised a problem to which there was no solution.
“It will take our army two days to reach Bianliang, even if we sprint all the way,” Deng said miserably. “The Tao Tei run twice our speed. If that’s where they’re heading, we’ll never catch them.”
Lin Mae looked half-way between frustration and despair. Wang felt sorry for her. This was not the best way to start her tenure as General—not that this situation was her fault. Thoughtfully he eyed the way the capes of the General and her two commanders were curling and snapping at their backs.
“The wind is strong,” he said.
All three soldiers turned to look at him. Lin Mae’s eyes widened. She knew what he was thinking.
“It blows south, and it will continue to do so all day tomorrow.” He shrugged, as though apologizing. “We have to use the balloons. It is our only hope.”
There was a tense, heavy silence. Then Lin Mae sighed. “If it worked, how long would it take to reach Bianliang?”
She was looking at Wang, so she didn’t see the incredulous looks that flashed in her direction from her two commanders. They couldn’t believe she was humoring him, and he didn’t blame them. He’d have felt the same in their shoes. On the other hand, he didn’t blame Lin Mae for clutching at straws either. After all, as he had already pointed out, what other plan did they have?
“With a wind like this?” he said, raising a finger to test it. “Six hours?”
Commander Wu could contain himself no longer. “Yes!” he snapped. “For those who manage to stay alive.” Turning to Lin Mae, he said, “Commander… they have never been tested.”
Lin Mae looked at him for a long time. Her gaze was steady and her voice like steel when she spoke. “Then we will test them when we use them. Make it so!”
When William woke up, his first thought was to wonder whether he was still asleep and dreaming. The last thing he remembered was speaking to Pero in the Hall of Knowledge, before hearing an almighty crash and everything going black.
Now, though, he appeared to be in the Great Hall, chained to a bench, his body aching and the taste of blood in his mouth. Moreover the room seemed to be a hive of activity, though what the Tiger Corps soldiers on the other side of the vast space were doing he had no idea. As far as he could tell, they appeared to be stitching together giant masses of pig or sheep skin. Feeling something trickling into his eyes—blood or sweat; it stung at any rate—William closed them, hoping that when he opened them again he’d be able to shake himself free of the odd dreams he was having and remember what had happened. But when he next came round it was to the clank of something heavy dropping or stamping down next to him. He opened his bleary eyes, squinted against the light, and through the haze saw something both strange and ominous. Beside his prone body was what appeared to be a guillotine, but one whose blade was in the shape of a snarling, elaborately molded tiger’s head with jagged teeth.