“What fortuitous timing, gentlemen!” he cried. “I’ve been wandering all day looking for new partners!”
He kept his smile fixed to his face as the brigands closed in.
It had gone on for a long time—the explosions, the fierce, brief flashes of flame—but now it seemed to be coming to an end. William still heard the occasional shattering boom, some of which seemed quite close, some much further away, and saw white flashes burst like lightning bolts into his cell, but they were more spaced out now, the periods of darkness between one explosion and the next more protracted.
He still couldn’t work out what had been happening, why the Nameless Order had taken to the sky in vast balloons. Had they decided to attack the Jade Mountain from above, to drop black powder into its craters and tunnels, to split it apart? But if so, why? Why take the fight to the Tao Tei? The Wall was a powerful war machine, and a fearsome defence mechanism, and according to Wang, all they had to do was hold out for a few more days and the threat would be over for another sixty years.
Something must have happened, he decided. Something drastic that had necessitated a change of tactics. But what? Was it something to do with Pero and Ballard? Had they used the black powder to… to breach the Wall in some way, perhaps as a distraction to allow them to escape? But that didn’t make sense either. That still didn’t account for the balloons.
William was still trying to work it out when the key grated in the lock of his cell and the door was shoved grittily open.
He wafted dust away from his face and squinted against the light. It wasn’t particularly bright light, merely the pine oil lanterns burning in the corridor, but after being shut up in the dark for several hours, it was like staring into the sun.
As far as he could make out, there were three soldiers standing in the doorway. Shielding his eyes he saw they were Bear Corps warriors—all big men and all staring at him without expression.
Why were they here? Was his presence required? Were they bringing food? Or had Lin Mae decided to execute him, after all? One of them stepped into his cell and beckoned him with a crooked figure and a guttural phase that he didn’t understand. Still blinking, he stepped into the corridor, the Bear Corps soldiers moving back to give him room. He expected to be grabbed, perhaps even chained, but to his surprise one of the soldiers waved a hand at him as if he was a stray dog they were trying to shoo away.
“I can go?” he said. “Go where?”
One of the soldiers barked something at him in Mandarin.
“Where’s Lin Mae?” he asked. “Lin Mae? Wang?”
The soldiers conferred among themselves, then one of them jabbed a finger downwards, as though pointing vaguely at the floor.
William knew what the man meant. Lin Mae, or Wang, or maybe both, were out on the Wall. He began to jog in that direction, his mind whirling. To be freed from his cell and apparently given the run of the fortress—essentially to be granted a free pardon. What was going on?
When he stepped out of the tower exit on to the top of the Wall, he was shocked by the scene of devastation before him. He stood for a moment, trying to take it in. The desert beyond the Wall was strewn with wreckage. There were burning balloons, like vast, crumpled animal skins, there were smashed gondolas, and there were twisted, blackened bodies. Not only that, but some of the balloons had clearly lost control as soon as they had lifted off, and had either blown back against the towers or exploded directly overhead. A huge, burning balloon skin was draped over the parapet less than thirty feet away, a cloud of black, stinking smoke rising from it and curling into the night. Drooping from the top of the Northern Tower, from which he had just emerged, was a smashed and smoldering gondola, a body, which had been twisted in its severed ropes, dangling beneath it like a charred puppet.
There were other bodies, or parts of bodies, lying around on the plaza area directly in front of him too, as well as a great many unidentifiable bits of twisted, burning debris. He looked to his right, but with the smoke and the darkness it was hard to see if anyone was still alive out here. And then, through a greasy pall of smoke, he saw someone moving, and he started heading in their direction, picking his way through the grisly obstacle course that lay between them. The smoke cleared for a moment, and he saw the figure was not a soldier but a small man in dark, simple robes and a brimless hat.
“Hey!” he shouted. “Wang! What happened? Wait!”
But if Wang heard him, he chose not to acknowledge him.
William coughed to shift a tickle of smoke in his throat and shouted again, louder this time.
And this time Wang did stop and turn. His face was white and drawn. He looked both haunted and impatient.
As if unsurprised to see William there, he said, “We have failed. The Tao Tei are in the city.”
William looked at him, stunned. “What? How?”
But Wang ignored his question. Like the Bear Corps warrior a few minutes earlier, he wafted a dismissive hand, as though shooing away a troublesome animal. “You are free. Free to leave. Take what you wish and go. This was the General’s final order.” As though as an afterthought, he gave a short bow. “Good luck to you.”
William stared at him, wide-eyed. Final order? What did Wang mean? Once again he took in the carnage around them: the bodies, the burning debris, both here and strewn across the desert. In the night sky, far away, in the direction of Bianliang, he saw winking flames. More balloons? Those that hadn’t crashed and burned? That were still heading towards the city?
When he turned back, Wang was walking away. William saw that further along the Wall, in a space that had been cleared of debris, a final balloon was being inflated.
“Where is she?” he called.
Wang kept walking.
“Hey!” William broke into a run, going after him. He thought of reaching out, grabbing Wang’s shoulder, but he didn’t. Instead he said, “Lin Mae? Where is she?”
Wang stopped and sighed. He turned to face William again. Gesturing at the sky he said wearily, “Out there somewhere. Who knows?”
“Has she gone to fight? Is there still a fight to be had?”
Wang shrugged and turned away again, his face exhausted, defeated.
William ran past him, around him, halted directly in front of him and actually did put out a hand to stop him this time. Before Wang could react he said, “Tell me—is there a chance?”
“To win? You mean, do I have a plan?”
William nodded.
“We must kill the Queen. Kill the Queen or die together.” The little man shrugged, grimaced, as though to convey how utterly hopeless the situation was. “So if I were you, I would make haste and be gone. Tell the world what you have seen. Tell them what is coming.”
William heard footsteps behind him, felt hands grabbing his arms, pulling him away from Wang. They weren’t overly rough with him, but they weren’t gentle either. Wang gave him a sympathetic look, then hurried towards the balloon. It was three-quarters inflated now. There was just time for him to climb aboard before it drifted away.
“I’ll need my bow,” William shouted at Wang’s retreating figure.
Wang’s shoulders twitched briefly—he had clearly heard—but he kept walking.
William raised his voice. “If I’m to join you, I’ll need my bow!”
Wang stopped, turned. There was a look of astonishment on his face.
“What?” he said quietly, nodding at William’s captors to release him.
William walked forward. He smiled. “Be honest,” he said softly. “Have you a better soldier than me?”