William knew, of course, that what this also meant was that in a few minutes he could be dead, his burning body hurtling towards the earth. He tried not to look at the charred corpses and still smoldering debris littering the top of the Wall and the desert plain beyond, tried to blot out his memories from earlier that day of the explosions and the screams he had heard from his cell, the flashes of light that had sizzled like rods of fire through the slit of his window.
At least if he died, it would be while pursuing a noble cause. Which was infinitely better than dying pointlessly for a crime he had not committed. He wondered where Lin Mae was now. Was she somewhere out there, still drifting towards Bianliang? He wondered where Pero was too, and how he and Ballard were shaping up as partners. He wondered which of them would kill the other first, and whether either of them would end up profiting from their misdemeanors.
Once, such questions would have invigorated him. Now, pursuing such an existence seemed pointless, devoid of both honor and worth.
Behind him, someone spoke his name, or something like it. He turned, as did Wang, to see Commander Wu standing there, resplendent in his shimmering yellow armour and flowing cape. In his arms he was carrying a full set of red Eagle Corps armour, a brace of red-feathered arrows in an Eagle Corps quiver clutched in his right hand. Almost shyly he offered them to William.
William was taken aback. “For me?”
Behind him the black powder was being pumped into the brazier, the flames roaring as the hot air rising from them filled the balloon. Wu gave a single decisive nod and Wang echoed the motion. A little overcome, William stepped forward and took the armour from Wu. Wu clasped his hands together in the traditional gesture of comradeship and respect.
“Xie, xie,” said William, trying to get the pronunciation right.
Wu smiled and nodded, and then at the sound of raised voices all three men turned towards the Northern Tower. Through the haze of smoke they saw two men standing there, apparently engaged in an argument. Both wore the black armour of a Bear Corps soldier. The smaller and younger of the two, William recognized as the kitchen orderly, who, by speaking up, had apparently saved his life. The smaller man had something in his hand, which the Bear Corps warrior was trying to take from him. William couldn’t see what it was at first, and then the smoke cleared a little and suddenly he recognized it.
It was his bow.
“What’s that man’s name?” William asked, pointing at the kitchen orderly.
Wang all but rolled his eyes. “That is Peng Yong.”
“He’s got my bow,” William said. “What’s going on?”
As if Peng Yong had heard, he shouted something across to the three men.
Wang said, “He says that if you wish to thank him, you must tell us to let him join us.”
Peng Yong was still shouting. Wang winced, but added, “He is begging you. He says that you owe him this honor.”
William looked at Peng Yong, who was still tussling fiercely with the Bear Corps warrior. He felt a sudden wave of almost brotherly affection towards him. Shrugging, he said, “Well, if he wants to come… why not?”
“Look at him,” replied Wang, as if that explained everything.
“The less to carry,” William said persuasively.
Wang almost smiled.
Although it was warm close to the brazier, it soon became cold when you moved away from it. They had been travelling now for several hours, and so far things were going well. They had got into a rhythm, Lin Mae and Xiao Yu taking turns to manipulate the ropes and keep them on course, Li Qing working the brazier. Although it was Li Qing who was closest to the source of heat, however, it was she, ironically, who was sitting with a blanket draped across her shoulders. This was because hers was a mainly sedentary role, whereas working the ropes took effort and strength. Having just completed her latest stint, Lin Mae was now taking a break, and hoping that the aches in her arms and back would have lessened by the time her turn came around again.
She stood at the prow of the gondola, looking out across the sky. In the darkness she had done her best to count the balloons spread out around them, and therefore knew that seventy-five (or thereabouts) of her fleet were still airborne. The balloons furthest away were visible only by the constant glow, and occasional flare, of their braziers. Indeed, the occasional hushed roar of the braziers was all she could hear this high above the ground.
If it hadn’t been such a risky way to travel, and if there hadn’t been such urgency to reach Bianliang before the Tao Tei laid waste to the city, the journey would have been almost enjoyable. Certainly the passing view was one that prompted a feeling of serenity, despite the fact that the balloons were travelling deceptively quickly—more quickly than a horse could gallop, for instance, or, most importantly, a Tao Tei could run.
All at once a flash of light from behind them lit up the sky, which was followed a split-second later by a distant boom. Lin Mae turned to see another balloon become a plummeting fireball, and felt yet another wrench in her stomach at the knowledge that more lives had been lost, that even now friends and colleagues, perhaps people she had known all her life, were hurtling in pain and terror towards the earth.
Then she felt an extra jolt as she remembered that Wang had been planning to oversee the entire launch, before boarding the very last balloon to lift off from the Wall. Had that been the last balloon she had just seen suffer a fiery demise? She scanned the horizon behind her. If not the very last, it had certainly been one of them.
The balloon that had gone down had been close enough to the one occupied by William, Wang and Peng Yong for the hot, buffeting wind of the explosion to rock their gondola. With William working the brazier (under instructions from Wang), and Wang himself at the ropes, they had managed to keep the craft on an even keel. Now, as they pulled smoothly away, William and Peng Yong silently watched the stricken balloon flailing towards the earth in flames. It was too dark to see what had become of the crew, but William knew there was no way they could have survived.
Glancing at Peng Yong, he saw that the boy was pale and very scared. William reached across and patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. Peng Yong looked startled for a moment. Then he smiled.
The ceiling of the Main Hall in the Imperial Palace was composed of panels of rare glass, which made it the perfect laboratory. Dominating the center of the opulently appointed room was the huge iron cage containing the captured Tao Tei. Despite the presence of dozens of scribes and assistants who were making notes, Imperial Councilors, courtiers and various other onlookers, all of whom were surrounding the cage in a wide circle, chattering or simply gawping, the Tao Tei was sitting placidly, its head down, its eyes glazed, its huge taloned paws resting between its knees.
The creature remained inert as Shen edged towards the cage holding a lacquered pole with a hook on the end. He was clearly nervous, but trying to fight it. This was his moment, after all. His moment to prove his worth, to make an impression on the Emperor’s court, and to be subsequently elevated into a position of influence and importance.
When, having walked up to the cage, he realized that the Tao Tei was still not paying him—or anything else—the slightest attention, his confidence grew a little. He drew himself up, standing straighter and squaring his shoulders. Extending the pole slowly through the bars of the cage, he tried to keep his hands steady as he hooked the noose around the creature’s neck, to which the magnet was attached, and started to lift it slowly and carefully up and over the creature’s head. He sucked in a sharp breath as the dangling black stone bumped against the Tao Tei’s snout, but it didn’t react.