Crane (19 page)

“Here comes Charles,” Seh said.

Hok lifted her head and saw Charles approaching. She could feel his heavy footfalls on the dock. Seh had obviously felt them, too.

Charles stopped in front of Hok and stood there,
sucking wind. Once he had caught his breath, he said, “I'm so glad you're here.”

Hok frowned. “I'm glad to see you, too, I suppose.”

Charles’ brow wrinkled. “You don't sound very glad. What's wrong?”

“You're a pirate, Charles,” Hok said. “How come you never told me?”

“I … I don't know,” Charles replied. “I guess I thought you knew.”

“Well, I didn't know,” Hok said. “My mother told me that you and Father worked for the Resistance. She said you transport things.”

“We do,” Charles said. “We transport
qiangs.
You at least knew that much, right?”

“So what if I did?” Hok asked.

“Where do you think the
qiangs
come from?”

“I have no idea.”

“They come from shipments we intercept along the Yellow River,” Charles said. “Shipments bound for the Emperor's troops. We take
qiangs
that would normally be used to kill innocent villagers and warrior monks and—”

“What do
you
use the
qiangs
for?” Hok interrupted in an icy tone.

“Nothing yet,” Charles replied.

“Nothing?” Hok said. She pointed to the two holes the pirates had shot in the bow of PawPaw's skiff. “You call
that
nothing?”

Charles looked at the
qiang
holes and his pale face grew even whiter. “I am so sorry, Hok. I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn't,” Hok said. “Just don't tell me that you and your pirate friends are doing ‘nothing’ with the
qiangs
you steal. I know better.”

“Hey!” Charles said. “I'm trying to apologize. Sometimes people make mistakes. Our men usually only fire upon people who attack them first.” He glanced again at the bow of PawPaw's skiff. “How did your boat get so banged up in the front?”

“We had an accident,” Seh replied.

“I see,” said Charles. He turned to Hok. “For your information, the bandits use our
qiangs,
too. I can't understand why you have a problem with pirates but don't seem to have a problem with bandits. We basically do the same thing. Your father can explain it better than I can. He's away on business but should return soon.”

Hok stared hard at Charles, frustrated. She wanted to know more, but she didn't want to ask.

Charles glanced at the armed men on the dock and sighed. He leaned toward Hok and lowered his voice. “We keep a few
qiangs
for our own uses, obviously, but we give the vast majority of them to Resistance members in several different regions. They are stockpiling them.”

Seh stepped closer to Hok and took her arm. “Why do you care so much about this Resistance, Charles?” he asked.

“Yes, Charles,” Hok said. “Why do you care?”

Charles looked suddenly hurt. “I care because your father cares, Hok. He's done more for me than
you can ever imagine. And before you even ask,
he
cares because your mother cares. So, if you have any more questions about that, you should talk to Bing. Right now, I'm just trying to help
you
“

Hok frowned.

“I'm trying to help your brothers, too,” Charles said. “What do you think I'm doing here in Jinan? Look.” He held out his hand.

Hok saw that the object he had been holding was a piece of rolled-up parchment.

“These postings are hanging on all of the Jinan message boards,” Charles said. “Your father's men saw them and sent word to your mother and me. I decided to come here and see if I could do anything to help.”

Charles unrolled the document and Hok's eyes widened.

“What does it say?” Seh asked.

Charles glanced suspiciously at Seh. “Can't you read it?”

“Seh is having some trouble with his eyes right now,” Hok said.

“Oh,” Charles replied. “I'm sorry. Are you going to be all right, Seh?”

“I'll be fine,” Seh said. “Just read the posting, please.”

Hok cleared her throat.

“Fu and Malao?” Seh asked.

“Yes,” Hok said. “There is a sketch of both of them.”

“It sounds serious,” Seh said.

“It is,” Charles replied. “LaoShu is an evil man.”

“Then we'd better start planning something immediately,” Seh said.

“I agree,” Hok said. “But there's something else you need to know first. There is a third sketch, Seh.” She pointed to the poster. “Charles, do you know who this is?”

“Sure,” Charles replied. “Everyone in Jinan knows who he is. That's the Golden Dragon, the current Jinan Fight Club champion. He's a real crowd pleaser. Why do you ask?”

“We know him, too,” Hok said. “He's our brother Long.”

M
alao and Fu sat next to one another, staring out through the bars of the bamboo cage. Before them in the center of the dark room stood their thirteen-year-old brother Long, holding a torch. He wore a green silk robe and red silk pants, bound by a red sash—the uniform of the new Emperor. Long's taut, powerful muscles flexed beneath the fine silk.

Malao grinned weakly. “That guard just called me ‘fresh meat.’ He obviously doesn't know me very well.” Malao lifted one of his smelly feet into the air and wiggled his dirty toes. “This certainly isn't fresh!” He began to giggle.

“No laughing, prisoner!” Long snarled. While his voice was harsh, he winked in a playful manner
and pointed the torch back toward the closed door.

Inside the cage, Fu leaned over and whispered forcefully into Malao's ear, “Don't you remember that that guard overheard every word we said earlier
through
the door? Keep your voice down!”

Malao lowered his foot.

Long crossed the room and knelt in front of Fu and Malao's cage. “Are you two all right?” he asked in a whisper.

Fu lowered his voice to a deep rumble. “I am fine, but Malao's head is cloudy. He was drugged for more than a month. He just woke up.”

“Drugging newcomers is common here,” Long said. He looked at Malao. “You'll have a few rough nights, but after that you'll be back to your old self. You'll have to sweat the drugs out of your system.”

Malao nodded. “What is this place?”

“It's a prison,” Long said. “Or at least the lower half is. The upper section is a huge dining hall with an enormous pit in the center. The pit extends all the way down to this level. You'll see it soon, unfortunately.”

“What do you mean by ‘unfortunately’?” Fu asked. “What is the pit used for?”

“Fighting,” Long replied. “People come from far and wide to watch the fights and place bets. It's brutal. The prisoners fight locals, often to the death.”

Malao swallowed hard. “The rich people don't eat the … uh … losers, do they?”

“Of course not,” Long said. “What ever gave you an idea like that?”

“Don't ask,” Fu replied. “Why did that guard call us ‘fresh meat’?”

“It's the term used for first-time fighters,” Long said. “They are often served up as an easy match for top-level fighters.”

“So we're going to have to fight?” Malao asked.

“I'm afraid so,” Long said. “I won't be able to help you escape. This place is too secure. If you win enough fights, however, you'll be set free and any charges against you will be forgiven. You two were brought here as Enemies of the State, which is a common charge. You could be out in a year, as long as you keep winning.”

“A year!” Malao said.

“Shhh!” Long whispered. “I'll do what I can to help you, but my hands are tied. Like I said, this place is too secure.”

“What are
you
doing here?” Fu asked.

“I heard about the fight club from one of Grandmaster's visitors,” Long said. “I came straight here after the attack and convinced the fight promoter, a man called LaoShu—
Rat
—that I was a local. He has no idea about my history at Cangzhen, and I need to keep it that way.”

“You came here on purpose?” Malao said. “Why?”

“Prisoners fight for their freedom,” Long said. “But locals fight to join the Emperor's ranks. There are fight clubs like this one in several regions, and each year the champions from each club meet to fight each other. The winner is awarded a military post. That's how Ying became a major under the Emperor
so quickly and at such a young age. He was last year's Grand Champion. I hope to do the same thing.”

Fu scratched his head. “Why?”

“Grandmaster told us to change Ying and to change the Emperor's heart,” Long said. “I decided that the best way to do that was from the inside. It hasn't been easy but so far it's working. I'm currently the top fighter here, which is why I'm wearing this uniform and why I have access to you. It's my job to determine the skill level of each new prisoner. LaoShu organizes the fights, and like a rat he is very clever. He already knows about your background, and he has placed both of you in the elite category.”

“So, if you're not going to evaluate us, why are you with us now?” Malao asked.

Fu growled. “He came to tell us that we're going to fight soon, right?”

“Yes,” Long said. “That's why they stopped drugging Malao. They want him to have a relatively clear head.”

“Great,” Malao said. “Some guy that never met me is going to try to beat me to a pulp so that he can be a soldier.” He rubbed his temples. “My head is still so foggy. This isn't fair. Why were we captured and brought to this prison fight club thing in the first place? Was there a reward or something?”

“Yes, there is a price on all our heads,” Long said. “Ying saw to that. I've been lucky that no one has identified me. There is a special price for Hok because of an attack that occurred against Shaolin Temple. You haven't seen her, have you?”

“She was with us for a little while,” Fu said. “So was Seh. We're not sure what happened to them after we were captured, though.”

“I see,” Long said. “Let's hope that they are all right. If they do get caught, I expect they'll end up here.”

“For the reward?” Fu asked.

“That, and the gambling element,” Long replied. “The man who brought you here, HaMo, believes you can both fight well. Most people will bet against you because you're young, but HaMo has already placed large bets in your favor. I've heard rumors that he's bet all of the reward money he collected for your captures. If you both win, he will be a very rich man.”

Malao stared at Long in the flickering torchlight. “Do you think we will win?”

“I'm not going to lie,” Long said. “The competition here is very tough. These fighters use a combination of simple but effective techniques from a wide variety of styles, and everyone cheats. There are no rules. Grappling is popular, so practice your mount escapes while you have time. Watch out for armlocks and leglocks.”

“Who are we fighting?” Fu asked.

“That hasn't been determined yet,” Long said. “You won't know until they lead you into the pit. Now, I suggest you start practicing. Don't wear yourselves out, though. Go easy.”

“Go easy?” Malao said, rubbing his head. “When are we fighting?”

Long frowned. “Tonight.”

“L
ook at this,” AnGangseh said, pointing to a posting on the Jinan wharf bulletin board. “You were right. HaMo brought the boys here.”

“It says the fights are tonight,” Tonglong said, scanning the announcement. “It's already getting dark. We had better hurry.”