Taming Poison Dragons (51 page)

Hush
. Somewhere far away, a faint wisp of music.

‘He must still be in the temple.’

‘But we’ve searched there.’

‘We will search again.’

*

The quiet padding of feet. They were descending. I clung on, eyes closed, gripping the roof tiles. At last I heard the temple doors slam. Still I dared not move.

Hours passed and dawn brought colour to the sky. I had to assume the assassins had gone; it was impossible to hold on any longer. Hand by hand, I lowered myself down the roof and swung my legs inside the pagoda. I landed with a heavy crash on the floor and lay gasping and shivering. There was no one to hear. My murderers had gone.

I had survived.

At daybreak I heard marching feet. The guards were returning. A fierce, perverse desire took hold and, exhausted though I was, hungry and thirsty though I was, I stumbled down the pagoda steps to the temple doors, passing the old monk as he clutched his stomach. Flinging open the golden doors, I blinked in the light of a new day.

The guards’ faces froze.

Then it occurred to me that they might finish the assassins’ work in order to conceal their treacherous negligence. So I slammed the doors shut and retreated to my friend, the old monk. Now they would have to do away with both of us. Who knew what the guards had been paid to allow the murderers access? No one will ever know. Yet they had fulfilled their part of the bargain, whether I lived or died. It happened that I lived.

After I had given the monk a cup of water he retched out the poison. His drugged sleep of the previous night had been replaced by nothing worse than a griping belly.

I knelt before the altar and prayed to the Blossom God, whispering: ‘I have been reborn as blossom, which is to say, a cloud.’

And I meant it with a whole heart.

So when the official from the Censor’s Bureau arrived that same morning I floated to Lord Xiao’s trial. I was still a cloud. A dark cloud for him. Purity lit my soul, the purity of one who has survived improbable odds. I feared nothing because I had out-lived fear. Drunk on unexpected life, I made my way across the Deer Park to the palace and forgot the trial before me. Each nuance of sky a delight, the chorus of birds, the sheen of dew on bladed grass. . .

All strengthened me.

I was escorted through towering gatehouses, wide courtyards lined with shrines and statues, into the heart of the palace. A fitting place for Lord Xiao’s trial.

All his life he had fluttered like a moth round the Son of Heaven. A gorgeous, powerful moth, his wings purest vermilion, his appetites intense. Here he had advocated a hundred policies, whispering and cajoling, tempting fate in order to fashion fate. He was a man who came alive among the great and barely noticed his inferiors at all, for they did not matter.

No doubt I oversimplify him. It was said that he was tender and indulgent to his children. The rest of mankind were a passing show of utility. One might stand in a field of flowers and be pleased by what one smells and sees. He considered only what he chose to pluck. In that, for all his dreams of power, he was a type.

And I was another type. One who stared in awe as I entered the inner precincts of His Majesty, while part of me remained aloof. So you might call me as arrogant as Lord Xiao, merely in a different way.

Finally we reached an inner courtyard and my escort presented arms before a surly officer.

‘I’ll conduct him from here,’ he said.

Evidently I was anticipated. He led me to an antechamber before a pair of ebony doors carved with phoenixes.

There I found the Lawyer Yuan Chu-Sou, attired in a splendid court uniform. He did not look happy.

‘Sit down.’

I did so with relief. My night on the pagoda-roof had exhausted me.

‘Are you unwell?’ he asked, sharply.

I laughed mirthlessly.

‘You might say that.’

Then I whispered how the previous evening had gone.

He retained a fixed, unnatural grin as he listened.

‘You are lucky to be alive,’ he said. ‘Though right now I would trade you for Secretary Wen. His testimony is dearly missed.’

This impudence revived my pride. Perhaps I should have thanked him for that, seeing what followed.

‘You won’t even have me,’ I said, loudly. ‘Unless I get something to eat. It is likely I’ll faint in front of the judges.’

The clerks and hangers-on in the antechamber looked up in surprise. Everyone was whispering in that long room. Yuan Chu-Sou glanced round nervously. No doubt he feared I would let slip an indiscretion.

‘Very well.’

He set about it and I slumped against the wall, listening to voices droning in the courtroom beyond the double doors. At last he led a serving eunuch to me who carried a tray of steamed buns.

‘I hope you realise that meal cost three-hundred
cash
in bribes.’

I ignored him and ate my fill. When I looked up again, I felt more myself.

‘What am I to expect?’ I asked.

He re-arranged his silks.

‘Questions. Simply answer as I have taught you.’

A hundred questions of my own concerning the prosperity of our case crowded my mind, yet I dared not ask them in this room full of spies. I suspected Yuan Chu-Sou’s grim face answered them anyway. We subsided into silence.

‘You had better spend a few more strings of
cash
on some water,’ I said, finally. ‘For I am parched.’

Then I fell into a restless doze.

Hours later the double doors opened and an official, dressed more like a peacock than a man, bellowed: ‘The Most Ineffable Judges require Yun Cai of Wei District!’

The Lawyer Yuan Chu-Sou was on his feet in a flash.

‘None of your insolence now. Make sure you show the proper respect or they might decide to use the implements on you.’

We were led into an octagonal chamber lined with stone benches. High windows filled every angle of the room so that a circle in the centre was brightly lit. Officials in uniform sat patiently on the benches, for this was a very public trial. Of Lord Xiao himself there was no sign.

Three carved chairs on a platform filled one end of the room. Here the judges sat in grey robes, undecided between the black of happiness and white of death. I advanced slowly, copying the Lawyer Yuan Chu-Sou’s dif-fident shuffle, then prostrated myself before the judges as he did. So nervous was I that I struggled with the need to pass wind. That would have been fatal to our case. I clenched my buttocks tightly and the effort helped me forget some of the peril I faced.

‘I see you have another witness,’ said the Chief Judge, in a bored tone. ‘Both of you may look up. We need to read your faces.’

I did so, and almost met his eye.

‘Explain your propositions,’ commanded the judge.

I waited while Yuan Chu-Sou recommended the scrolls I had found in Pinang, reminding everyone present that they had already been scrutinised by the court. It became obvious those scrolls were the beating heart of the case against Lord Xiao. Yet I sensed that heart was weakening.

‘You have claimed the scrolls reveal Lord Xiao’s corruption,’ said the judge. ‘And indeed, if one accepts they are genuine, matters stand badly for the accused. The question is, are they genuine?’

Yuan Chu-Sou was instantly voluble.

‘Ten thousand times genuine!’ he cried. ‘As I will prove.’

‘Then prove it,’ said another of the judges.

I realised the judges liked this trial even less than I.

What could they gain from it, after all? Nothing but enemies. And Lord Xiao had powerful friends.

‘Yun Cai is the gentleman who discovered the scrolls,’ replied Yuan Chu-Sou. ‘As he will be glad to attest.’

All eyes in the court were upon me.

‘Stand up,’ barked the judge.

I did so.

‘Well then, tell your story.’

So I told it in simple terms, for indeed there wasn’t much to say, explaining how I found the scrolls, preserved them, then gave them to the Lawyer Yuan Chu-Sou without understanding their contents.

‘Do you claim not to know what the scrolls allege?’ asked the third judge.

‘Ineffable Sir, they seem to be written in some kind of code. I must confess that I have had too many things on my mind to wish to decipher that code.’

The court rippled with amusement. I heard Yuan Chu-Sou wince beside me.

‘Too many things on your mind! What arrogance is this?’ demanded the judge.

‘Not arrogance, sir, just honesty.’

‘Yet you thought it worth your while to preserve them and pass them to one who wished to make use of them?’

‘Ineffable Sir,’ I said. ‘That is merely because I sensed they might be important. But, as I say, even now I have no detailed knowledge what they contain.’

‘Ah, you are like an innocent child,’ said the judge, sarcastically. ‘Who finds a murderer’s dagger in a dead man’s robes, without understanding a thing about it! As the proverb says:
When the map is unrolled the dagger is
revealed
!’

His colleagues chuckled at his wit.

‘Come now,’ he added. ‘Admit you bear Lord Xiao a deep-seated grudge.’

‘Sir, let the clerks record my words, when I say that I do bear Lord Xiao a deep grudge.’

The court murmured.

‘Silence!’ bellowed the Chief Judge. ‘Witness, explain yourself.’

I did so, in a steady flow of words. How my appointment as Chief of the Bureau of Fallen Heroes had come about. How I had been ordered into perilous siege works through letters sent to Lord Xiao’s cousin, His Excellency Wen Po. How that same illustrious general had commanded that I crawl through a noisome tunnel into the rebel stronghold, and how I had been set upon by men hired to kill me. How my own cousin, hoping to gain a Sub-prefect’s position through pleasing Lord Xiao, had assigned the murderers to be my bodyguard. My own cousin! How I had striven all my young life to make my father proud by passing His Majesty’s examinations, and that now I had nothing to show for it. How I had been obliged to resign my humble office for the sake of a great man’s jealousy and pride, for there was no other explanation for the misfortunes I had suffered. So that, yes, I bore a grudge, because I would not be made of flesh if I did not.

But that grudge did not make me a liar. And that grudge did not make me claim anything false about the scrolls and how I had found them. For all I cared, Lord Xiao could continue as always, so long as he left me in peace. I had nothing to reproach myself with, except too much fondness for a captivating woman and that, ridiculous as it seemed, was the sole reason I was sent to Pinang. That was how I discovered those tightly-rolled scrolls in a dead man’s robes. Because of folly and absurd pride. And that was why I held a grudge, more against the vice itself, than the great man who had demeaned himself by exerting his power to crush a butterfly like myself. And, if that was not all, I had no illusions that Lord Xiao’s friends would forgive me for standing as a witness against him, and yet it was the last thing I wanted in all the world.

I trembled as I finished. The court heard me in silence, apart from low chuckles when I alluded to Lord Xiao’s jealousy over Su Lin, for everyone in the city knew that old story. Long moments passed. The Chief Judge turned to his fellows.

‘Yun Cai is either very honest or exceedingly false,’ he said.

A second judge said shrewdly: ‘Yet there can be little doubt he will be rewarded for his testimony by those who hate Lord Xiao.’

The third opined: ‘Beguiling women have brought down dynasties before now. One may think of many examples.’

I could sense Yuan Chu-Sou’s excitement as he stood beside me. Then a loud voice spoke out. It was another lawyer, the counterpart to Yuan Chu-Sou, acting on Lord Xiao’s behalf.

‘Ineffable Sirs,’ began the rival lawyer. ‘Let us not be swayed by Yun Cai’s eloquence. After all, he is well-known as a poet. This is a man to whom words come all too easily. I beg you, do not trust his words unless they are properly tested. Surely this witness’s testimony should be proved by torture?’

I looked at him dully. My head swam. His final word echoed in the huge room. The judges looked among themselves.

‘Besides,’ continued the lawyer. ‘Yun Cai is not as he presents himself. I have a witness, Ineffable Sirs, a noble witness, to contradict his testimony. I beg to bring before the court His Excellency Wen Po, he who led our glorious forces against the rebels in Pinang.’

So that was how it would end. Just as generals of old saved their best charioteers for when the battle was most desperate, they had decided to wheel out Wen Po. I had last seen him in the mountains after we fled the stricken city of Pinang. He had given me a letter of free passage then. But he was Lord Xiao’s cousin, and family is everything. Who would believe a nobody like me against a hero of the Empire, even one besmirched by failure? I shook my head sadly. It may seem a strange thing, but I feared most of all that Father would believe my accusers when news of my disgrace reached him.

His Excellency Wen Po was helped into the court. He had been plump when I last saw him. Now he was bloated. And if I looked uncomfortable he seemed doubly so. Since the debacle at Pinang he had confined himself to his estates north of the capital, lucky to have escaped a command to commit suicide from the Son of Heaven.

I was left standing in the illuminated centre of the room, while His Excellency Wen Po was immediately granted a high-backed chair at the side of the judges. I had nothing to lose. Indeed the outcome was certain. So I turned to meet his eye and, to my surprise, he glanced away.

After the formalities, the judges began their questioning.

‘Your Excellency,’ said one. ‘It is a privilege to behold you.’

Wen Po nodded a slow acknowledgement.

‘We believe you have come here to speak against this last witness, Yun Cai of Wei, is that correct?’

Again Wen Po nodded. His face was puffy, strained by illness. Then the judges ordered the scribes to read out my testimony. His Excellency Wen Po listened impassively.

After they had finished, Lord Xiao’s lawyer rose to his feet.

‘We have heard the calumny and lies of Yun Cai for a second time. I beg our Ineffable Judges to settle the matter.