He had been back in the empire for part of a morning, no more.
Tai said, “The horses will be held at a fort across the border, near Hsien. I have letters to be sent to court with the military post, explaining this.”
“Held by whom?” The commander, working it through.
“By the Taguran captain from the pass above Kuala Nor. He’s the one who brought me word of the gift.”
“But then they can take them back! Keep them!”
Tai shook his head. “Only if I die.”
He reached into his tunic pocket and drew out the original letter from Rygyal. He had a sudden memory of reading it by the lake, hearing the squabble of birds. He could almost feel the wind. “Princess Cheng-wan signed this herself, commander. We must be careful not to insult her, by suggesting they’d take them back.”
Lin Fong cleared his throat nervously. He almost reached for the letter but did not; it would have been demeaning to Tai if he’d checked. He was an irritable, rigid man, but not unaware of due courtesy, even out here in the wilderness.
Tai glanced across at the woman. She was smiling a little at Lin Fong’s discomfiture, not bothering to hide it.
He added, “They will keep them, unless I come myself.” It was what he’d worked out with Bytsan sri Nespo at the end of a long night in the cabin.
“Ah,” said Wei Song, looking up. “That is how you stay alive?”
“How I try.”
Her gaze was thoughtful. “A difficult gift, that puts your life at risk.”
The commander’s turn to shake his head. His mood seemed to have changed. “Difficult? It is more than that! This is…this is a tail-star burning across the sky. A good omen or a bad one, depending on what it traverses.”
“And depending on who reads the signs,” Tai said quietly. He didn’t like alchemists or astrologers, as it happened.
Commander Lin nodded. “These horses should be glorious—for you, for all of us. But these are challenging times to which you are returning. Xinan is a dangerous place.”
“It always has been,” Tai said.
“More so now,” said the commander. “Everyone will want your horses. They might tear you apart for them.” He sipped his tea. “I do have a thought.”
He was clearly thinking very hard. Tai almost felt sorry for the man: you were posted to a quiet border fort, sought to do well there, maintain order, efficiency, move onwards in due course.
Then two hundred and fifty Heavenly Horses arrived, more or less.
A tail-star, indeed. A comet streaking from the west.
“I will be grateful to learn any thoughts you have,” he said. He felt formality reasserting within himself, a way of dealing with unease. It had been so long since he’d been part of this intricate world. Of any world beyond lake and meadow and graves. He did think he knew what was coming. Some moves in a game could be anticipated.
“Your father was a great leader, mourned by all of us, in the west, especially. You have the army in your blood, son of General Shen. Accept these dragon steeds in the name of the Second Military District! The one nearest Kuala Nor itself! Our military governor is at Chenyao. I will give you an escort, an honour guard. Present yourself to Governor Xu, offer the Heavenly Horses. Can you imagine the rank you will be given? The honour and glory!”
As expected.
And it did explain the man’s fear. Lin Fong was obviously aware that if he didn’t at least try to keep the horses for the army here it would be a mark against his own record, fairly or not. Tai looked at him. In some ways the idea was tempting, an immediate resolution. In others…
He shook his head. “And I do this, Commander Lin, before appearing at court? Before relating to our serene and glorious emperor or his advisers how the princess, his daughter, has so honoured me? Before also telling the first minister? I do imagine Prime Minister Chin Hai will have views on this.”
“And before letting any other military governors know of these horses?” The Kanlin woman spoke softly, but very clearly. “The army is not undivided, commander. Do you not think, for example, that Roshan in the northeast will have thoughts as to where they belong? He commands the Imperial Stables now, does he not? Do you think his views could matter? Is it possible that Master Shen, coming from two years of isolation, needs to learn a little more before surrendering such a gift to the first man who asks for it?”
The look the commander shot her was venomous.
“You,” he snapped, “have no status in this room! You are here only to be questioned about the assassin, and that will come.”
“It will, I hope,” Tai agreed. He took a breath. “But I would like to give her status, if she will accept. I wish to hire her as my guard, going forward from here.”
“I accept,” the woman said quickly.
Her gaze met his. She didn’t smile.
“But you thought she was here to kill you!” the commander protested.
“I did. Now I believe otherwise.”
“Why?”
Tai looked across at the woman again. She sat gracefully, eyes lowered again, seemingly composed. He didn’t think she was.
He considered his answer. Then he allowed himself a smile. Chou Yan would have enjoyed this moment, he thought, would have absolutely savoured it, then told the tale endlessly, embellishing it differently each time. Thinking of his friend, Tai’s smile faded. He said, “Because she bound up her hair before coming here.”
The commander’s expression was diverting.
“She…because…?”
Tai kept his voice grave. This remained an important man for him for the next little while. Lin Fong’s dignity had to be protected.
“Her hands and feet are free, and she has at least two weapons in her hair. The Kanlin are trained to kill with those. If she wanted me dead I would be, already. So would you. If she were another rogue, she wouldn’t care about the consequences to Stone Mountain of killing you. She might even manage to escape.”
“Three weapons,” Wei Song said. She pulled one of her hairpins out and laid it down. It rested, gleaming, on the platform. “And escape is considered preferable, but is not expected with certain assignments.”
“I know that,” said Tai.
He was watching the commander, and he saw a change.
It was as if the man settled into himself, accepted that he had done what he could, would be able to absorb and deflect whatever criticism came from superiors. This was beyond him, larger by far than a border fortress. The court had been invoked.
Lin Fong sipped his tea, calmly poured more from the dark-green ceramic pot on the lacquered tray at his side. Tai did the same thing from his own. He looked at the woman. The hairpin rested in front of her, long as a knife. The head of it was silver, in the shape of a phoenix.
“You will, at least, attend upon Xu Bihai, the governor, in Chenyao?”
Lin Fong’s expression was earnest. This was a request, no more. On the other hand, the commander did not suggest he visit the prefect in Chenyao. Army against civil service, endlessly. Some things never changed, year over year, season after season.
There was no need to comment. And if he also went to see the prefect, that was his own affair. Tai said simply, “Of course I will, if Governor Xu is gracious enough to receive me. I know that he knew