The Kingdom of Four Rivers
Guy Salvidge
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 Guy Salvidge
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Part One
Once, in the Kingdom of Four Rivers, there lived a young woman by the name of Ji Tao. Ji Tao lived with her uncle Tuan and his family in the shielded city of Baitang. This story began with another story told by uncle Tuan, on the eve of a great journey. It was a story that Ji Tao had heard a hundred times before, and yet she never tired of hearing it. In the Kingdom of Four Rivers, it was the two hundred and forty-sixth year of Everlasting Peace.
“Long ago, the Emperor ruled all-under-Heaven with his benevolence, and the Middle Kingdom was quiet. The beasts of the jungles had been domesticated, the men of the hills and mountains made vassals of the Emperor. They came from afar to pay tribute to the Emperor upon the Jade Throne. The people went cheerfully to their chores in the morning, where they toiled happily all day. They went to bed in the evening with their bellies full and minds empty.
“The Middle Kingdom was vast, covering what seemed like the whole world, and yet it was not the whole world. Faraway realms saw all that was good in the Middle Kingdom and tried to emulate it. They saw that in the Middle Kingdom, men and women were brave and loyal to the Emperor, and children were filial to their parents and ancestors. In their jealousy, the faraway people attacked the Middle Kingdom by land and sea, and the Kingdom weakened and eventually crumbled. The Emperor was vanquished. The Middle Kingdom was carved up by greedy empires intent on feeding on its carcass.
“But the spirit of the people could not be broken, and at long last the invaders were banished from our shores. From the ashes rose another Middle Kingdom, this one without an Emperor at its helm. The people adopted the customs of the invaders from faraway lands, so as to learn the secrets of their power. In this they were successful, and the Middle Kingdom grew strong again. Once more, across the land, beasts were domesticated and men and women were as one.
“But again disaster struck. The people of the Middle Kingdom had bettered the invaders from faraway lands, but they could not better Nature itself. Nature watched as the Middle Kingdom grew more and more crowded with a billion hungry mouths. Nature had seen how the people had dammed the rivers and cut down the forests. It had seen them catch every fish in the sea and pluck every rabbit from its burrow. It watched them extract precious treasures from the earth to power their wicked machines, and fill the air with sickening smoke.
“And so Nature withdrew its benevolence. It took rain away here, creating drought. It added rain there, bringing flood. It whipped up winds that blew sand in the faces of the people, rebuking them. And still they did not listen. So Nature did something to punish all-under-Heaven for this crime. Nature made the Great Ocean rise. Where the Great River and the Great Ocean met, the land itself was torn asunder. Countless thousands perished beneath the waves, and millions fled their homes with nothing but what they could carry on their backs. The Middle Kingdom fell divided.
“So it is said—
From nothing they came.
To nothing they returned.
Who can be blamed for that?
“What can we learn from this story? I have made it my business to foster trade between Baitang and Luihang. Many times I have travelled to Zhenghe, the capital of the Kingdom of Four Rivers, and the ancestral capitals of Shulao and Kinshao. I have travelled from the banks of the Wu to the shores of the Great River itself. I have been to the foot of the White Mountains in the west and the edge of the Eternal Waste in the north. I have seen a great many things and a great many people. I have sailed every river and traversed every path in the Kingdom. And everywhere I go I stand in awe of Nature, the Great Thief.”
It was the day of departure. Ji Tao collected her things and stuffed them hurriedly into her backpack. Then, with one last glance at her dusty room, she went out into the kitchen, where her older brother Cheng was waiting. Everyone else was outside already. She could hear the gaur protesting at being tethered.
Cheng was taller than Ji Tao and wide in stature. His face was brown from working in the fields, beneath the shielded sun. He scowled at her. “Hurry up,” he said. “Have you forgotten anything?”
“I don't think so.”
“Then come on.”
Ji Tao followed him outside. The caravans were loaded, the teams of gaur harnessed. Gaur were docile and yet brutish, not unlike buffalo. They had dark brown pelts and yellow horns with black tips. The Chen family were assembled, as was Kalliyan Amar, a young woman from the south. Kalliyan was taking her nephews back to their parents in Luihang. The boys were twins, eight years old, and their names were Rame and Roshan. Ji Tao had difficulty telling them apart. Ji Tao was a Chen herself, but her parents had died long ago. She was twenty-two years old.
“My nephew and niece,” Tuan said. Her uncle was a small man, his face lined and hair grey, but he was the undisputed head of the family, and he carried himself with the wisdom of the sages. “Let us depart for the west gate,” he said.
There were three caravans, each driven by a pair of gaur. The three Chen caravans were driven by aunt Rong Li, uncle Tuan and Cheng. Everyone else went on foot. There was Cheng's son Yi Min, who was ten. Cheng's wife Jin was not part of the travelling party, as she had recently fallen pregnant with their second child. In addition to this were Tuan and Rong Li's own children, Liang and Ping. Liang was a year older than Ji Tao and Ping was fourteen. Finally there was Sovann, the young widow of Tuan's eldest son, Dewei, who had died in a river crossing two summers ago. This made eleven souls in total.
The first part of their journey would take them from their home in the north district of Baitang to the city's west gate. The Chens lived under what was known as the Outer Shield, a great dome that covered their world. The shield was partially transparent, but it glowed faintly amber when the sun shined. It had been built in ancient times, using technology that in these latter days seemed so mysterious and grand that it might as well have been magic. Today the Chens were bathed in a heavenly glow, as their procession passed friend and foe alike, many of whom had stopped to watch the traders on their way. The north district was occupied by dozens of farming families who grew wheat, millet and sugar cane.
Within the Outer Shield was the Inner Shield, a place of legend to Ji Tao. While the Outer Shield allowed light to filter through, the Inner Shield was a solid barrier. Baitang was ruled by Administrator Silex, a man none of them had ever laid eyes on.
“You seem preoccupied,” Liang said to her. Liang was tall in stature and brash in demeanour, but Ji Tao knew him to be a gentle man at heart. “What troubles you?” he asked.
“I am thinking,” Ji Tao replied.
“Tell me, cousin.”
“I'm thinking of the journey ahead.”
“Do not worry. Cousin Liang will protect you from danger.”
“Liang is a brave man,” Ji Tao said, humouring him.
“Correct! Liang fears neither man nor beast.”
“That's enough from you,” Rong Li said. But she was looking down at Ji Tao, not her son. Holding the rein steady, she turned to Liang and said, “You tempt fate with your boasting tongue.”
Liang cast his eyes down and hurried to the side of the lead caravan. Cheng was prodding the gaur with a whip. “Hurry up, you miserable creatures. We have to be in Luihang in a week!” he said.
“Sit up with me, Ji Tao,” Rong Li said. Her face was fixed into a smile, but her eyes were set in stone. She always wore long billowing dresses in brilliant colours to mask her ageing figure. Today's dress was bright green.
“Yes, aunt Rong Li,” Ji Tao said.
“Hold the reins for me. My arms are weary.”
Ji Tao did as she was told, not daring to mention that they had been travelling for less than twenty minutes. It would take another hour to reach the west gate.
“Ah,” Rong Li said, clenching and unclenching her hands. “My old hands are sore.”
“Niece Ji Tao will drive the gaur for you.”
“Don't let them pull at the rein.”
After that they continued in silence. The vengeful sun was already high, pulsing with angry Yang energy. Its muted form was clearly visible through the shield. Here they took a more southerly path, through fields of green and yellow. They followed the curve of the shield toward the west gate. This was a quiet district, barely inhabited but for the ripening crops around them. Ahead was the Wu river, which passed beneath the shield. They would follow it all the way to Luihang. The west gate was on the far side of the river. The glow of the shield entranced Ji Tao, and her eyelids grew heavy.
“Ji Tao,” Rong Li said. “You're falling asleep.”
Ji Tao straightened. “My apologies, aunt. I did not sleep well last night.”
“You are getting too close. Give me the reins.”
“Yes, aunt.”
The bridge was crowded with people going to the nearby market. The caravans had to wait for the sentries to clear a path through the crowd.
“Going to Luihang?” a passer-by asked.
“That's right,” Ji Tao said.
“I hear there's been some trouble there lately,” the man said.
“Keep quiet,” Rong Li chided. “People will talk.”
The road was cobbled on the south bank. This was a busy street, leading from the market to the west gate. The west district was friendly to the Chens; they did much of their trade here.
But now they had reached the gate.
The gaur swished their tails impatiently, perhaps sensing the strange energy ahead. Ji Tao felt it as an attraction or compulsion, like being drawn into a whirlpool. The gatekeeper stood at his post, his face a study of concentration. Ji Tao thought then, as she often did at these times, of people lost in the breach. There were stories of families going through, only to find on the other side that cousin such-and-such had vanished. It was said that these unlucky souls remained trapped inside the shield forever.
They were moving again, although Ji Tao did not recall asking the gaur on. That's right, Rong Li was holding the reins. Before them was a swirling maelstrom of crimson and amber. The lead caravan went through. Dust swirled. Her ears popped. Ji Tao averted her eyes, bracing herself as though against a coming shock—
—and they were through, they were safe. Even Rong Li allowed herself a sigh.
They were in a small clearing on the edge of the jungle, next to the guardhouse. There was hardly anyone around. The gatekeeper looked bored. “All through safely?” he asked.
“All safe,” Rong Li replied.
What hit Ji Tao first every time was the humidity. The air was sluggish and heavy. The jungle before them seethed—it was a great wall of vegetation, a rioting entanglement of vines, creepers and branches. The jungle was bursting with life and yet was strangely silent, in the midst of a muted dream. Here the Wu was more than twenty metres wide and rushing swiftly. On the south bank there was a well-trodden path that followed the course of the Wu upriver. Travelling up that river was like voyaging into primeval murk, but that way lay Luihang. Steam rose from tracts of mud in full sunlight; by mid-morning the sludge would have baked hard, and by late afternoon, the rain would have turned it to sludge again. The merciless sun baked the damp jungle, bringing them no joy. Even Kalliyan had climbed aboard a caravan now. For a time they continued in silence.
Ji Tao watched the dense undergrowth for signs of movement, which could spell danger even here at shield's edge. The jungle itself was virtually explored but not completely uninhabited. The primitive tribe in this region was reasonably friendly, but further west, along the route of the Wu, cannibalism was thought to reign. The shield-folk kept to the river.
It did not take long to grow accustomed to the smells and sounds of the jungle once again. Ji Tao had travelled this path many times before. By mid-morning the jungle canopy had closed around them, and the caravans travelled in perpetual gloom. Ji Tao longed to go up to the front, but before she could think of an excuse, Rong Li asked her to take the reins again. Thus she was trapped in the caravan until lunch. Rong Li started to nod off herself.
“Aunt Ji Tao,” a voice called from behind her. “Can I sit with you?” It was Yi Min.
“Come up, Yi Min,” she said. The curtain parted and the boy crawled forward and sat beside her. Ji Tao pulled the curtain closed again. Rong Li barely stirred.
“You've been very quiet, nephew,” Ji Tao said.
“I was scared.”
“Haven't you been through the breach before?”
“Only with Mama.”
This was Yi Min's first journey with the family, and already Cheng had passed him off onto Ji Tao. That was typical of her brother. He had assured his wife that he would take good care of the boy, which had been a relief to her. Ji Tao could see already that Yi Min would attach himself to her in his mother's absence.
“We're safe now,” Ji Tao said.
“Papa said you would look after me.”
“I will.”
The road was familiar to Ji Tao, the various landmarks reminding her that they were making fine progress. They could travel twenty kilometres on a good day, perhaps only fifteen or even ten if the weather was poor. A familiar bend in the river made a good rest spot for lunch, where the gaur could be easily led down to the water to drink. The caravans unhitched, the Chens rested through the midday heat. Cheng was left on lookout for alligators while the others slept. Ji Tao climbed into the back of the caravan and lay down, using a sack of wheat for her pillow. As she drifted off she heard the laughter of Rame and Roshan playing by the river, and then Cheng's stern reprimand.
The rest of the first day passed uneventfully. Unusually for this time of the year, the rain stayed away. They made it to One-day camp an hour before dusk, where they slept in the relative safety of stone ramparts, high above the river. Through a gap in the foliage, Ji Tao could see the river's silver glitter by the light of the moon. The river flowed broadly, soundlessly. Ji Tao fell into a heavy slumber.
The second day drifted past too. Ji Tao made a point of avoiding Rong Li, preferring to walk with Sovann, who was thin and starkly pretty. Instead of returning to her own family after Dewei's untimely death, Sovann had remained with the Chens. Her own family was very poor and could not support her. Her brief marriage to Dewei had not produced a child.
Late in the afternoon, a crack of thunder was followed by teeming rain. The path turned to mud, and pools of water impeded their progress.
“We'll never make it to Zizhong in this weather,” Ji Tao predicted, climbing into the back of the caravan. Sovann followed her up. Ping was already crouched inside, playing with a puzzle.
“How far is it, do you think?” Sovann asked.
“One hour when its not raining, three when it is.”
The gaur huffed and groaned, and the wheels of the caravan barely moved. Everyone was lathered in sweat. The mosquitoes were dense here and the netting had holes in it. Looking through the netting, Ji Tao saw that the path behind them was rapidly flooding. The caravan's wheels were almost a foot deep in muddy water. They seemed to have come to a standstill.
“You may be right,” Sovann said.
“Father will know what to do,” Ping said.
“Look at the water,” Ji Tao said. “It's getting higher.”
The curtain opened to reveal Cheng's sodden form. “We're turning off,” he said. “We need to find higher ground.”
“Can we make Zizhong?” Ji Tao asked.
“Maybe if the rain holds off.”
The caravans sat perched on a rocky outcropping to wait. The gaur grew restless, snorting and pawing at the rock.
“I'm going to stretch my legs,” Ping said.
“Stay inside!” Ji Tao ordered.
“Why must I sit here in the dark?”
“Alligators.”
Sovann lit a lamp and they huddled next to it. This made the mosquitoes even worse, so they put it out and sat quietly in the gloom. All around them was the trickling sound of water.
The danger soon passed. The rain stopped as abruptly as it had started, and the water began to drain into the river. Within an hour, it was deemed safe to travel again. They made it to the ruined town of Zizhong shortly before dusk. They set up camp in a grand old building at the far end of town, same as they always did. Once it had belonged to a rich family, but no one lived in Zizhong now, unshielded as it was. Ji Tao helped to build a fire in the courtyard.
After dinner, Tuan began to tell them another story. Tonight he seemed to be addressing Ji Tao directly, but then she often felt this way.
“Once, people were far richer than we can imagine now. They lived in great houses filled with contraptions and gadgets and junk. They flew across the sky in great metal birds and whizzed across the land in metal carriages. They sent metal rockets into the heavens and metal fish into the sea. They conquered earth, water, wind and fire, but they could not conquer Heaven. Husbands were not faithful, wives not loyal, and children not respectful. Because they had conquered the world without respect, they treated it without respect. They thought they had tamed Nature. But already, Nature was in the process of bringing their ascendancy to an end. Thus they are called 'The Lords of the Last Days.'
“These 'lords' had conquered the world using their yang, but they had forgotten yin. They had conquered earth but forgotten Heaven. They had guarded against small robbers but had forgotten about the Great Thief. They went this way and that, never stopping to think about where they had been, always thinking only of where they thought they were going. And so there were wars fought with earth, wind, water and fire.
“Thus it is said—
The people had been conquered.
Now they were conquerors,
As great as T'ang and Han before.
“But the other empires were just small robbers, easily defeated. The Middle Kingdom grew rich on the back of its victories. But it had achieved nothing. The people were no happier than before. And all throughout this time, the Great Thief was chuckling.
“It is said that not only the Middle Kingdom was destroyed by the Great Thief. It is said that other vast empires were brought to their knees as well. I cannot say whether this is true or false. But it is said that the Middle Kingdom was particularly affected. In the east, there once lived hundreds of millions of people. When the Great Thief came, taking the very land from beneath their feet, those who did not perish fled west. You cannot imagine the chaos this caused. There were schemes, strategies and programmes to combat the flood of refugees, but it was useless. The pipes of Heaven had sounded and the Middle Kingdom was no more. And so the Kingdom of Four Rivers came into being.
“Do not imagine that these western lands were spared from the destruction. In the time when the great shields were being built, at the very apex of the old world's power, the leaders of Four Rivers were taking steps to leave the Middle Kingdom for good. At the time when the east was in complete confusion, Four Rivers was growing stronger. When the great shields of Shulao and Kinshao were completed, Four Rivers announced that the Middle Kingdom had come to an end. Other smaller kingdoms did the same. It was the time of the Hundred Wars.
“And so there was another war, fought between the Kingdom of Four Rivers and the desperate empires of the east. In the Battle of Kinshao, the city was captured and later destroyed. Millions died. You cannot understand how many people that is, but I will tell you anyway. Four Rivers fought to repel the invaders, but it was in vain. In the Battle of Shulao, the 'jewel in the crown,' the great shield was shattered. It seemed as though the whole world was coming to an end. Four Rivers fell to its knees.
“But then the attacks ceased. The surge of invaders slackened, caught up in other catastrophes. The capital was moved to Zhenghe, where it has been ever since. So began the Years of Everlasting Peace. But what kind of peace is this? We shall not truly know peace until the Great Thief takes our final breath away from us.
“In the years since Shulao fell, Four Rivers has become a jungle. It was not always this way. This land was once known as the bread basket of the Middle Kingdom. Now it is filled with tigers, boars and savages. Only beneath the shields does the old life go on. Who can say if this is good or bad? Perhaps the savages are closer to Heaven than we are. Perhaps they have more connection with the sages of antiquity than we do. No one can say.”
Ji Tao suddenly became aware that a shadowy figure was watching the camp-fire from the darkness.
“Uncle,” she said. “Look.”
Tuan gestured for them to remain still. The chatter of the young ones died down. There might be more intruders waiting in the darkness.
The intruder turned and fled. Cheng got to his feet but Tuan told him to sit down. “They will not harm us, so long as we stay here. Outside, there may be others.”
“They'll try to rob us while we sleep,” Cheng protested.
“Then you can take first watch.”
But nothing disturbed their rest. In the morning, they ate breakfast and broke camp. Again, Ji Tao found herself walking with Sovann and Ping, but today Kalliyan had worked up the courage to join them.
“Will you walk with us today?” Ji Tao asked her.
“If you don't mind,” Kalliyan said.
“Surely we are better company than your little nephews?” Sovann asked.
The boys were currently wrestling one another while Yi Min looked on.
“They never seem to tire,” Kalliyan agreed.
“Tell us about yourself,” Ji Tao said. “We know so little about your family.”
Kalliyan smiled. Her teeth were white. “My family came from the south two years ago, as part of a merchant caravan. We come from a place called Cloudy South, on the far side of the Great River. There was trouble there.”
“What kind of trouble?” Sovann asked.
“Many of the machines in our city were breaking down, and there was no one who knew how to fix them. Our crops were failing.”
“So you came here,” Ping said. “What did your family bring?”
“Ping, don't be so rude!” Ji Tao said.
“No, she is right to wonder,” Kalliyan said. “We did not realise how rich your people were in comparison to our own. Our trade goods were nothing compared to what you have here. When we got to Baitang, we sold all that we had in order to stay.”
“How did the family get split up?”
“It was unfortunate,” Kalliyan said. “We were all supposed to travel to Luihang, but there was a misunderstanding, and then the guards wouldn't let the boys and I through. My sister's husband had all the paperwork. We didn't realise—“
“—That's why Tuan is trying to help you,” Sovann said.
“And we are very grateful for his generosity,” Kalliyan said.
“No need to talk like that in front of us,” Ji Tao said. “Save that for Rong Li.”
“I am grateful all the same. Chen Tuan is a good man,” Kalliyan said. “There does not appear to be any discord in your family.”
“Not yet,” Ji Tao said. “But there will be, when my brother decides it's time for uncle Tuan to step down and let him be head of the family.”
“Cousin Cheng would not challenge my father!” Ping said.
“Did I say that? You need to think before you speak, Ping. Now run along and play with the other children.” Ping stormed off.
“What do you think of Liang?” Ji Tao asked Kalliyan.
“He has a kindness about him....” Kalliyan trailed off.
“Unlike my brother,” Ji Tao said.
Kalliyan could only laugh timidly at that.
“All the men are kind on that side of the family,” Sovann said. By this, she was referring to her dead husband.
“I'm sorry,” Kalliyan said. “It must be very hard to lose someone like that.”
“He was a kind man. You should talk to Liang sometime. I think he likes you.”
“Liang?” Kalliyan said. “I don't think so.”
After lunch, Ji Tao found herself babysitting Yi Min again. The boy was clearly missing his mother.
“How far is it to Luihang?” he asked.
“Three or four days, depending on the weather,” Ji Tao replied. Currently the weather was ideal; the day had cooled quickly, although it was thought there might be a storm later.
“My feet hurt.”
“You can walk without sandals. The mud will soothe your feet.” The boy did as he was told, putting the sandals in the back of the caravan.
“What are we buying in Luihang?” he asked.
“Won't your father tell you? Whatever uncle Tuan thinks will fetch a good price back home.”
“What's Luihang like?”
“It's much the same as Baitang, only a bit smaller.”
“I want to go home.”
“I know, but you must be brave. Think what your mother would say if she thought you weren't as brave as your father.”
“I am as brave!”
To prove how brave he was, Yi Min left Ji Tao and returned to the front caravan, presumably to pester Tuan.
“Stupid boy left his sandals,” Ji Tao said to no one in particular.
Soon she was sitting in the back of the trailing caravan again. There were dozens of large bags of wheat stacked inside. By the time they stopped for lunch, the air was stifling. After the meal had been eaten, they sprawled out in the shade to sleep through the heat of the day, mosquito nets enclosing them. Ji Tao rested fitfully. Her throat was parched, despite numerous cups of water. Quietly, so as not to disturb the others, she got up and looked around. They were on the edge of a clearing. From here, there were numerous paths leading into the heart of the jungle. This was cannibal territory.
Sovann had been on sentry duty, sitting on a chair with a mosquito net draped over her, but she had fallen asleep.
Ji Tao came up to her and said, “Sovann, wake up.”
Sovann stirred. “Oh, Ji Tao, thank Heaven it's only you. I must have drifted off.”
“Look how fresh those paths are,”Ji Tao said.
Sovann gulped down some water. “Should we wake the others?”
“No,” Ji Tao said. “Let's have a quick look.”
“You want to go down there?”
“We won't go out of sight of the camp.”
“What about keeping watch?”
Ji Tao shrugged. “You weren't doing much good anyhow.”
Standing at the threshold of the jungle path, Ji Tao began to doubt the wisdom of her plan, but said nothing to Sovann, who looked nervous enough already. All around them were the sounds of birds, and beyond, the scurrying feet of something rustling in the undergrowth. All kinds of animals could be found in the jungle—from wild dogs and wolves to tigers and bears.
“Perhaps we should go back,” Ji Tao said.
“No, it's okay,” Sovann said. “Let's go a little further.”
It was darker here. Sovann pointed out a monkey hanging from a branch above them. The path was well travelled, but it had narrowed to the point where they had to walk in single file. Soon they were pushing thick green leaves out of their faces.
“Anything would hear us coming a mile away,” Sovann said.
They came to another clearing. The ground was scorched black, as though a fire had passed through recently. But there was no evidence of where the fire had come from, or where it had gone.
“Ji Tao—over there.”
Ji Tao looked, and saw a naked man hung by a rope from a tree. He was dead. The body was facing away from them; his back was covered in welts. Ji Tao was both curious and revolted. She lingered for a moment, then crept closer.
“Leave it alone!” Sovann said.
The man had been subjected to a multitude of atrocities. His back had been whipped; his scalp was coated with blood, around which flies crawled. The man was certainly a savage; his skin was even darker than Kalliyan's.
“I'm going back,” Sovann said.
“I just want to have a look.”
A ray of sunlight was peeking through the canopy, illuminating the dead man's face. His stench grew stronger as Ji Tao got closer. One of his legs had been gnawed to the bone, presumably after he had been left to hang here.
Coming up alongside the dead man, Ji Tao saw something that caused her to turn and flee screaming. As she ran, the image burned itself into her brain forever: the man's chest had been missing but for the red bones of his smashed ribcage. All the entrails, organs and intestines had been eaten away. And yet his eyes had been open. Ji Tao tried to push the image away but it stubbornly remained.
Later, as she sat in the back of the caravan, she remembered the man's black hair and dark eyes. She recalled the angular shape of his face.
“I'm sorry I left you,” Sovann said.
“It's all right,” Ji Tao replied. Her voice seemed distant even to her own ears.
“Was it terrible?”
“I don't want to talk about it.”
Ji Tao remembered pushing past Sovann on the jungle track. By the time they had reached the clearing, Cheng and some of the others had already been roused by the din.
In the afternoon, Cheng raised the subject again. “What did you see, sister?”
Ji Tao described the man, but Cheng was impatient; he wasn't interested in hearing the gruesome details. Tuan asked her why they had left the camp in the first place. Ji Tao had no reply to this, but Sovann came to the rescue: “To look for healing plants, uncle Tuan,” she said.
“You were supposed to be on watch,” Cheng said.
“No, it's my fault,” Ji Tao said. “I made her come with me.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
That was it: she didn't know, and no amount of threats from her brother could change that. Tuan said that there was little point in punishing her, seeing as she had already been traumatised by the experience. Perhaps that would teach her a lesson.
“So they are cannibals,” Cheng said.
“Not necessarily,” Tuan replied. “A boar or tiger might have eaten him.”
“Perhaps, but a tiger can't hang a man up from a tree.”
“No, a tiger cannot.”
When they had set down for the night, Liang tried to cheer her up. “Help me build the fire, cousin,” he said.
“Okay.” Ji Tao busied herself with arranging the kindling.
“Did you see anyone else out there?” Liang whispered.
“No one else,” she replied in a low voice. “But I think they were close.”
“Do you think they ate him?”
“I think maybe it was a tiger.”
“But they must have cut him open.”
Ji Tao said nothing.
“Next time, you remember to take me with you, okay?”
“All right.”
Although she had not been formally punished, Ji Tao felt drawn closer into the web of responsibilities she usually had a way of avoiding. Rong Li kept her under close supervision that evening, insisting that she help with preparing the wild pig Cheng had snared. Seasoning the flesh, Ji Tao thought again of the missing entrails. She ate little.
Late in the evening, when Ji Tao was already lying in her tent, Tuan came to her. “My niece, you saw a terrible thing today,” he said.
She sat up in bed. “I did.”
“You must try to put it out of your mind. There's nothing you can do to change it now.”
“I will try, uncle.”
“Now sleep. You will need your wits about you in the days ahead.”
The jungle was alive and yet animals tended to keep their distance from the noisy humans. Ji Tao saw a dhole, a type of small wild dog, fleeing in terror as the caravans lumbered along the path. The dhole was a creamy-red flash—one moment there, the next, gone. What other eyes might be watching them from the seemingly impenetrable jungle?
Liang was entertaining Ji Tao with his boasts of how he would cut down the jungle and tame the savages.
“How will you achieve these deeds, mighty cousin?” she teased.
“Just wait and see,” Liang said. “My scheme will be revealed to you at the correct time.”
“You're not thinking of following in your father's footsteps after all?”
“Me?” Liang laughed uproariously. “Not a chance. What a boring life that would be!”
That was Liang. Groomed to succeed Tuan once the old man retired, he would have nothing of it. It would normally be expected that a son in this position would jump at the opportunity to take control of his father's successful trading business. But not Liang.
“Me, run the business?” he would say. “Impossible! Let Cheng take over, it's what he wants. That way everybody can be happy.”
There had even been talk of joint leadership across both sides of the family. But neither Cheng nor Liang would allow that. “We are like a pig and and a fish together,” Liang often said. By this he meant that they couldn't understand what the other was saying.
“Tell me what you're thinking, cousin,” Liang said. “You are very quiet today.”
“Well, I did want to talk to you about something.”
“Yes?”
“Have you thought much about Kalliyan?” Ji Tao asked.
“Thought about her? In what way?”
“What way do you think I mean, cousin?”
“As a wife?” Liang pursed his lips. “I hadn't thought about it.”
“Why not?”
“I hardly know her.”
“Then get to know her,” she said. “I think she's lonely.”
“You think I could cheer her up?”
“I think you could. I don't know why no one harasses you about getting married. You're older than me and I get pestered all the time.”
“You think Mother would approve?”
“I doubt it,” Ji Tao said. “Not at first, anyway. But she'd get used to it.”
“Hmm,” Liang said. “She is pretty, but my mind is set on another.”
“Who?”
Liang shook his head. “I can't say.”
“Why won't you tell me?”
“I can't. It isn't right.” Ji Tao's eyes must have widened, for he quickly added: “Don't worry, cousin. I didn't mean you.”
“Who then? Is she on this trip?”
“It would give it away if I said.”
“Sovann?” His eyes said yes. “Oh Liang, you're crazy!”
“I know.” He turned away.
“Rong Li would have a fit.”
Liang's face furrowed. “Well, they said they wanted me to step into my brother's shoes. Why not like this? The mourning period is over.”
“But...” she struggled to find the right words. “It's not the done thing.”
“And yet she's an angel,” Liang said.
“Liang, your head is full of rocks!”
“You don't think I'd have a chance with her?”
“It's not that, it's just....” She didn't want to say it, but Rong Li had been over the top in her grief in the two years since Dewei's death. Only now was she starting to become more bearable. “I'll mention it to Sovann,” Ji Tao said.
“Discreetly,” Liang said.
“You can trust me.”
Ji Tao knew that Rong Li was punishing her when she asked her to watch over the boys for the afternoon. By this she meant not only Yi Min, but Rame and Roshan as well.
“Roshan,” Ji Tao said. “Come over here!” The boy was fooling around on the fringe of the jungle itself, slapping the leaves with his outstretched palm as he walked past.
“You're not my mother! Why should I listen to you?”
“That's enough,” she said. Ji Tao knew that she was not much of a disciplinarian, so she changed tack. “I'll tell you a story.”
“A story?” The boy's eyes lit up. “Rame, Ji Tao is going to tell us a story!”
“Walk next to me, where I can see you,” she instructed. Yi Min came over to listen as well, hands in his pockets.
“Right,” she said. “Are you listening?” The Amar boys nodded.
“Once upon a time—” Ji Tao said.
“What's this story called?” Roshan asked.
“What's it called? It's called 'The River Dragon.'”
“Okay.”
“Once upon a time, there was a village near a river. A fisherman's family lived there. The fisherman went down to the river each morning and returned in the afternoon with enough fish to feed his wife and sons.”
“What was the father's name?” Rame asked.
“His name was Liao. His wife was Xin and his sons were Yu and Peng.”
“Okay.”
“When Liao cast his net into the water, he knew exactly where the fish would be. He knew where the alligators lived, and how to avoid them. Everyone knew he was a good man, even the mosquitoes, who generally left him alone. Liao was happy, and his wife and sons were always well fed.
“Then one day, Liao did not return at the usual time in the afternoon. Yu and Peng often went to the river with their father, but not today.
“Xin got very worried as the afternoon dragged on. She wondered if Liao was finding it hard to catch enough fish for their dinner, and was staying out until he had enough. But as afternoon turned to evening, Xin knew this was not so. Xin decided to go down to the river. She was not exactly sure where Liao had been fishing that day. She asked her sons to stay behind but they would not listen. So Xin, Yu and Peng went down to the river.”
“I've heard this story before,” Yi Min said.
“Then keep your mouth shut!” Ji Tao scolded. “I'm not telling it for your benefit. As I was saying, the family went down to the river. There was no sign of Liao or his net. Xin was crying and there was nothing her sons could do to comfort her. They searched high and low for Liao, on the bank of the river and in the reeds. It was no good. Then, when it was getting hard to see, Peng spotted something in the river. It was hard to tell what it was.”
“What was it?” Rame interjected.
“I'm getting to that. Peng had seen something in the river, but none of them could be sure what it was. It was bigger than a man, but it wasn't moving in the current.
'Liao,' Xin said. 'Is that you?'
The dark shape did not reply. Surely it could not be her husband.
Suddenly there was a mighty roar. The river was illuminated by a streak of flame coming from the dark shape.
'It's a dragon!' Peng cried. 'A dragon has eaten my father!'
It was indeed a dragon in the river. Only the head was visible above the water. Xin summoned all her courage and said to the dragon, 'Have you seen my husband Liao?'
For a moment, the dragon did not speak. Perhaps it could not understand them. Then it said, 'Who is it that addresses me?'
'I am Xin,' Xin trembled. 'Daughter of Lin Chi, wife of Liao. These are my sons, Yu and Peng.'
'Interesting,' the dragon said. Flames shot out of its nose, rippling across the water. 'I have seen a fisherman. Is your husband a fisherman?'
'Yes, he is!' Xin cried. 'Tell me, where is he?'
'Hmm,' the dragon said. 'I could tell you where he is, but you won't be happy.'
'You've eaten him!' Yu said. 'You've eaten my father!'
'No,' the dragon said. 'I have not eaten Liao.'
'Then where is he?' Xin pleaded. 'You must have seen where he went.'
'I know exactly where he went,' the dragon said.
'Tell us.'
'I told you that you wouldn't be happy.'
'Please tell us,' Peng pleaded.
'You know, it's an honour to see a family so dedicated to their father. Wife and sons of Liao, you can be proud of yourselves.'
'Thank you,' Xin said. 'But tell me, where is he?'
'I am Liao,' the dragon said.
'My father is a dragon?' Peng asked.
'Correct. I am a dragon. My name is Liao.'
'Why did you not mention this before?' Xin asked.
'I was happy being a fisherman,' the dragon said.
'Can you turn back into a man?' Yu asked.
There was a pause. 'Tricky,' the dragon finally said. 'But I could do it.'
'Then turn back into a man and come home at once!' Xin demanded.
'We're hungry,' Peng said. 'Have you caught any fish?'
'Yes, in a manner of speaking,' the dragon said. 'I will come home. But only if you promise to remember how much you missed me when I was gone.'
'We promise,' Peng said.
'We did miss you,' Yu chimed in.
'Then it's settled,' the dragon said. It approached the bank, eyes gleaming in the moonlight. Then they saw the dragon's teeth; they were as sharp as razors, as long as knives. Xin trembled uncontrollably.
'Are you afraid of me?' the dragon asked. 'Your own husband?'
'Yes, I am afraid!' Xin said. 'Turn back into a man quickly and let us go home!'
'I am hurt that you find me repulsive,' the dragon said. 'Remember, I was a dragon first and a man second. Underneath Liao's skin, I will always have dragon bones.'
'Fine,' Xin said, composing herself. 'I don't mind if you are a dragon underneath, so long as you are a man on the surface.'
'Come closer,' the dragon said. 'I want to see my wife with my dragon eyes. You look so...radiant.'
Xin did as she was told. She came up to the very edge of the river, so that her feet were getting wet.
'Closer,' the dragon said.
Xin stepped forward into the river, mud squelching between her toes. 'I'm cold,' she begged. 'Turn back into a man and stop this nonsense!'
'I know you're cold,' the dragon said. 'You're shivering. Now you can join Liao.'
'You're not Liao?' Xin asked, but it was too late. The dragon surged forward and plucked her out of the water. Xin sobbed in the dragon's maw. Her sons shrieked from the bank. The dragon swallowed her whole and the sobbing ended.
'Now,' the dragon said to Yu and Peng. 'Would you like to join your parents?'
“The boys fled all the way back to the village. They never saw their parents or the dragon again. And so it is said, 'Never trust a dragon. Even virtue and honour are not enough to tame them.'
“That's the end,” Ji Tao said.
“Liao's wife was stupid to fall for the dragon's trick,” Yi Min said in summary.
“But what happened to Yu and Peng?” Roshan asked. “Who looked after them?”
“Nobody looked after them,” Ji Tao said. “That's life.”
“Tell us another one!”
“Not right now. If you are good, then aunt Ji Tao will tell another. But only if you behave.”
“We will!”
Ji Tao discovered that the Amar boys did not know any of her family's traditional stories, even though they were very common in Baitang. They had a voracious appetite for the tales. Late in the afternoon, with the caravans stopped for the day, Ji Tao found herself in the role of babysitter again. She had been telling them the story of 'The Giant and the Flea' when she must have dozed off, for now the boys had gone. Sitting up in the grass, she tried to remember what had happened. Normal life was going on around her—there was Tuan, helping the younger men to pitch the big tent—but where were the boys? Ji Tao got to her feet, her head pounding. There was Rong Li, hands on her hips.
“Ji Tao,” Rong Li said. “Tell the boys it's nearly time for dinner.”
“I will,” Ji Tao said. Where had the little vandals gone?
At the edge of the camp site, Ji Tao thought she caught a glimpse of a red shirt, like the one Yi Min had been wearing. Perhaps it had been her imagination. Ji Tao's palms began to sweat.
“Yi Min, Roshan,” she called. Nothing.
“Yi Min!” she said. “It's not funny! Stop playing games.”
Ji Tao was caught in two minds, between heading off into the jungle herself, and confessing her grave mistake to Rong Li. Surely they couldn't have gone far.
“Roshan, Rame,” she called to the undergrowth.
Thinking she had heard a faint reply, Ji Tao listened. The breeze was whistling through the trees. All right, she thought. The path into the jungle was overgrown, but it looked like it might have recently been trampled by boisterous feet. Ji Tao could hear a voice from the jungle, but it was only a monkey cackling to itself. Had the boys gone this way, or not?
A sharp cry pierced her ears. There was some kind of commotion ahead. Yi Min came running toward her.
“Aunt Ji Tao!” he cried. “Something got Rame!”
“Got him?” Ji Tao asked. “Where's Roshan?”
Yi Min indicated vaguely over his shoulder. He was shivering.
“Go back to the camp,” Ji Tao told him. “Tell Cheng and Liang to come.” Yi Min scurried off.
Ji Tao felt weak, as though taken by fever. What lay ahead? A yellow spider, probably poisonous, crawled up the tree beside her. Ji Tao flicked it onto the ground and crushed it beneath her feet. A little further along, the path widened. She came to a clearing not unlike the one where the corpse had been hanging. Roshan was running toward her.
“Rame's been hurt!” he said.
Ji Tao pushed past the boy into a grove of spiny fronds. The plants prickled her arms, covering her in thin white spines. She brushed them off. Then she saw the boy.
Rame was lying on a bed of fallen leaves. All the colour had gone out of his face. His arm was soaked in blood, his shirt ripped to shreds. He was barely conscious, murmuring to himself in his delirium.
“What happened?” she asked, turning to Roshan.
“There was a t...tiger,” Roshan said.
“But it didn't take him?”
“No. There were some...some other people.”
“Where did they go?”
Roshan pointed to the dark jungle beyond.
“And they scared the tiger off?”
“I think so.”
The seconds ticked away. Flies were landing on Rame's face; Roshan made it his business to swat them away. A red caterpillar was inching its way toward the injured boy. Ji Tao scooped it up in a leaf and flicked it away.
Rame's breathing was getting shallower. Ji Tao dared not touch him. Where was Cheng? Surely Yi Min had not forgotten to tell him?
“Mama,” Rame croaked, opening his eyes.
The blood had stopped flowing at least. Perhaps the wound was not as bad as it looked. Ji Tao heard the familiar sound of someone coming up the jungle path behind her. It was Cheng and Liang.
They surveyed the boy's condition. “It's not so bad,” Liang surmised. “Let's carry him back.”
Back at the camp, Ji Tao faced the accusing eyes of her family. Clearly they blamed Ji Tao for what had happened. It turned out that the wound was not serious, but Rame was feverish. He wouldn't drink any water unless they forced him to. He still called for his Mama.
“What were you thinking?” Rong Li hissed. “Letting them run off like that!”
“No,” Kalliyan intervened. “They should have known better than to run away. It will be a lesson to them.”
“And a lesson for her too,” Rong Li warned. “Niece Ji Tao, what are you good for?”
“I'm sorry, aunt Rong Li,” Ji Tao said. “I will take more care in future.”
There were no stories that evening.
On the fifth morning, they woke early. Ji Tao made a point of enquiring as to Rame's condition. It seemed he had slept peacefully. Rame would have to travel in the back of the caravan. Later Kalliyan said to Ji Tao, “I'm just worried about what his mother will say.”
“Anyone would be. I feel terrible.”
“Don't blame yourself so much. They shouldn't take advantage like that, and no one else saw them leave the camp. I should have been watching them, too. They're my nephews, after all.”
“This trip seems to be going badly for me,” Ji Tao said.
“At least Rame wasn't killed,” Kalliyan said.
“He's a lucky boy. I'd expect a tiger to take a child of that size. Roshan said something about other people.”
“He's very vague about it,” Kalliyan said. “He won't have seen the natives of these parts before.”
“Maybe they were hunting the tiger when it attacked Rame,” Ji Tao mused. “Perhaps they're not cannibals at all.”
In the afternoon, the heavens opened. The rain came down in sheets. This time they were quicker to try to find higher ground. Tuan knew of a jungle path near here that was wide enough for the caravans. It was just a matter of finding it before the river path became flooded.
Cheng cursed the skies. “What have we done to deserve this?” he asked.
“Do not tempt Heaven,” Rong Li said.
The rain did not abate, and the water began to rise around them.
“We will be swept away!” Ping said. “Where is the path, father?”
Tuan did not answer. Everyone except Rame had to get out and push the caravans through the mud. Very shortly they would not be going anywhere, except perhaps down the river. Ji Tao pushed. It was agony. The mud was up to her calves and she was soaked.
“There it is,” Liang said. “Up there!”
Somehow they made it to the jungle path, which led in a southerly direction. The mud was very slippery. But they were safe for now. Slogging south, Ji Tao could not help but feel that they were getting further away from their destination with every hard-fought step.
Finally the rain eased. Tuan decided that they would stop to rest. It was virtually dark. This far into the jungle, little in the way of light penetrated the canopy. There was no clearing or outcropping upon which to set up camp, so they were forced to pitch their tents on the path itself, in the mud. Ji Tao was covered in it: it was in her hair, smeared on her legs, between her toes. She even imagined that she could taste it in her mouth.
At dinner, Ji Tao could barely chew the meat. There was no dry wood for a fire. Besides, Cheng pointed out, they did not want to attract the natives. Who knew how they would react to this incursion? Ji Tao thought again of the hanging corpse, and imagined it to be herself. She wondered what it would be like to hang dead, her soul too heavy to ascend to Heaven. She imagined herself being ripped apart by a tiger, slashed by wild dogs, bled like a pig. The dead man whispered about his anguish, the family that he had left behind. It asked her to cut him down from the tree so that he might be buried, so that his soul could return to join his ancestors.
The meal complete, Tuan said, “I will tell you about how the world came to be as it is now.
“When the Great Thief came, stealing all it could see and casting it to the four winds, the Middle Kingdom, which had existed for more than three thousand years, ceased to be. It broke up into many smaller kingdoms. It was a time of alliances, deceptions, treachery and war. States came into being one day and were swallowed up the next. Larger states collapsed under their own weight, unable to feed their citizens. And the people suffered, as they always have, as they always will. Soon the east, once the cradle of life, had become a realm of wolves that feasted on the dead, a land of ghosts that haunted the living. So began the years of Everlasting Peace.
“In those days, it seemed as though the world was rebelling against its old master, man. The seas rose precipitously, winds ripped across the plains, and rain lashed the hills. But something even stranger was happening. The world itself was growing hotter, not just in the summer but in the spring, autumn and winter. In the Kingdom of Four Rivers, people noticed that many of the distant peaks that had been snow-topped were snow-topped no longer. Many of the White Mountains were no longer white.
“It seemed as though the world was ending. The land grew more hostile by the year, and in Four Rivers there was a great plague. People starved. Their fields lay untended. This land, once known for its fertile soils, turned bad. Some say that Four Rivers was lucky, for at least it still rained here. In fact, it rained more than ever before. But the hills and rivers were riddled with disease. After the fall of Kinshao and Shulao, there had been no one left to bury the corpses.
“So the people retreated inside their domes, becoming shield-folk. Under the shields the air was clean, the temperature mild, but outside, death waited. Our forebears in Baitang worked like slaves to build a world for us to live in. In the old times, Baitang had not been an important city, but now it was one of the few shielded settlements that had remained intact.
“Outside the shields, jungles rose up from where fields had once been. Within a hundred years of Shulao's fall, those unlucky enough to have been left outside the great shields had little memory of what had gone before. We pass through the lands of these blighted people today. It became a savage jungle indeed, full of boars, tigers, snakes and creatures so terrible they have no name. Somehow the savages survived.
“In my lifetime, I have seen many changes. When I was a child, the savages were few in number and wretched in countenance. The shield-folk had no fear of their primitive bows and spears. But the people of the wild were learning. They were changing while the shield-folk stayed the same. Their settlements are hidden in the jungle, far away from our centres of power. They grow stronger as we grow weaker. When I was a boy, there was electricity in every home. Now it is not so. While we cling to the remnants of the past, the savages prepare for the future.”
“What can they offer?” Cheng interrupted. “These jungle men?”
“I don't know,” Tuan said simply. “But I have never asked.”
“What makes you think you can even talk to them?” Liang asked.
“I'm not sure that I can, but I have never tried.”
“You intend to try now?” Rong Li asked.
“Perhaps they will come to us, or maybe they will leave us alone.”
“Are you saying we're not going back to the river road?” Liang asked.
“The river road is treacherous, as you have seen.”
“But this road is dangerous too,” Rong Li said. “That's why we never come this way.”
“It's a risk, I know,” Tuan admitted. “But a risk I intend to take, with your permission.”
Ji Tao thought that this was a strange development. So strange that Tuan felt he needed the permission of his family to enact it.
“I know these lands and I say it is folly,” Cheng said. “Uncle, I respect your wisdom deeply, but I cannot agree to this.”
“Then return to the river road,” Tuan said. “I will give you a caravan.”
All eyes turned to Cheng. Would he really part with the family? Who would go with him? Not Ji Tao. Surely Cheng did not expect her support?
“Who will take the river road with me?” Cheng asked.
No one spoke. Not one of them rose to his defence. In that moment, for the first time in years, Ji Tao felt sorry for her brother.
“Then it is settled,” Cheng said. “I will remain, though with reservations.”