Authors: Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
Tags: #Fantasy, #Fiction, #General, #Historical, #Horror, #Vampires, #Transylvania (Romania), #Krakatoa (Indonesia), #Volcanic Eruptions
Dark of the Sun (13 page)
“Yes. Two of my best are unoccupied. I will assign them to your men.” He started toward his door. “Come in out of the rain, Worthy Foreigner, and let us conclude our arrangements.”
“Thank you,” said Zangi-Ragozh, and gestured to Gien, Jong, and Yao to hurry along ahead of him. As Ro-shei came up to him, he pulled his manservant aside, saying, “I am planning to sleep in the stable tonight.”
“I will do it, if you prefer,” Ro-shei said at once.
“No,” said Zangi-Ragozh. “I want to sleep on my bed in the second wagon. I need the succor of my native earth. This rain is sapping my endurance, and I doubt visiting a dancing-girl would be possible tonight, with the army here.”
Ro-shei nodded. “Let me make up a bed for you, then, so no one will think your decision a reflection on this city or this inn.”
Zangi-Ragozh shrugged. “As you wish.”
“If you will give me your boots, I will change the earth in their soles, as well,” Ro-shei offered.
“Thank you,” said Zangi-Ragozh, “but I can attend to that myself, later tonight.”
Ro-shei nodded. “I’ll tell the men of your decision. They will praise you for doing a task that should, rightfully, be theirs.”
“I cannot blame them for preferring a comfortable bed to a stable on such a frosty night,” said Zangi-Ragozh.
“It still is their place to protect the horses and wagons, not yours,” Ro-shei said.
“No doubt. But I need a night on my native earth if I am to continue at our present pace.”
“So it’s not a woman you worry about, it’s those around her,” said Ro-shei, understanding Zangi-Ragozh’s reticence at last. “You’re thinking of Ignatia’s mother.”
“Egidia Adicia Cortelle, Domina Laelius was hardly the only woman who wanted to profit from revealing too much to those in authority,” said Zangi-Ragozh, and went toward the table where the landlord waited.
“You had best remain until the men have eaten,” Ro-shei recommended. “The landlord may not give full value for the payment if you are in the stable.”
Zangi-Ragozh reached to draw up a chair. “See that my men have what they want.”
The meal had just been served when three military officers came into the dining room, their heavy, quilted shai-fas still wet from the worsening rain. The leader held a company standard on a pole, indicating the visit was official; he came up to Zangi-Ragozh and put his hands together in greeting. He was a fairly young man but with the bearing of one used to authority. “Zangi-Ragozh: Captain Tan said we would find you here, Worthy Foreigner.”
Zangi-Ragozh looked up at the officers, then rose to give them a formal greeting before saying, “I’m sorry, I do not have the honor of knowing Captain Tan.”
“He admitted you at the gate,” said the leader. “He recommended this inn.”
“So his name is Tan,” said Zangi-Ragozh, concealing the sudden chill that took hold of him as he realized he had played into the hands of the army and the Magistrate.
“Tan Jia-Ni,” said the officer.
“And whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?” Zangi-Ragozh asked with meticulous good manners. “For I fear you have the advantage of me.”
“I am Wo Mi-Dja,” said the leader.
Zangi-Ragozh regarded the officer a moment. “I noticed the Magistrate’s name is Wo.”
“My uncle,” said Wo Mi-Dja. “He has brought much honor to our family.”
Yao, who had been watching this exchange attentively, spoke to Zangi-Ragozh. “You’ve paid your fees already. They can’t claim any more.” He pointed to Gien, who was drinking the last of his hot wine. “You saw, and so did you, Jong.”
“This is not a matter of fees,” said Officer Wo.
There was a short, uneasy silence, and then Zangi-Ragozh asked, carefully civil in demeanor and address, “May I know what you want with me, Officer Wo?”
“It is not actually with you, Foreigner Zangi-Ragozh,” said Officer Wo with a studied superiority. “It is with the three Chinese men who are in your company.”
“What about them? I have legitimately employed them; there are records of that in Yang-Chau.” Zangi-Ragozh nodded toward the men at the table. “They have worked for me three years at least.”
“And my uncle will arrange for you to receive compensation,” said Officer Wo.
“Compensation for what?” Zangi-Ragozh asked, anticipating what was coming.
“Their services, and the commandeering of the larger of your wagons and all but four of your horses,” said Officer Wo, a hint of fixedness in his manner.
Zangi-Ragozh had been apprehensive about the officers’ purpose, supposing that some of his spare horses would be taken, but this was more than he had anticipated. “On what authority do you take my property and my paid employees, Officer Wo?”
“The army has need of them, and the Emperor has given us permission to seize what we need to defend his cause,” said Officer Wo, adding with a bit of a smirk, “If this seems unfair, you may always take the case to the Magistrate.”
“Your uncle,” said Zangi-Ragozh.
“Yes. My uncle.”
“I am not leaving Worthy Foreigner Zangi-Ragozh,” Jong announced staunchly. “He saved my life and I am indebted to him for all he has done for me.”
“He paid us the main part of our salaries before we left, so we could provide for our families, which will be the same as stealing if we cannot finish the work we are expected to do,” Yao added. “I have a wife and a daughter in Yang-Chau. If I cannot continue to work for the Worthy Foreigner, how are they to live?”
Zangi-Ragozh was surprised to hear Yao mention his family, for it was a serious lapse in conduct to do so, and as such, eloquent testimony to his understanding of the seriousness of the situation. He saw Officer Wo stiffen and tried to minimize the breach. “I thank you for your good conduct, Yao, and I regret that you have had to embarrass yourself on my account.”
“I have a mother whom I support,” Jong put in, a stubborn set to his jaw. “She depends upon me.”
“No doubt all men have such tales,” said Officer Wo, trying not to be offended by the introduction of such private information into their arrangements. “And you”—he addressed Gien—“I suppose you have someone depending on your work for this man for a living?”
“No,” said Gien. “But Zangi-Ragozh paid my family handsomely for me, and he is entitled for the labor he expected to have from me.”
“All men have excuses,” said Officer Wo.
“Hardly excuses,” said Jong. “We know where our obligations lie.”
“To the Emperor,” said Officer Wo, settling the matter. “If you will come to the stable with me, Foreigner Zangi-Ragozh, we will settle the matter of the horses and the wagon at once.” He signaled to his men. “Kan, you stay here; Dai, come with me.”
Ro-shei cocked his head. “What do you wish me to do, my master?”
“I hope you will remain here. I can tend to matters in the stable, if Gien will come with me to show me where our animals and our wagons are; I will shift our chests and crates for the officer’s convenience,” said Zangi-Ragozh, and started out of the dining room toward the side corridor that led to the stable.
Gien jumped to his feet. “I’m coming,” he said after a swift, skittish look at the Officer and his men. He followed after them at a respectful distance.
As Zangi-Ragozh made his way toward the stable, he asked, “It appears that you are commandeering men and matériel fairly routinely: how many seizures have you made today, Officer Wo?”
“Yours will be the fourth,” said Officer Wo.
“All from this inn?” Zangi-Ragozh inquired, noticing the landlord staring at him.
“No. We try to make only one confiscation per day from each merchants’ inn, in as fair a division of loss as can be arranged,” said Officer Wo with a degree of pride.
“And the Gods of Fortune said I would be chosen for the Inn of the Graceful Birches today,” Zangi-Ragozh marveled.
“You are traveling on the Emperor’s business,” Officer Wo reminded him. “This is also the Emperor’s business. Captain Tan noted your orders from the Vermilion Brush, and he informed us of them.”
They crossed the side-court to the stable where Zangi-Ragozh signaled to Gien to point out their horses. “I suppose they’re tie-stalled.”
“Yes. Over here,” said Gien nervously as he picked up one of the stable lanterns and made his way down the broad aisle, the light uplifted to provide the most illumination. “There. Those are the horses. All sixteen of them are in a line, by that long manger. We lost two along the way.” He pointed with his free hand. “From the two fine grays to the horse with the large brown spots.”
Officer Wo made his way along the horses. “Very good stock, and well-kept. They look to be in good condition, properly fed and their hooves trimmed.”
“They are,” said Zangi-Ragozh, knowing that the army would not be able to care for them as he and Gien had, which saddened him.
“And you have two wagons?” Officer Wo went on.
“Yes. A larger one and a smaller one,” said Zangi-Ragozh, anticipating what was coming. “One is drawn by two horses, the other by four.”
“We’ll need the larger one. You may take off your cargo, for we’ll need the space for supplies. You may take the smaller one and … shall we say four horses? That way you have a team and a spare, or you can ride one, lead one, and harness two.”
Zangi-Ragozh held back his protestations, knowing any complaint would likely lose him more. “May I choose which horses I keep?”
Officer Wo shrugged. “That seems a reasonable request, given the circumstances. I’ll have my scribe draw up a writ of transfer and an authorization of compensation. You may present it to the Emperor’s treasurers when you arrive in Chang’an.”
Zangi-Ragozh’s smile was ironic. “How kind of you, Officer Wo,” he said.
“It is not the intention of the army to deprive you of property without recompense,” Officer Wo said stiffly before abruptly shifting the subject. “I like that light bay. He has a fine neck.”
“That he does,” said Zangi-Ragozh. “He’s a strengthy horse.”
Officer Wo tried not to see how shocked Gien was. “And the one with the black spots? What about her?”
“Eight years old, steady and sensible,” said Zangi-Ragozh, knowing that Ro-shei was fond of the spotted mare and sorry she had caught the officer’s attention.
“Eight. So there are some good years left in her yet,” said Officer Wo. “Army life is hard on everyone—men, dogs, horses—the lot. More so when the weather is so unseasonably bad.” He coughed and lowered his voice as if to impart a secret. “The mud and the continuing cold have claimed almost as many soldiers, horses, and wagons as the enemy has.”
“Which is why you have the task of acquiring more of everything needed,” said Zangi-Ragozh.
Hearing the note of despair in the foreigner’s voice, Officer Wo softened. “We will not waste anything we confiscate from you.”
“You console me,” said Zangi-Ragozh sardonically.
“You’re a merchant. All merchants hate war,” said Officer Wo, “unless they’re selling to the army.”
Zangi-Ragozh quelled his unease. “As you say—war is bad for trade.”
“And this weather is worse, from what I’ve heard,” said Officer Wo. “Well, I tell you what: you can keep that spotted mare. We’ll leave you one of your choice, the sorrel with the white socks—my Captain says four white legs is unlucky—and the cinder-brown. Which one would you like to have?”
“One of the grays,” said Zangi-Ragozh promptly, but unable to choose between Flying Cloud and Shooting Star.
“Keep the gelding. We’ll take the mare,” said Officer Wo. “Now, since we’re taking the larger wagon, you had better start unloading it. If you need my men to help you?”
“No, thank you. I will manage,” said Zangi-Ragozh. “Everything will be ready in the morning.”
Officer Wo gestured approval. “I’ll send men for them at first light.” He gave a predatory smile. “Do not try to deprive us of what we need—it will only go hard for you if you do.”
“I understand,” said Zangi-Ragozh. “What about my three men?” He already knew he and Ro-shei would turn north in the morning, away from Chang’an; they had no reason to continue on, not with the men and horses gone.
“They’ll come with us now,” said Officer Wo. “I can’t give them time to slip away to wait for you at some remote place in order to avoid their duty to us.” Officer Wo clapped Zangi-Ragozh on the shoulder. “You have a good grasp of how things must be.”
“For a foreigner,” Zangi-Ragozh finished for him even as he prepared to return to the inn to explain how matters had changed for them all.
Text of one of three identical letters from Zangi-Ragozh to Senior Clerk Hu Bi-Da, Professor Min Cho-Zhi, and Councillor Ko She-Hsieh, all at Yang-Chau; entrusted to a Chinese merchant and delivered eleven months later.
To the most reliable clerk, Hu Bi-Da/ the most faithful deputy, Professor Min Cho-Zhi/ the illustrious Councillor Ko She-Hsieh, the greetings of the foreign merchant Zangi-Ragozh, who is profoundly grateful to you for your honorable service.
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