Chapter 42
Two skeletons lay intertwined on the ribs of the boat. In either a loving embrace or a murderous struggle. It was impossible to tell.
Kai-wen bent over them.
“Taoist priests.” He picked up a medallion hanging from one of the ribs, with the Taoist symbol on one side and on the other …
“The holy beasts,” whispered Vivien, to Alice’s moan. As if an undead emperor and Pangu zombies weren’t bad enough, now there were holy beasts.
“It’s the emblem of Emperor Qin Shi Huang,” said Kai-wen.
“Of course it is,” said Alice.
After they had boarded the boat, Alice used one foot to shove it away from the shore and into the current. As she did, and the boat rocked, small lead balls rolled out from under the bones.
“They were shot?” Vivien picked one up. “How could that be? China didn’t invent gunpowder until the ninth century.”
It was one of what had become known as the Three Great Inventions of ancient China.
Gunpowder, printing, and the compass. Each changed the world. Each marked the Chinese as master engineers and inventors.
“Are you so sure of that?” said Ming-na. “Maybe it was invented before that by the people who were walled up in here. Their discovery lost for a thousand years.”
“Jesus,” said Alice. “Let’s hope the emperor’s engineers didn’t know about the atom.”
They sat down on the sides of the small boat, being careful not to disturb the bodies, and exhaled, feeling safe for the first time in ages. It was fleeting but welcome.
The boat was picking up speed in the current. Now they saw that more bodies, some just bone, some with flesh still clinging to them, were also in the river. Bobbing up and down in the silvery mercury, as though swimming. As though reaching for them.
The boat was approaching the palace. It was even grander, more magnificent, than at a distance. It glowed, sparkled, almost blinded in the sunshine.
But as they got closer to the dock, they realized they were in danger of rushing right past it. The current, the dragon, was heading for the temple. The one place they definitely did not want to go.
Not that they believed the legends. Of a risen and wrathful emperor. Really. Absolutely not …
“We have to get over there.” Alice pointed to the shore and the dock.
They grabbed poles and together pushed with all their might, fighting the current to land the boat.
Slowly, slowly, it changed course.
“Hold on,” shouted Vivien.
They were now heading at speed for the dock.
With an almighty whack, they hit it and were almost thrown overboard.
Ming-na leaped out and held the boat as it butted against the dock.
A rope that must once have secured it had long since rotted away.
The others quickly climbed out, and the vessel continued on its way.
They didn’t have time to worry about how they might get back. If they survived whatever awaited them.
“I saw something move,” said Ming-na, looking over her shoulder to the palace.
The others turned and looked but saw nothing.
Until it was too late.
Something, someone, came hurtling out from a doorway, screaming. A banshee shriek. “Shéi zài nà’er?!!” Who is there?! The voice sounded crazed.
Kai-wen, closest to the attacker, took a swing with his axe, knocking them sideways.
Then another appeared. The smell of old body odor was nauseating.
This was a man, tallish, with wild eyes and unkempt hair that looked like it hadn’t been cut in years.
He had some kind of spiked mallet in his hands, and he was making straight for Vivien.
Vivien grabbed her pickaxe but lost her balance, tripping over the first Pangu guard, who was now moaning in pain.
“Ooof,” she managed as the second one bore down on her.
Ming-na grabbed her pickaxe and swung.
It did the job.
“Oh God,” she said, dropping to her knees. “I killed him. Her.”
“You saved me,” said a very shaken Vivien.
“We need to move,” said Kai-wen.
“What’s that?” Alice turned toward a sound.
The four of them cocked their heads. And then their eyes widened when it dawned on them what they were hearing. More footsteps shuffling toward them. A second, maybe a third pair of guards.
“They must be around that corner and down that alley,” Alice said, patting the pistol in her back pocket to make sure it was still there. “We need to go.”
Kai-wen looked from his sister to his wife. “I’ll stay here with you. You two”—he nodded at Ming-na and Alice—“go. Find Pangu. Stop the attack.”
The first guard felled by Kai-wen now raised a hand. In it, a pistol.
“Run!” Kai-wen yelled, lunging at the man. The gun went off. The shuffle of footsteps sounded closer. Two, three more guards now bearing down on them.
Kai-wen was struggling to subdue the first one. “Go!!” he shouted at them. “There’s no time!”
Ming-na hesitated, but Alice grabbed her. “He’s right. We have to go.”
Alice took the gun from her belt and handed it to her mother. “I love—”
“Go!” her mother shouted as the other guards closed in on them. She held Alice’s eyes for a split second. But it was enough. “I know.”
Alice and her aunt took off, racing up the steps of the palace.
Not looking back. Stumbling over the bones that had stopped being the shocking remains of people and had become simply a hindrance.
They heard shots. Lots of them. Rapid fire. More than a single handgun could produce.
And then silence.
Still, the two women ran, though Alice let loose a sob, as did Ming-na.
At the top of the palace stairs, they turned briefly to survey the necropolis at their feet. No longer interested in the splendor before them, Alice was looking for her mother, Ming-na for her husband.
But there was no movement.
“Come on.” Alice tugged at her aunt’s sleeve.
“No. I need to wait for Kai-wen.”
“He’ll come find us inside, and so will Mom.” Alice was content to live in that fantasy for as long as possible. “Come on!”
She turned back to the palace. Coiled around columns, sculpted dragons, their scales meticulously carved, watched them, their open mouths baring tiny sharp teeth. Ready to devour the intruders if called upon.
Qilins, mythical chimeras, stood guard, their burning emerald eyes closely following the women. The appearance of these creatures foretold a death. There’d been so much death, surely the qilins were satiated.
Once inside the palace, Ming-na took a step forward, but Alice yanked her back just as an arrow flew across the corridor. Barely missing both women.
The qilin was robbed of one more death, for now.
Coconut bun, coconut bun, coconut bun.
Alice knelt down and took out the map she’d found on the body, turning it this way and that. It was a rough schematic, showing rooms that linked to each other.
There was one dot. On the largest room.
But where was the starting point? She looked around, trying to quickly get her bearings.
“We’re in the wrong place,” said Ming-na.
“What do you mean?” snapped Alice. “This’s the palace, right?”
The walls were decorated with intricate scenes of combat. A visual diary of the epic battles Qin Shi Huang had fought to unite this vast country. The wide corridors were lined with sculptures. Larger-than-life depictions of the emperor. Some on horseback. Some wielding a sword.
One with what looked like a flint rifle.
“Turn the map over,” said Ming-na. “Look.”
On the back, someone had written, 魂遁, 饕餮, 穷奇, and 梼杌.
“What does that mean?”
“Hundun, Taotie, Qiongqi, and Taowu,” Ming-na translated. “These are the Four Perils. Symbols of the Tao. Warnings.”
“No. The Tao symbol is yin and yang. Harmony.”
“You think there can be harmony without peril? What do you think we’re doing?” demanded Ming-na, angry now. “Kai-wen and Vivien have given their entire lives to stop the terrorists. To bring peace. That’s how peace works.”
She glared at Alice, as though her niece were responsible for the mess they were in.
Kai-wen and Vivien would not have been able to fend off the guards and were now lost to the cause.
What cause? In many ways, Alice was responsible.
Had she not seen that fucking bun in Liam’s hand, had she not insisted his death wasn’t an accident and set out to prove it, they would not be standing there now.
“If that map”—Ming-na reset her jaw and jabbed her finger at the piece of paper—“has those symbols, then it’s got to be the temple. That’s where Pangu is. That’s where we need to be.”
Ming-na got up and started toward the temple.
“What,” Alice asked as she ran after her, “are the Four Perils?”
Liu stood at the door into Wang’s official office. The one that had been turned inside out and upside down. It was a shambles.
A crazy person would not necessarily hide what needed to be hidden. That was Liu’s hope. His only hope.
Grabbing sheets of paper at random, he scanned them, tossed them aside, then looked at more. When he’d rifled the desk and bookcases, he sat heavily in Wang’s swivel chair.
He noticed that there was glass on the floor and among it a framed photo of a little girl, crushed under someone’s boot.
It must be Wang’s only granddaughter. A beloved child.
She was holding a piece of embroidery. Liu carefully picked it out of the rubble and examined the somber face.
The photo was in black and white, and now struck Liu as being quite old. Wang’s mother perhaps?
Liu had the feeling he’d met this child, somewhere. Though he’d probably just seen the photo on the desk in previous cordial visits.
He turned the picture over and saw that Wang had written something on the back. Nüshu.
Nüshu.
Then he said it out loud. “Nnnnn. Shhoooo.”
It was what Wang’s wife had said with her last breath. Tried to say.
Was she calling for this child? Liu didn’t think so. The look of terror in her eyes when she spoke told him the dying woman was not conjuring a peaceful, comforting last thought.