12. Moon Rise (2/2)
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That ended when Mao heard Jinshi say, “Someone is going to have to be punished for letting the assassin die. I suppose the mercenary woman will have to take the blame.”
Mao frowned upon hearing the guard mentioned.
“Steel?” she asked.—“Never make assumptions” was one of the things she had been taught, but she was sure of the answer.
“Yes, the woman Mù’er. She was holding the woman when it happened, and as a foreigner, no one will complain about her death.” As he spoke, Jinshi looked intently at Mao. From the squint in his eyes, Mao assumed he was wondering what she would say.
Mao should have been happy at this announcement, after all, she owed the woman for her early rudeness and for tossing her around like a sack of millet. Mao’s ribs were still tender from the pounding they had taken from the saddle horn. Still…
“It is entirely my fault. I was careless with the poisoned arrow, and Steel lost her grip because I stumbled into her.”
"What am I saying?" Mao thought. Judging by the stares of Basen and Jinshi, they were thinking the same thing. Suiren's glare was almost enough to kill her on the spot, which might be a mercy, considering the alternative.
“Pardon my wandering mind, but didn’t I hear it was one of the family members who stabbed her with the arrow?” Suiren’s statement stunned them all. Mao wondered what her intervention would cost her.
Seconds ticked by until Jinshi replied, "No, you remember correctly. Maomao would never be careless with a poisoned arrow, let alone leave it wedged in place for someone to impale themselves on.” To anyone less familiar with Jinshi, the sarcasm in his statement would have gone undetected. Mao heard the jab but was unbothered. It seemed a small price to pay for her actions.
“I think, as a reward for guarding our clumsy Xiaomao,” the Moon Prince continued, “we should permanently assign Mù’er to guard her. We can’t have Xiaomao carelessly harming herself.”
Mao shuddered.
*** Finis ***
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12. Moon Rise (1/2)
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Jinshi still looked pale, but thanks to Mao, he could work for short periods again. Not that either Mao or Jinshi’s head maid, Suiren, agreed.
“Maybe I should have used less of the antidote,” Mao grumbled to herself. She was in a particularly #crabby mood due to the nausea resulting from experimenting with the assassin’s poison. The fact that the rice cakes with persimmon #jam didn’t tempt her spoke volumes. Jinshi’s royal robes were too bright to look at. Fortunately, the muted colors of his office were easier on her eyes, and she kept her gaze on the mild yellow embroidered flowers on the curtain hiding Baryou.
She refused the dish of rice crackers that Jinshi pushed toward her. What she wanted to say was, “Go back to bed, you idiot.” That's what she felt the doctors should have said. Given Jinshi’s feelings for her, she would have survived the impertinence. However, with Suiren frowning at them both, she didn’t dare say it.
Instead, Mao eyed the wine, wondering if it would settle her stomach while Basen droned on about the events leading to the capture of the Shaoh assassin and the family sheltering her.
[Continued in next post]
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11. Mercy by Moonlight 2/2
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She paused, letting the woman think, then resumed, “You don’t have to tell me who your master is, but I must know what the poison contains. Tell me, and the arrow is yours.”
[Conclusion next Week in "Moon Rise]
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11. Mercy by Moonlight 1/2
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Mao shot the woman a deadly look before her legs gave out. When she next looked up, the woman had already turned away.
Mao clicked her tongue. Annoyed, but only at herself. The mercenary had had the sense to spare her the humiliation of being watched. “Now I owe her,” Mao grumbled.
She grimaced as she rose. Her ribs throbbed where they had slammed into the saddle horn. Each breath felt like needles were piercing her chest.
Gingerly, she pressed the tender spot, careful not to #pant with the pain. “Thank goodness,” she thought. “Bruised. Not cracked.”
She eyed the woman, who was still scanning the house, and imagined treating her one day—perhaps resetting a dislocated shoulder. “I owe her twice,” Mao muttered. “Once for the courtesy, and once for treating me like a sack of millet.”
The woman turned and spoke, “They’re done. You ready?”
Mao nodded and limped toward the house. Her guard eyed her, then fell into step beside her wordlessly.
Inside the house, they found the carver’s family cowering in a corner. Mao gave them one glance and moved on to a woman held by two of the soldiers. Mao noted that she was short and lithe with plenty of lean muscle and black-dyed hair. This was the assassin, an archer.
She followed the woman’s gaze to a bundle in the corner, and a smile touched Mao’s lips. “Keep hold of her. I may want to question her,” she instructed the soldiers. Then, wincing, she walked to the bundle and carefully undid it. Inside were a bow, arrows, and a small clay pot. Mao’s smile widened.
She used an arrow to dip out some of the brownish substance the pot contained. She looked at the prisoner. “It's good you kept this.”
The woman responded by cursing her in words blurred by her Shaoh accent.
“Mao commented, sniffing the substance. Mao commented, “Bitter.“Not a mineral. Perhaps snake venom in a fat base. What is it?”
The woman cursed again.
Mao returned to examining the substance, considering tasting it or even scratching herself with it. Then she sighed. “There is no time. Jinshi waits.”
“Steel, hold her. I have something I need to say without the others hearing.”
Her guard pinned the woman’s arms, and Basen gestured for the soldiers to move away.
Mao secreted the pot in her robe and carelessly laid the poisoned arrow on a low shelf where it lodged against a #pole, point exposed. She approached the woman, dodging her attempted kick. In a low voice, so that only the three of them—the prisoner, Steel, and herself—could hear, she said, “See that arrow? What if we accidentally let you reach it? It would be a mercy, considering what awaits you in court. I would even help them keep you alive longer.”
[Continued next post]
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10. Moonlight Snare
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The cavalcade moved down the hill toward the house. Each person carefully led their horse to avoid rocks and walked on soft soil whenever possible.
Halfway down the slope, the inevitable happened, and the sound of rattling stones broke the silence. Below, in response, a light flared in the house.
In an instant, Basen sounded a blast on a war horn, and the brassy #refrain of another followed across the valley. The troops sprang into their saddles.
Before Mao knew it, she’d been thrown across a horse’s back, and her guard had mounted behind her. “Be still,” the woman hissed.
From Mao's perspective, everything became a blur of confusion. The rhythm of the horse's gait, the rough hand holding her, and the vibrations of thundering hooves made it difficult for her to regain her breath. The ground beneath them danced as it raced by, making her dizzy. In that chaos, Mao could only form two coherent thoughts: "Don't vomit," and "Just wait until that woman needs medical attention." However, neither thought lasted long, as her ribs collided with the saddle horn with each stride of the horse.
As suddenly as it started, the mad race ended at the house. From her supine position, all she could see were shadowy figures jumping from their horses and rushing into the building. It was only then that they broke their silence, shouting out a variety of war cries.
Mao slid off the horse, holding on to it as the ground pitched beneath her. She took a few wobbly steps to follow the soldiers, only to feel the woman’s hand on her shoulder restraining her.
“I need to ensure that no one escapes,” Mao gasped.
“Don’t worry, little Apothecary Lady. None will escape this snare.”
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9. Balanced on the Rim 縁にバランスを取って
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Basen’s company rode in a silence that was only broken by the hoot of an owl or the clatter of a rock kicked up by a horse. He called a halt just before the crest of a hill and signaled to two riders.
“Alert the guards and prepare to seize anyone who flees out the back. Signal with three short flashes when you’re ready.”
The riders #wheeled one to the right and one to the left and disappeared down paths. As they vanished, Basen signaled for the soldiers to dismount. They did so and began attending to their weapons and armor. Where possible, they made their weapons less lethal, such as by padding the tips of #lances or substituting blunt weapons for edged ones.
Mao’s bodyguard helped her dismount. Whatever resentment she might have remained hidden behind her professional manner. Mao returned the favor and didn’t accidentally kick her.
Once the weapons were secured, rations began appearing. Her guard produced rice cakes and dried fish. Mao eyed them hungrily. While they weren’t elegant fare, she’d eaten worse and, unlike the food at the inn, they were unlikely to make her ill. The question was whether her pride would let her ask for some.
“May I have...” she began asking, but stopped when the woman handed her a cake and some fish. The woman watched as Mao took a bite of the cake.
Seeming satisfied when Mao made no complaint, the woman said, “I’m Böktemür. It means steel, but I’m called Mù’er.”
The only part that stuck in Mao’s memory was “steel,” which was appropriate for a mercenary.
“I’m Maomao, but you can call me Mao. For the record, I’m an apothecary, not a lady.”
“Before, my tongue was rude. Forgive it, Apothecary Woman.”
“Accepted, Steel.”
They ate in silence and then sat waiting while the moon moved across the sky. When it #balanced on the rim of the far hills, Basen announced, “The signal. Advance silently until I signal, then ride like the wind. Capture, don’t kill.”
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8. Partridges by Moonlight. (Part 2)
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Soon, Basen led the squad out of the courtyard.
Mao’s horse #capered nervously at its owner's inexperienced handling.
Her guard took the horse’s reins and looked at Mao, daring her to object. This time, Mao shrugged. If she were baggage, she should expect to be treated as such. Of course, that ran both ways. If the woman was ever wounded or ill, aid she would get, but no mercy.
Once they were out of the courtyard, they stopped. Basen came over, took the reins, and handed them to Mao. This prompted her to smile at her guard as if she were a novel wound. A cobra would have been friendlier.
The woman returned her smile with a stony gaze. The dust of the Steppes had prepared this woman, and Mao had been prepared by growing up with the madam. Neither gave quarter nor flinched. Mao approved.
“Explain,” Basen asked, forcing Mao to break off the duel of stares.
“We’re going to raid a house,” Mao said. “I want to question the occupants. Capture, don’t kill. Some may try to kill themselves; you must stop them.”
“Treat her words as if the Moon Prince had uttered them. If any of you misunderstand her instructions, you will have to wrestle with me when the Prince has finished with you.”
The soldiers were stoic, but each glanced at the other upon hearing the threat. Wrestling a man who had single-handedly beaten a lion was not something they would look forward to, especially if he was in a merciless mood.
“And if you capture everyone as directed, I’ll buy rounds,” Basen added.
There was an approving murmur.
“Let’s go. The night and surprise are on our side,” he finished.
There was nothing more to be said, and the group moved out, quiet as partridges in the moonlight.
8. Partridges by Moonlight. (Part 1)
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Basen walked through the inn, tapping select soldiers on the arm and pointing outside. He toe-kicked those who were sleeping. Given his strength, Mao was glad that no ribs had been broken. The soldiers didn’t complain; they just rubbed their sides ruefully and exited the building as directed.
Mao followed and found half a dozen yawning soldiers assembled. Husky men and one woman. Unlike many nobles’ guards, these soldiers weren't selected for their good looks. Most of them were scarred veterans with equipment lovingly cared for. Even half asleep, they glanced warily about. Honor, not #greed, motivated these individuals.
“You sure you wouldn’t rather use the carriage?” Basen asked.
Mao snorted. “And let the whole valley know I’m coming?”
He nodded and turned to the woman. She was lightly armored, and Mao pegged her as a skirmisher. She had the pale-olive skin and high, wind-burned cheekbones of a northern rider. Her narrow eyes were beneath brows bleached by sun and dust. Women soldiers were rare but not unheard of. Like most female soldiers, she was probably a foreign mercenary, Mao thought, but she had to be dependable, otherwise she wouldn’t be here.
“Guard her,” Basen said, pointing to Mao. “The Moon Prince won’t forgive you if anything happens to her.”
“As you wish,” the woman answered. Her voice was husky, with a trace of an unfamiliar accent that rounded her vowels and clipped her consonants.
“Yes, definitely foreign,” Mao concluded.
The woman helped Mao up onto the horse. Leaning in so close Mao could smell the garlic on her breath, the woman said in a low tone that only Mao could hear, “Does the little #heroine need protection?” and clicked her tongue in disgust.
Mao gave her a sidelong glance, lips curling faintly. “Only from friendly fire,” she said, settling her grip on the reins.
The woman clicked her tongue again but said nothing more. It irked Mao that she was being treated like a helpless noble, but perhaps it was warranted. To a trained soldier, she would seem like a useless burden. However, she refused to stay behind. There were things she needed to do.
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7. Sleeping Moon
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#burrow
“Burn these and dispose of the blood discreetly. Our lives depend upon it,” Mao said, pointing to the bloody wastes left over from her procedure on the Moon Prince.
Tinkle nodded and began feeding the cloth into the braise.
Moa took some herbs from her robes. “Burn these too; it will help cover the smell.”
The next thing she did was exit the room and stop in front of the door. Turning to a guard, she said, “Get me Basen.”
When Basen arrived, he motioned to the door with a slight nod.
“He sleeps. Tinkle is seeing to him. Don’t go in until she leaves.”
Making no move to push past her into the room, Basen relaxed slightly after the reply.
“Did you find the carver?” she asked.
“Yes, and we have guards hidden on all the roads. They still feel safe in their #burrow.
“Get your best men: quiet, trustworthy, and able to follow orders to the letter. No one must be killed. And a horse for me. I’m going too.”
Basen looked like he would protest and then swallowed his words.
“Don’t worry, I have no intention of being a hero.”
Next week, “Partridges by Moonlight.”
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6. Bleeding Moon 出血月
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Shortly after Basen left, Tinkle arrived with additional cloth and a flask of spirits.
Mao took the flask and set up a table with her tools next to Jinshi's prone body. Among them was a slender, sharp lancet.
"Please get me a clean bowl or vessel for liquid. It must be clean."
She frowned, then continued, “Then I’ll need your help. If you’re going to be squeamish about blood, then leave. I won't hold you back. If things go wrong, it will cost us our lives. Decide by the time you get back.”
The girl soon returned with a bowl and handed it to Mao.
“Hold the bowl so it catches any blood,” Mao said. “Be careful not to cast a shadow on the patient. When I ask for a cloth, hand me one. There is an iron in the brazier. If I need it, fetch it instantly.”
#Loosing no time, the woman nodded, moved the candle to better illuminate Jinshi, and picked up the bowl again.
Mao nodded almost imperceptibly in approval. She wouldn't need to worry about her help.
"I'm going to bleed the wound to remove as much poison as possible. That just leaves the tainted blood that has already spread to his body."
The woman nodded again and stood ready.
After washing the area with alcohol, Mao carefully cut two diagonal lines across the wound, ensuring it bled freely.
Mao glanced at her aide once. Satisfied, she looked back at her work. Tinkle held the bowl steady and deftly handed her the cloth when needed.
Mao gently massaged the tissue around the wound.
"Hand me the packets next to the cotton," Mao said. Tinkle held them out to her, the bowl barely trembling.
Mao tore open the packet and began sprinkling its contents onto the wound. The faint smell of #gall scented the air as she did so. "That's to help stop the bleeding."
"Cloth," she ordered.
Again, it was handed to her flawlessly, and she bandaged the wound while applying gentle pressure to the area.
"If you have any gods, pray to them." Not having much faith in gods herself, Mao didn’t follow her own advice. Beyond downcast eyes, it didn't appear that Tinkle did either.
“He should live for a while,” Mao resumed. “Hopefully, that will give us enough time to identify the poison and find an antidote.”
Continued next week
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