Qian
乾
Chapter II: "In Xanadu, did Kubla Khan decree..."
Chang'an, Qian
Nidali gave a heavy sigh and clicked his fingers twice in rapid succession. He shook his head furiously, and the strings that hung from his mianguan shook violently as he did so. At his click the two guardsmen who stood at the doors to this section of the palace in Chang'an quickly slung their rifles over their backs and pried open the door they so dutifully guarded. It was heavy and wooden, with ornate carvings of a time before Qian even came to these lands.
He strode in with power and grace, his robes picking up behind him as the faint traces of light that crept through the window that faced the door that had just been open failed to meet his speed and tenacity. His shoes patted against the tiled floor forcefully, clattering echoes and sound across the chamber indiscriminately. He continued to shake his head in immense disapproval, now clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
There she lay, her hair a mess, her clothes loose and free. In front of her, laying there motionless in front of her mound of floor cushions and pillows that she had once elaborately set out for 'maximum comfort', was her discarded opium pipe. He bent over, picked it up and placed it on a small table off to the side of the cushions.
"Haiya?" he called, hands behind his back.
She stirred but gave no response.
He sighed, his shoulders shrugging immensely before he knelt down and prodded her on the the shoulder with an hesitant tap. "Haiya?" he repeated, more forcefully.
Slowly but surely her eyes opened and with a few blinks and a low pitched grumble of annoyance she rolled over to look at him. "Nidali." she simply said, stretching out her legs upon the cushions she was lain on.
"My Empress." he began. "Have you been... smoking, again?"
She snuffed at him and pushed the hair out of her eyes. "Was the first clue the opium pipe?"
"Humorous, my Empress, indeed." he nodded slowly and stood up once again. "We have visi-"
"I saw things." She nonchalantly interrupted, slowly getting up from her sprawled pose. "In the opium dream. I wish to discuss them, with you, Nidali."
The State-Steward sighed immensely once more and wrung his hands together. He turned to his Empress; "I implore you, your Imperial Highness-"
"Khagan." she interrupted, once again.
"- we have visitors in the Hall of Eternal Tranquility."
She stared him down, placing her hands dominantly on her hips as she raised her eyebrows. "Yes, and they can wait. I have dreams I need to discuss; for whatever reason they might need."
Giving up his resistance, Nidali turned on the spot and held his hands at his side. "Proceed, Khagan."
She shut her eyes and slowly opened them. "I saw before me a man, whose face was clouded by the mist. I could see his visage, his shadow, imprinted in my mind. He sung a song of storms and with a mighty shout, burst open the sky. The horses about him scattered in all directions; to Europe, to India, to Persia, to the Kazakhstani lands and south, south to the lands of Yuan. And then, from the sky that had been burst open by force, I saw the stars. And the stars showed to me a horror I have not seen, ever. Two spiders, in each other's embrace, locked in eternal combat."
"It sounds... the horses, and the singing, Genghis and his legacy?"
"Perhaps, but it does not end there."
"And the spiders... what symbolism could be behind that...?" the State-Steward questioned.
"Once the spiders cleared - they disappeared as their fangs were bared for combat - I saw the most confusing thing of all. Betwixt the clouds that remained, staring down at me, was a great green giant. His teeth were spears, his skin the colour of the marsh, and he flew across the sky. His tunic, white as the snow, formed the clouds themselves. And he flew off, into the distance, to lands I could not see. His arms were his wings and above he could see all."
"Your God of the Eternal Sky?"
"Nay, it cannot be - for he is blue, and this giant was green." Xayaa gave a disappointed stare, her eyes wide from her opium trip. "I think, I think it was a sign. From the Eternal Sky; that this 'Commonwealth', will block out our place in sun. In time."
Nidali shook his head and beckoned her forward. "We must proceed with caution, then. Now, you must dress yourself properly. Ambassadors from Korea are here; and they wish to speak to you."
Puyang, North Zhou
The cellars were damp and dark, with but the flicker of the flames from the oil lamp casting hues of orange and yellow onto the plastered walls. He stood there, waiting, amidst the barrels and bottles of huangjiu. A faint pitter from the ceiling indicated water seeping through cracks in the building. A building as decadent and fractured as the once united state of Zhou.
"Hello?" he called out, eventually, in his Jin accented Chinese. He shook the oil lamp in front of him, the light it cast shaking with it.
Someone emerged in front of him, the light throwing their shadow onto the cellar walls behind him. "Yes, its me, Chen."
He smiled, almost unwittingly. "About time, Liu; its freezing down here. And we have work to do." He gestured upwards, to the ceiling.
"You have work to do, Chen. I'm just here to make sure you can get away in one piece." Liu replied, looking behind his compatriot. "The cellar guards, dealt with?" Just as he said that, Chen waved his lantern in the direction behind both of them. The light now revealed two bodies, one profusely bleeding from the neck, the other lacking noticeable trauma but his body seemed distorted and misshapen. Both were nude, stricken of their clothes.
"Ah, of course, Chen. Ever efficient. I'll clean this mess up, you proceed with the mission. And change somewhere else, would you? I don't want to have to see you naked. This night is already shit enough; doing Haiya's work here is not how I planned to spend the last few moments of my life."
"Charming as ever, Liu." Chen replied, beginning to adorn the clothing of the palatial guardsman. "I do love your sarcasm, especially since now you drench your words in it rather than sprinkle."
Liu looked over at Chen as the latter man tried to move forth upwards towards the cellar door. "Did you get the bottle of huangjiu?" Chen turned on the post, showing the bottle he cradled in his arms. Liu merely nodded, tightly wrapping a piece of cloth over the slit throat of the dead guardsman. It turned crimson incredibly quickly, but Liu merely dragged it away, behind the barrels.
Chen pushed forward, emerging from the cellar in his new disguise. He clutched the bottle tightly holding it against him as one would a rifle. Stepping forth into the palatial grounds, a large central garden - flanked on all sides by looming walls and balconies - he stuck to the shadows. As if on patrol, he would circle stoically, only giving a brief nod to a fellow guardsman if they opened pleasantries first.
He continued on, the palace a maze. He climbed up staircases. He walked down corridors.
Eventually, however, he could almost smell his prey. Luxurious perfumes had lingered across the palace, but here it was concentrated. A washroom, he assumed. With fine perfumes and soaps and scented oils and all.
He tucked his helm down slightly and approached, tensed, robotic in motion.
'Easy, Chen, easy. This'll be quick. Hand the liquor to the guardsman at the door. He'll understand that the Emperor wanted some, he'll take it in - and in a few moments the Emperor will clench at his throat, gargle for help, but he'll die. The court physician in Chang'an assured me this was gu. Inhaling sharply, Chen gave a quick prayer to his ancestors.
He held out his hands without a word and the guardsman at the door took the bottle from him. He smiled and nodded and before Chen could even register what he was doing. The brute of a man opened the bottle and without even the delicacy of pouring himself a glass, pressed the top of the bottle to his lips and begin drinking.
'Fuck.'
Without a second to react, the man's grip loosened, the bottle slammed on the floor and shattered into a thousand pieces. The poisoned liquor pooled across the floor and the guardsman groaned, clutching his throat and stomach as he curled along the floor.
'I hope it didn't have to come to this.' Chen thought, giving a quick glance to the dagger at his hip. 'But it has.'
The would-be assassin pressed his hands against the door to the washroom and pushed them open. Before him was elegancy in its finest. Large racks of fine towels, the smell of incense and its braziers, lamps galore, fine rugs and soaps and a large cauldron of hot water.
There was a splash of water as the Emperor before him began to stand up in his bath. "What is the meaning of this!?"
Chen continued to run forward. "My Emperor." he pointed outside, to the shattered glass and slump body. "Someone has tried to poison you, but this guardsman - in his hubris of tasting the wine - was felled instead. Quick, quick, we must move - for the assailant might be here within the grounds, still." Chen held his hands forward, to help the Emperor out of the tub.
Their hands met. For the first time.
For the last time.
And as the man clambered out of the bath with the assistance of his 'guard', Chen drew his blade from his waist and stabbed the man in his throat. A sharp intake of air, a failed cry for help.
And a splash, as the body fell into the bath, turning the water thick and red. Embedded in his neck was that knife, engraved with a place of manufacture; Kaifeng - in the South Zhou.
The Yan Court, Beijing
Khünbish gave a heavy sigh. From his ambassadorial quarters he had come to discuss matters of 'stately importance' in the Yan court, as many of the ambassadors did. It was some sort of great game. Prod at the Yan court and watch for a reaction, watch to see what would happen in a portion of the state. And Qian had made friends in that court. Most notably of all was Xi Meilai, Minister of Statistics in the Yan Court. A stout man, with a thin moustache, and ambition beyond doubt.
Yet Khünbish thought he was a bit spineless; so far at least. He flaunted his control of the state police in words, but never actions. Hopefully, if the time arose, he'd prove himself worthy.
The other two were more men of the Mongolian's calibre; Zhao Tielang and Yang Fu - Generals, important military men who often frequented court as lobbyists. Indeed, they were to be Qian's bridge to the Minister of War, Ti Roulou. Roulou was the strong-man of the Yan court, holding the weight of the army in his hands.
"Ah, Kunbixu!" called Xi, beckoning him over with an outstretched hand. Behind him stood one of the Empresses; for some reason there were two, but he could not discern which one was which. "Come now, come. We've much to discuss, indeed."
How he hated the Chinese and their snake tongues.
