Thirteen
Tang Dynasty China—AD 848
‘The mountains are high and the Emperor is far away.’
Bao Yang had always been fond of that particular proverb. It certainly held true in Fujian province where rugged mountains enclosed them to the north, west and south. To the east was the ocean fed by a lattice of streams and rivers. This was a land set apart from the heart of the empire, away from the eyes and ears of imperial authority. This was a land where a person with determination and a little cleverness could carve his own destiny, regardless of his birth.
Even a man with a price on his head.
Yang should have been afraid to return to the city where not long ago he’d tried to have a powerful warlord assassinated, but he had connections. He knew who would turn a blind eye and who could be bribed.
It wasn’t that there was no law in Fujian. Imperially appointed bureaucrats still oversaw the administration of the cities, but it was the merchants who dominated the rivers and ports. The surrounding mountains were inhabited by bandits and smugglers. Wealth and commerce were the forces that truly ruled this province.
He was approaching the city of Minzhou now by river, where there was very likely a warrant out for his arrest for attempted murder. Or at least for someone who looked like him. To his knowledge, his name was still unknown—for now, although he didn’t know for how much longer. His connections had bought him some valuable time.
The fisherman at the crossing was willing to take him down the river for a few copper coins. Yang hid beneath the wide brim of his hat as the tiny boat drifted into the city, joining the fleet of merchant vessels and ferries that fed the bustling markets.
As the fishing boat crossed beneath one of the main bridges, Yang kept his gaze directed forward. There was a guardsman in the lookout tower, but his bow remained slack in his hands as he scanned the water. The arrows rested soundly in their quiver.
‘The city guards have been wary of strangers lately,’ the fisherman said as he dragged a long pole along the river bottom, propelling them forward. ‘It’s best that you find your friend quickly and seek shelter before curfew so you aren’t hassled by the night watch.’
‘Is the city unsafe?’
‘There was some unrest a while back. Bandits, I hear.’
‘Thank you, Uncle.’
Three months had passed since he’d broken out of Minzhou’s prison house along with his co-conspirators. It was dangerous to return now, but not as much as one might think. Any thief-catchers searching for him would expect him to be in hiding. It was the regions to the north where there was price on his head. The regions that General Wang Shizhen had taken over with his army.
The fisherman steered clear of the busier docks to set Yang ashore at the edge of the market. From there, he moved quickly to a more secluded part of the city, slipping into a public park. A small stream ran through it, branching off from the main river. The walkways appeared empty and the broad canopy of the banyan trees provided cover.
Moving quickly, Yang set about tracking down his associate. He’d built up a wide network of associates over the years of which this particular official was the most powerful. If there was ever a time Yang needed to rely on calling in favours, it was now. He’d been working in the shadows before, seeding disruption and rebellion, but now this was war.
Yang needed the city magistrate’s allegiance which was going to require some craftiness on his part. Magistrate Tan was, after all, the same man who was responsible for throwing him into prison in the first place.
* * *
Jin-mei dabbed at her forehead with a handkerchief and adjusted the angle of her parasol to block the sun. As they neared the height of summer, there were fewer people enjoying the park in the midday heat, but her daily stroll along the river was one of the few opportunities she had to escape the house.
She had set out with her amah, but the old nursemaid only made it ten steps into the park before she sank down on to one of the benches in a viewing pavilion.
‘Don’t go too far!’ Amah warned, waving her on.
The woman had been considered elderly when Jin-mei was only a child. Now that Jin-mei was nineteen, Amah was ancient and could be forgiven for not wanting to exert herself. The dear old servant had also become less strict with age.
Jin-mei was wearing the lightest robe she owned, a finely woven silk in a peach-blossom pattern, but still
