Гарри Тертлдав - The First Heroes

It was just like Master Chu to immediately plunge into technical matters. He is like the phoenix, the bird that we inlay in gold upon the cylindrical sides of bells. The phoenix thinks only of its music, and flies higher and ever higher, singing. It doesn't worry about practicalities.

My thoughts ran otherwise. The Lord Tso was a warrior in his prime, reputed to be a tiger in both combat and peace. If he had devoured Guangdong, his power would be overweening. And we were going to fight him? "Then it is war, lord?" I burst out.

Lord Yang's lean mouth pursed in a smile. "High politics are for me to determine, apprentice. Do you stick to your master's craft, and I will hew to mine. You are but one tile in the mosaic, and who can say which tile is the most essential? Here is gold enough. And from my storehouses you may draw bronze and tin. In two years' time my armies shall march."

"Two years?" Master Chu nodded. "I must consult with your musicians . . ."

"My lord!" I licked my lips, which had gone unaccountably dry. "No one loves bronzework better than I. But—bells are only bells. They are only our plea to heaven, our voice to the gods. There is no power against mortals in them. The symptoms the prisoner described—could it be that his army merely had drunk bad water?"

When Lord Yang clapped his hands the sound was thin and dry as reed striking reed. "Let the prisoner be returned," he said. "You and your master shall question him closely. Wring from him all you can— indeed my spies brought him from Guan gdong for this very purpose. Master Chu, you have my permission to have his captor exert whatever persuasion necessary."

The idea made me shudder, and my master stared. He is incapable of hurting a fly. But the servant returned and fell to his knees, crying, "My lord, you indicated the prisoner was no longer of use to yourself. He has already been executed. Perhaps your lordship would care to see the body?"

Lord Yang shook his head sadly. "Regrettable. No, have the useless carrion flung onto the midden. You must manage without, Master Chu. I look forward to seeing the bells. And—" He nodded at the servant. "You have served me long. Is it your wish to be executed for your incompetence, or to commit suicide?"

"I shall hang myself immediately, lord, thank you!" The servant kowtowed and scuttled away. We were dismissed with another gesture, and gratefully backed out of the room.

"Bells we can cast," I said, once we were safe in the forecourt. "Bells that will sing a true note clear as crystal, and not only a single note, but sometimes even two harmonious ones. But a bell that can kill? Master, are there secrets to the craft that you have not yet taught me?"

"Never, lad! I was First Assistant in Lord Tso's foundries, and I can attest that no magics were used in those bells. It's some fanciful story that our lord got into his head. He shouldn't have consulted that prisoner. Under threat of death a man will say any nonsense."

"But you didn't tell him that." I could not blame him. The fate of Lord Yang's servant did not encourage frankness.

"Bells are musical instruments, my boy. You could easier make a military weapon of needles and thread! I like your idea that the losing army had drunk bad water. And it could be that the music of Lord Tso's bells greatly enheartened the troops, urging them on to victory. If they believe it is magic, then it is so."

This was an encouraging line of reflection. "So perhaps our bells could be likewise," I said. "Like the jade button on the top of a mandarin's cap: not the cause of his greatness but an ornament upon it."

"Two years is a long time," my ever-hopeful master said. "Let us design and cast the bells, a fascinating project! And worry about slaving armies with them later—"

"Master?"

We both looked up from our talk. A maid beckoned from a circular archway in the wall. "Do I know you?" my master said uncertainly. "Of course not. But surely you know of my mistress, Lady Yang. She summons you." "I?" Bemused, my master followed her, and I fell in behind. Beyond the archway was a walled garden. A plum tree drooped over a carp pool bordered with elaborate stonework. Beside the tree sat a woman, almost lost in the amplitude of brocade sleeves and robe. The mere sight of the gold embroidery on her black satin slippers told us both that we should bow down to the pavement. "Great lady," my master murmured.

"Do it again, only this time don't let your butt stick up."

Astonished, I twisted around to stare up with one eye. The robe and cap and sash were huge, impossibly grand, but the little face beneath the cap was girlish, delicate and pale as plum blossom. "Go on," she commanded. "More elegantly this time."

The little foot in its satin slipper tapped impatiently. I hastened to set the example for my master, rising and then kowtowing again. Both of us tucked our sterns well under this time. I remembered now, how old Yang had lately married a new and exalted wife, a princess from Jiangsu. "Great lady, how may these humble ones serve you?"

"I wish to bear a son."

I could feel my stomach turning right over under my sash with a flop. Was she asking my master to father her child? Surely old Lord Yang could not be impotent—he was rich enough to buy aphrodisiacs by the cartload. And Master Chu has no interest in women, or in anything else for that matter. His love is given to his craft. It was his Assistant's job to take care of all the mundane details, which put me in the center of the target. Such things only happened in stories!

I said nothing and didn't look up, waiting for another clue. And thank the gods, here it was, the solid chink of gold on the pavement between us. I took a sideways peek: a gold bracelet, set with jade plaques.

"You will take this in payment, and you will engrave my wish upon the bell. Thus every time it is struck, my prayer will rise to Heaven."

I sagged so limply with relief that my bowed silhouette surely lost elegance. For once my master was the readier with words. "Willingly, great lady. Your august husband has commanded a set of eighty bells. Shall I have the prayer engraved inside each of them?"

"Oh, that would be very good! Nobody has ever had eighty sons before—I shall be the first!" I risked looking at her again. This time I saw that her cheeks were round and babyish. Lady Yang must be scarcely twelve, too young to know what bearing ten children would be like, never mind eighty. On the other hand, she had the years before her to do it, if old Yang could keep his end up. For the first time my master's attitude of eternal hope seemed entirely sensible and wise. Not for us to argue childbearing with a princess and the wife of the warlord! "It shall be as you command, great lady," my master said. "Thank you." I hooked the bracelet with one sideswiping finger and tucked it into my sleeve as we rose and backed out.

Only when we were outside the gate did I say, "You realize we've just signed on to produce not one but two complete absurdities? To defeat armies with the sound of bells is impossible, as unachievable as using their music to make a bride pregnant. What are we going do?"

Thoughtfully scratching his head, my master hardly heard me. "This time I shall make all eighty of the bells two-toned. It will be a tremendous challenge! I can see in my mind's eye what the set should look like, cylindrical but slightly flattened. Inlaid gold phoenixes, the symbol of music, would be a proper decoration, sporting around the shoulders. My lady's prayer can be engraved on the inside of each bell, out of the way. The lower surface must be reserved for inscriptions of the sui and gu sites, so that the musicians may know where to strike for each note. Truly, this shall be magic."

"Just not the kind of magic they paid for!"

"You worry too much, Li," my master reasoned. "We have the job, and the money, and the materials. What more can we ask for? Let's just do our task. Lord Yang can deal with the wars, and his wife can worry about her babies. Do you think you can go to his storehouses and choose the best copper ingots today?"