Chapter 63
TONG PASS WAS a major border stronghold nestled into the mountainside, with the Yellow River flowing to its north. After a thousand years of continuous development, the city surrounding the fortress had become the largest in the northwest and provided a natural barrier against Western Liang. From the high ground of the last stretch of road before entering the pass, they saw the surging waters of the Yellow River under a blue sky scattered with white clouds. To the south, entering the gorge, the landscape was green and lush—but to the north, toward Western Liang, it was barren.
Rainfall had saturated the air with the scents of autumn. Merchants from the Western Regions gathered at the pass, exchanging their goods and chattering in their own tongues. There were plenty of Tanguts, most of whom were of mixed ethnicities, with their deep-set eyes and high-bridged noses; they wore either long, colorful robes, lightweight leather outerwear, or skirts. A few wore a turban with a black goose feather—the feather’s rarity marked the wearer as nobility within the tribe.
When Wu Du brought Duan Ling into the governor’s residence at Tong Pass, Bian Lingbai greeted him as he would a powerful enemy. Security was everywhere, the complex heavily fortified with armed guards. The moment they entered the main hall the guard closed the door at their backs, leaving them alone with Bian Lingbai. The general sat drinking wine, with Helan Jie sitting silently by his side.
“Speak,” Bian Lingbai said from the seat of honor. “What you say will determine whether you step out of this room alive.”
Wu Du stared him down, shafts of dim sunlight falling over his shoulders. “Bian Lingbai. Have you been a local tyrant so long that you’ve forgotten your worth? You think you could take my life with these few men here?”
Helan Jie shot angrily to his feet. Bian Lingbai barked, “Sit down!”
Both sides lapsed into silence. Wu Du paced the length of the hall for a moment before saying, “General Zhao dedicated himself to our Great Chen, only to meet such an end. In the final battle outside Xichuan, you were stuck here defending Tong Pass. This was not your fault, and the court did not blame you. But you’re a smart man—I don’t need to explain what’s at stake here.”
Bian Lingbai remained silent, as did Duan Ling. This was the plan he and Wu Du had discussed on the way. Mu Kuangda wanted Bian Lingbai dead. Before they’d left, Duan Ling still held a glimmer of hope that the general could be spared. Yet after mulling the situation over on the journey, he’d come to the same conclusion as Mu Kuangda: Bian Lingbai had no choice but to rebel.
He had not only participated in the original seizure of Li Jianhong’s military power, he had also followed Zhao Kui in rebellion. At present the court had a steady reserve of soldiers but few generals capable of warding off Western Liang, so he had to be kept in place—for the time being. But with the capital moving from Xichuan to Jiang Prefectural City, Western Liang would no longer pose a direct threat to the seat of government. What was more, the rediscovered crown prince would doubtless wish to settle old scores. Only death awaited Bian Lingbai. If he wished to live, he had to take his chances and rebel.
Bian Lingbai snorted coldly. “General Zhao was my teacher. I joined the military at fourteen and followed him honorably for thirteen years. I have never wronged the common people or betrayed my conscience. Even if the crown prince himself stood before me today, I would say the same!”
“The crown prince won’t come to you or listen to your explanations,” Wu Du said. “It seems I’ve wasted my time. I won’t bother you anymore. Goodbye.” To Duan Ling he said, “Let’s go.”
But Duan Ling stared at Bian Lingbai, unmoving. Bian Lingbai stared right back. Wu Du tried to catch Duan Ling’s eye and was ignored.
“Did you know my uncle well?” Duan Ling said at last.
Wu Du allowed a frown to cross his lips, while Bian Lingbai released a long sigh.
They had planned this too. After Wu Du finished saying his part, it would be Duan Ling’s turn. Duan Ling had guessed Bian Lingbai wouldn’t sit back and ignore Zhao Kui’s nephew. In the story they’d spun, Wu Du was Zhao Kui’s trusted aide who’d been charged with his orphaned nephew. The letter they carried clearly stated that the young man named Zhao Rong had been spared execution but had his possessions confiscated by the court. With nowhere else to go, he’d turned to Bian Lingbai. Even if only to better his own reputation, Bian Lingbai would feel obligated to look after the boy. And if he genuinely intended to rebel, driving them away would do him no good.
“Your uncle was my shifu. Come here; let me take a good look at you,” Bian Lingbai said.
Hesitantly, Duan Ling approached. As Bian Lingbai examined him under the sunlight, nervousness washed over Duan Ling—what if something in his appearance gave him away?
“I met your father once,” Bian Lingbai said. “I ran into him when I went to Shandong for business.”
Duan Ling knew he should probably cry now, but Bian Lingbai stirred no strong feelings in him. He stared down at his hands instead.
Bian Lingbai studied him for another moment, but nothing about this boy was obviously remarkable. “Did you study the literary or martial arts?”
“A little of both,” Duan Ling said.
“Can you read?”
Duan Ling nodded.
“Stay here at the residence for now,” Bian Lingbai said. “As for you…”
“Wu Du has to stay with me,” Duan Ling said. “I go wherever he goes.”
If Bian Lingbai tried to send Wu Du away, it would throw off their plans entirely. Wu Du would have to sneak back to complete his investigations in secret—and with Helan Jie lurking nearby, this would make things much more complicated.
They had to give Bian Lingbai no other choice.
“I came under Mu Kuangda’s orders to investigate the whereabouts of that sword,” Wu Du said.