Thoughts begin to whirl in my head. I force them out. I cannot let my concentration lapse. I cannot—
The arrow releases.
No, not one arrow: three. Headed directly at me, with a velocity that freezes my blood.
I yank out Heart Sea and slash at the oncoming arrows, even as I bend backward to avoid them. The legendary blade is so sharp that I barely feel it slicing through the shafts. Somehow I catch one of the broken pieces in my left hand as the rest plummet to the ground all around me.
With difficulty, I straighten. I am panting. I throw aside the broken arrow and drag off my blindfold.
Only to see, fifty paces away, the princeling standing on his horse, lowering the bow in his hand. And it is not Captain Helou’s bow, but a much longer, more powerful one.
The bastard!
I grab Heart Sea’s sheath and carrying case from the ground and march toward him. How dare he put a conscript at risk for his own amusement! Few under the sky would have come through unscathed. Were my training a shade less intense, I would be pierced through right now.
The princeling leaps off his horse, a motion so gentle and casual it is as if he descended a single step on a flight of stairs. He hands the bow to a waiting soldier and faces me, his gaze stark yet fierce.
Bastard.
I grow aware of the profound silence, as if thousands of conscripts are all holding their breaths. It is only when Captain Helou steps in front of the princeling—and the latter gently but firmly pushes him aside—that I realize I am storming toward them with my sword drawn, as if I am about to skewer the princeling clean through.
I force myself to slow. Ten paces out, I stop and sheathe Heart Sea. “This humble conscript thanks His Highness and Captain Helou for their instruction. I caught only two and a half out of the five arrows. Would one of the elevated personages present please inform me how that should be counted in this contest?”
I have never spoken so rudely in my entire life. Then again, I’ve never had my life endangered till this moment.
The princeling considers me, even as the commander appears ready to have me disciplined for discourtesy. “Xiong-di, what is your name?”
“Hua Mulan.” After a moment, I add reluctantly, “I offer my humble respects to Your Highness.”
He inclines his head. “It is said that the Central Plain is a place of crouching tigers and hidden dragons—extraordinarily talented heroes everywhere. Hua xiong-di successfully challenged Captain Helou, who is an extraordinary talent himself. Does Hua xiong-di wish to come with us?”
I did. But do I? I’m still breathing hard, my heart is still thumping from afterfright, and my fist still longs to plow into the ridge of the princeling’s nose.
watience, I hear Father’s voice. Concentration.
I must focus on the larger goal of survival. I want to be in a safe place as I serve out my time in the army, don’t I? I will not find a safer place than in the princeling’s service. And if that will require a lot of patience, a lot of holding myself back from slugging him? Well, as Father says, patience is a good virtue to develop.
I bow as I salute. “It would be the fortune of three lifetimes, Your Highness.”
The princeling turns to the commander, who has by now also dismounted. “Commander Dugu, my apologies for poaching this young hero from your encampment. But I have cause to believe that he will better serve the country by my side.”
That’s a deft turn of phrase. Or maybe he actually believes that I will better serve the country by keeping him safe.
The commander looks relieved—the princeling hasn’t been attacked in his camp, and he will be rid of a troublesome conscript. “It is difficult to let go of such talent, but let go I must, for the greater good. My congratulations to Your Highness on gaining a worthy hero in your service.”
I, of course, am obliged to sink to one knee to reiterate my eternal gratitude.
When I rise, the princeling glances at me, a strange gleam in his eyes. “Well, Hua xiong-di, shall we be on our way?”
Even with the commander’s blessing, it isn’t an instantaneous process to release me from the regular army. My name must be formally struck off the encampment rolls and assigned to the princeling’s command. A better horse also has to be found for me: The princeling and Captain Helou have a hundred li to cover before the end of the day.
At last we are on our way. Captain Helou grins at me over his shoulder. “We ride fast, Hua xiong-di. Don’t get left behind.”
“What if I need to stop?” I hurriedly ask.
The princeling gives me a look. “Then you had better catch up fast. You have no pass on the imperial road, other than as my subordinate.”
Swine. I hope patience will not be too difficult a virtue to acquire.
I half bow in his direction. “This humble conscript understands, Your Highness.”
Despite Captain Helou’s warning, we do not travel at breakneck speeds. Still, I find it challenging. Unlike walking a horse, for which I need only to keep my seat, riding at a crisp trot requires me to rise up and settle down in rhythm to the horse’s movement to avoid either jostling myself or hurting my steed’s back. But thanks to my training, I have the stamina and muscular strength to keep up with my new superiors.
Occasionally we slow to a walk to rest the horses, and Captain Helou tosses me something to eat. The first time I catch a turnover stuffed with garlic chives and a sprinkling of scrambled eggs; the second time, much to my surprise and delight, candied lotus seeds, which I haven’t tasted since I left the South.
The princeling has been silent since that warning to me to keep up. Captain Helou, taking a cue from him, has also refrained from speech, except to alert me to the condition of the road.
Evening is falling. In the North, twilight lingers. We push forward in the long gloaming, the air a blue-gray haze into which the road ahead disappears. Captain Helou’s bright scarlet cape streams behind him. The princeling’s black cape, by contrast, is barely visible in the deepening dusk, but my eyes are drawn to it.
Again a sense of familiarity assails me. Three times I have watched Yuan Kai ride away in a similar darkness. Of course I never saw him very well under those conditions, but from here, it would be all too easy to mistake the princeling for my opponent: the same lean, tight build, the same easy, secure seat, the same shadowlike cloak, melding into the night.
Minus, of course, a sword carried on his person.
It occurs to me that if the princeling were my opponent, then what he did this afternoon, while still calibrated to within an inch of actual mortal danger, would not be considered excessive, since he would know of my skill at capturing projectiles. However, Yuan Kai’s family, as far as I know, is strictly Han Chinese. In fact, three generations ago, the Pengs left the war-torn North and resettled in the South—Yuan Kai speaks with a slight Southern accent. The princeling is clearly a Northerner—and Xianbei. So it’s ludicrous that I’m even pondering the possibility.