QUEST FOR LOST HEROES by David A. Gemmell

‘Are you sure?’

‘I will stake my life on it.’

Okas said nothing.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Chien-tsu was not a man who liked to travel. He did not like the dust of the Steppes, nor the arid, inhospitable country; most especially he abhorred the squat dwellings, the stench of the towns and the barely concealed hostility of the Nadir. It was said, back in Hao-tzing, that the Nadir were closely related to the people of the Middle Kingdom. Chien-tsu doubted it – despite the similarity of skin colour and language, he could not believe that their origins were identical. He put forward the entirely reason­able view that the gods made the Nadir first and then, realising the ghastly flaws inherent in the species, created the perfect people and gave them the Middle Kingdom for their own. This hateful visit only confirmed his theory. The Nadir did not seem disposed towards bathing, and their clothes remained unwashed from season to season – in fact, probably from decade to decade, he thought.

And what a country! Though he travelled light, which did not befit an ambassador from the Supreme City, he still found it difficult to obtain lodgings for his forty-two servants, eleven concubines and sixty members of the Guard Royal. He had been reduced to purchasing sixteen wagons to carry necessities like tents, beds, tables, chairs, soft linen sheets, harps, flutes, two enamel baths and five full-sized mirrors. And he had brought a mere twenty-five chests of personal luggage containing his own – entirely inadequate – travelling wardrobe.

Chien-tsu found it curious that the Emperor should have allowed one of his daughters to wed a savage, but a wise man did not question the decisions of the Divine One. And Chien-tsu, as all civilised men knew, was wise far beyond his thirty-two years.

He reined in his horse before the city, and sighed. The buildings were in the main unlovely, and the palace which towered at the centre – despite having an arrogant, almost primal simplicity – lacked any sense of aesthetic beauty. There were six square towers and a crenellated battlement. No banners flew. Chien-tsu halted the wagons and ordered his tent pitched. Once this was done, he had his mirrors assembled and a bath prepared. His hand-maidens washed the dust from his body and massaged him with aromatic oils; his long dark hair was carefully greased and combed, drawn back from the brow and held in place by ivory combs. Then he dressed in leggings of gold-embroidered blue silk, and shoes with golden straps. His shirt was of the whitest silk, and over this he placed a lacquered breastplate of wood and leather decorated with a golden dragon. His long, curving sword hung between his shoul­der-blades, and two knives in gleaming wooden scabbards were carefully placed within the satin sash tied around his waist. He ordered the presents for Jungir Khan to be carried forward: there were seventeen chests – matching the age of the new Queen of the Nadir. It would, Chien-tsu decided, be pleasant to see Mai-syn once more. The youngest of the Emperor’s legitimate daughters, she was quite breathtakingly beautiful and could play the nine-stringed harp with exquisite style.

He stepped into the saddle and led his entourage of five footmen and thirty-four bearers down towards the palace.

They were greeted by twenty soldiers, led by an officer wearing a silver chain who inclined his head in a perfunc­tory bow. Chien-tsu stiffened, for the bow was some six inches short of politeness. Raising his head, he looked the officer in the eye . . . the silence grew. It would not be good manners to speak first, but Chien-tsu found his irri­tation growing.

‘Well?’ snapped the officer at last. ‘What do you want?’

Chien-tsu was taken aback but controlled his rising temper. It would not be seemly to kill a man on his first day in the city.

‘I am Chien-tsu, ambassador of the Supreme Emperor to the court of Jungir Khan. I have come with suitable gifts on the anniversary of the Queen’s birthday. Kindly take me to the royal presence.’

As Chien-tsu expected, the man’s expression changed; he bowed once more, this time exceeding the distance required. Then he barked out a command and the twenty soldiers turned. ‘Follow me,’ he told Chien.