valleys away.” He tapped the little scroll with his long nails. “I think it is possible to spare three for you.”
“And Warlord T’en also has need of skilled armed men,” Saint-Germain reminded the Magistrate with angry civility.
“Why, of course she does. But she does not have a city to contend with. Her militia will be of a different sort.” There was such consummate arrogance in Hao Sai-Chu’s voice, such deprecation in the curl of his lip, that Saint-Germain was appalled that this man was allowed even the modicum of power he wielded here in this isolated district.
“I will do my best to explain your actions to her,” Saint-Germain said in a carefully neutral tone.
“There is nothing to explain,” Magistrate Hao said lightly, gesturing with the closed scroll to indicate of how little importance the matter was. “She knows how things are here. No doubt she will be more than satisfied with the three outriders. I am certain that three are more than she requires.” He was at the door, but did not open it. “I have already had the fourth meal. I have always made a habit of taking my fifth meal in private. Perhaps tomorrow…”
“Thank you, I will fend for myself,” Saint-Germain responded, more brusquely than he had intended.
“Excellent. I will have someone send you word.” He tugged the door open rather abruptly and found En Jen hovering less than a step away. “If you say one word of this, priest, I will order you sent to the Ai-Ming monastery.”
En Jen blanched, and Saint-Germain was taken aback. The Ai-Ming monastery was reserved for those monks and priests who had dishonored their calling. The place, built halfway down a canyon on the edge of the desert, was named for the emotion it evoked—despair.
“I heard nothing,” the old priest declared staunchly, though his hands trembled.
“Good. Remember my words if I should ever learn otherwise.” He started into the hall, then turned back. “Is there anything you require? If you are truly on your way to the Mao-T’ou stronghold, I suppose I must offer you what poor assistance I can.”
Saint-Germain wanted to demand the return of his outriders, but said calmly, “If I may have access to a forge, I would appreciate it. One of my wagons has a damaged wheel and the axle is worn. I would like to rim the wheels with iron and put in heavier axle pins.”
Magistrate Hao shook his head sadly. “If I had a smith to spare, I would be pleased to do this, but—”
“I will do the labor. All I require is a forge. I have my own iron and tools.” He was standing very straight and there was a light in his eyes that glittered unpleasantly.
“Oh, very well,” the Magistrate grumbled. “Your clothes will be brought to you presently. I cannot imagine why it has taken so long for them to be delivered.”
“Can’t you.” Saint-Germain folded his arms and regarded Hao Sai-Chu sardonically. “How grateful I am for all you have done.”
“You should be,” the Magistrate agreed, and there was a threat under his words. “A foreigner in this part of the country … well, no one would blame me had I decided to question you more … shall we say rigorously?” He met Saint-Germain’s eyes for a moment, then stared down at the scroll he held once more.
“I imagine we understand each other, Worthy Magistrate,” Saint-Germain said, his voice cold.
“Yes.” Hao was about to close the door when Saint-Germain spoke once again.
“I am aware that your minions might be somewhat lax in the performance of their duty. When one is hurried, many courtesies are forgotten. I would count it as a token of your goodwill and the efficiency of your servants if I found my safe-conduct in the innermost pocket of my sheng go where I left it.” He watched Magistrate Hao until he saw the man duck his head in acceptance. “Very gracious of you, Worthy Magistrate. And very wise.”
Hao Sai-Chu could not resist planting a final barb. “I intend to make a full
“And Warlord T’en also has need of skilled armed men,” Saint-Germain reminded the Magistrate with angry civility.
“Why, of course she does. But she does not have a city to contend with. Her militia will be of a different sort.” There was such consummate arrogance in Hao Sai-Chu’s voice, such deprecation in the curl of his lip, that Saint-Germain was appalled that this man was allowed even the modicum of power he wielded here in this isolated district.
“I will do my best to explain your actions to her,” Saint-Germain said in a carefully neutral tone.
“There is nothing to explain,” Magistrate Hao said lightly, gesturing with the closed scroll to indicate of how little importance the matter was. “She knows how things are here. No doubt she will be more than satisfied with the three outriders. I am certain that three are more than she requires.” He was at the door, but did not open it. “I have already had the fourth meal. I have always made a habit of taking my fifth meal in private. Perhaps tomorrow…”
“Thank you, I will fend for myself,” Saint-Germain responded, more brusquely than he had intended.
“Excellent. I will have someone send you word.” He tugged the door open rather abruptly and found En Jen hovering less than a step away. “If you say one word of this, priest, I will order you sent to the Ai-Ming monastery.”
En Jen blanched, and Saint-Germain was taken aback. The Ai-Ming monastery was reserved for those monks and priests who had dishonored their calling. The place, built halfway down a canyon on the edge of the desert, was named for the emotion it evoked—despair.
“I heard nothing,” the old priest declared staunchly, though his hands trembled.
“Good. Remember my words if I should ever learn otherwise.” He started into the hall, then turned back. “Is there anything you require? If you are truly on your way to the Mao-T’ou stronghold, I suppose I must offer you what poor assistance I can.”
Saint-Germain wanted to demand the return of his outriders, but said calmly, “If I may have access to a forge, I would appreciate it. One of my wagons has a damaged wheel and the axle is worn. I would like to rim the wheels with iron and put in heavier axle pins.”
Magistrate Hao shook his head sadly. “If I had a smith to spare, I would be pleased to do this, but—”
“I will do the labor. All I require is a forge. I have my own iron and tools.” He was standing very straight and there was a light in his eyes that glittered unpleasantly.
“Oh, very well,” the Magistrate grumbled. “Your clothes will be brought to you presently. I cannot imagine why it has taken so long for them to be delivered.”
“Can’t you.” Saint-Germain folded his arms and regarded Hao Sai-Chu sardonically. “How grateful I am for all you have done.”
“You should be,” the Magistrate agreed, and there was a threat under his words. “A foreigner in this part of the country … well, no one would blame me had I decided to question you more … shall we say rigorously?” He met Saint-Germain’s eyes for a moment, then stared down at the scroll he held once more.
“I imagine we understand each other, Worthy Magistrate,” Saint-Germain said, his voice cold.
“Yes.” Hao was about to close the door when Saint-Germain spoke once again.
“I am aware that your minions might be somewhat lax in the performance of their duty. When one is hurried, many courtesies are forgotten. I would count it as a token of your goodwill and the efficiency of your servants if I found my safe-conduct in the innermost pocket of my sheng go where I left it.” He watched Magistrate Hao until he saw the man duck his head in acceptance. “Very gracious of you, Worthy Magistrate. And very wise.”
Hao Sai-Chu could not resist planting a final barb. “I intend to make a full
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