Such a girl might well go mad even before she set off with the Hsiung-nu. Once again, Silver Snow tapped her lower lip with the brush. My father and Li Ling have told me, if not a great deal about the West, more than such a maid is likely to know. Perhaps . . . perhaps I might be able to speak with her, console her.
Envy flashed through Silver Snow so hotly that her hand, holding the brush, trembled. At least that girl will be free! She shut her eyes, the better to savor her sudden vision of a land she had never seen: the grasslands—tough green stalks waving in the summer the way that wind streaks patterns on a pond; horses pounding over the land, the grass brushing their flanks; the cold of winter with wind howling, building its fury across thousands of li; or the heat baking the grit and pebbles of the innermost desert.
Soon whispers pierced even Silver Snow’s solitude. Precious Pearl, she heard, had received a higher order of rank from the Son of Heaven; soon she might even become Illustrious Consort, or one of several. That was the only news of the court itself; the rest was concerned with the Hsiung-nu.
The ladies—yes, and some of the men and eunuchs too— of the court took positive pleasure in terrifying one another with stories of the Hsiung-nu. Those stories grew more and more common immediately after Mao Yen-shou announced that none of the princesses could be spared as a barbarian’s bride. Instead, the Son of Heaven would “adopt” one of the other ladies from the five hundred who had entered the Palace over a year ago. Royal she would be, but “daughter,” not consort; and she would not have long to enjoy the luxury of a princess of the Han.
Naturally, Silver Snow had not actually heard the corrupt, sleek eunuch make his announcement. She could imagine the bribes flowing into his well-kept hands as lady after lady begged not to be the one selected. Which lady would be chosen?
Mao Yen-shou must be enjoying himself, she thought, as the rumors grew more and more lurid. The Inner Courts boiled as might an anthill into which a warrior maliciously thrust a spear. The Hsiung-nu ate only raw meat; the Hsiung-nu ate only roots and meat pressed between their bodies and the saddles of their horses; the Hsiung-nu never dismounted from their horses; they scarcely looked human.
As gossip shrilled upward toward terror, Silver Snow dared the risk of venturing from exile if only to calm the most terrified (and poverty-stricken) of the lesser concubines, from whom the selection most probably would be made.
“If the Hsiung-nu eat but raw meat, why does the most worthy minister Li Ling speak of great brass cauldrons? If they never leave their horses, how is it that the Hsiung-nu at court walk among us like men?”
The whispers and fears spread like blight across the gardens in the Inner Courts, and high summer rose and waned without the sighs of beauty that those gardens had exacted in other years.
Did they look like beasts?
Willow, of course, had contrived to see one or two. Sullen or proud she called them, anxious not to be disgraced in this unfamiliar city and even more unfamiliar splendor; but they were indeed men, not beasts. Though the Emperor’s Hall of Brightness was, to her, a site of remembered humiliation, Silver Snow thought that soon she must contrive to enter it, to hide once again behind a screen and see these strangers for herself.
10
For many, many days Li Ling did not visit her. It must be affairs of state, Silver Snow thought at first. Even in her isolation, Silver Snow had heard how the shan-yu s youngest son would remain at court, hostage for the Hsiung-nu’s good behavior in case their honor failed them. Once again, as had been done when, years ago, Khujanga came to power, Ch’in ruler and Hsiung-nu drank wine and horse’s blood out of a cup carved out of the skull of Modun, who had been enemy to shan-yu and Son of Heaven both.
She had heard whispers of the splended gifts that the Hsiung-nu had brought to Ch’ang-an—a hundred highland-bred horses, a string of camels, and fine sable and fox skins. (Willow winced even at the mention of them.) She had also heard about the gifts prepared against the return of the Hsiung-nu to the grasslands: lacquer and silk and fine bronze mirrors. Only the gift of a princess to be the shan-yu s bride was yet lacking.
Silver Snow had just begun to reproach herself for some slight to the wise old eunuch when he appeared in the gateway of the Cold Palace. The instant he was safely within and might not be observed, his face altered from the masklike formality that a minister in his position found safe and politic to wear at court. Now he gazed at her with a mixture of regret and humor.
The past year had taught Silver Snow to wait with, at least, the appearance of unconcern. Thus, she met his eyes with a serene brow and raised eyebrows.
“Events have finally conspired against Mao Yen-shou!” Li Ling exploded, laughing. “No sooner had he left for Lo-Yang than the Son of Heaven reached a decision about the Hsiung-nu’s desire for a princess as a bride for the shan-yu. Once again, the Son of Heaven has shown himself more interested in speed and ease of choice than in lovely ladies. He has declared that he will use Mao Yen-shou’s pictures to determine which lady among the five hundred may best be spared.”
“And you think I may be selected?”
Silver Snow’s composure suddenly abandoned her.
It was logical that she be selected. She had seen the lying portrait that the Administrator had painted of her; it was, by far, the ugliest. The Emperor had acceded to her exile to this Cold Palace; he would be glad to be rid of her. And she, O heavens, she would be delighted to escape the prison that the Inner Courts had become.
She could mark one major obstacle, however. Although Mao Yen-shou might be glad to be rid of her, he would hardly want her to come to the Son of Heaven’s attention at all. True enough, he possessed the jade armor, but Silver Snow possessed knowledge of what he was: liar and thief, willing to threaten a young woman with charges of grave-robbing in order to secure her house’s last treasure. No, Mao Yen-shou had chosen a disastrous time to travel to Lo-Yang.
Li Ling knew that for Silver Snow, the Cold Palace was a worse fate than exile to the West, and he wished her well. Could he really contrive to have her selected? Her face flushed and her eyes filled with tears, not of fear, save of the overwhelming and unfamiliar, but of excitement. To be free once again! To ride free! To see finally the grasslands and the lands over which her father had ridden!
Lines from an old poem echoed in her mind:
She shivered, overcome with a feeling that she was appalled to admit was longing.
“I cannot believe,” she began almost whimsically, “that Mao Yen-shou would do me such a good turn.”
Then she saw the sorrow on the old man’s face. “In the normal way of things, most revered teacher,” she assured him, “and in the run of time, it would have been you who left me. In the grasslands, there are horses, and where there are horses, there may perhaps be messengers to carry letters, if one who is called a queen sends them. And besides, I have not yet been selected.”