“And then he attacked Mae Lwin,” said Edgar. “They told me this in Mandalay.”
There was a long pause. “No, no he didn’t attack Mae Lwin,” Carroll said slowly. “I was with Twet Nga Lu the day Mae Lwin was attacked. Mandalay doesn’t know this. The villagers say that the attack was by the Karenni, another tribe. I haven’t reported this because the army will certainly send troops, the last thing we need here. But it wasn’t Twet Nga Lu.” Carroll spoke more quickly now. “I have spoken to you in confidence, and now I need to ask your assistance. We will be in Mongpu soon. This is the first time in a long while that Twet Nga Lu has met the sawbwa of Mongnai. If they cannot settle their differences, they will not stop fighting until one of them is dead, and we will be forced to intercede with our armies. Of course, there are many in the War Office, bored by the peace since the annexation, who are anxious for war. If there is any chance of peace, they will destroy it. Until the treaty is signed, no one can know that I am here.”
“I have never heard you speak so candidly of the war.”
“I know. But there are reasons. The Limbin Confederacy thinks that I have orders from superiors within the British command. If they know I am alone, they won’t fear me. So, today, if anyone asks, you are Lieutenant-Colonel Daly, civil officer of the Northern Shan Column, stationed at Maymyo, representative of Mr. Hildebrand, Superintendent of the Shan States.”
“But the sawbwa of Mongnai has seen me play.”
“He already knows and has agreed to keep this a secret. It is the others whom I need to convince.”
“You didn’t tell me this when we left,” said Edgar. He felt an anger growing.
“You wouldn’t have come.”
“I am sorry, Doctor. I cannot do this.”
“Mr. Drake.”
“Doctor, I can’t do this. Mr. Hildebrand is—”
“Mr. Hildebrand will never know. You will need to do nothing, to say nothing.”
“But I can’t. It’s seditious. It’s—”
“Mr. Drake, I had hoped that after almost three months in Mae Lwin, you would understand, that you could help me. That you were not like the others.”
“Doctor, there is a difference between believing that a piano can help bring peace and signing treaties without orders, impersonating others, defying one’s queen. There are rules and laws…”
“Mr. Drake, your defiance began when you came to Mae Lwin against orders. You are now considered missing, perhaps already under suspicion.”
“Under suspicion! For what…”
“What do you think, now that you have disappeared for so long?”
“I do not need to participate in any charades. I am due to return to Mandalay anytime now.” He gripped the reins tightly.
“From here, Mr. Drake? You can’t turn back now. And I know as well as you that you do not want to return to Mandalay.”
Edgar shook his head angrily. “Is this why you called me to Mae Lwin?” It was dark now, and he stared into the Doctor’s face, illuminated by the dull glow of his cigar.
The end of the cheroot flickered light. “No, Mr. Drake, I brought you to tune a piano. But situations change. We are, after all, at war.”
“And I am walking into battle unarmed.”
“Unarmed? Hardly, Mr. Drake. You are with me. Don’t underestimate my importance.”
Edgar’s pony twitched her ears at the mosquitoes that buzzed around her head, the only sound. Her mane shivered.
There was a shout from the road ahead. A man rode up on horseback.
“Bo Naw, my good friend!” Carroll exclaimed.
The man bowed slightly from his mount. “Doctor Carroll, the princes are all here, with their armies. We are waiting only for you.”
Carroll looked to the piano tuner, who returned his stare. A faint smile ran across the Doctor’s lips. Edgar wrapped his fingers once again in the reins. His face was still.
Carroll took his helmet and fitted it over his head, fastening the strap over his chin like a soldier. He took his cigar from his mouth and flicked it into the air, where it traced a golden trajectory. He hissed.
For a moment Edgar waited alone. Then, sighing heavily, he took the cheroot from his mouth and threw it to the ground.
It was nearly dark as they galloped down a trail that passed between stone outcroppings. In the distance, Edgar could see the glow of torchlights. They rode through a rough barricade, past vague silhouettes of guards. Soon the trail rose, and they approached a fort, hidden in a dark grove of trees.
The fort was long, and low, surrounded on all sides by a stockade of sharpened bamboo. A group of elephants was tethered to the wall. Armed guards saluted the riders. They stopped at the entrance to the stockade, where a sentry emerged into the torchlight. He eyed the men suspiciously. Edgar stared into the fort. The path that led up to the building was lined with more men, and in the flickering light of torches he could see the glint of spears, cutlasses, rifles. “Who are they?” he whispered.
“Armies. Each sawbwa has brought his own troops.”
Beside them, Bo Naw spoke in Shan. The guard walked forward and took the reins of their ponies. The Englishmen dismounted, and entered the stockade.
As they stepped inside the ramparts, Edgar sensed a movement of bodies, and for a brief second he thought that it was a trap. But the men were not advancing. They were kowtowing, bowing before the Doctor like a wave, their backs glistening with sweat, weapons clanging.
The Doctor walked swiftly, and Edgar caught up with him by the door. As they ascended the steps of the fort, he looked behind him, at the vision of the backs of the warriors, the fierce stockade, and the forest beyond. Crickets screamed, and in his mind now echoed a single word. The man at the entrance had called Carroll not “Doctor,” or “Major,” but “Bo,” the Shan word that Edgar knew was reserved for warrior chiefs. Carroll took off his helmet and tucked it beneath his arm. They stepped inside.
For several long breaths, they stood and stared into a deep darkness, until shapes shifted slowly out of the dim light. There were several princes, seated in a semicircle, each dressed in some of the finest clothes Edgar had seen in Burma, bejeweled costumes like those of the puppets that had danced at the yôkthe pwè: sequined jackets with brocaded wings on the shoulders, crowns shaped like pagodas. The men had been talking when they had entered, but the room was now silent. Carroll led Edgar around the circle to two open cushions. Behind each prince, other men stood in the darkness, barely licked by the dancing lights of tiny fires.
They sat, still silent. Then one of the princes, an older man with a finely combed mustache, spoke at length. When he finished, Carroll answered. At one point he motioned to the piano tuner, who heard “Daly, Lieutenant-Colonel, Hildebrand,” but he understood nothing else.
When Carroll’s introduction was complete, another prince began to speak. The Doctor turned to Edgar. “All is fine, Lieutenant-Colonel. You are welcome here.”
The meeting began, and soon the night was lost, a blur of jeweled gowns and candlelight, a canto of strange tongues. Soon Edgar felt himself doze off, so that it all took on the quality of a dream. A dream within a dream, he told himself, as his eyelids fell slowly, For perhaps I have been dreaming since Aden. Around him, the princes seemed to float; the upturned candleholders hid the floor from the flames. Only at occasional breaks in the conversation did Carroll speak to him, “That man who is speaking is Chao Weng, sawbwa of Lawksawk, next to him is Chao Khun Kyi, the sawbwa of Mongnai—whom you must recognize. Then that is Chao Kawng Tai of Kengtung, who has traveled a great distance to be here. At his side is Chao Khun Ti of Mongpawn. Next to him is Twet Nga Lu.”
And Edgar asked, “Twet Nga Lu?” But Carroll had returned to the conversation, leaving Edgar to stare at the man he had heard about since the steamer voyage, who some said didn’t exist, who had escaped hundreds of British raids, who was perhaps one of the last figures standing between Britain and the consolidation of the Empire. Edgar stared at the Shan Bandit Chief. There was something familiar about him that he couldn’t place. He was a small man, with a face that was soft even in the angular shadows cast by the candlelight. Edgar could see none of his tattoos or talismans, but he noticed that he spoke with an eerie self-assurance, a half grin cast into the smoke-filled air like a threat. And although he rarely said anything, when he did, the room quickly grew quiet. Edgar then realized why he recognized the man, or if not the man, why he recognized the confidence, the elusiveness. He had seen the same in Anthony Carroll.