Three days pass.  We can afford to relax a little because we’re on a part of the road which runs between River Town and Lake Point, another important trading town.  There’s a lot of coming and going in both directions.  No bandits with any sense will be active here.

My wound is healing, my cuts and bruises fading, my strength coming back.  I'm sharing the routine work with Yao Lin now and have taken over most of the care of Yao Yuhan.  He says he’s feeling better and in fact there’s already some slight improvement, mostly because he’s sleeping better and we’re giving him food he can digest.  I’ve discovered that he’s a man of culture, with a wide knowledge of art and literature and an interest in politics and human affairs.  We have animated discussions, which remind me irresistibly of the hours spent with my tutor back in the palace.  He’s also a crack player of Go.  We’ve had a number of games and I’ve lost every time.

In the political discussions, I have to be very careful not to say too much and give myself away.  But there’s much to talk about, given the current situation.  The same old questions are being asked.  Will the new Emperor be good or bad for business?  What effect will the war with the south have on trade?  Nobody knows.

I’ve shown him some of the exercises Liang Zhou devised for my father, which are good for the back as well as the legs.  These and regular massages are starting to ease the aches he feels in his bones, especially when the weather’s damp.  All this has improved his mood considerably.

“Haven’t seen Dad so cheerful for ages,” Yao Lin says as we trundle along towards our next stopping place.  I’m sitting beside him on the driving seat of the wagon.  Here the road runs alongside a large lake and, the weather being fair today, we’re both hoping for a bathe.  I try to remember when I last had a hot bath – it must have been in the inn in Border Town.  I think nostalgically of the bathing-room in my quarters at the Black Snake, with a tub big enough for both Shan and me to bathe together.  A sharp feeling of longing seizes me, adding to the constant gnawing anxiety about Shan’s safety.  It’s three weeks now since the troop rode out of Qiu City and I last saw him. 

“You all right?” Yao Lin glances anxiously sideways.  “You’ve gone all quiet.”

“Yes – just thinking about friends.  Wondering how they are.”

“I know how you feel.  All my friends are back home in Emporium City.  I really miss them.”

“Your Dad says he has a brother in the capital.  Is that your only family?”

“Yes, but it’s been twenty years since Dad saw his brother and I always got the impression they didn’t get on all that well.  And I don’t think there’s anyone left on my Mum’s side.”  He glances sideways at me again and adds, “Mum was killed in the accident that crippled Dad.”

“I’m sorry.  You must miss her a lot.”

“Yes, I do.  Dad does as well.”

“My Mum died when I was ten.  I still miss her.  I don‘t suppose it ever goes away.”

“What about your Dad?”

“He’s gone missing.  But he had good friends, so I expect he’s all right.  He’ll be in the north-west somewhere.  Maybe he’ll be able to contact me."

“How will he know where you are?”

“We’ve got friends in the capital.  He’ll contact them if he can.”

We exchange a glance of mutual sympathy and understanding.  I feel a rush of warmth which soothes my aching heart a little.

“That water does look good,” Yao Lin says.

That evening we’re camped outside Lake Point.  It’s too late for a bathe, but early next morning, Yao Lin and I manage a dip.  The water’s perishing cold, but it’s great to get a proper wash.  We splash around a bit to keep warm, puffing.  As we’re putting our clothes back on, Yao Lin exclaims, “Your wound!”

“It’s all right.  It’s closed up now.  We should go into town and see what the gossip is about your caravan, find out how far ahead they are.  We could ask at the command post.”

“Dad suggested we go in together.  He said he feels well enough to be left on his own and we should go and enjoy ourselves.”

So, having settled Yao Yuhan down with tea and a book of poetry, Yao Lin and I venture into town.  The command posts in these towns are all built on the same pattern:  big whitewashed buildings with a courtyard and stables.  There are two bored guards outside the main door, only too willing to talk.

“Hao Meng’s caravan?  Yup, they were here not long ago.  When was it they left?”  He turns to his mate.

“Four, five days ago.  They stopped for repairs.  And to give old Hao a chance to drink the taverns dry and get his end away.”  They snigger conspiratorially.

“That means we’re catching up,” Yao Lin says to me eagerly. 

We thank the guards and turn away.  Then our eyes are caught by the number of wanted posters pasted on the command post wall. 

“Gosh, so many,” says Yao Lin, staring.

I’m staring too, because one of the posters, noticeable because of the whiteness of the paper among all the yellowed old ones, is offering a huge reward for Liao Shan, traitor to the Empire.  The crude picture could be of anybody and some of the details are wrong, but I feel my heart suddenly bumping in my chest. 

“Traitor to the Empire?” Yao Lin says, “What did he do?”

The guard nearest us hears and says, “Him?  Wrong place, wrong time.  Three months ago he was the hero of Qiu City.  Now he’s an outlaw.  It’s like my old Dad used to say.  Life’s like a cucumber.  One day it’s in your plate, the next it’s up your arse.”

As we walk away, Yao Lin says, puzzled, “Cucumber?”

My brain’s spinning.   I’m remembering Lang Huo.  There are countless men like him, on the lookout for blood money, capturing criminals the army hasn’t got time to chase.  What chance has Shan got?  But he’ll manage to avoid them, surely.  He’ll go undercover, as he did before.  He’s good at that.  But where will he go?  What will he do?  Does he even know I’m alive? 

If Zhao Zhan was right and Shan comes back for revenge, then he’ll follow Bamboo Hat’s trail.  He’ll go to Border Town, he’ll find out about Bamboo Hat’s colleagues and he’ll track them back to the Pass.  He’ll talk to people, he’ll realize that I’m not dead.  Maybe he’ll guess that I might head for Eagle Rock.  He’ll go there and find out what happened.  Then he’ll guess that I’ve gone back to the road, heading for the capital.  If I stay on the road, he’ll find me.

It’s speculation, but speculation’s all I have to cling to.  I realize that Yao Lin has said something and say, “Sorry, I was daydreaming.”

“I just said, let’s look round the market.  There might be some interesting stuff.”

His attention’s distracted by a sweet-seller, so we buy some candied fruit and eat it.  Then we stroll round the town.  The market square’s the centre of activity and is bustling.  Apart from the food stalls, there are people selling bamboo goods, leather, farming implements, even jewelry.  A particular stall attracts Yao Lin’s attention.

“That’s Dad’s specialty, precious stones.  This looks like good stuff.”  He picks up a bracelet of silver and agates.  The workmanship’s excellent, the design refined.  The stallholder’s dozing in a chair with a hat over his face.  Hearing our voices, he pushes the hat back and jumps up.

“Can I help you gentlemen?”

I look up and find myself face to face with a young man whose eyes widen at the sight of me.

“Hello, Beauty,” he says.  “It seems like today’s my lucky day.”

He’s young, good-looking, smiling.  “Please tell me there’s something I can do for you,” he says.  “Anything at all.”

Yao Lin looks at us, uncertain of what’s going on.

“Your own work?” I ask.

The jeweler nods.

“How much are the bracelets?” 

He tells me. 

Yao Lin frowns.  “Too much,” he says.

The young man lifts his eyebrows.  “A connoisseur, are we?”

“I know a bit about precious stones,” Yao Lin says.  “My Dad’s a dealer.”  He names a sum about two-thirds of the initial price. 

The young man harrumphs and smiles into my eyes.  “Have a drink with me, Beauty, and we can discuss it.”

I laugh.  “I want to buy two.”

“You should get a discount,” Yao Lin says.

“Alas, what can a poor man do?” sighs the jeweler.  “All right, for your beautiful eyes, I’ll let them go for the price your brother mentioned.”

“Less ten per cent discount for two,” Yao Lin says relentlessly.

“You’ll ruin me!”

“No,” says Yao Lin.  “Your stuff’s good.  People will buy it.”

The eyebrows rise even higher.  “How kind of the Young Master to say so.”

He insists on fastening one bracelet round my wrist to see how it looks and as he does so, his fingers brush against my skin.  I shiver and he senses it, because his face changes.  For a moment we look at one another.  I break away first.

“I’ll take them.” I say. 

We conclude the deal.  As we walk away, Yao Lin looks back and says, “What was all that about?”

“It’s called flirting.”

“But – I thought flirting was something you do with girls.”

“Not always.  And thanks for your help.  You’re a good negotiator.”

“That’s what Dad says too.”  He’s elated by the praise.  “Why did you buy two?” he asks, curious.

“One’s for a friend.” 

“Ah.”  He frowns.  “What did that guard mean about cucumbers?”

I explain and Yao Lin goes bright red.  Despite myself, I  laugh, thinking about it.  If only I could tell Mo Jiang.

We’re on the road early next day and proceed without problems until early afternoon.  The wagon starts to climb a steep hill, so Yao Lin and I get down and walk, to spare the horses.  When we get to the top, we come to a sudden halt.

At the bottom of the slope is another merchant wagon.  A man’s busy throwing the contents into the road, while a second man’s holding a sword at the neck of a third man who’s kneeling with his head on the ground.  To the side are two women, one supporting the other, who’s half-fainting.  Two scrubby-looking horses stand nearby.

This looks like trouble.

I untether Blaze from the back of the wagon and get into the saddle.  “Stay here,” I say to Yao Lin.

It’s clear that these men are robbers.  What do I do?  Options race through my mind   In this situation, Shao Ru would kill them outright.  Shan on the other hand would negotiate.  I’m in no condition to fight them hand to hand, but I have my bow and arrows.

I unship the bow, fit an arrow, and start to walk Blaze down the hill.  I’m far from a seasoned warrior, but I’ve been around fighting-men long enough to know that confidence often carries the day.  Or, sometimes, bluff will do just as well.

The man with the sword sees me first and shouts something to the other, who breaks off what he’s doing and jumps down from the wagon.  I stop within arrow-shot and say, in a voice which surprises me by its firmness, “What’s going on here?”

The man with the sword has a thin face with a greasy beard sprouting from the point of his chin.  He looks at my weapons and bares his teeth ingratiatingly.

“Brother, brother, no need for an argument, there’s plenty here for all of us.  There’s treasure in the cart and two women.  We can share.”

The other man moves his hand stealthily to his sword.  There’s a thin thread of sound coming from somewhere, which I can’t immediately identify.  Then I realize that it’s coming from the kneeling man.  He’s whimpering and muttering indistinct words in a frenzy of panic, his face in the dirt.

I say, “I don’t think so.  You’ve got a choice.  Get on your horses and get out of here.  Or fight.”

The men exchange sidelong glances.  It’s two against one.  As clearly as if they’d spoken, I know what they’re thinking.  We can take him down.  With a swift movement, the man by the wagon grabs one of the two women and pulls her away, whipping out his sword and holding it at her throat.  Deprived of support, the other woman collapses to the ground.

“Move and I kill her,” the robber says in a rasping voice.

The other man smirks.  “Now what are you going to do, pretty boy?”

I hear Shan’s voice:  If they take hostages, show no mercy.

Without hesitating, I take aim and my arrow hits the smirking man right in the chest.  He drops without a sound.  His companion yells in shock and loosens his grip.  As I notch another arrow, the captive woman, who’s no more than a girl, unexpectedly throws herself backwards, her head jerking back to give her captor a smart blow on the nose.  He cries out again, she wrenches free and my second arrow kills him. 

It’s over.  I feel weak with relief and reaction.  I dismount.  Behind me, I hear the sound of the Yao wagon coming down the slope.  Yao Lin leaps down from the driving seat, shouting, “Ah-Qing, are you all right?  Sir Zhong?” 

He knows them.  The man kneeling on the ground stops whimpering and lifts his head cautiously.

“It’s all right now, sir,” I say, “You can get up.”

He gets to his feet, fussily brushing down his clothes.  He’s middle-aged, richly dressed, with a pointed nose like a weasel’s and a mouthful of small sharp teeth.  There are petulant creases round his mouth.  Apart from the fright, he seems unhurt.  He stares at me.  “And who might you be?” he demands rudely.

This is not the reaction I expected.  “My name’s Zhao Jing.  I’m travelling with the Yaos.  We should get out of here as soon as possible, sir.”

“Don’t you tell me what to do, young man,” he snaps.  He looks round at all the stuff scattered on the ground and utters an agonized cry.  “My merchandise!”

The girl who was taken hostage has helped the older woman to her feet.  Together, they make their shuffling way back to the wagon.  But the merchant starts to scrabble about on the ground, recovering his goods and stuffing them back into the boxes. 

“Who are these people?” I ask Yao Lin.

“Their name’s Zhong.  They were part of our caravan too.  They must have got left behind, like us.”  He looks at the robbers’ bodies with a dazed expression.  “You killed them.  What do we do now?”