Chapter 123 — The Li People

Down the mountain, Tumagu considered a moment, then led Ming Li toward the river. All along the way many Miao turned to look, though their eyes lingered mostly on Xiaobai.

They crossed the stone bridge of Central Plains style that Ming Li had noticed earlier, and came to a relatively secluded house on the far bank, set beside a row of green trees.

Standing behind Tumagu, Ming Li frowned quickly and slightly. The house was not large—a single story, a single room, square and plain, built wholly of wood. And on the outer walls there was none of the beast hides and bones that hung on ordinary Miao dwellings.

Tumagu turned. "This house has stood empty a long while, but we have kept it swept, and it is clean enough. Few people come this way. The two of you will have to make do here for a night."

Ming Li inclined his head slightly. "Thank you, Chief."

Tumagu smiled and glanced at Xiaobai in Ming Li's arms. "Then I will leave you in peace. Rest now."

With that he seemed about to go, then halted as if something had occurred to him. "I will send someone along with some food presently. Rest easy. Our customs here are crude—you must forgive the poor lodging."

Ming Li shook his head again and again. "Not at all. Thank you, Chief."

Tumagu nodded and turned to go. Ming Li watched him for a while, and when he was well away, he turned back and looked the house over once more.

However he looked at it, the house seemed one built by a man of the Central Plains.

He carried Xiaobai and Xiaohui up, pushed open the door, and went in.

The furnishings within were simple enough—a bed, a table, a few wooden chairs. The walls were of tong wood cut to even sizes, with a window on one side, and the whole room held a faint fresh scent of timber.

Ming Li had never set much store by luxurious lodgings; plainness like this rather suited him. He went over and laid Xiaobai on the bed first. She murmured a word or two under her breath and sank back into sleep.

Ming Li shook his head and lifted Xiaohui down from his shoulder. The monkey's mouth opened and shut, and now and then he made a smacking sound; he looked thoroughly content. Ming Li sighed and laid him on the bed too.

Looking at the sleeping woman and monkey, Ming Li turned, went to the table, and sat down. The room seemed suddenly very quiet; apart from their breathing there was no sound at all.

In this strange house in a strange land, he sat alone and still.

Beyond the window, the sunlight was bright and fair.

Ten li east of Qili Tong, which lies ringed by mountains, a stretch of high hills rolled on and on. On one of the peaks stood two men, gazing into the distance at the fertile land cradled among the mountains.

"So that is Qili Tong."

The man standing in front spoke these words in a low voice, and in them were deep feeling, wrath, and longing.

The sun shone down on a man of enormous height and strength, bare-chested, his lower body clad in breeches sewn from the hides of savage beasts.

His skin, weathered by years of sun and wind, was a hardy bronze. On his corded, muscular body there was a bear's-head tattoo across the chest. Elsewhere the flesh was seamed with great, crisscrossing scars, and it was not hard to imagine how many fearsome beasts he had wrestled.

"Yes, Chief," answered the man standing a step behind him. "That is Qili Tong." His dress was like the other's, save that besides the beast-hide breeches he wore a garment of fur on his upper body, and he looked far smaller in build than the burly man before him.

Just now a faint smile seemed to hover at the corner of his mouth. Gazing into the distance, he said slowly, "There lies the root and heart of the Miao, who have held sway over the southern border for two hundred years. And there, too, in the Miao altar halfway up the mountain at Qili Tong, beneath the statue of that evil dog-god of the Miao, our Li tribe's guardian treasure, the Bone Jade, has lain suppressed for a full two hundred years."

"Keh keh..."

A grating sound came suddenly from the burly man in front. The man behind looked and saw that he whom he called chief of the Li had clenched his fists, and his knuckles cracked with the sheer force of it.

"Two hundred years! Two hundred years!" The strong man's voice was not loud, but he muttered as if roaring.

"Yes. Two hundred years. Two hundred years ago we were set upon in treachery by the vile Miao. Their wicked great shaman cursed our warriors dead with poisonous sorcery, seized the sacred Bone Jade we worshipped, and drove us into the barrenest corner of the southern border, where we have lived two hundred years of the bitterest hardship." The man behind him spoke on, calmly, in cold words, of a hatred that could never be forgiven.

The fierce mountain wind struck the Li chief's mountain-like frame like a blade, but he did not stir. In his eyes now there was only that warm, living land ringed by mountains ahead.

"To lose the Bone Jade is the greatest insult and dishonor to the Bear God!" the man behind went on. "So for two hundred years the Bear God has been wroth and would no longer watch over our Li. But from this day, if only we defeat the Miao and win back the Bone Jade, the Bear God will surely look on us again, and then we may take the finest land in all the southern border and settle our people and our children's children there for all generations."

His voice rose abruptly. "Chief, we must never let our children yet to come fight the fire-wolves and black tigers—beasts that even the strongest warrior cannot withstand—merely to seize a little food, as we have done."

"We must live. We must have the best land!" he said viciously.

Ahead, the giant of a chief did not turn his head, but his angry, heavy breathing betrayed his feelings. After a moment's silence he turned and said, "The other three tribes—are they truly no trouble?"

The man behind nodded at once. "Yes, Chief. The Miao have long lorded it over the southern border, and the other three tribes have long resented them. The Zhuang are many and strong, yet they must bow beneath the Miao—they have chafed at it this long while. The Tu have always kept to themselves, holding aloof from the other four tribes and refusing to meddle in their quarrels. And the Gaoshan are few and weak, able only to look to their own defense, with no strength to expand."

A veiled look came over his face. He lowered his voice. "Chief, if only we crush the Miao in one stroke—with the valor our Li warriors have won these two hundred years fighting the fiercest beasts of the southern border, and with the blessing of the great Bear God—the day we rule the southern border will be close at hand."

A blazing light leapt into the Li chief's eyes. Even gazing at Qili Tong ahead seemed to set his whole body trembling—with excitement and longing, and perhaps with the warrior's inborn bloodlust.

But he was, after all, the chief of a tribe, no hothead who acted without thought. Once the first surge of excitement had passed, he fell silent, then turned and fixed his eyes hard on the man behind him. "Ahetai, they say that wicked Miao great shaman has lived three hundred years and still dwells in the deepest recess of the Miao altar. His sorcery is the most terrible power in the southern border. Can you truly deal with him?"

The man called Ahetai wore a mysterious smile. "Chief, I have already shown you the divine art that the Beast Lord of the Ten Thousand Wild Mountains taught me, and the wondrous treasures he gave me. If the great shaman is dead, well and good; but even if he lives, I will surely defeat him."