The Laughter of Foxes
It was autumn again. The air snapped with the premonition of winter; the earth hardened; the river changed its song. The first of the season's fires were lit in the guardhouse, ostensibly to keep the steel blades from misting with cold. In reality, the men sat around and warmed their hands in front of the flames, discussing in muted voices the reports from the capital of increasing lawlessness throughout the land. Then they would glance at their commander, uneasy and unsure.
Leo had scarcely noticed the passing of summer. For the past year he had buried himself in work - tedious reports for the general, accounts of no importance, the mostly fabricated documenting of a dispute between two religious factions - all to reassure the Emperor that his power remained absolute.
But no matter how stultifying the work, how engrossed he was in the writing of events of little value, Leo still knew when the season changed.
He knew it because Mei had been killed – by his hand, by her hand – in autumn. He knew it because the snow had come early last year, and she had died in the snow, fought over by the two men who had loved her.
Leo sat at the wide, cluttered desk in the centre of the guardhouse and took up his cup of tea. The glaze on the porcelain was cracked. He could feel the spiders' webs of the lines against the pads of his thumb and forefinger. Not smooth, not perfect – just like him.
Mei had been perfect. A true beauty, a Spring beauty: one that shone from within, her radiance touching all those around her. She had never had need of artifice to enhance her looks, but when the Flying Daggers had sent her to play the whore at the Peony Pavilion, her painted face had been a mask more perfect than he could ever have imagined.
He lifted the cup and dipped his hawk-like nose towards the hot liquid. He paused, closed his eyes, and inhaled. Then he gazed at the colour of the tea, the faint yellow-green patina that trailed through the water as he agitated the cup. At the bottom, the leaves were beginning to unfurl. He'd heard the rustling clatter they made when they'd been dropped into the cup, when they'd looked like mouse-droppings. Now the leaves stretched forth like new shoots on a spring day.
Leo tipped the cup and took a mouthful of tea. He let it rest on his tongue, allowing the taste to come to him slowly. Too often a man would make an assumption about his tea, would taste only what he thought he could taste, rather than recognising that the tea held many secrets, many layers, many flavours.
He could feel warm water on his lips, but did not wipe them dry. Leo swallowed, and then became aware of his colleagues watching him. Zhang and Shi had stopped their game of dice to wait for his comment, and Cao was leaning on the clutter of spears that he'd been ordered to take to the armoury.
Leo looked at them. "Don't you have anything better to do than to see if I can guess which tea I'm drinking?"
Cao shrugged. "We could be out searching for the Flying Daggers," he said.
"Why bother when it's warm inside?" Leo raised his cup in salute. "Last year, when Jin and I tracked the Daggers - yes, last autumn, it was…"
His words tailed off into silence, and he stared at the cracked glaze on his cup.
"Sir?" Zhang prompted. "Last year, you and Jin failed to capture any of the Flying Daggers. There was that whore from the Peony Pavilion that died..."
"Her name was Mei," Leo whispered, more to himself than to the others.
"…and the general lost dozens of men in the hunt."
Leo's fingers tightened around the cup. "They underestimated the Flying Daggers. If only the general had left matters to me!"
"Then we'd be dead instead of them," Zhang said bluntly. "I don't understand why the general didn't demote you after that."
Leo smiled peaceably. "Because who would take my place as head of the force? Certainly not you, Zhang. You might preen and pose and think yourself better than me just because I have suffered a reversal of fortune, but just remember that arrogance is more of a failing than ineptitude. If you need an illustration of that, you need look no further than our revered Emperor."
Shi dropped his dice on the floor. "Sir, that's treason," he said, his tone caught between horror and awe.
"So it is." Leo stood, still holding his teacup in one hand. "I'm sure Lieutenant Zhang will report me to the general at his earliest possible convenience…"
He glanced towards Zhang and saw that his face was dark with shame. Leo gave a cynical smile as, with a muffled curse, the young lieutenant strode out of the room. The door slammed outside, letting in a sharp breath of cold air.
The silence that followed was broken only by the pop and crackle of the flames. Shi leaned forwards to retrieve his dice. He sat up, rattling the bone counters together in his hand, and then he said, "Sir, what happened last year wasn't entirely your fault."
This time, Leo's smile was gentle. "Really? What makes you say that?"
Shi examined the dice. "Well, there was Jin, too. He was your captain. You were friends; you trusted him. He should've come back after the fight against the Flying Daggers."
He looked directly at Leo. "They all say he was one of them – that Jin was a Dagger. Jin betrayed you – he betrayed us! He betrayed your trust. He made you lose face. That's why Zhang acts as if he despises you – because for an entire year you've done nothing to get back at Jin!"
Leo took a sip of his tea and then said calmly, "Jin left the province. It would be a waste of time and resources if I had pursued him."
There was a pause, a moment of hesitation in the room. He saw the way that Shi glanced towards Cao, and so he asked, his voice edged with authority, "What is it? What do you know?"
Shi bowed his head. "Sir, Jin has returned."
"It's true," Cao added. "Zhang saw him yesterday in the teahouse opposite the restaurant of Wang Shao."
Leo felt cold, as if the autumn wind had crept into his blood. Keeping his tone level, he asked, "Did Lieutenant Zhang speak with Jin at all?"
Cao shook his head. "I don't think so, sir. He just said that he'd seen Jin, and that he knew what he would do about the traitor. That's what he said, sir – his exact words."
"The traitor…" Leo murmured thoughtfully. He nodded, and then finished his tea, draining the last of it.
"Bilouchun," he said decisively. "The tea. It's Bilouchun."
Shi groaned and put his head in his hands. "I didn't think you'd guess right!"
Leo smiled vaguely as he listened to Cao demanding that Shi pay up for losing the bet. Their chatter seemed to come from miles away as he stared down into the porcelain cup.
There was a tangle of leaves at the bottom, their edges serrated, their colour faded. Without the hot water to make them dance, they wrapped around one another so tightly that it looked to Leo as if each leaf was being strangled.
With a single gesture, he flicked the cup hard so that the leaves dropped out onto the floor. Then he placed the teacup upside down on the table, and left the room.
*****
The teahouse was nondescript, the sort of place frequented by idlers and outlaws. Leo remembered that its most glorious moment had come when one of the waiters was stabbed through the chest with a piece of bamboo by a renegade posing as a Daoist monk. The chase had lasted three days. It had been Jin who'd finally captured the murderer. Leo could remember taking the false monk before the judge, and marching him out to the town square, but he could no longer remember the execution.
Perhaps he had seen too much death.
Leo smiled at the thought. A Flying Dagger could never see enough death, not until the Emperor was overthrown and the new regime was established. A policeman could never see enough death, not until all enemies of the Emperor were eradicated and peace ruled the land. And he… he would always see too much death, because he was a Dagger placed in the heart of the Emperor's police force, and every year made it more difficult for him to recognise himself.
"Tea," he said to the waiter when he walked through the door of the teahouse. "Something clean and simple."
Leo chose a table near the window and sat down with his back to the street. He calmly met the curious looks that came his way from the handful of other patrons, and then took off his policeman's hat and set it on the bench beside him. When he leaned his elbows on the table, he felt the swinging weight of his hair in its high ponytail. He reached up and stroked it slowly, thoughtfully. How long had it been since anybody had touched him like this, with fascination, with affection? How long…
Leo shook himself out of his reverie as the waiter approached with a cup and a kettle of tea. He waited while the tea was poured, and then he nodded his thanks. He noticed that the cup was of cheap pottery, with a white and blue geometric pattern painted upon it. There was a chip in the rim. Leo rotated the cup so that he would not catch his lip on it; and through the porcelain he felt the heat on his fingertips.
The tea was the colour of dark honey. Its scent was one he recognised immediately, homely and welcoming. He took a cautious sip, and then gave a small sigh of pleasure. Even the most jaded of palates was refreshed by jasmine tea.
He took another sip, cradling the cup between both hands to draw in the warmth of the tea. He knew it must seem as if he was lost in thought, but he was very well aware of what was going on around him.
There was movement from outside: a flicker of cold, just enough to warn him. Leo knew that Jin had studied hard with a number of masters – indeed, he had even taught Jin one or two moves himself – but even damaged, Jin was still young and impetuous. He gave away his approach without even realising it.
"I should have killed you," Leo said simply, without looking up.
"I have been dead this whole year past." Jin's voice was husky and wavered, as if he were unused to speech.
Leo glanced up as Jin settled himself upon the bench on the opposite side of the table. His former captain and one-time friend was still handsome – breathtakingly so, for grief had rubbed out the soft rounded curves of his cheeks to make them appear sculpted and polished. Jin's hair was bound up, the length of it no longer shiny and perfumed as it had been this time last year, but tangled, dull and windblown. His eyes were shadowed, their gaze restless; and his hands, his fine, elegant hands, were now chapped and dry, making Jin appear older than his years.
Yes, thought Leo, he was still handsome: handsome enough to steal a woman's heart, enough to break a man's heart… He found himself examining Jin with closer attention than he expected, and so he forced his gaze back to his tea.
"You exaggerate," he said. "You knew her only three days. I loved her for three years. Three years! Your grief can in no way measure against mine."
Jin touched a finger to the smooth belly of the kettle, seeming to deliberately seek the slow burn of pain from the radiated heat. "You mistake quality for quantity."
Leo slammed his fists on the table, half-rising from the bench to stare down at Jin with a sudden snap of anger. "You know nothing of my suffering."
"You are not what you seem, Leo." Jin looked up, his eyes dark with weariness. "You are a Dagger. You always have been, haven't you?"
Leo did not reply; did not confirm or deny the charge. Instead, he relaxed: sat down and took a sip of tea, allowing the scent of jasmine to soothe him. At length he asked, "Why did you come back?"
"I came back for you."
Leo looked at Jin for a moment, aware of a ridiculous fluttering inside his ribcage. He took another sip of tea and then said, "To betray me again."
"I did not betray you last year."
"You did. I told you not to get involved with Mei. How could you fall in love with her when -" Leo bit off the end of his sentence and turned away.
Jin sounded faintly amused. "When she was in love with you? Oh, Leo. You always seemed so wise. I always looked up to you, had such respect for you. I thought you knew everything, but you don't…"
"You speak like an idiot."
"Mei loved both of us," Jin said quietly. "It's possible, you know. A woman, a man – they can love more than one person."
Leo snorted. "It's taken you a year to come to this momentous conclusion?"
"And it's possible to love the one you hate," Jin continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted. "Yes, it's possible. Not comfortable, but possible."
Leo put down his teacup, his gaze locked with Jin's. He reached for the kettle and poured more tea, desperate to introduce normality back into their meeting. He didn't dare to think of what Jin had just said, of what it might mean. It was too dangerous a path for him to follow, no matter what his desires had been in the past.
"What will you do?"
"What would you have me do?"
Leo narrowed his gaze. He could have sworn that he was being flirted with, but Jin was looking at him with an unreadable expression.
He drank his tea, swallowing quickly. He poured another cup, and said, "The men think you're a traitor."
"I am." Jin's voice was harsh. "If I tried to tell the judge or the general the truth about you, nobody would believe me. Who would credit the word of a wandering swordsman? A former policeman who had not the honour or decency to crawl back to his guardhouse to report for duty, but who chose instead to run away to nurse his grief in solitude – who could respect him? A man who fled from the battlefield, leaving behind the body of the woman he loved to be picked apart by scavengers!"
Leo watched as the animation came back into Jin's face. His eyebrows slashed as quick as sword-strikes; his lips felt rather than formed the words that he spoke. There was passion in his gaze, but Leo knew it was not for him.
Jin brushed a hand through his hair, his fingers tangling in the rough ponytail. For a moment he paused, stroking the matted mane of dull black, and then he pushed it back with an impatient gesture.
Leo felt a brief flicker of sorrow for the man Jin had once been: so sure of his own beauty, so proud of his gleaming-silk hair.
"When I left her," Jin said, staring at the table between them, "I heard the laughter of foxes. They were waiting for me to leave, so they could claim her body. So they could tear at her and rip her apart, the way we did."
He looked up, waiting for censure, and then added, "I didn't go back for her. I don't know why."
Leo let the guilt play out before he spoke.
"I buried her," he said quietly. "I got away into the forest and joined the general's men. They swooped on the Daggers' hideout, but by then most of the rebels had got away. There were a few token captures, but no prizes. It was over by dusk. I took a torch from the camp and went back to find her."
Jin's expression was almost yearning. "How did she look?"
"Like a flower." Leo gazed down into his teacup, at the tiny reviving petals of the jasmine flower that floated beneath the surface of the hot water.
"A flower," Jin repeated, his voice catching. "That first day at the Peony Pavilion, when you sent me there, she told me her name was Mei. And I asked her why she didn't call herself after a flower, like the other girls did. Do you know what she said to me?"
Leo smiled distantly. "That she was not like the other girls. That she was rarer, more distinctive, than all the flowers put together."
Jin looked at him and nodded. "Yes," he said. "She was like a flower. One of those beautiful flowers that looks so fragile, as if a gust of wind could carry it away – the kind of flower that hides poison in its nectar, or that pricks you with its thorns."
The waiter came over with a fresh kettle of tea and a dish of sunflower seeds. Leo watched as Jin picked up one of the seeds and split it between his teeth, discarding the black husk with its thin white stripes and chewing the sweetness within.
"She was heavy," Leo said, his gaze following the repetitive movements of Jin's hand as he took more sunflower seeds.
His voice was soft with memory and pain as he continued: "The snow had covered her. I had to search to find the place where we fought. And when I found her, she was so heavy; her limbs so stiff and cold… I could scarcely move her."
Jin moistened his lips. "Where did you bury her?"
*****
It was approaching dusk by the time they emerged from the forest into the pasture where, last year, they'd fought so bloodily. The creeping twilight stole the brightness from the world. The distant mountain peaks seemed suspended, the snowcaps grey rather than white. The trees that bordered the sloping meadow rustled black and menacing. A bird started out of cover, its cry harsh as it took flight.
Leo watched it go, pausing briefly to track its progress through the greying sky. From the fringes of the forest they'd just left behind came the unearthly shriek-barking of foxes. He shuddered and closed one hand on the hilt of his sword.
"They're laughing," Jin muttered, moving closer to him.
"They will not harm us," Leo said.
Jin's eyes were wide as he turned to look at Leo. "How do you know? Not all foxes are animals. These could be fox-fairies. Perhaps they wanted to take Mei last year and make her into one of their kind…"
Leo stared at him, and then said abruptly, "Fox-fairies are a myth."
"Perhaps -"
"No."
Leo pushed past Jin and walked unerringly towards a spot where a slight elongated bump rose from the earth. It was covered over thickly with wildflowers and wide-bladed grasses, and at its head he sank to his knees and pressed a hand between the grass stems to bury his fingertips into the black earth.
He waited for Jin to come to the grave. When he did not, Leo glanced up. He saw Jin standing a short distance away, his gaze fixed not on the grave but on Leo's crouching figure.
Jin shook his head. "Why did you kill her?"
Leo was silent, looking around at the expanse of the field at the drying grasses and the bowed heads of the flowers. The answer had been simple enough last year when his rage had been white-hot. Now there were shades to it that he hadn't expected.
"I killed her because I was jealous," he said at last. "Because I did not want to lose her to you." His brow furrowed as he thought back. "It didn't matter that she didn't love me in the end. I could have borne it had she decided to love someone else. Anybody else, as long as it wasn't… you."
Jin came forwards to kneel at the foot of the grave. "You were jealous of me."
"Yes."
Leo looked away. It was easier to let Jin believe that the jealousy was something simple; that it had been the natural rage of a possessive man threatened by another man. He did not want to explain that he had felt jealous of Mei, too, for having captured Jin's heart.
"We should do something," Jin said. "To mark the passage of time; to remember her. Something with honour, since neither of us has any. Something that would show her that we understand…"
Leo frowned. "Understand?"
"Mei killed herself so she could be free," Jin said quietly. "You may have given her the fatal wound, but it was her decision to pull out the dagger and end her life. She loved us both, but would not choose between us. She had more honour than any man. She wanted to be free."
"And you?" Leo asked, tilting his head.
Jin dropped his gaze. "I am free, but unhappy. I never expected that. In a way, I am your opposite, Leo: you cannot be free because you serve two masters, and that makes you unhappy…"
Leo nodded and smiled slightly. "I was wrong. The past year has made you wise, after all." He hesitated, and then said, "The honourable way to settle our debts would be to fight."
"Yes," said Jin. "Let justice take its course. It failed last year. Perhaps this time we will have some resolution."
Leo stood up, brushing the earth from his fingertips as he walked away from the grave. He moved down the slope, away from the tree line, glancing up to see the advance of the night. The light was failing; it would be like fighting blind. The thought gave him pause, and so he swung around to face Jin.
"We will be blind," he said. "Like she was."
Jin stared at him. "She was not blind!"
Leo raised his eyebrows. "Was she not?" he asked, and his voice was sharp.
"It was an act designed to fool us," Jin said, and then he realised that Leo meant something else entirely. He straightened, taking his hand from the hilt of his sword. "Very well. We will be blind. As she was."
Leo unravelled a length from his waist-sash, cutting the section free with his sword. It was dark green silk, almost black, the standard colour worn by the police of this province. He split it, creating two blindfolds, and then held one out to Jin.
As soon as Jin took it, Leo paced away from him. "On the count of ten," he called out. He lifted his makeshift blindfold and tied it tight around his eyes, smoothing down the silk until it fit snug against his face. Then he turned and drew his sword, holding it out to his right, the blade high.
Leo began to count.
At 'four', he heard the glitter-sound of Jin's sword unsheathing.
At 'seven', he heard the stamp of Jin's feet against the earth as he settled into a defensive position.
At 'nine', he heard the sharp bark of a fox in the forest.
"Ten," Leo said. "Begin."
There was nothing but silence. Leo stood, still with his sword-arm outstretched, waiting for Jin's attack. He turned his head, listening carefully. It was a dangerous game that he played, but he had played it before. He was unbeaten at the Echo Game – only Mei had come close. He had trained for years to develop his hearing to an almost preternatural level, and he knew how to anticipate an opponent's move before they even made it.
Leo lifted his head when he felt the air shift. He stepped backwards, bringing his sword across his body to block Jin's first thrust. The blades clashed and hissed; and Leo felt himself flung back. Jin was more powerful that he remembered; he would have to fight more defensively until he had the measure of his strength.
He listened again, hearing the whisper of the grasses, and then he lunged towards the sound. He heard Jin's exclamation of pain, and felt a shudder go through his blade as it caught on fabric or flesh.
Leo angled his sword, holding it with both hands directly in front of him as he stepped sideways, listening, always listening. To his left, he heard Jin breathing; he spun that way, feinting an attack only to withdraw it, and then to aim beneath Jin's guard to cut at his legs.
He heard Jin utter a brief exclamation of anger, and then felt the block against his blade. Leo moved, slithering sideways to force the swords together so that the steel shimmered. He turned his body, using his impetus to swing back beneath the locked blades, reversing their positions. Then he pulled away, dragging back his sword, and stabbed blindly towards where he could hear Jin still turning around.
There was a sharp smack as the flat of the blade caught human flesh, and then it seemed as if Jin disappeared. Leo dropped into a crouch, raising his head to listen for Jin's attack. But there was nothing, not even a whisper, to betray his presence.
Leo reached out with his free hand, as if he could sense Jin with his fingertips. He spun, arcing the sword, and then he stopped when he heard a noise.
A footfall: no, several footfalls. Running feet. Leo cocked his head towards the sound and braced himself, taking a firmer grip on his sword.
Jin shouted: a loud, wild cry.
Startled, Leo stumbled backwards. His foot caught on something stuck in the earth. As he fell, he twisted against it. His outstretched hand brushed over it – and with a start, he recognised it as Jin's sword. Jin must have planted it there for him to fall over, distracting him with the shout. And it had worked…
Leo landed heavily on the ground, his sword torn from his grasp. Before he could reach out for a weapon, Jin was on him, pinning him down. He could feel Jin's heat, the reality of his body. Jin's hair hung down, covering Leo's face. He could feel it above and below the blindfold; could taste it on his tongue as it whipped across his mouth. He felt as if he was being smothered by the smoky, silken scent of it.
"Kill me," Leo said, his voice husky.
He felt Jin move on top of him. "That's not what I want."
Leo gave a quick, startled gasp of astonishment as Jin's lips brushed his, gently questioning. Leo answered, leaning up to seal the kiss and lifting one hand to tangle his fingers through the rough animal warmth of Jin's hair. The battle became more intimate, their bodies moving swiftly, aligning to spark desire, to rub and thrust through the layers of silk.
Leo's desire coalesced. He felt Jin wrap the long swathe of his ponytail in his fist. His hair caught and pulled painfully, making tears start at the corners of his eyes. Leo groaned, half in protest and half in pleasure. His own hand tightened in Jin's hair, and he held him into their strange embrace until he reached a sharp, startling climax that left him helpless.
His blindfold was damp. Leo touched the edges of it and then traced the shape of his eyelids beneath the silk. He could feel Jin's hair against his hands, drifting over his face. It smelled of freedom.
Leo pushed Jin away. He turned his head and hooked a finger beneath the blindfold, lifting it from his eyes. He blinked his gaze into focus, seeing in the half-light the dried grass and the nodding flowers of the pasture. He rolled back to look at the man beside him, and realised with a certain distant amusement that Jin had not worn his blindfold for their fight.
Jin smiled at him, unrepentant. "We are a pair of fools," he said. "So much wasted. So much…" He stopped, and sighed. "I will leave here. It is for the best."
Leo gazed at him. "Where will you go?"
Jin looked up at the sky. "Somewhere I can forget."
"That's impossible. You never forget," Leo said. "That's the price we pay for daring to love where we should not."
"I could forget Mei, in time," Jin said softly. His mouth twisted. "After all, I only knew her three days. Who could fall in love in three days, especially with a woman who was an assassin; a woman whose heart was divided between two very different men?"
Leo lowered his gaze as Jin touched the sharp curve of his cheekbone, stroked the ruffled gloss of his bound hair.
"You I will not forget, not even if I wanted to," Jin whispered. "The policeman; the Flying Dagger. My friend; my superior. My enemy; my lover."
Leo tried to smile, but could not. "I wear too many masks."
Jin sat up and brushed grass and seed-heads from his clothes. He straightened his sword-belt and tugged the blade from the earth, sheathing it with a decisive snap. Then he stood and glanced west, to where the mountains darkened the horizon.
"When you no longer wear your masks. When you know who you are…" he began, looking down at Leo. "When you are free…"
Leo closed his eyes and nodded slightly, swallowing the lump in his throat.
When he opened his eyes again, Jin had gone.
As the dusk deepened towards night, Leo still lay in the beaten grass. He listened to the autumn wind dancing through the dried dead flowers, and heard, far distant, the laughter of foxes.
end
Originally published in Horizontal Mosaic 11 (Blackfly Press)