Part Eight
The house of Wen was turned upside-down. Madam had come home in abstraction, and she had held a shouting match with her son, and locked herself in her room. Night was falling, and Master Wen was currently nowhere to be found. Someone thought he was preparing to go out. He had seemed to be getting ready for a visit.
Needless to say, it took a while for the frightened little maid to answer the knock at the door. "Who is it, girl?" hissed young Master Wen, who had been out of sorts all afternoon, pulling the door open.
"I – I don't know." Master Wen nearly fired her on the spot, but when he saw the apparent servant at the door, he couldn't blame her. Strangely wobbly, with arms that seemed to be fixed on backwards, the man began to speak from beneath a helmet that completely shaded his face.
"Hullo!" it boomed. "I am a servant to the Fa family. Yeah! You better believe it! Uh, they offer they uh…abject apologies, and they seek to remedy any shame they've caused. Honorable Fa Zhou requests your appearance to Settle The Match."
"I cannot come tonight," said Jian-Die automatically, a spark of fear leaping into his chest at the mere thought of his message being delayed.
"Wait!" cried the servant, flapping his arms as Jian-Die bgan to shut the door.
"Of course he will come tonight," said a voice from behind Jian-Die's head.
"Mother…" the scholar warned. The smile stretched across his mother's face as she spoke to the servant, but she frowned on her son. "Fa Mulan has always been a disgraceful young girl, but she was your choice, and I treated her well for your sake. Now you are going to patch things up. Appearances are everything, Jian-Die, and I will not hear it said that the house of Wen is unforgiving."
The Fa servant watched gleefully as Mulan's plan was put into action almost perfectly. The young scholar, despite many protests of some prior engagement, was pushed into a painted carriage which shuttled down the road at Wen Lei's command.
"Excellent," Mushu murmured from inside the man suit, and flopped away back to the house.
It was pitch black by the time Fa Zhou and Fa Li went out, and as soon as the door shut behind them at nine o'clock, Grandma announced it was time to go to bed. So she heated some milk and donned her slippers, and puncutually retired to her room.
"And that's set," Mulan said, checking to be sure Grandma was firmly in bed. "And the spy should be here any minute. I called on Ling, Yao, and Chien-Po. I need them to deliver this scroll to the troops stationed outside the village."
"Hey, watch it! You might papercut yourself and who knows what could happen?" Mushu cried hysterically.
"Hush. It's important. They're instructions for the leading officer to send troops, in case we need help."
Mushu looked at her quizzically. Mulan knew what he was thinking – if she were wrong, or even if she could not prove Jian-De was the spy, alerting the troops would only make her a fool. But she had to take the chance.
There was a knock at the door.
"That's him," Mulan whispered. Straightening the collar on her jacket, and even tucking the strand of hair into her comb, she behaved like a proper lady would and politely answered the spy's knock.
"Good evening, Master Wen," she said, winningly. He blinked.
"Ah…good evening, Miss Fa. I don't have much time, you see."
I'm sure you don't, Mulan thought in disgust. But she instead yanked him inside by the arm.
"What was it you wanted to tell me?" he asked quickly.
"I invited you here to patch things up. I behaved badly in town, and I hope you won't be ashamed to have me as your bride," she said slowly. She noticed that an odd look – was it regret? – passed over the spy's face. But it was gone in an instant.
"Please, sit down. Sit down." Mulan smilingly pushed him into a chair, but he looked as if that was the last place he wanted to be. Perfect.
"Tea?" Mulan offered. Looking half-defeated already, Jian-Die dully pushed the teacup forward, and Mulan filled it. Well, so far she had been able to detain him. Ten minutes: done. Only one hour to go!
Jian-Die squirmed as Mulan related boring small-talk, discussed the garden, all sorts of brainless airhead topics, but as she was a lady, Jian-Die couldn't just get up and leave.
"Hey, Mulan? Ya home?" A piping voice came from the family room, followed a shush, a slap, and an "Ow!"
"What was that?" Jian-Die asked, looking as if he would jump out of his skin.
Mulan kept her smile plastered to her face, but was thinking very manly expletives in her head. "Ah…I'll go see."
In the family room, she found Ling rubbing his arm, Yao grunting his own very manly expletives, and Chien-Po ready with an explanation.
"You were supposed to knock," Mulan hissed, shoving them back out the doorway. "Don't explain, we don't have much time. Here. I need you to take this scroll to the nearest camp," she said, pressing it into Chien-Po's hands. "Ask for the soldiers' help. Have them bring back as much help as they can, and quickly, before he gets away. But don't tell anyone else – anybody could be a spy. Do you understand?" Mulan hurried the gang of three out the door. "It's important, and I know I can count on you. Now go!"
"Don't worry, Mulan," Chien-Po insisted.
"We'll get the job done!" Yao agreed.
"Yeah, you can count on us!" Ling exclaimed.
Mulan simply shushed them, and shut the door behind them.
Giving the gang of three a task was one thing. Knowing if they would successfully execute it was quite another.
They created a lot of problems.
For instance, as soon as the house door slammed behind them their cries of "You can count on us!" ceased, and Yao muttered, "Now what?"
They stood staring blankly at each other for a few minutes, until it struck them that the first order of business was finding a way to get there. Chien-Po scanned the premises until he happened to light on Khan, whose large black form could barely be distinguished in the darkness. "There's Mulan's horse," he announced, motioning for Yao and Ling to follow. "He's grazing. Maybe we can ask him if he'd like to transport us."
"Ask him?" Yao echoed in disbelief. Chien-Po didn't answer. He simply climbed over the gate and peacefully regarded the disturbed horse. "Hello, friend. We would like to ride you, if you do not mind. Do you remember me? I picked you up in the Tung Shao pass." Chien-Po put out his broad hand. "You seem troubled, friend. Let us chant. Ya mi ah to fu da…"
But all the chanting in the world would not convince Khan to leave his stable without genuine Fa permission. He knew better than that. Last time he had run off without a human Grandma had beat him with a stick.
"Hey, Chien-Po, I don't think it's working," Ling exclaimed finally, after nearly being kicked in the head by the plunging horse. "And we're kinda, y'know, wasting time."
Chien-Po sighed. "I did not want to use force." But without further ado he grasped Khan by his rope and towed the jerking animal behind him as lightly as a feather.
Once they were out of the gate and halfway down the path that would lead them to the open road, they assumed Khan would be more agreeable. Yao immediately hopped up on him, rocking as if that would make him move. "Yah!" He kicked Khan in the flank, and Khan promptly pitched him into the bushes.
"Nice job, Yao," Ling remarked.
"Stupid dumb animal!" Yao growled. "I'll show you!"
Chien-Po picked him up in mid-tirade. "I hate violence, the horse clearly dislikes you, and we are wasting time. I'll ride him."
Khan neighed in terror of his life and Yao and Ling cried, "Wait, don't, you'll kill him!"
Chien-Po crossed his arms and waited for a better idea. "I'll ride him," Ling suggested. Khan still seemed ready to bolt, but Ling hissed, "Listen, horse, it's either me or Chubs." So Khan stood still. Ling rushed forward like a toppling scarecrow, aimed for Khan's saddle, sailed over the other side and finally pulled himself up by the saddle-horn.
At last, after thirty minutes, they were out on the open road.
"I think we're makin' good time," Ling said optimistically, after they had traveled ten miles, the last three of which Khan had walked without threatening to buck them all to kingdom come.
"I hope we are able to fulfill our task," Chien-Po said in an anxious voice, checking his tunic pocket to make sure the scroll was safe and sound. It was at this point they were distracted by a series of grunts coming from Yao. Chien-Po, who was always looking for a chance to inject some enlightenment into the situation, reined Khan to a halt.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Ling exploded. "Why'd you stop him? We just got him going again!" Ling clapped his hand to his forehead in despair. Chien-Po ignored his skinny friend and asked gently, "Yao, what is it you seek?"
Both Ling and Yao looked at him blankly. Yao fidgeted in his jacket. "I – "
"Are you seeking Peace?" Chien-Po placed his palms together serenely.
"No, I – "
"Contentment?"
"No, listen – "
"Do you need – "
"I need for my jacket to quit stabbing me in the back!" Yao roared. He tore off his coat to expose his stocky hairy torso (which made Chien-Po redden and Ling gag) and ripped away a shred of a scroll pinned to the lining.
"What's this?" Yao grumbled, turning the paper every way to decipher the symbols which were perfectly foreign to him and to everyone else who couldn't read.
"Why, they are directions," Chien-Po murmured as an answer.
"Hey, look," Ling exclaimed, glimpsing two familiar characters as he slid off Khan's back. "Mu – Lan. Mulan wrote it!" They all crowded around the quickly drawn map, Yao with the vague suspicion that Mulan had been taking indecent liberties with his clothing.
"I wonder where she wishes us to go," Chien-Po remarked slowly, absorbed in the map as if it were a novel. "She desires us to turn left at this pass; she must have been thinking – "
"Shut up, I don't need directions," Yao interrupted. Chien-Po sighed and Ling braced himself for Yao's self-empowering speech. "Directions. Hmph. I don't need no directions. I got instinct. Pure primal instinct. Yeah, I know you two wish you had it, but ya don't, so how about you listen to me and – "
"Shut up, Yao," Ling groaned, and yanked the map from his hand. Whether he was simply annoyed or he was wishing someone would take indecent liberties with his clothing, his ears turned red with irritation as he scanned the map and jerked a narrow finger eastward. "We go thattaway." Suddenly he cocked his head, listening for a sound he thought he heard coming around the rocks that created a craggy wall to their left side. Yao and Chien-Po were discussing possible ways Mulan could have pinned the note unnoticed, and they didn't hear it.
"Guys," Ling stammered nervously, "Guys? I think I…hey…are you listening to me…guys…!"
"WHAT?" Yao roared.
"Well, now you've offended me," Ling sniffed.
"What is it, Ling?" Chien-Po pressed.
"Well, you see, I could be wrong…but I think…"
"WHAT?"
"I think that's Captain Li coming – r-right this way!"
They all fell silent and craned their necks to hear any sound, and sure enough they heard Captain Li's voice, apparently reciting a speech of some sort. They all gasped simultaneously.
"He's going to find Mulan with the spy," Chien-Po whispered, "another man!"
"What are we gonna do?" Ling screeched. "Mulan's counting on us!"
"I know," Yao said earnestly, "I'll knock 'im out!"
"What if we just explained what Mulan is doing?" Chien-Po suggested.
Yao and Ling looked at him as if the idea was absurd. "Nah."
"We'd better distract him," Ling announced. "Come on!"
