rain4 THE LONG SPELL OF RAIN
By Pooky

Chapter Four:

It was a surprise how easily Shang found himself surrendering to sleep that night, his eyes had fallen closed only moments after settling in the large bed. True, a proper bed was much more inviting than a pile of blankets on the ground or one of the hard cots at camp, but tonight his mind was not plagued by the usual sorrows which tugged at him and kept him awake through the long hours of darkness. Even his dreams were pleasant, not haunted by his father's face, but brightened with images of Mulan, and his home. He relished those dreams, embracing them and letting them abound as a rare moment of contentment, so rare that he did not want to wake.

A warm touch trailed across his cheek, the brush of soft fingertips. "Ping," he whispered the name aloud like a holy word. In his dream she had come to his tent in the night, at Wu Zhong, barefoot and in only her training clothes, smelling of clean water from the lake. "Ping, you can't tell anyone..." The hand was inching down his neck, fingers spreading in exploration as the palm slid over his bare chest. His head twisted to one side involuntarily, reveling in the touch, seeing the green robe of her uniform fall from her slight shoulders. "Ping, you're so beautiful..." His hand reached up of it's own accord.

His eyes flew open in an instant, the contours of the face he was touching unfamiliar to his fingertips.

He lay very still, slowing his breathing to lull his pulse, trying to shake off the heat of the dream. When he had regained enough clarity, his eyes scanned the room from left to right, his instincts warning him to danger. The figure sitting on the bed was definitely not Mulan, for one thing she was not as thin, but slightly plump in the way some men found enticing and taller than Mulan. Shang sat up at once, knowing better than to assume her harmless simply because she was female. It was not until her fingers moved lower to peel the silk sheet away from him did he realize that her hand was still on his chest. He pried her fingers away firmly, but not with enough force to hurt her.

"Your Majesty," her voice was like the silk against his skin, warm silk. Before he could utter a word to protest the title, she had her arms locked around his neck and was forcing him down on the pillows again, trying to roll him on top of her. Breaking free of her hold and sliding safely to one side of the bed did no good, in fact it was worse. She rose to her knees on the coverlet.

"Your Majesty," she said again in that smoky voice. He could feel her eyes on him as she reached for the collar of her robe, pulling it slowly away from her body. "I know you must be bored with all your other wives." In the dark, all he could see were her white shoulders as the bit of dark cloth slid away. "I know men are always looking for a new... conquest. I have not yet been married, I've never lain with any man. I know this must please you and so I offer myself. Take me, Your Majesty," her voice turned pleading as she lowered herself on hands and knees, crawling towards him on the bed. "I will beg if you wish."

Before he realized it, Shang was looking frantically around the room for help. He thought about calling the guards, but that would be too ridiculous to be believable. Simply appeasing her wishes was out of the question, and not just because of Mulan. It was bad enough that someone might have seen her enter his rooms. Who knew whose daughter she was, and what story she would spin in the morning, claiming he had forced her and thus tarnishing his career, which may be her entire goal in the first place. But that did not answer the question of why she would address him as the Emperor? Did she think that Taiping meant to put him on the throne?

He had his hands on her arms, keeping her at bay while he climbed off the bed and stood up, letting her go only to wrap his robe around him, wishing she would do the same. In the glint of moonlight from the window, he could see more than anyone but a husband had a right to through the thin silk of her nightdress.

"I'm not the Emperor," he declared firmly, feeling much more confident with a good few feet between them. "And I think it would be best for you to go back to your room."

Sitting up properly again, he thought he saw her fold her hands in her lap. "I don't want to go back to my room." Seduction was exchanged for stubbornness, haughtiness even. Then she sighed, lowering her voice. "Your Majesty, please don't let them execute me tomorrow. I know I did a terrible thing, but I didn't know what I was doing. Please, I don't want to die." Her voice trembled on the last word, her whole body seemed to tremble with it.

"Wait a minute," Shang stepped a little closer. "What happened?"

"Tomorrow," she continued, beginning to sob. He started to feel contrite, this was no act. "All traitors must die. They all want to see my blood spilled because of what I've done. I hear a voice in my mind that tells me now that you have taken the throne you are the only one who can pardon me. It tells me to come to you, because you are merciful. Your Majesty, my mother said she would disown me if I didn't do it, and have me exiled like grandmother did to my father. I've never lived anywhere but the Palace, and I didn't know, I didn't know the perfume was..." Instead of tears, she broke into hysterical laughter, so much that she rolled over on the bed, clutching her stomach. "I killed my father!" Finally the tears did come, she was laughing and weeping all at once. 'Your Majesty, make me one of your wives if you wish, but don't let them kill me tomorrow. I am too terrified to face the gods of hell."

Of course, the scene started to make sense. Princess Anle. She had gone mad apparently.

"I'm not the-" but it was no use. "Just stay where you are." Quickly darting through the outer room he found the guard. "Get General Fa, quickly."

Princess Anle was even less lucid when he returned, ranting in the throes of her hysteria. "Oh Your Majesty, it was so horrible. Father was angry with me because I insisted on marrying one of the guards. He wanted me to marry some foreign prince. We hadn't spoken for days. Mother said bringing him the perfume would be a sure way to gain his forgiveness. She said it was from Persia, and I knew he was fond of foreign things. He was standing there, and he smiled at me as he sniffed it and dabbed a little on his throat. Then... then he started to scream, running around and scratching at his throat. He tore open his own skin with his nails, and then he fell. It was so horrible, I tried to run to find my mother but she had locked me in the chamber and did not return for an hour. I just sat there by my father, but he wouldn't answer me. There was blood all over his robes and his hands. Mother made me help her pick him up and prop him in his chair and wrap a scarf around his neck. He was so stiff and cold... and he wouldn't answer me... " her words were muffled by another bout of sobs. He gave a shudder at the horrid image.

"Shang?" He turned immediately to the sound of Mulan's voice, and breathed a heavy sigh of relief when he saw her in the doorway with a candle in one hand. The yellow sphere of light revealed Anle indeed, curled up like an infant against the bedclothes, quivering with her tears.

Before he could explain, the Princess had leapt from the bed, throwing herself at Mulan's feet with forehead pressed to the carpet. "Queen Mother of the Western Skies!" She exclaimed in a near shriek. "Auntie Queen Mother and Golden Primordial Sovereign." The picture was more than disturbing, as she genuflected frantically before Mulan, crying all the tears she had. Her hair and clothes were by now hopelessly disheveled. "Take me to your Palace on Kunlun Mountain, in the city of Twelve Jade Mansions. I want to leave Ch'ang-an forever. Make one of your Celestial Maidens so I never have to face the gods of hell."

Mulan was utterly taken aback, inching her slipper skittishly away from the other woman. Yet her face shone with sadness and pity. "I thought you would know what to do for her," he said quietly. "Being a... a woman." Women always knew what to do when someone needed soothing. He looked at his cousin with his own sense of sadness, he was a soldier, cold and rough in that way, he had no idea how to comfort a woman. What kind of husband would that make him?

"Lock her in her rooms," she replied as if it were obvious. Shang blinked, he had expected the two women to sit down together, that Mulan would talk to her and make her see reason again. They couldn't just leave her this way, babbling and insane.

Sighing, he knew something had to be done with her at least for tonight. "Will you go get Princess Taipaing? Have her servants wake her." Nodding, Mulan seemed to want any excuse to get out of the room.

"No Auntie Queen Mother, wait!" the Princess tried to cling to the end of Mulan's robe, but to no avail. She turned her tearful and panicked eyes on him. "Your Majesty call her back, she has to take me with her!"

Dropping to his knees beside her, he took her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "Princess Anle," he said the name sternly - though it was impolite to address her so - hoping to reach her. "Cousin, General Fa has gone to get our aunt. Anle," her eyes were so wild still. "Do you know who I am?"

"The new Emperor of China," her whisper tremored slightly.

It was hopeless. "My name, what's my name?"

"You are the Emperor of China, I cannot say your name. It is forbidden." She began to sob again suddenly, murmuring something more about her father. Falling against his shoulder, she wept bitterly. He had no choice but to put an arm around her to try and soothe her. He wished his aunt would hurry, much as he hated to call for her aid. The more it appeared he needed her, the further he was entangled in her trap. He did need her though, who knew what would come of it if he was seen dragging an Imperial Princess to her bedchamber, with Empress Wei's eyes and ears everywhere. No one would question Taiping with the girl, not when she had the power to command the guards.

Princess Taiping arrived within a few moments, striding across the room briskly, while Mulan kept a wary distance behind her. She had no paint on her face, no jewelry, but still she managed to look austere. Anle was still weeping, still begging him to spare her life.

In the shallow light of Mulan's candle, he watched his aunt's face. Neither compassion nor concern showed through her features, only a calm readiness to tend to the matter at hand. "I will think up a story," Taiping said quietly. "Her mother won't be pleased to know this little bird has flown into a strange man's room at night. I will let her think she came to me. Come, Anle," she held out a hand. "It is time to go back to bed."

"Baoyu!" Anle was looking past her at Mulan again, her eyes brightened with a crazed affection. "Oh Baoyu! I knew you would come. I have made amends with my father and he will consent to our marriage." Running to Mulan she threw her arms around her, burying her face amorously in her neck. "Aren't you happy, Baoyu?" Mulan was frozen stiff, her hands at her sides.

At Taiping's glance, Shang pried the girl away from Mulan, who leapt back several steps against the closed door. Anle began to cry again, begging for Baoyu not to leave her. Shang threw the woman into Taiping's hold, who cradled her head and tried to murmur soothing words.

"We'll have to keep her quiet," the older woman said, her tone showing none of her pretended affection. "She can't go wailing like this through the Palace halls. Nephew, knock her unconscious."

Shang frowned. "I can't..." He wasn't going to strike a woman!

Quick as ever, Mulan darted to one side of the room, retrieving his sword. Turning it point down, she smartly clubbed the weeping woman over the head. Taiping called for her guards waiting in the parlor, and followed them as they carried the unconscious Princess out of Shang's chambers. "Try to sleep, both of you," Taiping said quietly just before she glided out of sight in the silken cloud of her robes.

"I'm sorry I had to wake you, Mulan," he said when they were alone. Well they weren't really alone, there were still guards outside the outer door, and one of the inner doors was left open.

"I wasn't asleep," Mulan brushed off his apology. When he eyed her askance, she sighed. "I had a nightmare about... about Shan-yu."

She was leaning against the one closed door still, her arms folded under her chest, her silk robe gathered about her in rich flowing folds, her hair tousled and loose. She appeared so small under all those layers of silk, with her large eyes caught in the candle light. He found himself smiling suddenly, just a small curve of his lip, Anle forgotten for a moment. How many days before he could simply close the door and usher her to bed with him, when no one would think anything of it? How many days before she would doff that robe and lie beside him, with more pleasant things than nightmares to keep them from sleeping?

"You never told me what happened," he reminded her quietly. Why did his words have to bo se calm, so hollow? She always spoke with such passion and vitality, even her eyes now were full of honesty and openness. I am not cold, he wanted to tell her, I know what it is to cry tears, to be afraid, and I have hurt everyday of my life. Even now, he was hurting for Anle.

She lowered her head, burying her eyes in the floor. "I'd rather not talk about it. I should feel lucky, I'm better off than your cousin. But still... I can hear both of them laughing at me, and I feel the pain as if it were real again."

His mouth set angrily, he wished he was a better man. He wished he could kill his father for what he had done to Mulan. The pain in her small face stirred such violence in him. But Li Shengli was too alive to die, yet too broken to live. Until tomorrow.

"Mulan," he stepped closer, brushing the hair back which had fallen in her face when she bowed her head. "Ai ren." At that word she lifted her face, smiling. Beloved. His fingertips shook slightly, not afraid but surprised at himself. He was thinking of reaching out for her, pulling off her robe as she had done in his dream, silencing her protests with deep demanding kisses. Deep down, he knew she would give in. Her eyes seemed to be daring him. Already his aunt had sent letters to both of their families, neither could refuse and therefore they were as good as officially betrothed. But he dropped his hand. She deserved something better, more proper, than to be shamed by a tryst in his chamber. That day would come soon, Princess Taiping had promised it.

"I... I think I'll try and go back to sleep," a measure of disappointment was clear in her voice. He seemed to be good at that. "Goodnight, Your Majesty." Standing on tiptoe, she patted his cheek mockingly. He caught her hand, kissed it fleetingly as she slipped out of the room in a rustle of silk garments.

~ * ~

The sunshine that morning seemed to mock Shang's mood. Birds circled overhead and he watched them rather than the throngs pressing in the Great Square. His vantage point on the platform allowed him a clear view of everything, though he would have liked to hide in those crowds. Taiping sat regal and straight-backed in her great chair at his left, the gold threads on her plum robes sparkling in the sunlight. She said nothing to him, and although she appeared outwardly unperturbed, he could see her keeping an eye on Empress Wei beside her - Regent until Li Dan made his way into the city. Princess Anle was not beside her and was reported to be ill that morning. Shang was thankful the Empress did not glance his way, not even once. She seemed to treat him and the two other generals present as ornaments.

Mulan was not looking so well herself this morning, and he had not yet had a chance to ask why. Her face was a trifle paler, the set of her body more tense as she stood beside him. She looked like a frightened rabbit, ready to scurry away at any moment. It was alarming, to say the least, Mulan hardly showed signs of fear and the more he looked her way and tried to smile at her the more forced her returning smiles became. He knew it wasn't because of him by the way her eyes looked to him trustingly for some kind of assurance. It gave him a reason to try harder at being strong today.

"Bring the prisoner!" Empress Wei's voice sliced through the air like a sword. For such a small woman she projected herself well into the crowds.

A knot of anger tightened in his chest, if anyone deserved to die today it was her. The clinking of metal alerted him to three guards climbing the steps of the platform at his far right, dragging a chained Li Shengli between him, unable to stand on his own. His face was bloody and bruised, no doubt he had taken a fresh beating from the guards this morning. But his eyes were so clear, not half crazed as they had been. Before he was led to kneel in the center of the platform, his father turned to him, and for a moment so brief he must have imagined it, Shang thought he saw a flicker of pain in the other man's eyes.

"Li Shang!" He cried out hoarsely, "I'll wait for you in Hell!" Shang heard General Zhen gasp behind him.

The executioner appeared as if from nowhere, a large man concealed by a dark mask, waving his sword in elaborate movements to impress the crowd. They cheered loudly as a green melon was brought before him. He turned in a dance raising the sword aloft, splitting the fruit clear in the middle. The throng went wild with applause as a spray of red water fanned through the air.

Li Shengli knelt facing the crowd now, his head bowed as the executioner took his place behind him. Shang flinched as the sword was raised, averting his eyes. Mulan's face had grown even more wan, her eyes squeezed shut for a moment, a bead of sweat on her brow. What had his father done to her? He wondered in horror, and then guilt. It had all happened so fast, her return, the battle at the Wall and his wound, so fast he had no time to speak to her of it. Tie-lin had told Tai-shan everything, everything but that.

He felt Taiping's hand on his arm and turned towards her. She wore the first look of genuine emotion he had seen in her yet. Sadness. "It is no shame to weep, Li Shang," she said softly. "Or to feel pain. He was your father. I stayed for three years at my mother's tomb after she died." He bowed his head to her in thanks.

Out of the corner of his eye, the sword came down, a fountain of bright red droplets rising against the sky. His father fell, the crowd roared, Shang wanted to scream. This was a life, a wasted life, not a puppet show in the streets.

His eyes found Empress Wei. Over Taiping's shoulder he could see a small smile of satisfaction on her seemingly delicate face. One more enemy, that smile seemed to say, one step closer to the throne. Taiping wore no such smile, but her eyes flickered to the other woman, a look of contention passed between them, a spark of enmity so deep it felt like an intrusion to witness it. Was it hatred for the woman who had killed her brother, or had competition for the throne made them sworn enemies? I know my destiny he heard Taiping say in his mind. He shivered.

"Get Down!" General Zhen raised a cry behind him, surrendering to instinct Shang threw himself facedown on the platform. A knife whirled through the sky, between him, Taiping and Mulan. In a rush of pure reflex, Shang flung out an arm to protect both of the women, hindering the trajectory of the throw. General Zhen moved foolishly, stepping to the right of Shang's arm. The dagger buried itself in his neck.

The crowd broke into a panic until the Empress dispatched several of the guards to restore order among them. Shang turned to see the fallen General lying on his side, face and neck smeared in a thick sheen of red. Mulan was on her knees, her face a bloodless white, teetering slightly as she knelt over General Zhen's body.

"Mulan, are you..." He checked her over for signs of injury, perhaps something had happened that he had not seen. But she appeared unscathed, only staring at the knife standing out from the General's neck.

"Shan-yu," her words shook horribly, eyes squeezed shut as though caught in the clutches of physical pain. Before he could ask her what she meant her face went whiter. She fell over in a dead faint.

Neither Taiping, nor the Empress rose, neither showed anything in their faces. They did not even glance at each other. Shang's thoughts raced frantically. Who had thrown the knife, and who was the target? Taiping, or the three generals on the platform? Which of the two women was behind it?

"Is she with child?" The Princess turned around and asked quite bluntly. "If she is perhaps the sun has made her faint."

Shang stiffened uncomfortably, and angrily, in the middle of an assassination attempt she had the audacity to wonder if they had been sleeping together? At anything else she did not seem the least bit taken aback. "No," he answered quietly. "It's seeing my father. She was in his prison camp only a few days ago."

"Unfortunate," she nodded with affected sympathy, but looked rather unconcerned. "But that is why I asked if she was with child." Shang whirled on her. How dare she imply that his father had... that Mulan had been... He could not even say the words in his head. Her eyes bore into his, halfway between a threat and a warning. He dropped his gaze. She was too powerful to cross. "Send her to your home in the morning, nephew," she said with a sigh. "When she is better, she can go about her duties again. But warn her, she will see many deaths and her life will be endangered many times while she holds her rank. It is the way of the court." Her words were filled with bitter resentment.

"Thank you," he bowed to her once more. Louyang, he knew she would be happy with Tie-lin.