The Emperor's Tomb

“They separated us about one half hour ago.” The boy stared at him with hard eyes.

“Is he okay?” he asked Sokolov.

“He seems fine.”

“We have to go, but he must remain quiet.”

Sokolov whispered to the boy, and several nods confirmed that the lad understood. Malone motioned and they left the room, with him leading the way down to ground level.

Heading toward the gate out required a crossing of the open courtyard.

He studied the upper galleries. Seeing no one, he gestured and they hustled forward. They passed through a lower gallery, negotiated one of the arched wooden bridges over the man-made stream, and sought a momentary refuge in a gallery on the courtyard’s opposite side.

So far, so good.

NI REALIZED THAT THE LONGER HE LINGERED WITHIN THIS confined space, the greater the risk. He had no idea how many brothers were waiting outside. More than he could handle, that was certain. But he was determined to act.

“Move out of here,” he told Tang.

His adversary drifted toward the door.

“Careful, Minister,” Pau whispered. “He seems to want you out there.”

“Shut up.”

Yet Pau was right. He’d seen the same thing in Tang’s eyes. But he could not stay here. What had the premier said to him? One’s life can be weightier than Mount Tai or lighter than a goose feather. Which will yours be?

“Move,” he ordered Pau.

Slowly, they inched their way out into the hall. His gaze raked the galleries, searching for threats, while simultaneously watching the three men only a few meters away.

So many places to hide.

And he was totally exposed, on a raised platform, an old man the only thing standing between him and death. “There is nowhere to go,” Tang calmly said.

“Tell anyone in those galleries to show themselves,” he said to Tang. To emphasize the point he pressed the blade into Pau’s throat, and the old man flinched. Good. About time he experienced fear. “Tell them yourself,” Tang said.

“Show yourselves,” he called out. “Now. Your master’s life depends on it.”

MALONE HEARD A SHOUT.

As did Sokolov, who cradled the boy in his arms, keeping his face buried in his shoulder, holding tight.

“That sounded like Ni,” he whispered.

“Something about showing themselves or their master will die,” Sokolov interpreted.

He allowed a soft exhale to escape his lips while he considered his options. He spotted an open doorway a few feet away. He grasped Sokolov’s arm and led him into the building. Another long corridor lined with doors spread out before them. He crept to one of the doors and slowly released its latch. Inside was a small windowless chamber, perhaps eight feet square, filled with oversized pottery, perhaps for the courtyard.

Wait in here, he mouthed to Sokolov.

The Russian nodded, seemingly saying, You’re right, we can’t leave him.

“I’ll be back, hide behind some of this stuff.”

“Where’s Cassiopeia?”

He couldn’t tell him what happened. Not now. “Just stay quiet. You’ll be fine.”

He closed the door, fled the building, and headed straight for the open doorway at the far end of the courtyard, where voices could still be heard.

TANG WAS ENJOYING THE MOMENT.

Ni Yong was trapped.

Only nine brothers manned the monastery. Two were here, one more watched over Lev Sokolov. The remaining six were scattered throughout the complex, awaiting his command.

MALONE ENTERED.

Beyond the open portal, he found a vestibule, and then an assembly hall, majestic in dignity, topped by a roof of more gleaming yellow tiles. The glow from six braziers, arranged three to a side, splashed the colorful walls with a fiery brilliance. Displays of armor and weaponry lined the perimeter. At the opposite end he saw five men.

Pau, Tang, Ni, and two others.

Ni held a sword to Pau’s throat.

They stood before shelving of diagonal bins, stuffed with rolled manuscripts. Thousands of them, rising fifty feet. He kept to the shadows, confident that nothing had betrayed his presence. He noticed that lesser rooms and pavilions formed a closed perimeter around the ground floor, screening out the world. Light streamed in from the upper colonnades, which apparently were lined with windows.

Outside, a gong rang again.

He used the armor and weaponry for cover. His gaze raked the upper two stories of galleries. He thought he caught movement, but wasn’t sure.

He had to help Ni.

One of the braziers burned a few feet away, just outside the gallery where he was hiding. He advanced and shielded his body with the huge copper vessel, its heat intense, glancing left and behind to see if any danger existed.

Nothing.

“Minister Ni,” he called out. “It’s Cotton Malone. I have you covered with a gun.”

NI COULD NOT BELIEVE HIS GOOD FORTUNE AND CALLED OUT, “It is good to hear your voice.”

He saw Malone emerge from behind one of the braziers, gun pointed his way.

“Now I can slit your throat and be done with it,” he whispered in Pau’s ear. “Your lies are over.”

“Have you found the courage to take a life?”