Empire of Dragons by Valerio Massimo Manfredi

Author:Valerio Massimo Manfredi
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Macmillan Publishers UK
Published: 2010-10-01T06:00:00+00:00

18

THEIR FIRST STOP IN Chinese territory was in a caravanserai where convoys carrying silk habitually stopped. It was a square-shaped construction with four towers, one at each corner, and a four-sided portico inside. A fountain set in a basin of carved stone stood in the middle. The inn was well served by a mill, a bakehouse, a forge and a sawmill, located on its sides. The first and last were fed by a torrent that descended from the mountains; its clear, rushing waters kept the mechanisms turning at a fast, constant rate. Severus and Antoninus were fascinated by those ingenious machines, and drew closer to watch them working.

Metellus joined Daruma, who was negotiating with the man in charge of the four shops to obtain use of the forge for the two Roman fabri. He also bought horses for everyone.

Publius and Rufus were assigned the job of reassembling the lorica segments and checking the coats of mail. Lucianus mounted the javelins on their shafts, and when Severus and Antoninus had returned from their round of inspection, he instructed them to make shields using wooden boards from the sawmill, and to forge new helmets. Metellus stopped later for a look and lingered to talk with Severus, who was making the shields. He was building them in his own way, in wood and iron.

During the days they remained in the caravanserai, fortifying themselves for what lay ahead, Metellus and his men began to form an idea about the world they were entering, its rules and customs, its currency, the people’s habits and ways of dressing and even their religion.

There was in fact a small sanctuary on the premises, built of wood and painted in bright colours: flame red, white, ochre yellow and green. A holy man, a priest or a soothsayer, perhaps, delivered oracles to the travellers who consulted him. Sitting on his heels, in the typical posture of the Chinese, he tossed bones with incomprehensible markings on to the ground. They were mostly animal shoulder bones, whose flat surfaces were suitable for drawing magical symbols.

‘It’s called ashagalomancy,’ explained Daruma. ‘Reading bones. Depending on how they fall, one face or the other comes up and the seer draws his conclusions from the symbols carved into them. Dan Qing is an expert in this art. He was taught by his master, the venerable Wangzi.’

‘Dan Qing . . .’ murmured Metellus. ‘It seems like a century has passed since he leapt on to our boat and yet I still know nothing about him. What concept of power do these people have that prevents a ruler from exchanging even the most modest conversation with a common person?’

As he spoke, he was watching the prince ride up the side of a chalky hill that stood behind the caravanserai.

‘I don’t know much about him either,’ admitted Daruma. ‘But I’ve heard stories that hint at something quite unpleasant, some unmentionable secret, hidden in his past. In this country, supreme power is often associated with forms of cruelty that you and I can’t even imagine.

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