Heart of Iron - Ekaterina Sedia [90]
Kuan Yu finally turned to me, and if I had a tail, I would’ve wagged it in relief and jubilation. “Apologies,” he said. “Woo Pei is away from home, so we tell him what we know about the Heavenly Kingdom of Great Peace. We also tell him about your Englishman, because everyone who travels through this town, they come here to eat and talk. At least, when there are no hussars around—they make it too noisy.”
“Well?” I sucked in my breath and leaned back, my hands fisted in the pockets of my britches, trying to feign impatience I did not feel. “Will he tell me if he’s seen my friend or not?”
Kuan Yu smiled, his anthracite eyes narrowing like those of a sated cat. “He hasn’t,” he answered. “But we have something we found in your compartment, after you left in Yekaterinburg. A letter.”
“Give it to me!” I cried, forgetting all proper decorum and reaching out with both hands, like a child. “Why haven’t you told me?” Relief and fear alternately lapped at my heart, making it soar with hope that this was my lost letter, my confession that did not belong in anyone’s hands but mine, and then plummet with grief when I thought that it was nothing, a useless scrap discarded by the previous passengers, a train schedule, a nothing.
Kuan Yu smiled still. “If I give that letter to you, will you do something for me?”
I heaved a sigh. Everyone wanted the same thing—information. Who spied on whom, why the British were forming alliance with the Turks, why there had to be a war . . . if only I could answer such questions to anyone’s satisfaction. It was intimidating, really, to realize how little I knew, and how little business I had meddling with forces and powers too great for anyone, least of all me. “What do you want?”
“Nothing much. Just your word that you do not mean to harm us, to harm the Taiping.”
I smiled, relieved. “I . . . we mean no harm, I swear to you. We want an alliance between China and Russia, because both are in danger of aggression from the West.”
Kuan Yu nodded, solemn. “That is true. There’s fear that the British will start another war, if the Qing do not get the Taiping under control fast enough.”
“So you do not think the Qing would be interested in allying themselves with Russia.”
“No.” Kuan Yu’s smile was frozen, a sliver of white ice in his dark beard. “Qing . . . you know they are foreigners, you know how Han hate them. But there’s also this: they have chosen their demon. They know it is a demon, a demon that torments and kills and mutilates them every day, and yet it is familiar and they tell themselves that it will protect them from other demons.”
“You think all westerners are demons?”
Woo Pei shook his head, impatient. “It is not that. Your god is taking over our gods, and maybe it is all right, maybe they can all live together or they will battle and the weak ones will perish. What it is, however, is this: we do not yet believe we must ally with any demon. Maybe we are naïve and foolish, but we do think like this: maybe we don’t have to honor demons, maybe there are angels, or maybe we, ourselves, are enough. Qing, they believe in nothing but the demons and are eager to strike a bargain without ever thinking that maybe they don’t have to.”
Despite his faltering words and circuitous manner of speaking, his explanation made sense to me. Moreover, I recognized myself, Eugenia, Jack: we all were too fearful to expect anything but disappointment. I thought maybe this was why all of us were constantly rewarded with it. I nodded, wordless, and sat back in my chair, no longer tense and reaching. “Maybe we are not demons,” I said.
“Maybe so.” Kuan Yu put a folded envelope in front of me. I opened it to find a sheet of paper covered in Jack’s careful hand. My heart fluttered, and I forgot to even feel disappointed