[continuing chapter 3]
Most of the fighting the crew of the Jade Maiden engaged in, Wen soon learned, took place on land. Within days of their hasty departure from Penglai island, Chin Gwai had his Green Turbans raiding villages along the central coast of Fusang. The raids all followed the same rough plan: One-Eyed Lum would steer the Maiden onto the shore near—in many cases in—the target village, and most of the crew would leap out, brandishing swords and spears, while the best shots hung back on the sea falcon's deck and sent arrows into the midst of whatever government garrison happened to be stationed there. This, Lum explained, was the favorite tactic of the wokou, the Japanese (and Chinese and Korean) pirates who had begun to plague the Chinese coast the instant the Ming emperors had made it illegal to sail the oceans. That also explained Chin's peculiar armor: it was a hundred-year-old set of Samurai armor from Japan, brought here by a pirate untold years ago and appropriated by Chin because it stood apart and helped people remember the giant who wore it.
As for garrisons, there was always a government garrison, because Chin refused to attack any place that wasn't heavily defended. His goal, Wen discovered, wasn't profit or even the redistribution of wealth: all Chin cared about was causing the maximum amount of damage to the government's reputation. If that meant giving stolen rice to poor villagers, that's what he'd do. If it meant slaughtering elderly scholars in cold blood, he did that as well.
"I do not understand," Wen said to One-Eyed Lum as they circled around a wooden palisade, "why our fearless leader is so bent on violence and destruction." They were looking for a way into a small fortress perched on a stubby promontory jutting into the ocean six day's sailing time from Penglai, and though they were well out of hearing range of the defenders, something about the presence of an enemy made Wen keep his voice low. "If the idea is to persuade people that the Ming have lost the Heavenly Imprimatur, wouldn't it be more effective to make the government an object of ridicule? Look out: arrow coming." He watched the wobbly flight of the arrow until he was sure it would land elsewhere. "You see? These men don't have their hearts in the fight. Make them a laughingstock and they'll desert like snow melting in spring. Slaughter them the way Chin does, and they'll keep fighting, if only because Chin doesn't give them a choice."
"You're trying to persuade the wrong man," Lum said. "Not that I think you have a hope in heaven or hell of persuading General Chin. He knows what he wants to do, and nothing is going to stop him from doing it. There was, he tells us, a Portent at his birth, and he is fated to be the new emperor."
"There was a portent at my birth too," Wen said, "but you don't see me using it as justification for wholesale slaughter and a refusal to make a decent living. All Daoist heroes have their births accompanied by a Portent, you know."
"So I'm told."
"In my case, a giant buzzard roosted on a dunghill right outside the birthing room. My mother always said that if buzzards had had lips, that one would have been licking his."
"You make me tired, Wen," Lum said. "Let's go back and report. There just isn't any way into this fortress."
Chin and the rest of the crew were waiting on the shore, behind a barricade they'd constructed of beached fishing boats. From their huts the villagers looked on, watching as Chin blithely wrecked their means of earning a living. At least he hasn't broken up the boats for firewood or something, Wen thought. Only Chin would blame hapless villagers for the wisdom of whatever garrison commander had decided to put a fence around his troops.
"Looks as if we'll have to storm the gates, then," Chin said when Lum had reported on the strength of the wall. The crew groaned; they'd already lost three men today just discovering how heavily defended the village was. No wonder, Wen thought, the Green Turban Movement seems so small: Chin loses men as quickly as he recruits them. Had I known then what I know now, I'd have taken my chances with Magistrate Li.
"Cheer up, men," Chin said. "They won't fight hard, once they've seen our determination."
Wen took a step back, hoping to make himself invisible. Chin had taken an inexplicable dislike to him in the aftermath of what he now thought of as The Yin Fengzi Incident, and Chin's mood hadn't improved when he'd learned how important her father was. Nor had the punishment he had imposed on Wen for helping the sailor draw the strange barbarian sail on the deck reduced his dislike. It would be all too typical of the man for him to anoint Wen the leader of the assault on the wall.
"Wen Xia, you will lead the assault on the gate," Chin said. "You will take ten men with you, and once you have the gate open I will lead the rest of the crew inside, where the cowardly Ming will doubtless be throwing down their arms."
Wen knew better than to argue with Chin. Not directly, at any rate. "Come on," he said to the unfortunates closest to him. "Let's go be heroes." The grumbling as the men got up to follow him just made Wen angrier; now these poor bastards would blame him, not Chin, if they took an arrow in the throat. "Coming, Lum?" he asked the mate, who was crouched behind one of the overturned boats.
As they walked through the village, Wen saw a stone building whose wooden door hung at a crazy angle. "Granary?" he asked Lum.
"Yes. Not enough in it to steal, I'm afraid. The garrison must have its own stores. Chin won't steal food from peasants."
"Nobody is completely bad," Wen said. "I have an idea, though. Run back to the Maiden, will you? I want a couple of lengths of fuse."
"What in the world for? Oh, never mind. I'm sure I'll find out soon enough."
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