EIGHT
Governor Li's predecessor had built a fortress and prison on an island in the middle of Jīn-sè Mèn Bay. Or, rather, he'd started to build one and Li was apparently continuing the work. There weren't any soldiers garrisoned there, so far as Wen could tell; the soldiers were all on the mainland, and likely the happier for it. In fact, at the moment there weren't any workmen either; there didn't seem to be anybody on the entire island save for Wen and several very bored jailers and guards. In a way that ought to have been flattering.
It wasn't.
Two days after his capture, Wen had a visitor. He knew it was Chin Gwai well before the Green Turban leader reached his cell, because of the way the sunlight was suddenly and completely blocked. "Chin," he said before the man appeared, "do you suppose you could do something about the quality of the straw I've been given to sleep on? At the very least I'd like to be able to relieve the boredom with some salacious dreams about sing-song girls. But I'm just not sleeping well. Should I complain to Prince Zhu Yizan?"
"Oh, sure," Chin said from down the corridor. "I'll arrange for an audience right away. Would you like to ride down to Měijing in a palanquin? Or would you prefer to be flown down on the back of a dragon?" He arrived at the doorway and wrestled it open. When they had brought Wen here it had taken two guards to open and close that door.
"Don't go insulting dragons," Wen said. "I know more dragons than you do. Or at least I'm better friends with him."
"I don't know what in the hells you're talking about," said Chin, who had perhaps erased all memory of the demon-dragon incident from his inconsiderable memory. He walked into the cell and leaned against the door until it swung shut. "But that doesn't matter. Because you aren't really going to have an audience with Prince Yizan, you know."
"You don't say."
"I do. I'm pretty sure that Governor Li is going to have executed you long before Prince Yizan even knows you've been captured." Chin walked over to the clean corner of the cell, where Wen had built his sleeping nest.
"So I wasn't imagining that. That's a violation of imperial law, you know. All execution orders have to be countersigned by the emperor, or the emperor's representative." Wen walked over to the door, for some reason wanting to keep as much space as possible between himself and the giant. He turned and examined Chin more closely. "Why, Chin Gwai, you old turncoat! You're not wearing your green headband anymore."
"I'm not allowed to, in the governor's presence," Chin said. He sounded petulant, like a child—albeit a child whose forearms alone were bigger than most six-year-olds. "Only when I'm out playing rebel do I get to wear green anymore. I blame you for that, Wen Xia."
"Oh, for Buddha's sake!" Wen turned around. "You betrayed your own rebellion and you blame me? Just how stupid are you, Chin?" Oh, hells, he thought. I really have got to start thinking more before I speak.
Chin stopped his rush just before the collision would have turned Wen into red bean paste. "Don't call me stupid!" he shouted. After a moment's pause he shook his head a bit; then he smiled. "You call me stupid," he said, "but you're the one who's sleeping on rotten straw, and you're the one who's going to be killed by having gold and silver melted all over you in a day or two."
"Well, that's nasty," Wen said. "And I'll bet that you're the sort who looks at Hell Scrolls for the pictures of torture and not for enlightenment."
"Doesn't everybody?"
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