I raised my chin. “I’m not frightened.”
“A bet then?”
I could not reply. The Emperor tilted his head toward me. I should not disappoint him. Yet to risk my title? I took a deep breath, determined to decline, when I saw the Emperor smile. Not at me, but at someone among the ladies on the bench. Jewel stood up and bowed.
“It’s a bet,” I said.
“Done!” The Duke slammed the platform with his fist.
“I shall be glad to offer my Talent a reward.” The Emperor fingered his whiskers. “You’re going to lose, Wuji.”
It was too late to rescind it. I faced the field, biting my lip. Taizi dashed toward the ball. A Tibetan vanguard clicked his tongue, making a loud di-di-di noise, but he was too late. Taizi snatched the ball with the crescent top of his mallet and scored.
“Third chukka score: Imperial Team 4, the Tibetans 3,” someone shouted.
I wiped the perspiration off my forehead. One more point, and the Imperial Team would win the third chukka. And the game. Then I could ask any reward from the Emperor and even keep the Duke’s residence. Drink to that, Duke.
“You see,” the Emperor said. “My Talent has foresight to match her courage.”
I had just smiled when a Tibetan got the ball. He struck. The ball shot into the air and bounced on the field. The vanguard raced to it and directed it to the net. Fortunately, he missed, but another Tibetan horseman dashed to it and struck. He scored.
My heart sank. It was a draw.
The horses galloped again, and mallets crossed in the air. Prince Ke steered his steed toward the ball, but Prince Yo slid his mallet under the horse’s belly, and the ball flew. Prince Ke forged ahead. He was about to touch the ball when Prince Yo’s mallet appeared, aiming at his head. I gasped and stood up. If Prince Yo wounded Prince Ke, we would lose a valuable player. I could not imagine why Prince Yo would take such a big risk. Around me murmurs arose, but when I raised my head at the field again, the situation had changed. Prince Ke withdrew to the back, and a Tibetan stole the ball and scored. They won the third chukka.
The score: Imperial 2—Tibetan 1.
My throat was dry. I should not have gotten lured into the bet. The Duke was evil. Had he allied with Jewel to dishonor me?
“A break,” the Emperor ordered.
I sighed inwardly but felt no relief.
? ? ?
“Heavenly Khan,” one of the Emperor’s vassals, a chieftain, shouted at the Emperor from his bench, his mouth full of meat. “The Tibetans are no match for your men.” He grabbed a wine pot and poured the wine directly into his mouth. “Teach them a lesson! Kick them back to Tibet!”
Near him, another chieftain, whose eyes had been darting constantly from the Emperor to the ministers, said, “Of course our Heavenly Khan will win, my dear khan.”
Of all the spectators, the Emperor’s vassals did not fit in with us. They wore knee-length pants, exposing a good portion of their hairy legs, and they had not bothered to wear hats.
“Khan of Tuyuhun, Khan of Eastern Turks.” The Emperor beckoned at them and the other chieftains close to him. “I hear you made inquiries about my health. Here, I invite you and all my vassals to see I, your Heavenly Khan, can still rip apart whoever stands in my way.”
I filled the Emperor’s goblet with wine. I wondered why he had brought up the subject of his health; after all, it had been a year since the assassination attempt. Some shouts came from the field. I raised my head. The Tibetans broke into a strange dance to celebrate their gain, their shoulders tipping to one side and their legs swinging high. Near them, Taizi kicked in the stirrups, shouting, “You putrid fly eaters! Stop singing like women!”
“We’re honored to see our Heavenly Khan strong as a lion. This is a great victory to us all, and we shall return home with joy,” the chieftain with quick eyes, Khan of Tuyuhun, said.
“But I can’t let my vassals return empty-handed.” The Emperor drained his goblet. “I have a special present for you all.” He pointed to a chest behind me. It was rather large, the size of a writing table, wrapped with a piece of black cloth. “It’s in the box.”
I heard whimpering from inside. Perhaps it was a precious animal, but it was strange the Emperor would bring it to the polo field.
“And I shall show you, all of you”—he struck the table with his fist, suddenly looking murderous—“what is a traitor’s fate.”
No one dared to speak. The chieftains lowered their heads and returned to their benches, looking smaller than before.
The drums began to beat urgently on the field. The fourth chukka had started.
I turned to the field, watching every strike of the mallets and every prancing of the horses with great concentration. Halfway through the chukka, Taizi broke the Tibetans’ defense and seized the ball. Before he struck it, he switched the mallet to his left hand and shook his right hand.
Taizi was injured.