The remnants of the once-great Ming still poisoned Dorgon’s life.

  He would gladly have lingered longer in the capital, but dispatches from the southwest spoke of a complicated situation that required his presence. The forces of Southern Ming were once again attacking the border provinces, while their spies attempted to stir uprisings in the garrisons. As usual.

  Jirgalang had already returned to Hunan, where matters were unsettled as well. Dorgon, however, was bound all the way to Guangxi.

  And the road to Guangxi ran through Hunan.

  It was not that he feared Prince Zheng. No. But caution was always essential.

  After all, it was Dorgon himself who had removed Jirgalang from the regency and, just last year, thrown him into prison before sending him to fight on the frontier. It would be perfectly understandable if Jirgalang wished to settle the score.

  This time Dorgon traveled with a small escort, preferring speed and discretion. A clever man who knew of his journey could easily prepare an ambush. And Jirgalang had never been foolish.

  Hunan was astonishingly beautiful.

  In truth, Jirgalang ought to have thanked him for being sent here rather than to the northern desert. Stone pillars or cliffs reminiscent of dragons’ teeth worn by time rose straight from the green plain, stretching along both sides of a broad river. In the mornings and evenings, mist flowed between these mountains, and one could feel part of a scroll painted by a master’s hand.

  Surely spirits dwelled here.

  Dorgon’s group had ridden through the picturesque wilderness for several days. They avoided large cities, favoring half-overgrown country roads. They were nearly at Changsha when, from behind another cluster of rocks, a dozen armored horsemen rode out to meet them and blocked the road. Another detachment appeared behind them. Dorgon glanced upward: several archers stood upon the nearest rock.

  “Prince Zheng greets Prince Rui,” said the commander of the forward group, raising his hands before his chest in a hint of a bow. “He invites you to join him for luncheon.”

  Refusal was clearly not an option.

  Dorgon did not believe his cousin would dare kill him. At least not so openly, in the middle of a city where many had seen him. But Jirgalang was always glad to spoil his mood. Surrounded by Jirgalang’s soldiers, Dorgon’s escort turned from their intended path and soon reached the high gray walls and gates of Changsha. His cousin awaited them in the spacious courtyard of his town residence.

  “Dear Prince Rui!” Like his soldiers, Jirgalang preferred to use a princely title akin to his own rather than call him Regent. “I learned you were passing nearby and could not fail to invite you as my guest. Pray, enter. The table is already laid!”

  “Had I known Prince Zheng was preparing a reception for me,” Dorgon dismounted and tossed the reins to a running servant, “I would not have come empty-handed.”

  “Oh, I would not wish to abuse Prince Rui’s attention,” Jirgalang spread into a saccharine smile, his satisfied face crisscrossed with fine wrinkles. “I am perfectly content with such a visit. Your presence is itself a gift.”

  The scoundrel was boasting of the ambush he had arranged and smiling to his face! Later Dorgon intended to question his companions and learn who had sold their route to this dear relative.

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  “So what is the purpose of this meeting?” Dorgon inquired an hour later.

  The meal lay securely in his stomach; neither he nor the servant who had tasted the dishes had died, and it was perhaps time to speak plainly.

  “Have I no right to invite my grandfather’s grandson simply to dine together?” the old intriguer was courtesy itself. Dorgon predictably disliked it. “Should we not think more of family?”

  The regent raised an eyebrow and looked skeptically at his gracious host over the thin wall of his cup. A few minutes earlier he had deftly switched their drinks as a precaution. But it seemed there was no poison in the drink either.

  “Rebels have lately taken to setting ambushes on the roads,” Jirgalang continued, evidently pleased with himself. “Prince Rui travels with a very small guard. It would be regrettable to lose him in some border skirmish with bandits.”

  “Has Prince Zheng finally decided to acknowledge himself a rebel?” Dorgon smoothed his long mustache. “Would it not have been simpler to do so in the capital? He would not even have needed to leave the prison walls. At your age, long journeys are harmful to the health, Jirgalang.”

  Jirgalang burst into laughter.

  “I still prefer the mountains and lakes of Changsha to your dungeons, Dorgon,” the impudent cousin at last thanked him for the picturesque exile. “Though nothing compares to the golden palace of the Son of Heaven. Did you leave him in good health?”

  “You dare threaten the Emperor?” Dorgon narrowed his eyes dangerously.

  “I served as his regent for many years,” Jirgalang clicked his tongue. “How can you accuse me of such a thing? Even if I wished to threaten someone in the family, I would begin with the fool who occupies my place.”

  “Careful,” Dorgon warned. Dodo was his younger full brother, and he would not tolerate liberties taken at his expense.

  “With what do you disagree?” Jirgalang lifted his brows, feigning surprise without true conviction. “Prince Yu, your younger brother, is a fool. Prince Ying, your elder brother, is an even greater fool. It seems to me that the wit of three men in your branch of the family fell to you alone.”

  Dorgon grimaced. The compliment rang all the more doubtful because Jirgalang was correct. If Dodo was at least competent in war, politics eluded both his brothers, and Dorgon truly bore the burden for three.

  “If you judge others, be prepared to be judged yourself,” Dorgon reminded his cousin.

  “I have done enough for the nation not to fear judgment,” Jirgalang smirked. “Since even you have not found a way to remove me entirely, what should I fear? But allow me to offer advice.”

  “I am not certain I wish to hear it,” Dorgon snorted. “But speak.”

  “People change, and so does their loyalty,” Jirgalang scratched his hooked nose. “Test them more often.”

  “Are you not afraid I will uncover your spies?” Dorgon laughed. He tried to discern what lay behind his opponent’s smiling mask, but as usual he could not be certain.

  “If you uncover them, they were not worth their price,” Jirgalang waved carelessly, as though brushing away a fly. “Tell me, by the way, does Ajige send them to me in your name, or is this his personal initiative?”

  For a moment Dorgon considered. His elder brother had not warned him of any surveillance upon Jirgalang, but why would he act alone, without counsel?

  “Why do you think I shall answer?” he chose to evade a direct answer at last.

  “To spare their heads?” Jirgalang shrugged. “I tolerate the secretary you attached to me, but he knows his place. These three… If they are not dear to you, I see no reason to keep feeding them.”

  “It is unfortunate that I do not know of whom you speak,” Dorgon had no intention of assuming another’s sins, perhaps invented, and losing face. Moreover, if they were indeed their men, his attention might only harm them. “Better write to Ajige if you believe it was his idea.”

  Jirgalang studied his face for a time, as though attempting to solve a riddle, then smiled again.

  “As you wish, as you wish,” he nodded. “Tonight I invite you to spend the night in my humble abode. The nights are still cold. It would be a pity if you and Prince Yu both fell ill.”

  “What do you mean?” Dorgon grew uneasy. When he had departed the capital a few days earlier, Dodo had been in good health, aside from a mild hangover.

  “They say the second regent is unwell,” Jirgalang lamented unconvincingly. “If both regents were to fall ill, what would become of the empire?”

  “Do not concern yourself,” Dorgon declared. “I do not intend to fall ill just yet.”

  “Then it is settled. You will stay the night in Changsha,” Jirgalang concluded with satisfaction. “I hope my modest hospitality will please you.”

  This time Dorgon did not even bother to hide his forced smile. He certainly did not intend to sleep in an enemy’s house and already anticipated a long, sleepless night. The sly Jirgalang knew well how to trouble him.