Interesting Times

seven men. Seven ancient old men. The peasants say…they say…”
    Lord Hong’s voice was slightly higher.
    “Come on, man who talks to peasants. I’m sure you’re going to tell us what they say about these foolish and foolhardy old men?”
    “Well, that’s it, you see. They say, if they’re so foolish and foolhardy…how did they manage to become so old?”
    “Luck!”
    It was the wrong word. Even Lord Hong realized it. He’d never believed in luck. He’d always taken pains, usually those of other people, to fill life with certainties. But he knew that others believed in luck. It was a foible he’d always been happy to make use of. And now it was turning and stinging him on the hand.
    “There is nothing in the Art of War to tell us how five armies attack seven old men,” said Lord Tang. “Ghosts or no ghosts. And this, Lord Hong, is because no one ever thought such a thing would be done.”
    “If you feel so frightened I’ll ride out against them with my mere 250,000 men,” he said.
    “I am not frightened,” said Lord Tang. “I am ashamed.”
    “Each man armed with two swords,” Lord Hong went on, ignoring him. “And I shall see how lucky these…sages…are. Because, my lords, I will only have to be lucky once. They will have to be lucky a quarter of a million times.”
    He lowered his visor.
    “How lucky do you feel, my lords?”
    The other four warlords avoided one another’s gaze.
    Lord Hong noticed their resigned silence.
    “Very well, then,” he said. “Let the gongs be sounded and the firecrackers lit—to ensure good luck, of course.”

    There were a large number of ranks in the armies of the Empire, and many of them were untranslatable. Three Pink Pig and Five White Fang were, loosely speaking, privates, and not just because they were pale, vulnerable, and inclined to curl up and hide when danger threatened.
    In fact they were so private as to be downright secretive. Even the army’s mules ranked higher than them, because good mules were hard to come by whereas men like Pink Pig and White Fang are found in every army, somewhere where a latrine is in need of cleaning.
    They were so insignificant that they had, privately, decided that it would be a waste of an invisible foreign blood-sucking ghost’s valuable time to attack them. They felt it only fair, after it had come all this way, to give it the chance of fiendishly killing someone superior.
    They had therefore hospitably decamped just before dawn and were now hiding out. Of course, if victory threatened they could always re camp. It was unlikely that they’d be missed in all the excitement, and both men were somewhat expert at turning up on battlefields in time to join in the victory celebrations. They lay in the long grass, watching the armies maneuver.
    From this height, it looked like an impressive war. The army on one side was so small as to be invisible. Of course, if you accepted the very strong denials of last night, it was so invisible as to be invisible.
    It was also their elevation which meant that they were the first to notice the ring around the sky.
    It was just above the thunderous wall on the horizon. Where stray shafts of sunlight hit it, it glowed golden. Elsewhere it was merely yellow. But it was continuous, and thin as a thread.
    “Funny-looking cloud,” said White Fang.
    “Yeah,” said Pink Pig. “So what?”
    It was while they were thus engaged, and sharing a small bottle of rice wine liberated by Pink Pig from an unsuspecting comrade the previous evening, that they heard a groan.
    “Oooooohhhhhh…”
    Their drinks froze in their throats.
    “Did you hear that?” said Pink Pig.
    “You mean the—”
    “Ooooohhhh…”
    “That’s it!”
    They turned, very slowly.
    Something had pulled itself out of a gully behind them. It was humanoid, more or less. Red mud dripped from it. Strange noises issued from its mouth.
    “Oooooohhhhshit!”
    Pink Pig grabbed White Fang’s arm.
    “It’s an invisible blood-sucking ghost!”
    “But I can see it!”
    Pink Pig squinted.
    “It’s the Red Army! They’ve come up outa the earth like everybody says!”
    White Fang, who had several brain cells more than Pink Pig, and more importantly was only on his second cup of wine, took a closer look.
    “It could be just one ordinary man with mud all over him,” he suggested. He raised his voice. “Hey, you!”
    The figure turned and tried to run.
    Pink Pig nudged his friend.
    “Is he one of