Twilight had completely fallen over the grassland. Only two lanterns hung by the granary gate, their weak yellow light swaying in the wind and stretching the guards' shadows into crooked shapes. Aji was lying behind the north berm, his hand on the pocket watch slick with sweat — five minutes left. That was when Ira switched shifts, and that was their only shot.
He took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and tried his first sheep call: "Baa—" The sound trembled a little, like a lamb recently weaned. A few of the granary's sheep (kept there by the guards for a quick bite) lifted their heads and glanced toward the berm, but nothing happened. Aji got nervous. He remembered the tune his mom taught him for calling lambs, lowered his voice, and tried again: "Baa— baa baa—" This time the call was longer, with a little urgency, like someone searching for a lost kid.
Sure enough, the lead old sheep at the granary answered with a "baa" and began inching toward the berm. The others followed, their ropes clinking. The two guards at the gate frowned; one kicked the old ewe. "Behave! Move and I'll have you slaughtered!" he barked. But the ewe dug in, pressing her head toward the berm and getting louder.
Then from the west came a rustling — Old Ba was bringing his flock! Twenty-something sheep crowded together, hooves thudding over the grass like a muted thunder. Old Ba drove them with a stick from behind, guiding the flock toward the barbed-wire on the granary's west side. That spot was a blind zone for the guards; there was only one sentry pacing back and forth, looking out at the eastern plain, oblivious to the noise behind him.
"East side — movement!" someone suddenly yelled — it was Gu Kai and his men, who'd snuck up to the low wall on the east. He shot a glance to his nearby soldier; the soldier got it and fired one warning shot into the air: "Bang!" The crack of the gun was loud in the night and the guards at the granary gate panicked, lifting their rifles and peering east, shouting, "Who's there? Show yourselves!"
Gu Kai crouched behind the low wall and had two men toss smoke bombs — not military ones, but the mosquito fumigators Old Mu kept at the inn. The smoke wasn't much, but it was enough to create confusion. Pale gray plumes rolled up on the east side. Gu Kai made his men shout, "Kalon's army is attacking! Surrender!" Voices rose and fell, and the Ira guards' attention snapped entirely to the east.
"Dammit, Kalon would dare attack!" the small squad leader at the granary cussed and waved people over. "Everyone to the east! Hold the low wall! Don't let them through!" Ten or so guards ran east with their rifles, leaving just two soldiers watching the sheep at the gate, still tussling with that stubborn old ewe.
Aji seized the moment, scrambled up from the berm, and flashed an "OK" sign toward Gu Kai. Gu Kai saw the signal and felt his chest tighten — two minutes left, he had to light the fire now. He pulled the branch with the sunhat tied on it from his pack, thumbed the lighter, and flicked it. The flame licked at the oil-soaked brim.
"Whoosh —" the flame leapt up instantly. The fluorescent-green brim blackened and belched thick, choking smoke. Gritting his teeth, Gu Kai stood and hurled the burning branch at the granary's canvas roof — it was dozens of feet from the low wall, so he had to throw it with everything he had. The branch traced an arc and the blazing sunhat landed squarely in the middle of the canvas roof.
"It's on fire!" the two guards at the gate screamed. The canvas was dry and smelled faintly of kerosene blown by the wind; the roof caught quickly, crackling as sparks flew. The guards who'd run east turned back at the shouting and saw the roof a sheet of flame. Chaos broke out at once: "Granary fire! Go put it out!"
Gu Kai shouted, "Retreat! West, now!" He and his men sprinted out from behind the low wall toward Old Ba and Aji. Old Ba had driven the flock into a nearby ravine and waved them over, "Here! Fast!" Aji came running, clutching the old ewe's rope — he'd stealthily slipped its tether during the chaos, afraid the guards would kill it.
Just as they were diving into the ravine, hoofbeats thundered behind them: "Don't run! Get them!" Ira's pursuing riders — about five of them — were charging. Gu Kai panicked for a second and yelled to his soldiers, "Fire to slow them down! Don't let them close!" The men raised their guns, but nobody had the nerve to shoot — if they missed they'd only bring more pursuers down on them.
"Careful, Kai-ge!" Aji cried suddenly, picking up a rock and heaving it at the lead horse. The stone hit the horse's leg; the animal screamed and reared, throwing the rider. Gu Kai grabbed Aji and bolted into the ravine. Old Ba drove the flock to block the pursuers — the panicked sheep scattered and gored the horses back, buying them time.
Only after they'd ducked into the ravine did Gu Kai allow himself to stop and breathe. He felt a sting on his arm — a branch had scraped him while they ran, bleeding a little and staining the canvas. Aji saw the blood and pulled a strip of cloth from his pocket to bind the cut. "Kai-ge, you're hurt!" Gu Kai waved him off, "It's nothing, just a scratch. Let's see how the granary fire's doing."
They climbed the ravine's slope and looked back. The flames still roared and were growing, lighting half the sky. From the west city gate the gunfire had eased and was much quieter; you could even hear Ira's men shouting, "Granary's gone! Retreat!" Gu Kai felt a weight lift — their ploy to "besiege Wei to save Zhao" had worked.
"Did we… did we win?" one soldier asked, barely believing it, voice shaking with excitement. Gu Kai smiled but didn't reply. He felt the book in his pocket — The Thirty-Six Stratagems — safe and dry, his grandfather's handwriting seeming to flicker in the firelight. He thought of Kalon's iron cage and the soldiers' complaints; there wasn't much joy in the win. Even if they won this fight, more trouble awaited — like whether Kalon would actually let him go.
Old Ba drove the flock deep into the ravine and came back with a roasted potato, handing it to Gu Kai. "Eat — fill your belly a bit." The warmth from it landed in Gu Kai's hand. He bit in; the potato was soft and sweet. Aji sat petting the old ewe and whispered, "Kai-ge, let this sheep stay with us. It saved us." Gu Kai nodded. "Okay. We'll call it 'Saved Sheep.'"
Night thickened and the granary's fire burned down until just black smoke trailed into the sky. The pursuers were long gone. The grassland quieted again, leaves whispering as the wind moved through them. Gu Kai leaned against a rock and looked toward Kalon's camp — the tribe was probably celebrating. He felt the sting in his arm, and fingers brushed the half-burned sunhat (he'd grabbed it when they fled). He wondered: when he saw Kalon tomorrow, how would he negotiate getting home?
Then hoofbeats sounded in the distance again — not pursuers, but Kalon's people. Gu Kai motioned for everyone to hide, but the riders came in under Kalon's banner and called out, "Is Mr. Gu here? The leader wants to take you back to the camp!" Gu Kai's stomach dropped — he knew this wasn't a victory celebration. It was a summons back to the "iron cage" of Kalon's tribe. His trouble was only beginning.