The Closing of the Jaws

The Wolf's Jaw Pass had become a raw, open wound on the face of the steppe. What was once a remote, sparsely populated network of canyons was now a chaotic, desperate city of yurts and hide tents, teeming with thousands of Mongol refugees. They were the human debris washed up by the relentless, grinding advance of General Yuan Shikai's Iron Census. Deep within this sprawling misery, nestled in a hidden, defensible canyon accessible only by a single, easily guarded path, was Altan's personal encampment. It was an island of order in a sea of chaos. Sentries stood disciplined at their posts, horses were properly tended, and a palpable sense of purpose hung in the air, a stark contrast to the despair that choked the main pass below.

Inside her command yurt, Dmitri Volkov was pacing like a caged wolf. The confines of the pass, once a symbol of safety, now felt like the walls of a trap.

"This is not good, Altan," he said, his voice taut with a nervousness that bordered on panic. "Yuan Shikai is not a fool, just a brute. His main force has sealed the eastern entrance to the pass. His cavalry patrols are becoming more aggressive along the southern ridge. We have thousands of starving people looking to you as their savior, but we are cut off. We are contained."

Altan did not look up. She sat cross-legged on a pile of furs, calmly sharpening an arrowhead with a piece of flint, her movements economical and precise. "Yuan is a dog chasing its own tail," she said, her voice a calm counterpoint to Dmitri's anxiety. "He thinks he has trapped us. He has only trapped himself with a logistical nightmare. He cannot feed this many prisoners, and his precious 'Iron Wall' of blockhouses is now stretched thin, its garrisons weakened to provide manpower for his census. My 'ghosts' on his telegraph wires have his officers looking over their shoulders, questioning every order. Fear is a better weapon than a cannon, Dmitri. And right now, they are more afraid of me than I am of them."

"They are not afraid of you, they are afraid of a legend!" Dmitri shot back, his frustration boiling over. "And legends don't fill empty bellies! The people are sick, they are hungry. We need supplies. We need a way out of this cage, not more ghost stories!"

At that moment, the yurt flap was pushed aside and Khorchi entered. He was a large, powerfully built warrior, his face a roadmap of old battle scars, his eyes burning with a cold, vengeful fire. His entire family had been slaughtered in Yuan's punitive massacre of the Tergin clan. His loyalty to Altan was not just that of a soldier to a commander; it was the devotion of a true believer.

"The Weasel sent a message from the outpost town," Khorchi rumbled, his deep voice commanding attention. "The Han merchant he spoke of, the one with the medicine, has been vetted. He seems genuine. A greedy, honorless man by all accounts, but his story holds. He is waiting at the edge of the pass, as instructed. He demands to speak with the leader directly before he will reveal the location of his cache."

Dmitri scoffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "It's a trap! It has to be! A Han merchant appearing out of nowhere at this exact moment with a story this convenient? He is an agent of the Qing, sent to assassinate you!"

Altan finally looked up from her work, setting the sharpened arrow aside. She considered Dmitri's warning, her intelligent eyes weighing the possibility. Then, she shook her head.

"No," she said with quiet certainty. "The Qing, under Yuan Shikai, would have sent a battalion to level this entire canyon. They would have come with cannons and cavalry, not with a single, pathetic merchant. Their methods are crude. They lack this kind of subtlety. This man is exactly what he appears to be: an opportunist, a jackal drawn to the scent of the kill. Men like that are predictable. Their greed makes them reliable." She turned her gaze to her second-in-command. "I am the leader. The people need this medicine more than I need to fear shadows. I will see him. Bring him here. But take all precautions. Blindfold him the moment he is in our territory. Take him on a long, confusing route. Search him thoroughly, down to the seams of his clothes. I want to look this man in the eye myself."

The scene shifted. Lieutenant Fang, his heart a steady, disciplined drum in his chest, felt a rough sack being pulled over his head, plunging him into a world of darkness and muffled sounds. He was guided onto a horse and led on a circuitous, deliberately disorienting path through the rocky canyons. Though he was blind, he was not without senses. He counted his steps, noted the direction of the wind on his neck, the changing angle of the sun's warmth, the echo of his horse's hooves against canyon walls. He was mentally mapping the route, constructing a three-dimensional image of the fortress in his mind.

After what felt like an hour, he was finally halted, pulled from his horse, and led on foot into a large yurt. The blindfold was ripped from his head. He blinked in the dim light, his eyes adjusting. Before him, seated on a low dais of furs, was Altan. She was no longer the frail, ragged refugee from the well, nor the unseen ghost on the wire. She was dressed in clean, supple leather, her black hair neatly braided, her face composed and intelligent. She radiated an aura of absolute command. She was flanked by the nervous Russian, Dmitri, and the imposing, silent warrior, Khorchi.

"You are the merchant," Altan said. Her voice was as cold and clear as a mountain stream. "You claim to have quinine."

Fang instinctively hunched his shoulders, adopting the posture of a man both greedy and intimidated. It was a performance he had rehearsed a hundred times. "I do," he said, his voice raspy. "A full crate of it. German-made. The best quality. But my price is not in silver. Silver is worthless out here."

"What is your price, then?" Dmitri asked, his tone sharp with suspicion.

"Safe passage," Fang declared. "For me and my goods. West, out of this godforsaken land and away from this war. And ten prime horses. The medicine is my only bargaining chip. It is the key to my survival. I will not reveal its location until I have your word, and I see the horses with my own eyes."

Altan studied him intently, her sharp eyes trying to pierce his facade, to find a flicker of deceit. But Fang's training under the spymaster Shen Ke had been brutally thorough. He was a fortress of controlled expressions. "You are a brave man to make demands of me in my own camp," she said, testing him.

"I am not brave, my lady," Fang replied, bowing his head slightly in a gesture of respect that also served to hide his eyes. "I am a desperate businessman. The goods have value only if there is a buyer. You are the only buyer in this pass with what I want—the authority to grant safe passage. It is a simple transaction."

He was banking everything on her growing arrogance, her belief that she was the unquestioned power in this pass, the only player that mattered. He was also presenting a cold, mercantile logic that he knew, from Shen Ke's profile, she would understand and even respect.

Altan was silent for a long, tense moment. She exchanged a look with Khorchi, then with Dmitri. Finally, she nodded, a short, decisive gesture. "Very well, merchant. Your logic is sound. Khorchi will take you to our corral. You may select your ten horses. You will then lead him and a team of his best men to the location of this hidden cache. If you are lying to us, your death will be slow and inventive. If you are telling the truth, you will have your freedom. We are people of our word."

Fang bowed low, a deep and seemingly grateful gesture that hid the surge of pure, cold triumph in his heart. "A fair deal," he said, his voice filled with false relief. "You are a wise and just leader."

As he was led away by the grim-faced Khorchi, out of the command yurt and towards the corrals, Fang knew the snare was about to close. He had done it. He had successfully infiltrated the command center of the resistance. He now had a direct line to Altan herself. The next, and final, phase of General Meng Tian's patient, deadly plan could begin.