Tempted Tigress (12 page)

"The woman—Sister Marie—she is gone!"

Jing-Li grinned, then spoke in an undertone. "Yes, I know." He hopped the last step onto the deck. "I made most sure of it."

* * *

Anna felt her ankle roll beneath her and heard the telltale sound of fabric ripping as she slid sideways into the knee-deep mud of a lotus field. She'd been on the run for most of the night now, and her once-beautiful yellow silk gown was now filthy and torn despite her efforts to keep it clean. It was the only sellable item she owned, and so she had hoped to keep it in decent condition. Looking at the caked mud that blackened the delicate flying cranes, she groaned in real distress. What would she sell if not this gown?

She grimaced as she hauled her leg out of the sucking mud, but her eyes lingered on the open lotus leaves floating on the dirty water. Her foot had just fallen afoul of one of the thick below-water vines, so she knew they were there. She knew too, that there were probably edible roots down there. She had eaten lotus many times over the last decade, and her stomach cramped in hunger at the memory.

Unfortunately, she had no idea how to harvest or cook the food, and she had no knife to aid in the process. She didn't even know if the plants were mature enough yet to eat. In truth, for someone who had lived and worked in this country her whole life, she was woefully ignorant of how to survive. Though she had treated lotus farmers with cracked and brutalized feet, with sores on their skin or infections in their bodies, she had no understanding of what they did, when or how. And knowing how to treat bites from waterborne insects was of no help now.

She grimaced, well-used to her own private litany of uselessness. Her stomach tightened again, and she blocked it from her thoughts. She should have grabbed some of the Enforcer's sizzling dumplings when they'd been right in front of her, but she'd been too afraid. Too slow. Too stupid...

She thought again of the opium sack still on the boat. How sweet it would be to just lie back, her feet cooling in the water while she smoked a pipe. How sweet...

But she had left without thinking of the drug, her mind too scattered to remember her only other means of coin beside this dress. And besides, she did not want the dark powder. She didn't smoke anymore.

Forcing the memories away, she managed to pull herself back to her feet and continue doggedly along the raised ridge between lotus fields. She had no idea where she was going—and that too was added to her list of stupid things she had done—but she knew she had to keep walking.

When the mandarin had turned his back, she had seized her opportunity and bolted. She still could not quite believe no one had seen her scramble overboard. True, it had been dark, but... She shook her head, only able to thank God that He had managed to engineer her escape.

The moment she had hit the shore, she had run as far and as fast as possible. She had not slowed to see if anyone followed. She had hugged the shadows and skirted tiny groups of trackers huddled together in sleeping lumps. She had run and prayed that no one would stop her.

Now it was nearly dawn. She was wandering through farmland well away from the Grand Canal, and it was time to start thinking of finding a place to rest. If God were indeed merciful, she'd stumble upon a Christian mission or even a Chinese monastery. But nothing appeared except muddy lake after muddy lake of lotus or rice.

Then she saw it, rising out of the semidark like the Hand of God: a building. Tall and thin, it perched in the center between four fields. She narrowed her eyes, judging the structure. She knew it was a shed to store tools—they were a common sight out among Chinese fields. But this one was unusually tall, high enough to have an upper-story perch to look out over the fields. Few were built that tall or that sturdy, especially when it was barely large enough for one person to stand inside. But this one had a kind of upper story that would be a perfect place to rest. She could do a lot worse. Especially since she was falling down from exhaustion.

She would have to pray that no one was working in these fields today. Or if they were, that they wouldn't look closely into the shed.

She fumbled her way inside, grateful that the lock was not a heavy western iron one, but a simple Chinese
suaw.
It looked like a tiny metal carpenter's box with two pieces fitting inside and against one another. A metal key—or a well-shaped stick—fit inside both pieces and pushed them apart.

It took too long for her to force the lock open, and she was nervously looking around long before she was done. But she eventually succeeded and half walked, half fell inside. Then she had to maneuver the door shut before climbing up the bamboo ladder. She finally managed it all and leaned awkwardly against the window frame.

The situation wasn't ideal. Looking down, she saw a thin stream of light on the floor, which meant the door hadn't fully closed. Worse, anyone looking closely at the window would see her sitting here like Rapunzel in the tower. But there was little she could do about it. She closed her eyes and thought about the mandarin and his sizzling dumplings. But as she turned to the delectable food, they changed into smoking bags of opium. She extended her hand, wondering which she preferred...

She woke to screeching women and children with sticks.

"Ghost! Ghost!"

She blinked into the sunlight, her fuddled mind slow to grasp anything beyond the fact that her legs and back ached like the very devil. She looked down to see children and women screeching. One woman banged a wok with a stick, making a racket that added to the pounding in her head. Another girl and her mother had made it to the building and began beating at the walls.

Anna's head pounded, and her mouth was dry. Grimacing, she pushed the hair out of her eyes and groaned.

"She is in pain!"

The noise redoubled. A woman grabbed hold of the building and began shaking it while emitting the most unholy shriek. The building began to creak, the tiny floor pitching and twisting in an alarming fashion. Anna abruptly grabbed hold of the walls, trying to stabilize her position. She couldn't, of course; the place was made of bamboo and would tumble down at any moment.

"Stop that!" she bellowed in Chinese. Except, it was the Chinese language of the north, and not at all their dialect, which she was beginning to realize was similar to Shanghainese. Had she come so far south?

The women gasped in shock. A couple girls screamed in horror and ran. But the boys—three little boys of the hellion age—were undeterred. They roared and bellowed even louder. Then the oldest of them picked up a rock and threw it at her.

He missed, hitting the side of the building with a frightening thud, and Anna recoiled from the impact. That was enough to give the rest of the boys encouragement. They picked up stones, sticks, even clumps of mud, and began hurling them at her.

"Stop it! Stop it!" Anna screeched in Shanghai dialect. It had no effect. The women, emboldened by their sons, began shaking the building again in earnest. And even the little girls came back, banging on their woks hard enough to dent the metal.

Then a clump of mud sailed true. It came right at her face. Reflexes she hadn't used since childhood came roaring back. She ducked down, hearing it clatter behind her. She had already pushed to her feet, intending to climb down the ladder. At least inside she'd be safe from rocks.

But the last mud ball hit just above her shoulder, splattering wet dirt all over her face and dress. The dress she wanted so to keep clean. With a muffled curse, she rose from her crouch and watched for the next missile. Fortunately, the boys weren't strong enough to hurl heavy stones.

She saw another rock fly at her, at just the right height and speed. She waited then reached out, snatching the stone out of the air. Then, with another curse, again in Shanghai dialect, she hurled it right back. It hit a boy flat in the belly. Not hard enough to hurt him, just sting a bit. The boy gasped in shock. The mothers and sisters too were startled enough to stop what they were doing and stare.

The silence wouldn't last long. Five seconds at most before the peasants realized she wasn't a ghost but someone who would fight back. Anna didn't give them that long. She began speaking as clearly and forcefully as possible, though in a dialect she hadn't used for over a year. Fortunately, it came back quickly enough.

"Shame upon you, bringing dishonor upon your fathers and husbands! Should I curse your name? By the Son of Heaven, I could bring guards here to destroy every field for tens of
li
. Do you dare throw mud and rocks at me? Do you not see the fine silk I wear? Do you not know—"

"Ghost demon! She will kill us all!" screeched a young woman, who then grabbed her children—two little girls—and ran for all she was worth.

Anna watched in satisfaction, hoping that the others would follow. But they apparently were made of sterner stuff. The women were now picking up stones. After all, Anna had just threatened both their children and their livelihoods. She quickly changed her tone.

"I am prepared to forgive you," she said more softly. "And my husband will reward you richly for aiding me." She narrowed her eyes, trying to judge the crowd. She knew from her father that people always needed someone to blame. It was all a matter of shifting the blame away from oneself. She singled out the eldest boy, the one who had first thrown a rock. "He will have to work hard for my gifts. But you others..." She straightened her spine and opened her hands in a gesture of beneficence. "If you help me, you will be richly rewarded." She looked at the woman who wore the poorest clothing, whose frame was the most thin and weak. "You. Will you aid a lost wife to find her mandarin?"

The woman hesitated, her fear palpable, but she was clearly tempted. A moment more, maybe a well-phrased promise, and she would help. But Anna didn't have a moment. Two men—one with a hoe, the other wielding an old and rusty sword—topped the rise. They were led by a boy, who pointed at her. The men came forward with a roar.

Predictably, the women turned to wait for the men to sort it out. Damn, damn, damn! There were only two ways to handle men—sex or tears. Anna wasn't going for the first, and she'd never been great at the latter, but she would have to try.

Rushing down the ladder as fast as her aching body could manage, Anna came out of the shed with a gasp.

Stumbling toward the poorest woman, Anna began to sob. Well, she mimicked the motions well enough. True tears were harder to dredge up, but they would come in a moment. Meanwhile she spoke whatever nonsense came into her head. She whimpered about losing her favorite ivory fan when she and her servants had gone for a respite from the awful boat. She stuttered out that she'd gone to look for it, but mean Number-One Wife had refused to allow her even a servant to help. And then—the real tears had finally begun—she'd gotten lost and fallen down and ripped her dress. And now there was mud on it. She was so frightened she was trembling. But oh, she has the most handsome jade earrings that would look lovely on this girl who had such beautiful earlobes. And her husband had a pocket watch that he had given to her. They were the most amazing things, an invention from the West. In truth, she'd been sent to carry the mandarin the pocket watch as a gift so many years ago, but he had wanted her instead. So she had been given in marriage to the mandarin and now her husband and her father were in business together...

One of the men's eyes flickered in interest. He obviously understood what kind of business a mandarin and a white man would be in. How much opium was in a countryside village between the Grand Canal and Shanghai? Not enough, she'd wager. She smiled at him, and he lowered his sword. "My father," she added in a soft tone, "always considered me his favorite. He will reward anyone who helps me."

The sword dropped to the ground as the man's face split into a broad grin. "Silly women," he laughed heartily. "Mistaking a lost woman for a ghost."

"But, but..." stammered the boy. "She is—"

"A foreign barbarian," Anna supplied. "Yes, I am. But I am no ghost and certainly not a demon. Here..." She extended her arm. "Touch my skin. You will see I am warm and whole just like you."

The boy wasn't so bold. Or he wouldn't have been without practically the whole village staring at him. So with a shaking hand, he slowly, awkwardly poked a finger into her arm, drawing it back with a gasp.

"She's soft!" he exclaimed. He poked her again, this time lingering a bit longer. "And warm!"

The men boomed with laughter, clapping the child on the back. "Of course a woman is soft and warm. What else would she be?"

The other children crowded around, all wanting to touch her in some way. The women eyed her curiously now, studying her hair and clothing before corralling their children. They all turned the same direction—presumably the main village—and there was talk of food. Anna's stomach cramped in response. She began moving in the direction they pointed. But the children kept tight to her side, hampering her progress. She leaned down and picked up the smallest so that they could move faster.

The fear was broken. She was nothing more to them now than a potential windfall and a way to break up the monotony of a hard existence. Anna breathed a sigh of relief, though she kept the tears ready and her smile wobbly.

Then there came a shout from the distance as some of the children dashed ahead, but Anna could not make out the words. She could follow the language of one person at a time, but a dozen all speaking at once? The words degenerated into a sea of sound in which she struggled to remain afloat.