The Pirate Empress (17 page)

She winked. “They can’t see what we’re doing.”

“I have no doubt they
know
what we’re doing.”

“And what
are
we doing?” She giggled. “Other than talking and floating in this glorious pool, that is?”

“With your arms around my neck,” Quan finished, cynically.

She grinned. “Oh, that, Captain. Shall I let go?”

He glanced up and saw that Master Yun and He Zhu had left the cliff side. He drew her against his bare skin and kissed her on the mouth, and she raised her legs and clamped them around his waist. “You are asking for trouble,” he answered hoarsely.

“I am fulfilling my destiny,” she said, and slowly sank onto his jade spear.

%%%

The door to the Taoist temple was closed, but still Esen pounded at the wooden gates until an ancient monk opened the door a slit to peer out. “I am looking for the old soldier who brought you the body of a dead man,” Esen said.

“There is no dead man here.”

“Are you sure?” Jasmine asked, nudging the warlord aside and making her way into the temple by forcing the door wide. The small band of Mongols followed, their tunics dripping water on the unpolished marble floor, while she squeezed the rain out of her ink-black hair and combed it through with her fingers.

“Tell us where he is or we shall beat it out of you.” Esen raised his bow like a bludgeon, menacing the monk.

The old man was pigheaded. A caning probably wouldn’t do much good. Jasmine exchanged looks with Esen.
Let me work my magic. You wait outside.
Esen scowled, but he never failed to obey her and signalled for his men to leave. Alone with the ancient monk, she glanced up at the clawed, bat-winged thunder god carved on the rear wall behind him, and sneered. The blue-faced beaked deity didn’t scare her; he could bang his mallet to his drum until he was blue in the face. Her sneer turned to outright scorn.
Oh, that’s right, you’re already blue in the face.
She turned her back on the demon-vanquishing deity, and said, “Put your mind at ease, old man. We don’t care about the dead one. That is
your
business. But there
is
a reason why he was brought to you. Why was he delivered to you, old man?” She hesitated, her brow furrowing prettily, then she locked eyes with him. “Was he your son?”

The monk swallowed, shook his head.

“Ah, a student, then.” Still he refused to answer. “Tell me your name, Master Monk. No? Then tell me. Did you know that the man who brought you your former pupil, lifeless and bloodless, was also responsible for his death?”

His face remained unreadable, and Jasmine reached out and touched the old man’s beard. Without recoiling, he watched her with black eyes, milky with age. “It’s been a long time hasn’t it, since you’ve seen a beautiful woman?”

Too many lonely days and nights had passed. The old monk was approaching the end of his life. She slipped out of her snowy white gown and showed him what he was missing. “You must punish those who killed your beloved pupil,” she whispered as she captured him with her scent.

She made his body weak with hunger until he could stand it no more, and then she satisfied him. Before she left, she placed a vial of dense, yellow-brown liquid in his hand, wrapping her fingers tight around his fist.

%%%

Eng Tong rose from his bed and went to give last rights to the dead man who lay in the brick antechamber of the temple. Tao’s face was contorted as if in pain, the muscles frozen. Tao was a brave and honourable man, as much a man as any the monk had ever known. And he regretted the day Tao had decided to become a eunuch. But his life at the palace could not continue in safety unless he suffered castration. Others were in danger as long as he was looked upon as a man. On his right index finger was the Tiger’s Eye.

The scent of jasmine blossoms was strong on Eng Tong’s face and hands. Although filled with self-loathing for the act he had committed, he knew the Lady Jasmine was right— because of Lotus Lily, Tao was dead.

Eng Tong had not revealed the special power of the Tiger’s Eye. He had thought one day Tao would come to him and ask, but he never did. He worked the ring from the corpse’s finger and slipped it onto his own, gazed into the gemstone’s eye and waited for the shadows to clear. He saw the girl and the Emperor’s man amidst a pool of emerald water, and recognized the lagoon. He left the temple by the back way, saddled a horse and headed out of Xian and over the river flats, toward the lush green hills on the eastern horizon. There, waiting for him, was a golden fox.

%%%

Master Yun was long overdue in the Land of the Walking Bones, and already Altan was uniting the Mongol tribes to the east and the west, and war was amassing. The frontiers were still fragile, the wall unfinished, and the armies of the Middle Kingdom weak. Li was loath to leave Quan, which was quite understandable, for two young people in love deserved a lifetime together. But neither of them had much time. He allowed them another day to bask in each other’s company, all the while keeping watch on Zhu—whose behaviour had not changed and so, perhaps, the fox faerie’s influence was gone for good.

Tomorrow Master Yun must leave, and Quan must take Li to the water people before returning to his task of fortifying the border wall. The sooner Li was ensconced amongst the sea gypsies, the safer she would be.

In the evening he kissed Li goodnight and sent her into the shelter alone, while He Zhu and Quan slept outside to keep watch. Master Yun strolled into the jungle until he reached the lagoon where Li and Quan had professed their love. Alone and by starlight, he peered into the Moonstone.

It was almost daybreak before Master Yun started up the trail toward the encampment with the Ghostfire trailing him. His senses began to tingle and a tremor travelled lightly up his spine. He could not speak to the Ghostfire, but the Ghostfire spoke to him.
Hurry
they whistled.
Hurry, hurry, hurry
. He picked up his pace, began to run, the hair beneath his topknot flying. The nearer he got to the camp the more violently he trembled, shivers coursed along his arms beneath his bell-shaped sleeves, and the nerves of his legs sent tiny darts of pain to his feet. Like quicksilver, he ran until he panted like a dog.

Turmoil came from within Li’s shelter as Master Yun stormed inside to find Quan and He Zhu on their knees by Li’s bedside. The two were frantically shaking her and getting no response. Quan touched his fingertips to her throat, desperate to find a pulse, but she lay on her back, eyes shut, face ashen. Her lips glistened with some kind of liquid, and by her feet was a glass vial, lying on its side. Master Yun reached for it, heart rattling like a drum. It was empty except for traces of a yellowish-brown liquid. He tipped the last drop onto his finger and touched it to his tongue.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The Tiger’s Eye

Black Poppy. A lethal dose. Master Yun sent a suspicious look at the lieutenant. No. The trio had been inseparable. Where would Zhu have procured the juice of the black poppy? He raised one of Li’s eyelids, noting her deathlike state. The morning sun angled through the doorway, and on the mantle she used for a blanket were several golden hairs.

Quan sprang to his feet, blocked Zhu’s path. The sudden action jolted Master Yun out of his thoughts, and the lieutenant scowled as he denounced the insinuation. Why would he kill Lotus Lily after helping in her rescue?

Master Yun leaped forward to force his body between the two warriors, and placed a hand on each of their chests. “The lieutenant had nothing to do with this,” he said. He bade He Zhu hold his temper while he showed Quan the fox hairs and leaned into his ear. “She is not dead—only in a state of deep unconsciousness. Lotus Lily is no ordinary woman, but if we don’t want to lose her for good, we must act fast. There is an antidote and it is found in the petals of the white poppy. The only place the flower grows is in the river flats of the Yangtze River. I must go and bring back the poppy. Zhu, you come with me. Meanwhile, Quan, take Li to the water people and hope that Madam Choi will shelter her.”

Alarm registered in Quan’s face. “Do you want to see Li alive again?” Master Yun asked. “Then do as I say.”

“How do you know if Madam Choi will take care of Li?” Quan demanded. “Why
would
she? Her people have suffered greatly at the hands of Lotus Lily’s father. Why would she harbour the daughter of her enemy?”

Parrots cawed and monkeys chattered from the wood as Master Yun motioned the two men outside. For a moment he thought he heard the mournful fluting of the barbarian’s pipe, but he shook off the thought, his grey hair flapping in the breeze. “It’s because the Emperor wants Li killed that Madam Choi will harbour her. Now go and seek the headwoman of the sea gypsies.”

He went to saddle his horse, as Zhu comforted his captain by placing a friendly hand on his shoulder. Master Yun understood their misgivings; even He Zhu worried about leaving the princess with the sea gypsies. After all, it was Zhu’s blade that had taken the life of Madam Choi’s husband.

“I’m sorry, Zhu,” Master Yun said, reining his horse to a canter as they left the monkey country. “The captain did not mean to offend you by implying that you had somehow poisoned Lotus Lily. He knows as well as I that you would never hurt her.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Quan loves the girl. I understand.”

At the bottom of the forest hill, something blocked their path. No jungle beast he knew of had a mane as frost white as this beast. Was it even alive? Its skin had a greenish tinge to it, and unless his eyes betrayed him, it seemed to rise and fall to its knees before collapsing to the ground. Could this be the white-maned
Jiang Shi,
the hopping corpse, a dead man whose soul was trapped in his body?

He dismounted and the lieutenant followed. A pool of blood had thickened to stickiness under the man’s head. He was old and lay face down, a few straggling grey hairs at his temples but otherwise bald. He was certainly dead; his hopping movements merely phantasm caused by the heat. Firmly, with his boot, Master Yun forced the corpse to roll over.

The man’s face was obliterated with blood, but that didn’t obscure his high cheekbones or the deep creases lining his forehead and eyes. His long, white beard was matted with gore. Bits of pink flesh and the purple-red tubes of veins and arteries showed the ferocity of the predator’s attack. Master Yun spread out his robes and crouched to test the one spot where there was no blood—the man’s right hand. Some savage creature had torn his throat out and his skin was still warm. Both he and the lieutenant had witnessed their share of bloodshed, but to see violence loosed on the aged was chilling.

Saturated with blood but still recognizable was the white, black-trimmed raiment of a Taoist monk.

“I wonder what the old man was doing way out here?” Zhu asked. “There are no Taoist temples for miles. We’ll have to bury him.” The closest temple was in Xian. Zhu looked up from probing the body and frowned at the expression on Master Yun’s face. “You know him.”

“Eng Tong was a very old friend.” Master Yun extinguished his emotion and collected himself. After they found the white poppy and Li received the antitoxin, Zhu could return to bury Eng Tong’s bones. Over their heads, the red sun shone and carnivorous birds wheeled against diaphanous clouds. Already, some were pecking on the periphery, and in the shadows of the jungle by the roadside, Master Yun sensed the breath of sharp-toothed scavengers. Nature’s way was better, he decided. The creatures of the rainforest would clean the bones while burial would only create a lengthy period of putridity. “Come,” he said to Zhu.

He Zhu grabbed the sleeve of Master Yun’s robe. “What’s that on his finger? It looks valuable.”

There was indeed a splendid gem, a Tiger’s Eye, the colour of the waters of the Yellow River delta mounted on a band of gold circling the monk’s right index finger. Of all the magic gemstones he knew of only the Tiger’s Eye and the Moonstone existed beyond the Etherworld. They had the power of seeing; the Moonstone foresaw the future while the Tiger’s Eye reflected the present. They mustn’t leave it here; it would only be carried away in the gullet of some carrion feeder. Master Yun removed the ring from the monk’s finger, and Zhu snatched at it. After all, he had seen it first. Swiftly, Master Yun shoved the ring onto his own finger, saying that he would need to study it before ownership could be ascertained. The law of the land dictated that he who found an item of value was the new owner of that item. He wasn’t surprised, then, when Zhu insisted on Finders Keepers.

“I saw it first.”

“This is not a child’s toy nor an ordinary trinket, Lieutenant.”

Zhu’s hand went to his sabre. Master Yun’s hand was quicker. He hoisted the blade of the Scimitar and Zhu recoiled. The sudden change in Master Yun’s appearance alarmed him. The warlock’s height had grown twofold. Zhu blinked his eyes. It was clear that the lieutenant recalled this blade in action on the day of Li’s rescue. Quan’s visage had transformed into a Qin dynasty warrior just as Master Yun’s had a moment ago. Now, he re-sheathed the Scimitar and his stature returned to normal. It was increasingly apparent to him that the more often he brandished the blade, the greater his size became when he used it.

“We mustn’t fight over a bauble,” Master Yun said. “I have no intention of keeping this gem for myself. But until I’ve studied its powers, it could be dangerous for you to own. It’s a gemstone that belongs to a holy man, and neither of us is holy.”

“Then why should
you
wear it?” Zhu demanded.

“Only for safekeeping.”

“What makes you think it’s dangerous? And even if it is, I think I can take care of myself.”

Although Master Yun wouldn’t be so foolish as to insult the impetuous lieutenant, He Zhu’s recent behaviour smacked of inconsistency. He remembered vividly Jasmine’s sway over him. Was she still nearby? His sense of smell was not as acute as hers but it was sharp, and he detected no scent of the jasmine blossoms that always accompanied her presence. “Come,” he urged. “Lotus Lily’s life rests on our haste.”

%%%

A chill consumed him as Quan twisted a final knot in a vine and tested the sturdiness of the portable bed that he had made from branches and leaves intertwined with jungle vines. His hand sprang readily from the leaf mesh without puncturing it; Li was lighter than him and would place less stress on the pallet than he. Quan straightened his back, stared seaward and rehearsed his entreaty to the pirates. He mouthed the name of the pirate woman Madam Choi, a name that rang alarms in his head.

Inside the shelter, nothing had changed. Li still appeared to be dead. He couldn’t feel her breath on his wrist or see her diaphragm lift even the slightest to indicate that she was alive, but her skin wasn’t cold and that was a good sign. Although she had been in this state for hours, if she were lifeless, her skin would have most certainly felt icy to the touch.

Quan returned outside and saddled his horse. To the rear of the stallion, he used ropes to attach the pallet by which he would drag Li down the sloping path to the beach. Nothing Master Yun had said to him before he left for the Yangtze River flats lessened his unease.

Looking down from the cliff beyond the jade-blue lagoon to the sanctuary of the pirates, Quan was acutely aware that the sea bandits had caused no trouble in recent years—not since the death of their leader. Were they still organized? And was this organization truly headed by Madam Choi? The Imperial Navy was a poor excuse for a sea force; they made His Majesty’s army look strong. Fortunately for the sea gypsies, the raids from the north, under Esen and his barbarians, had eclipsed the petty piracy terrorizing the coast. Yet, Madam Choi was lying low. Why? And for how long? The population in the southern provinces of the Middle Kingdom was still exploding, with poverty rampant. Under these conditions, why would the pirates shelter a fugitive from the royal court?

In the deep jade-green waters of the outer bay, sampans and large junks basked in the breaking dawn. Something familiar caught his eye. A boy in rags sat on a raft, poling it slowly back and forth. It was the boy whose aid he had forced the day He Zhu killed the Chief Of All Pirates. How much did the water people know about palace politics? Would they care that a lost princess had been found and that now His Majesty demanded her head? His last meeting with Madam Choi had not been pleasant. Did she remember the young captain who had allowed her husband’s death?

%%%

The horses galloped over the plain, swift as a pair of swallows, to the Yangtze River. The river flats were due north of the sea gypsies’ waterworld where it was well into summer and the poppies were beginning to fade. Master Yun and He Zhu arrived before sundown.

The white blooms with finely veined pink in their petals were the lifeblood that would counteract the deadly toxin Li had consumed. As Zhu waded in the shallow waters, between flocks of fishing cormorants, searching the islands of earth that supported the precious flowers, Master Yun remained on shore and studied the Tiger’s Eye that he wore on his left hand. The gemstone was particular to the monkhood. Warlocks, at times, had possessed Tiger’s Eyes, but it was only by the faith of the true believer that the gemstone opened its eye. Not all tiger’s eyes had the power of sight; only those quarried and polished by a holy man were all-seeing, and then, only if that holy man was of the same lineage as the monk who had created it. He had seen this gemstone on Tao’s finger. He had come to the palace wearing it. How had it come to be on Eng Tong’s finger—unless
he
was its original owner?

If he made the wrong decision, it could be the end, not only for Lotus Lily and Chi Quan, but also for all of the Middle Kingdom. Master Yun had his suspicions; not all monks were celibate. Those who owned the tiger’s eyes most certainly were not. These gemstones were rare, and he had never seen another like this. He placed the ring on his index finger as he had seen Tao wear it, and as he had seen it on the old monk’s hand. He polished the surface three times; the subtle nuances of colour in the smooth saffron stone failed to change. No vision met his eyes; it was as he suspected. He was not a holy man.

Across the shallows, startling a trio of cormorants to flight, Master Yun shouted, “Have you picked twelve sprigs of the white poppy?” He Zhu raised his fist, nodding assent and Master Yun waved him in. “All right then, it’s time to go.”

On dry land again, He Zhu handed him the flowers, which were carefully placed into Zhu’s saddlebag. “You are trusting me with the antidote?” he asked.

“More than that. I have thought on this matter of the gemstone.” He slipped the ring off his finger and asked for Zhu’s right hand. Zhu complied, palm facedown, frowning. Master Yun slipped the ring onto the lieutenant’s index finger and stared into the translucent stone.

The gem’s colours began to swirl as though they were liquid, and they both bent their heads to stare at the image that emerged from the stone, expanding like a pool of river water. Before their eyes the serpentine ridge of the Black Mountains and, below, the galloping plains appeared. A young pigtailed warrior, wearing a leather falconer’s glove rode into the vision, and behind him swarmed a host of hundreds of thousands of horsemen, scattering yellow dust in their wake. They were armed with the C-bows of the Mongols and they ploughed through a wall of rock and brick as though it were merely loose earth. Zhu shook his hand, trying to scatter the image, and Master Yun grabbed his wrist forcing him to hold steady. But the image had passed, and the gemstone returned to its solid, inert swirl of opalescent saffron and brown.

The lieutenant gulped in horror and Master Yun nodded. “Yes. That was Altan, Esen’s brother.”

“We should have killed him when we had the chance. We should have killed him when Quan and I went to the barbarians’ camp to rescue Li.” Zhu glanced down at the ring on his finger. “What does it mean?”

“It means that the Mongols are already taking advantage of the turmoil in the palace. They are taking advantage of Chi Quan’s and your absences. And—” Master Yun stopped for a breath. “And it means that Altan plans to usurp his brother. We have no time to lose. Li must survive to give birth to the next Son of Heaven, Chi Quan must return to fortify the border walls and quell the barbarian uprising, and I must go to the Land of the Walking Bones and find the dragon’s rib.”