The Pirate Empress (19 page)

He hugged his arm to his chest possessively. “Master Yun gave this gemstone to me.”

“Warlocks do not possess tiger’s eyes.”

“He said it belonged with me.”

The pirate widow frowned at the lieutenant. What Quan knew of the Taoist gods told him that only holy men were able to use the power of the Tiger’s Eye.

“You are not a monk,” she said, eyeing Zhu’s armour, the red tassel on his helmet and the Imperial armband. “I know of only one man who owned a gemstone the quality of which you have there. I have not seen him in many years. He is an ancient man who lived among the water people for a while before he became the guardian of the Lei Shen temple in Xian village. His name is Eng Tong.” The pirate woman’s eyes darkened and her face became fierce. “Did you kill him? Do you kill all who are not like you?” She shoved a finger just below his right shoulder where the armband of yellow triangle and green dragon hid part of his scar.

“I did not kill him,” Zhu said. He glanced briefly at the deck then fixed his gaze on Madam Choi’s fiery eyes. “But you are right. The old monk is dead. Master Yun and I found his body at the edge of the jungle. Someone else killed him. Master Yun believes it was
Huli Jing
, a fox faerie.”

Quan turned to Zhu, his voice soft. “Then she’s still nearby.”

Zhu shook his head. “I think she is gone. I think she killed the old monk even before she poisoned Lotus Lily. Why, I don’t know and neither does Master Yun, but he insisted on leaving the body to the creatures of the jungle. They would give him a cleaner burial than any man could, and it was how he would have wished it. Now, he is one with the natural world which he so revered.”

This didn’t sound like Zhu at all. The words pouring out of his mouth were the rhetoric of a holy man. Quan frowned. Did Zhu realize that the fox faerie and Jasmine were one and the same? “Zhu,” Quan said. “
Huli Jing
is Jasmine.”

Madam Choi tore her eyes away from Quan and watched Lieutenant He Zhu. When Zhu failed to respond, she nodded. “Your captain is right. The fox faerie haunts the night, and travels over mountain and plain. She has visited the Waterworld before. Each time she comes, she comes in the guise of a beautiful woman. Fortunately for us, she can’t pilot a boat. I have heard of the powerful Jasmine, the Emperor’s Number One Concubine. I am convinced that
Huli Jing
and she are one and the same.”

Pain clouded Zhu’s eyes, the accusation sinking in. “I know Jasmine is a fox faerie, but she would never kill anyone.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Quan said, trying to sound comforting. “Jasmine belongs to the Emperor. You’re only lucky that His Majesty has never found you out. He would not only oust you from the army, but he’d force you to commit suicide to save his own face.”

Of course now, the point was moot. Zhu could never return to court and the Imperial service because he had been seen rescuing a prisoner.

“I have done what I came to do. I brought Lotus Lily the antidote and I pray to all the gods that she will come back to life. But my work here is finished. I go to find Jasmine. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Quan grabbed Zhu by his wet mantle, which was still draped over his arm. “You mustn’t do that. If you confront her, she will bind you to her will.”

“She’ll do no such thing.”

Behind the lieutenant’s head, the dawn broke red. Zhu glanced at the early morning light and turned to go.

“A minute,” Madam Choi said, her icy voice stopping Zhu in his tracks. She stood, her black, looped pigtail stiff as her face. Her legs, clad in a blousy skirt beneath a man’s battle tunic, were planted apart, one hand at her side balled into a fist. The other held a dagger in a death grip. “You still have a debt to pay to my family. You killed my husband, the father of my children.”

“That was war. And I was only doing my emperor’s bidding. Please don’t make me kill you, madam, because I don’t want to.”

Madam Choi flicked her wrist and the dagger flew, pinning Zhu’s right tunic sleeve to the junk’s mainmast. Zhu clutched his arm, but the blade had overshot his flesh.

“You think I missed the last time you were here, Lieutenant? Had I wanted you dead, you
would
be dead. I did not miss then, nor do I miss this time. The only reason you are still alive is because you wear the monk’s gemstone. If it’s true that Master Yun wants you to have this ring, then there must be a reason. And so I will not kill you today. But I repeat. You have a debt to pay. You will take me to Eng Tong’s body and I will see for myself. Then I shall judge whether you tell the truth. Even so, if you are telling me the truth, that does not erase the debt.”

She went to Zhu, yanked out the dagger to release him, and glanced uneasily over the bulwark to the shore. The implications of her own command struck her deep and she glowered, for she was one of those who, unlike her son, never set foot on land.

Zhu nodded. He would take Madam Choi to Eng Tong’s remains if that was her wish. He rubbed his right bicep, below the scar where she had sliced open his arm the first time. Satisfied that only his dignity was hurt, he let his arm swing to his side. He eyed her thoughtfully. At one time he would not have waited to be released; at one time, he would have torn the dagger from his sleeve, and whipped it straight back at her; he would not have missed.

“A moment, if you please. I can prove that this gemstone belongs with me.” He fixed his eyes on the headwoman of the sea gypsies. “Do you know what the Tiger’s Eye can do?”

Madam Choi nodded. “It shows the events of the present. I have seen Eng Tong perform this magic.”

“And if it is magic, then I—a mere lieutenant of the Imperial Army—should not be able to draw on its power.”

“Had I thought you could do such a thing, I would have demanded a demonstration of you from the beginning.” She frowned suspiciously, then gestured at Zhu and Quan to come closer. “Show me.”

Zhu rubbed the surface of the gemstone three times, gazed into the swirl of saffron and brown, and the stone came to life. Like liquid it stirred and moved until an image appeared, tiny at first, encased in the globe of the gemstone, but then, like an expanding river the image grew until all three observers could see the massing of Altan’s warriors. Women and children screamed as men armed with only farm implements hacked at the horsed invaders. Altan, his raised fist encased in a falconer’s glove, hewed them down, his hundred-pound C-bows spearing them where they stood. He set fire to their homes, and chased their chickens and hogs into the flames to roast. Behind the village, the beacons of the border wall burned with a violent light, but there was no one to answer the call to arms.

Quan made a tremendous effort to pull his jaw back from its gaping position as he stared in awe. “How are you able to do this?”

Zhu shrugged. “I wish I knew.”

“Does the gemstone speak the truth?”

“Master Yun swears it speaks the truth. Altan has his sights on the Forbidden City. He has delusions of godhood. If he cannot seize the Middle Kingdom and bend her to his will, he will raze His Majesty’s palace to the ground and build a new capital.”

“He can do this?” Quan asked, astounded. “Even Esen who has been China’s nemesis for nearly a decade has failed to do this, though heaven knows he has tried.”

Zhu sighed wearily, again sounding totally unlike himself. “A warrior’s life is short. Esen grows old; his time is almost spent. The Mongol tribes do not love Esen the way they love his brother. They have united under him like they have never united before.”

Quan scowled. If he stayed here, he would sit and wait inactive for days while Esen’s little brother burned the Chinese countryside. Much as his heart ached at leaving Li, sooner or later he would have to. There was nothing left he could do for her.

“Then I must return to the north and defend the frontier.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

The Transcendent Pig

Li lay on her back. Everything was black inside her head. Then all flashed bright. The world turned brilliant and new, the air smelled clean, and green grass swished in the soft breeze. Dewdrops glinted on flowers that grew in colourful clusters in geometric patterns, flower shapes so sharp and precise they reminded her of Japanese origami. Was that where she was? On the mystical island of Fu Sang that some called Japan? And where was Quan?
I swear I can hear your voice.

A moment ago her limbs had refused to respond, but now everything seemed to be working. She rose to her feet, wiggled her fingers and toes, and raised her head to walk among the sweet blooms. Her footsteps made imprints on the dew-fresh grass. Then she was stopped by a large standing stone in the centre of a vast garden with the Taoist symbol of the Taijitu. Carved into its surface were the White Tigress and the Jade Dragon. As she stared at the strange garden stone, the engraved symbol began to change its shape; the figures of the animals swirled, transforming into two simple elements. In its new form, the Taijitu resembled a backward S, one side black, the other, white. Li touched her fingers to her lips. She had seen this emblem before. It was a tattoo that Tao use to wear on the palm of his left hand. In all the years she had known him she had requested no explanation, for she had thought him goofy because of his religion. Now, the symbol fascinated her as it moved, spun first one way, then the other.

“The choice is yours,” a voice said from nearby.

Li jumped, whirled to confront the voice, looked out across the garden, and then sent her eyes downward to see a very plump, very cute, smiling pink pig. Could pigs smile? This one seemed to have that ability. Its lower lip, beneath an adorable pug nose, was thin and small and curved at each corner. The serenity of the pig’s face mesmerized her.
Can pigs speak?
She glanced around swiftly, but there was no one else around.

“White on top and Black on the bottom or the other way around; Black on top and White on the bottom. Which will it be?” the pig asked.

Li rubbed her eyes, flabbergasted.
Am I dreaming? Pigs can’t talk.
She inhaled, got her wits about her and stared the pig in the eye. “What
are
you or
who
are you?”

“Does it matter?”

She supposed not. What really mattered was: where
was
she? She hesitated, not wanting to offend the pig in any way—just in case he decided to leave and not answer her questions. After all, he was the only speaking creature she had encountered so far, and she didn’t want to lose the opportunity of discovering where she was and how she might return to where she came from. She cleared her throat and managed to ask politely, “Where am I, Master Pig?”

“You are here,” the pig said cryptically. “What does space and time matter as long as you exist?”

What a frustrating little creature! Yes, he wasn’t all that big, about the size of a half-grown piglet on Earth. Good heavens, what was she saying. On Earth? What made her think she wasn’t on Earth? This had to be some enchanted garden, near some religious temple, deep in the nether regions of the Middle Kingdom. She shook her head to clear her mind, blinked her eyes, but the scene before her remained placid and serene, and wonderfully colourful. She had no memory of anything just before she went to sleep, of where she lived or what she was doing before she woke up in this lovely garden and encountered the Transcendent Pig.

Transcendent Pig
. Why did she know that name? Had Tao mentioned the Transcendent Pig in his teachings while she was dreaming of being a warrior? Yes, yes. More of her memory was coming back. She remembered that Tao was her tutor, and he had mentioned something about a wise, all-seeing pig. She clapped her hands together in jubilation. The name of the pig was Chao. She racked her brains to retrieve what information she knew of Chao. He freely transcended the limitations of time and space, and wandered in and out of linear time because he had no need to regard it; but the most important thing she remembered from Tao’s lectures was that he was an invaluable source of advice. Warlocks and holy men throughout Asia sought the meaning of the universe by asking the Transcendent Pig.

Such advice would cost her—in time, if not in patience—for he answered to no force, natural or unnatural, and he spoke only when he wished and not at anyone’s will, answering or not according to his whims.
Goodness, what am I doing here with you?

Li turned her attention to the large, standing stone in the center of the garden, stared at the black and white symbol.

“White on top or Black on top?” the pig asked.

“May I call you Chao?” Li asked, interrupting the pig to delay her decision. She really had no idea what difference it made if she chose Black on top or White on top. In fact, she had no idea why this pig was asking her to choose at all.

The pig raised his heavy head, snorted. “So, you think you know my name.”

“That is what my tutor, Tao, used to call you.”

“So, you listened to his lessons.”

Li blushed.
Sometimes.

The pig noticed her change in colour but pretended not to. “Chao it is.” Chao turned his pig’s nose to the symbol of the Taijitu, and snorted a breath of misty air at the markings on the stone. “So, what do you choose? White on top or Black on top?”

“Why do I have to choose?” Li asked.

“You want the answers to the universe, don’t you? The meaning of life? Of death?”

Li shook her head. “I only want the answer to my destiny.”

“Then choose. I will make it easy for you, since you are obviously not a practised warlock or any kind of warlock at all. You’re a green sorceress perhaps. So, you will need help.” The pig proceeded to explain. “White on top is Early Heaven. You will return to the state of youthful mind and healthy body. Black on top is Later Heaven. It is the path the natural world wants you to go and will unerringly lead you to your grave.”

“Well, the only choice, then, is White on top,” Li said, offended that she might have chosen wrongly. And death was always wrong.

The pig’s pleasant expression did not alter in the least with her choice. “Are you sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure. I don’t want to die. I love Chi Quan, Master of the Horses, and I am carrying his son.”

“Ah, the child.”

Li frowned. “Why do you say it like that? As though it might be a bad thing. My son will be a brilliant general and a valiant leader. He is destined to save the Middle Kingdom from the wicked Mongols, and rule a long, peaceful reign.”

“Perhaps, perhaps,” the pig murmured. “Or perhaps, he will create a rivalry the likes of which the world has never seen. Maybe his love of war and killing will create another age of chaos, not unlike the period of First Emperor. Maybe he will rescue the Middle Kingdom from domination by the Mongol horde only to replace your emperor with a foreign power even more cruel than the warlord of the steppe.”

Li shuddered, turned her eyes back to the carved stone. “You speak in riddles, Chao. Speak clearly. Tell me what you mean. If I choose Black on top and White on the bottom, I will die and my son with me.”

“Then choose to live and take the risk,” an unfamiliar voice said. “That is your right.”

The strange voice had come from behind her, and she turned to see an ancient man with a frost white beard divided into two pigtails that hung from either side of his jaw, clad in a holy man’s robe in shining white with black trim.

“Who are you?” Li demanded. “Where did you come from?”

The ancient monk spread his arms and his wide sleeves luffed like bat wings, and from the center of his body, his limbs and head radiated to the four directions. “I?” he said, pointing to an ugly scar at his throat. “I am no more. And I come from nowhere. The time for me to choose has passed, but you still have a choice.” He stood with his arms outspread again. “Wood, fire, metal, water, all the things of the earth can still be yours. Turn to the east and you will see the cool spring and the Azure Dragon behind you. Look south; seek the Vermilion Bird and the hot days of summer. Come autumn, the White Tiger awaits you in the west. But in winter, go north with the water people and find the Black Tortoise.”

Li stamped her feet, frustrated. “I don’t understand a single thing you or the pig have said.”

Chao, the Transcendent Pig snorted. “She is not ready, Master Tong. The black poppy can still take her.”

“Not ready for what?” Li demanded, her voice rising to a shout. “Stop talking as if I’m not here.”

Chao squinted his small black eyes at her, while his forehead creased and his pig nose wrinkled. “That is the problem. Do you
want
to be here?”

“I want to go back to Quan.”

The ancient monk, whom the pig had called ‘Master Tong,’ nodded and slipped his hands inside his wide bell sleeves. “Then you must find a way.”

“How?”

“How did you come to be here?” the pig asked.

Li threw a desperate glance around at the lovely flowers and the soft wet grass. All she remembered was going to sleep inside the shelter that Zhu and Master Yun had built for her.

“Chao,” Master Tong said when Li was tongue-tied for an answer. “There are others who need your advice more than this girl. Leave her with me.”

The pig sighed, and walked to her with his four chubby legs and squinted into her eyes. She wanted to reach out and touch him to ascertain whether he was real, but he ducked, and stepped back. “Others await me,” he said. “Neither here nor there.” He vanished into a ripple of air, leaving Li gaping with her eyes wide and her mouth open.

Li shook her head, blinked her eyes. Where did Chao go?

But Master Tong thought nothing of the pig’s vanishing act, and he hugged his sleeves to his breast and forced her attention his way. “Chao speaks the truth,” he said, nodding his head and wagging a finger at her. “You still have the power to choose. Right now you stand in transcendent space, which is neither here nor there. I, on the other hand, have spun the Taijitu and have found it landed Black on top.”

Silence tumbled over her ears as his meaning became clear. “Then, you’re dead? If that’s true, how can I see you, talk to you?” A horrible thought crashed down on her, and she gasped, cupped a hand to her mouth. “You mean I’m dead, too?”

“As I said, you still have the ability to choose.”

“Then I’m
not
dead.”

Master Tong closed his eyes. Was he exasperated with her? He exhaled and raised his eyelids. “You are and you aren’t. Did Tao teach you nothing of transcendency?”

He had and he hadn’t. He likely had given her some sort of lesson, but as was her habit, she was probably daydreaming at the time and the result was what it always was—in one ear and out the other.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Li said. “You make as much sense as that pig.”

The expression on the monk’s face did not flinch. “Chao is and he isn’t.”

Li grabbed the sides of her hair, thoroughly frustrated and confused. Her scalp hurt from yanking her hair so hard. “Am I in Heaven?”

Master Tong gave her a straight answer for the first time since they had met. “No.”

Li glanced around her at the beautiful garden, at the blue sky over her head and the standing stone engraved with the Taijitu. Well, this garden certainly wasn’t Hell. It was the Etherworld then, something in between Heaven and Hell, neither here nor there.

“Are
you
dead?” she asked.

The ancient monk glanced down at his pale black-trimmed robe and the frost-white, double-pigtailed beard that trailed past each shoulder. He massaged the scar at his throat. “I believe so.”

If Master Tong
was
dead and she
wasn’t
, how could she cohabit the same space as he? It suddenly sank in that the old monk had mentioned Tao’s name earlier, which meant he knew Tao. Another thought descended. If she could see this dead monk, could she see Tao? Oh, if she could speak to him! “Is my tutor, Tao, here?” she asked, trying fruitlessly to keep the excitement out of her voice. She pointed to the standing stone. “Tao wore that symbol tattooed on his palm.”

The old man’s eyes drooped. Then he did know him! Master Tong did not answer immediately, but breathed slowly as though he were controlling his
Chi
. A sadness that seemed deeper even than her own overwhelmed him, and a tear dribbled down his wrinkled cheek and stuck in a crevice. But then his face lifted with a radiant glow. Something had occurred to him, something good. “No,” he said, quite confidently. “Tao is
not
here.”

%%%

Had Li’s eyelid twitched? Was she lost in some dream? Madam Choi followed Quan’s gaze. “The antidote is working,” the pirate widow said. “But it will be another few days, at least, before she awakens.”

He didn’t have another few days. In that short time, Altan could be at the gates of the capital. Quan rose from Li’s bedside and glanced at Zhu.