The Pirate Empress (40 page)

Jasmine slapped the dripping, wooden cup of water from her hand. She recoiled as water splashed into her face. She apologized profusely. Had she been Chinese, she would have been kowtowing desperately.

Peng, who stood among the pillows and coverlets, crawled onto her knees. Then changed into a golden fox kit with nine, flaxen, white-tipped tails. The nurse shot a terrified glance at Jasmine.

“Your charge is a fox faerie, my dear, and not an ordinary one at that. You should know better than to leave a hungry fox kit alone.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

The Vermilion Bird

The camp was unguarded, and long shadows stretched across the ground. A woman carrying a skin bucket of goat’s milk moved close beneath the wall without seeing him. Children played in the open area in front of the tents. Fires smouldered, food cooked, and the smell of roasting meat sent jets of saliva into his mouth. He Zhu could not remember the last time he had fed. No time to think of his stomach. Where were Jasmine and her daughter? Where was Altan’s tent? He racked his brain trying to remember the layout of the camp. Back when he and Quan had rescued Lotus Lily from the Mongols, Esen was their ruler. If his brother was as arrogant as the former warlord, he too, would keep the biggest and most opulent tent for himself. That would be the one with the best view—the one situated on the driest and most level part of the ground, and located where all could see their chief and be awed.

Only one tent fit this description. It was pitched near a small body of water crowded with yellow reeds. The door was covered with a large, luxurious wolf pelt, the colour of melting silver. The red ball of the sun was almost gone, angling over the mirror of water, illuminating movement inside the lantern-lit tent. Two silhouettes, both seemingly on all fours, hovered over a prostrate form.

He Zhu slowly lowered himself from the stone and earth brick battlement. He went to check on his horse, saw that it was calm and fed it a handful of grass. He gave it a final pat and adjusted the crossbow on his back. Momentarily, he rested his eyes and tried to recall the vision of Jasmine and her little one, the discomfiting sight that he had witnessed in the Tiger’s Eye. All he remembered was the black mocking eyes of the fox faerie as she mouthed the words:
Zhu, I have a surprise for you!

He glanced quickly at the gemstone on his right hand. What more could it tell him? He had found Jasmine. He gathered his muscles together and made a flying leap for the wall, caught the top bricks and hoisted himself up until he could see the Mongol camp. Most of the women and children had gone inside their felt tents. The livestock—bony cattle with torn hides, wiry goats and dromedaries—grazed nearby in the failing light. The stink of the animals mingled with the delicious flavours of cooking meat.

A few crumbling stones rattled below the heels of his boots, and he darted a swift look at the damage he had caused to the wall, before sending his eyes back to the campsite. Dark smoke curled against the blackening sky, and a woman met his gaze from where she tended a fire. He could see the outline of her braids. She was only a shadow amongst shadows, and he knew that was how she perceived him, too. She turned back to the fire and poked it with a stick, and Zhu took the opportunity to glide over and into the Mongol camp. He slipped from shadow to shadow until he stood outside Altan’s tent, and only a second’s misgiving stayed his hand, before he went in.

What he saw when he flung aside the silver wolf pelt made him gag. He just managed to hold back the bile that threatened to shoot from his gut. Two golden foxes feasted on the living body of a young woman. He could see that she was still alive by the way she struggled to reel in the pink-grey entrails that the foxes had sliced from her stomach. She had no voice to scream; her throat had been cut.

At this close range, a clean shot with his crossbow would have blown the fox clear out of the tent and blasted a hole the size of a man through the cloth. The least he could do was put the suffering soul out of her misery. He whipped out the sabre that was sheathed at his hip and jabbed it into her heart. Blood spurted. She twitched, and then lay still, and the startled foxes scattered. The larger of the two swished its flaxen tail, black eyes disturbingly familiar, and its golden pelt transformed into smooth, pale skin. Red lips curled above a gleam of white teeth, a few flecks of blood marring the whiteness.

Jasmine licked her lips, savouring the gore, noticing the raw horror on He Zhu’s face. She shot a casual downward glimpse at the dead woman and shrugged.

The slaughter by the fox faerie’s feet was more odious than anything he had seen on the battlefield. The smell was rank and the sight surpassed even the chilling image of the white-haired monk he had abandoned in the jungle all those years ago at the request of Master Yun. The spectacle was incongruous with the hangings of silk and satin, the red and purple silk pillows and the brocaded cushions that blanketed much of the floor. Jasmine stood, fabulously indifferent, garbed in a fancy costume that reeked of the latest in Beijing fashion. It crackled like pure satin with a Phoenix Tail skirt and Pink Cloud cape.

He Zhu composed his voice so that it mocked. “You dress like you were expecting a royal contingent from the Forbidden City.”

“My poor lost love,” Jasmine said, irreverently. “How I have missed you.”

“Missed me?
Missed me?
Jasmine, what has become of you? I have never seen anything so revolting in my life.”

“Nothing has become of me. I am what I have always been. You were just unable to see, thanks to me.” She waved her hands about like she was mimicking the incantations of a warlock. She sneered. “The dress offends you?”

“That is an outfit meant for a Chinese princess, not … not a costume for a …”

“For a what? Good enough for that fluff of a custard tart, Lotus Lily—but not for me? What is it that you think I am, my champion? You have always known that I was
Huli Jing
, fox faerie.”

His eyes flickered briefly to the disembowelled nurse. “But I didn’t know you were a murderess and a cannibal!”

Jasmine scoffed. Then she sent up a trill of hilarious laughter. “A cannibal! What is a cannibal? You eat the meat of beasts. And so do I. Barbecued pork or Mongol nurse, what does it matter? The only difference is in our choice of beast.” She watched his face contemptuously. “So, you don’t think I deserve to sport the garments of a Chinese palace lady? Fine, have it your way.” She ran her hands down over her curvaceous body and instantly the Imperial finery gave way to snowy white satin. “I feel more comfortable like this anyway.” She flung her gleaming veil of black hair over her shoulders to reveal a pair of naked white breasts.

Zhu looked away. His eyes landed on the fox kit, prancing at her mother’s feet. She looked identical to the golden fox that was Jasmine’s demon form, except that she had nine white-tipped tails and was considerably smaller. The sight repelled him. He raised his eyes to the beautiful woman mocking him. “You have tortured me long enough; I want the truth. I saw you in the gemstone. And I know that you know I have it. So don’t even deny that you know of what I speak. What did you mean when you said, ‘I have a surprise for you’? I saw you. I saw you mouth the words with your deceitful lips. Is she mine? Did I sire this abomination?” Heat suffused Zhu’s words and reddened his face. His fists clenched and his heart drummed. Would she lie? He thought back to the last time he had bedded Jasmine years ago. Surely this foxling could not be his, so much time had passed—certainly more than nine moons. But then, Jasmine wasn’t human. He had no idea how long before birth a fox faerie slept in her mother’s womb. Fox faeries were long-lived. Perhaps their sitting time with child was long, too.

“What does your heart tell you, Zhu?” She moved close to him, her hips swaying. The fragrance of jasmine flowers followed. He closed his nostrils to the scent of her enticing perfume, but his eyes failed to leave the white breasts that undulated with her seductive movements. The sleek black hair, curling at the ends, slipped over one shoulder. “You miss me, Zhu!” she breathed.

He
did
miss her. He missed the touch of her soft, porcelain-smooth skin, the full red lips that made him weak. The black eyes that bored into his own, and could read his heart. He missed the way she used to excise the frustration and fear he harboured when he was alone. She touched his cheek; let the tip of her tongue wet her lower lip.

“No!” Zhu shouted, tearing away from her. “You will not possess me again.”

Jasmine swung away, furious. “All right. Be like that.” She turned back, glared at him. “Why are you here if not for me?”

“You
know
why I am here. I came here for
her
.” He dropped his eyes to the fox faerie kit. She had sated herself and was now licking the blood from her paws. His throat contracted, threatened to open and spew the dry heaves. No, he thought. Impossible.
I couldn’t possibly have sired a bloodthirsty brood like this.

Jasmine’s smile mocked. “Like mother, like daughter. And a little bit like her father—before he claimed the monk’s gemstone.”

Zhu stared. “So, it’s true. The child is mine.”

“Peng,” she said, glancing down at the foxling. “Show your father what a beauty you are.”

The fox faerie kit looked up with mischief in her eyes. She pranced around Zhu until she stood near the door of the tent. He knew if he was to do the right thing, he must do it now, before she had a chance to take on her human form. Jasmine was watching her daughter, mirth in her eyes. The little one was showing off, defying her mother’s request just to test her parental limits.
This one is evil
, Zhu reminded himself.
And I am the creator of the evil.
He plucked his sabre from the eviscerated nurse, hoisted the blade into the air and fell to his knees, bringing steel down on the foxling.

A violent
pin
g stopped his blade. Peng rose to her haunches and before his stunned eyes, transformed into a pretty little girl. The blade had not touched her. Not because of any magic she or her mother had conjured, but because a bronze scimitar blocked his swing.

Zhu looked up into the face of a huge warrior, dressed in the garb of Emperor Qin’s army. The soldier was horsed and triggered a flutter of memory that refused to fully emerge. Their blades were crossed over the head of the little girl.

“Would you kill an innocent because of a mistake you made in the past?” the warrior asked. He removed the blade and the scraping sounds of bronze on steel rang clean. He re-sheathed the sword beneath his battle tunic and alighted from the familiar red-brown steed. Xingbar whinnied and Master Yun transformed from an ancient warrior into a grey-robed warlock, while outside the tent carrion birds screeched. He Zhu looked past Master Yun to where the wolf pelt had been flipped over the roof of the tent, and saw the green-headed desert vultures circling against the half wheel of the moon.

“So Warlock,” Jasmine said defiantly, hands on hips. “You couldn’t stay away from me. Where have you been? I’ve missed our little squabbles.”

“I have no business with you, Jasmine,” Master Yun said. “You are a drop in the skin bucket of the Mongols. Events are moving fast. And you are no longer my greatest concern. A greater evil boils and hovers around the perimeters of the Middle Kingdom. Dahlia has returned. I cannot see her. And I know that you can’t either. But I can feel her plotting. If she’s allowed to continue her plotting, she will bring down the Empire.”

“Good. It’s about time she came out of hiding. And once she is free—and I know it’s because of you that she is trapped—we’ll join forces. We will summon the Powers of Nine. Already I have the tribes of the north at my call. We will bring the Middle Kingdom to her knees.”

“Your nomadic lords may have won the battle for the walls. But His Majesty still lives. And there are those in the south who will not bend to your will.” Master Yun turned his back to her. “Come, He Zhu,” he said, leading Xingbar through the doorway of the tent. “I must speak with you alone.”

“One moment.” Zhu grabbed Peng by the wrist.

“Let go of her,” Jasmine ordered. “Or I will blow your head off with my magic.”

“Your magic does not extend to incendiary effects,” Master Yun said, spinning on his heel to face her. “I am not a fool, Jasmine, and neither is He Zhu. You have no power over us. Wait here with your foxling. We will return.” He ordered Zhu to release the girl and follow him out of the tent.

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“Their confidence grows,” Master Yun said. “Soon the Mongols will camp on the south side of the wall and creep toward the capital. When that day comes, the Empire will be tried to its limits. His Majesty demands his subjects call him Emperor Tongtian, Heaven’s Pass, even as he cowers beneath the crushing weight of imminent siege.” He sent a sidelong glance at Altan’s tent where the shadows of Jasmine and Peng could be seen removing the carcass of the nurse to the opened door. “And you waste your sword on a babe.”

“There was a time when I would have killed any number of them without hesitation for such blatant, unforgivable insolence,” Zhu said.

“And now?”

“And now, I see only women and children going about their tasks of daily survival. I am torn, Master Yun.”

“And yet you did not hesitate to act when it came to Jasmine’s foxling.”

Zhu’s voice trembled with distress as he answered. “I fear that I am responsible for her entrance into this world. And therefore, I am responsible for her exit.”

Master Yun sighed, gestured to Zhu to sit on the ground in front of him and passed the lieutenant a bladder of water. When he was done drinking, Master Yun took a swig. “We do not know that the foxling is anything to fear.”

“She is a fox faerie and the spawn of Jasmine. I
am
afraid.”