Lace and Blade 2

by Deborah J. Ross

  ~o0o~

  A rough gaggle of soldiers met Zeng He and his escort above the beach, armed with spears and short, curved swords. While their leather chest protectors and their clothes were far better than those of the fisherfolk, their eyes gleamed with envy as they eyed Zeng He’s well-armed and well-clad soldiers. Ethiope slaves led a horse litter furnished with brocade cushions and hung with silken drapes. Only the best for the daughter of dragons. If the stories were true.

  Zeng He closed his eyes as the gelding picked its way along a well-trodden track through the shade at the edge of the sand and said a small prayer deep in his soul. May I find here the one to restore Zhu Di’s health. The emperor’s dragon blood needed the love of dragon blood in order to survive, the oracle had said.

  The Emperor’s healers seemed to assume that sex would do, Zeng He thought bitterly. He hoped they were right.

  The path turned away from the beach, upward through the green twilight beneath the trees, into the foothills of the mountains that fenced the beach. Although well traveled, it was narrow and the soldiers scanned the shadows, their short bows in their hands, an arrow already on each string. Birds shrieked and darted among trailing vines and the dense, heavy air hung like a damp curtain against Zeng He’s skin. He pushed up alongside their guides. “How much farther?”

  “Just ahead.” The man jerked his narrow chin. “In the clearing.”

  A few moments later, they emerged from the humid embrace of the trees into a wide clearing backed by a gray rock face. Water spilled from a small crevice in the weathered stone, burbling into a shallow basin lined with pebbles and edged with green fern before disappearing into the lush grass that carpeted the clearing. Next to it stood a hut built of sticks, lashed together with grass and thatched with leaves. A garland of bright forest blossoms hung from the eaves of the hut above a sack of rice and a fat bunch of little red bananas. Three silver fish gleamed on a banana leaf beside a small cooking fire in a tiled hearth sheltered by a canopy built from saplings and roofed with more banana leaves.

  Offerings, Zeng He thought as he spied a pile of small red fruits in a crude basket made of vines. Thanks for an act of healing, a life saved. A wizened old woman in an embroidered dress crouched in front of the fire, poking at something in a stoneware pot. She jumped to her feet as the entourage filed into the clearing, and hurried into the hut.

  A moment later a woman emerged. Tall and slender, dressed in a simple white shift with a belt of knotted jade silk, long dark hair bound into a heavy plait at her neck, she stepped forward, hands raised. “You are seeking me.”

  She spoke perfect Mandarin and a shiver ran down Zeng He’s spine. She had not asked a question. “I am indeed.” He swung down from his gelding, handed the red leather reins to his lieutenant and bowed. “I bring you an invitation from the Emperor of the Dragon Throne, O dragon-daughter. To become the Emperor Yongle’s wife.”

  “He has to send his fleet to find him a bed mate?” A sad amusement curved the woman’s lips. “I would have thought he could find willing women closer to home.” She lifted her hand. “Enough. I know why you have sought me out.” She looked at Tsong’s nervous guards. “He has sold what he does not possess.”

  They looked away, tracing protective signs in the air with their left hands.

  “I do not choose to be the Emperor Yongle’s purchased amulet.” She turned back to Zeng He. “And he is mistaken. Rumor counts and recounts value and embellishes it with imagined gems. I will disappoint your emperor,” she said gently. “What dragon blood I posses is merely a thread, a trickle that allows me to heal the infant with a fever, an old man who has pulled too many heavy fish into his boat.” She met Zeng He’s eyes. “I cannot heal the Emperor. Without me, those infants may die, the old men put their nets aside.”

  He saw only the faintest flicker of dragon gold in her dark eyes. Less, even, than Zhu Di himself possessed. Zeng He bowed again, his heart a stone in his chest. “A delicate vein of gold on the surface may run deep.” He spread his hands. “I am not here to make choices, Dragon Daughter.” He bowed again. “I am here to carry out the orders of my emperor.”

  For the space of three heartbeats, she stared into the tree shadows beyond the clearing. “If I say no to you, people I have helped will defend me to their deaths. But they are no match for the Great Fleet of the Dragon Throne.” She turned and spoke briefly to the woman, then turned back. Bowed her head. “I submit to the will of the Dragon Throne. Unjust will though it be.”

  The old woman began to wail in a high, keening voice.

  Zeng He nodded to the Ethiopes and they led the horse litter forward. He stepped to her side, offered her his hand. “I am sorry,” he said very softly. “I am merely the hand of my emperor.”

  She turned her face away from him and stepped up lightly into the litter, settled herself among the embroidered cushions. Zeng He jerked his chin at his warriors and they formed up ahead and behind the litter, with the ruler’s guards out in front, where the warriors could all watch their backs.

  This was too easy. Zeng He told himself that it was only easy because the people who loved her were the fishermen and the ruler loved the rubies more. But the back of his neck itched with premonition as they wended their way back down the mountainside toward the beach. As they reached a jutting promontory where the trail bent back on itself like a snake, a bird cried a shrill note. A moment later, with a grinding rumble, the hillside above them seemed to lift and move. Men shouted and scrambled as a foaming torrent of muddy water thundered down the steep hillside through the trees. The lead horse reared, squealing, as the water foamed about its feet and fell, tangling in the litter’s traces. The rear horse panicked now, backed frantically, fighting the harness as the slave leading it tried to hold it.

  Zeng He leaped from his gelding’s back and dashed toward the litter just as a black rain of arrows fell through the green light. One of Tsong’s guards fell shrieking, an arrow in his chest, while another arrow took the leader in the throat. One thudded into Zeng He’s padded vest and he felt the bite of the arrow point in his shoulder as he grabbed for the reins of the panicking horse, searching the tangle of silk and harness for the dragon daughter.

  She had leaped clear, stood ankle deep in the last of the flood, the hem of her dress brown with mud. Behind him, Zeng He heard his men shouting, heard the hiss of arrows leaving the bows. He reached for the dragon daughter’s arm, but a slender figure leaped from the shadows.

  A youth, his black hair bound back, warrior-style, blocked Zeng He, a curved blade in his hand. “My sister did not choose this path.” His voice rang like a hammer on silver. “The village idiot sold what he does not own.”

  “He did that.” Zeng He’s own blade whispered from its scabbard and even before the syllables had left his mouth, it flickered like lightning toward the youth.

  Faster than thought, he blocked Zeng He’s thrust, beating the blade aside lightly. “Run now,” he said in a conversational tone. The healer scooped her skirt up about her hips, and was gone like a deer, vanishing in a white flicker into the tree shadows.

  Zeng He cursed and leaped forward, thrusting, parrying, pushing the youth back and back. The youth was fast and equally skillful and clad only in cotton overshirt and loose trousers, not hampered by heavy padded armor. In moments, both of them were running blood from minor cuts. Zeng He thrust, at the last instant changed target and sliced at his opponent’s thigh. The youth slipped aside, but his heel caught on a patch of trampled greenery and he staggered, leaving himself for an instant open.

  Zeng He drew the path that led to the youth’s heart blood. For an instant, time stood still and a thick, moist silence filled the space beneath the tree canopy, heavy as a held breath. Their eyes met. Dragon gold shimmered like fire in the youth’s eyes and Zeng He’s breath caught in his throat.

  Then time started again, his sword was leaping forward and with a wrenching effort, he diverted it at the last second. It sliced a shallow furrow across
the youth’s chest and Zeng He staggered with the force of his misdirection, his own foot slipping now, skin tightening with the expectation of the hot bite of a blow.

  He fell hard to one knee, but the blow didn’t come. The youth had spun, was racing lightly into the tree shadows in the direction his vanished sister had taken. The fight had ended. Zeng He’s men were collecting the spent arrows, checking wounds.

  “Looked like ten of them.” Shin Gao, his lieutenant, approached, a thick worm of blood crawling down the side of his face from a gash where an arrow’s blade had grazed him. “Zhin Ah took an arrow through the shoulder and Ma Huang got one across his thigh—just a gouge, he can still walk.” The lieutenant jerked his chin. “Every one of those sorry guards is dead. This was a score getting settled, I guess.”

  “That, too.” Zeng He sheathed his sword, shaded his eyes against the beams of midday sun lancing down through the tree canopy. “Let’s see where our timely flood came from.”

  It was a clever trap, they found. A small stream had been dammed up and a diversion channel dug to send the water crashing down across the trail, once the dam had been removed. Zeng He examined the muddy boulders and sections of tree trunk scattered by the flood. “This had been prepared for some time.” He stared thoughtfully into the tree shadows. “I do not think it was aimed at us, particularly.”

  “Smart, for a bunch of robbers.” Shin Gao spat thoughtfully. “I wonder how they loosed the water. Took a lot of strength, eh?”

  “Indeed.” Zeng He looked at the massive boulders and the trunks thick as a man’s waist. “A lot of strength, indeed. Perhaps the mountain shook it down on us.” He headed down the slope to where the rest of his warriors waited with the horses.

  ~o0o~

  “They are outlaws, filthy pariahs, who prey on all.” Spittle gathered at the corners of Tsong’s mouth as he strode back and forth in the audience chamber of his stone-walled complex. “You will destroy all of them when you retrieve the stolen bride.”

  Zeng He raised an eyebrow at this peremptory order, but the ruler was too preoccupied with his display of outrage to notice.

  “How dare they insult the Dragon Throne?” With an effort, the small man got his emotion under control and a crafty look replaced the rage in his eyes. “Of course, you will send your warriors after them to wipe out this smirch on the honor of the Dragon Throne.”

  “I do not think that your inability to control robbers in your domain in any way tarnishes the Dragon Throne,” Zeng He said mildly. He watched Tsong flush. “Tell me about this band of robbers.”

  “They are trash, evil men who live on the sweat of their betters.” Tsong waved a servant bearing a tray forward. “They attack upstanding citizens on the road, stealing their clothes, their purses. Will you try some of these preserved fruits?” He gestured at the platter the servant had set out on a low wooden table. “They are rare, imported, and are said to give one long life and vigor and fertility in bed.” His eyes widened suddenly and he went pale. “Of course, long life is the greatest benefit, and vigor in bed highly overr—”

  “I am quite aware that I am a eunuch. Don’t fall all over yourself trying to make amends. It makes you seem more stupid than you are.” Zeng He looked down at the tray of glittering ruby fruits. “I am impressed with your wealth. I was mislead by the apparent poverty of your people.”

  “Those who work hard gain wealth. Those who are lazy do not.” The ruler’s teeth were clenched so hard that Zeng He imagined he could hear them grinding. “It is only right that I take my share. It is expensive to protect a realm.”

  “Or a poverty-stricken village.” Zeng He turned his back and left the audience chamber without another word.

  “It’s an insurgent group.” His lieutenant, An Hu, waited for him outside. “One of our men speaks the local dialect. He has been spending time in the local tavern.” He made a face. “I tried the local rice brandy. Stay away.”

  “I’ll take your advice.” Zeng He smiled thinly as they walked along the shell-paved street toward the harbor and the docks. The small market still bustled, although the buying and selling was tapering off as the day heated up. He paused at a thatched stall where an old woman sat cross-legged on a grass mat surrounded by piles of mangos and small brown dragon’s eye fruit. Zeng He scooped up a handful of the small fuzzy globes and dropped a bronze coin in the woman’s outstretched hand. She grinned at him, nearly toothless, holding the coin up to study the marks.

  “It’ll be worth ten times its value here.” An Hu rolled his eyes as the woman tucked it carefully down the neck of her shift, still grinning. “We’re turning bronze into gold, eh?”

  “Too bad that doesn’t work at home.” Zeng He offered the palmful of dragon’s eye to An Hu as he peeled one crisp, sweet fruit with his teeth. “Our petty tyrant is correct. I need to retrieve Yongle’s bride-to-be.”

  “I already have the squad ready,” An Hu said crisply. “The robbers used arrows, but I’ve seen a few spears about, so we should expect spears, too. No matter whom we ask, nobody knows anything about our woodland robber.”

  “So he’s popular.” Zeng He bit into a second fruit.

  “It wouldn’t take much to be more popular than the posturing monkey.” An Hu spat peels in the direction of the ruler’s stone compound. “Do you really believe that this local witch, or healer, or whatever she is, has dragon blood?”

  “A trace.”

  An Hu gave him a sharp look. “But you would know, I suppose. You having grown up with the Emperor the way you did, I mean.”

  Only years of facing death together on the bow of the foremost ship in the Xiafan Guanjun permitted his lieutenant the layers of implication in that simple statement. “You are correct.” Zeng He drew a slow breath. “I did grow up with the Emperor of the Dragon Throne and yes, I can see dragon blood when it flows through the heart.”

  An Hu bowed his head, lifting a fist briefly in apology. “I’ll go make sure the squadron is ready to leave.”

  “Not yet. I have preparations to make.” Zeng He frowned. “Tell our smith to heat the forge. We’ll go after our popular outlaw and his sister in the morning.”

  “They could be two kingdoms away by morning.” An Hu sucked in his cheeks.

  “I doubt they will be.”

  An Hu saluted smartly, spun on his heel and strode off.

  Zeng He looked down at the crushed fruit in his palm. Dragon’s eye. Supposedly the real ones could show the future and more.

  Some futures he did not want to see.

  Zeng He tossed the remains to the ground, wiped his palm on his surcoat and stared, unseeing, at the crudely fashioned wall of the ruler’s compound. We did grow up together, didn’t we, Zhu Di? The dragon’s blood that burned like fire in the now-emperor’s eyes had scorched Zeng He’s heart and soul.

  “You gave me my name,” he whispered. “Ma He became Zeng He, but my heart belonged to you long before then. Even now, when you must be emperor and I must go voyaging.” He blinked, realizing that he was the focus of curious stares. Shrugged and followed An Hu’s path to the harbor, to prepare for their foray.

  ~o0o~

  They left the horses at the ship. Forest trails were no place for horses and speed would not aid them. An Hu had finally found a local guide, although the squalid, stoop shouldered man with the shifty eyes did not impress either of them. If he wasn’t leading them into a trap, Zeng He thought sourly, he probably didn’t have any idea where the robbers hid and would merely lead them down random trails until they all got tired.

  At first, the going was easy, the air cool in the early dawn. The trail, obviously well used, followed the contours of the land as it traversed the feet of the mountains on its way to the next village along the coast. Their guide turned off on a narrower path that led nearly straight upward into the thickly forested shoulders of the peaks.

  The trail narrowed and the thick air cloaked them, humid and heavy in the lungs, muting even the shrill call of the birds. Like
a held breath, Zeng He thought, and scanned the forest twilight for movement. His men walked silently, arrows nocked to the string, vigilant. They stopped when the sun was overhead, ate dried meat and fruit, drank sparingly. The trail curved back on itself, rose steeply through thinning trees and ancient gray boulders to emerge briefly onto a ridge of stone thrusting out through the trees like a huge, arthritic knee. Late afternoon sun scorched them and insects chirred as they scuffed through the thin, tough grass growing between the rocks.

  Here, the trail ended.

  “I thought you knew where the robbers hid.” An Hu leaned over their cringing guide, backing him toward the weathered precipice. “Unless they have wings, they didn’t come this way.” He raised his meaty hand.

  “I heard...I know...this is it.” The guide scrambled backward, heel catching in a ridge of stone, falling hard onto his backside. “It has to be....”

  The stone beneath him moved. It rippled like a horse’s flank and like a horse bothered by flies, flicked the guide from his rocky perch. He arced out into the void, clawing at the air, his thin scream trailing after him.

  The entire ridge shivered now, rolling like the deck of a ship in a storm. An Hu fell, grabbing for the rock. One of the warriors clawed at stone, young face desperate, teeth bared with effort. A comrade grabbed for him but his hand closed on empty air and the warrior fell, silent. Zeng He clutched the stone beneath him as it bucked and heaved, like a young colt, trying to throw its first rider. An Hu grunted as his grip came loose and he rolled down the suddenly sharp slope toward the edge.

  Zeng He let go, lunged for An Hu and grabbed the man’s thick wrist. The stocky warrior slid over the brink as the stone shivered beneath them. Zeng He felt himself sliding, skin shredding from his elbows and arms as he struggled to hold An Hu back.

  “Let go, fool!” An Hu’s dark eyes burned into his. “We’ll both go.”