The Pirate Empress

by Deborah Cannon

  Fong nodded, well pleased. “Of course, you accept. Now, rise. No wife of mine will be seen in such rags. I will have the men bring you new clothes and draw a bath so that you can wash off the evidence of our disagreement. Let it not be said that your husband is a cruel man. I am not, unless pushed to it by insolence. You will not suffer the taste of my whip again if you obey me. I do not wish to break you of your spirit. Only do not test me when my temper is hot.”

  “Fong,” Li said with respect. “I agree with all you ask. I want to be your wife. I ask only two things in return: that you do not punish the pirate woman, Madam Choi. She is as a mother to me. When we marry—and I hope that the wedding will take place soon—she will be your mother-in-law.”

  “I will not have a pirate for a mother-in-law!”

  “She turns to piracy only out of need. Her real value is in her knowledge of medicines. There is none other like her. One day we may need her gift of healing. She saved my life when the fox faerie poisoned me. She kept me from miscarrying when my son was still in my womb. Is that not a life worth preserving?”

  Fong’s eyes rotated half a turn. “Fox faerie?”

  “Come come. Someone as worldly as yourself must have encountered the devilry of the fox spirits before?”

  “Personally? No.”

  “Well, I’m sure I will have no trouble introducing you to her as I have no doubt I have not seen the last of her. She wants me dead. It seems everyone wants me dead.” She clasped her hands together, bowed low. “Only you, my lord Admiral, do not wish me dead, and for that I am grateful and will serve you as a good wife should.”

  Fong squinted at her suspiciously. “What of the second thing? You have one other request?”

  Li nodded. “You are a most powerful man, you have the respect of the Emperor himself. He will do anything you ask because you have made him famous in the world beyond. All travellers speak highly of the Ming ruler because of you. With this power, you can help me to save my son. He was abducted by the warlord Esen, who believes my son to be the tool of his death.”

  “How old is your son?”

  “In a few days, Wu will be five years old.”

  Fong rolled back his head and snorted. “The great Mongol, menace of empires, is afraid of a baby? That’s a laugh.”

  “Yes. But he means business. He will kill Wu unless I find him.”

  “And you believe he has taken him to the Forbidden City, to your father? Then he is safe. The Emperor will not harm his own grandson.”

  “The warlord will use him to barter for lands or riches or a portion of the Empire. I don’t know which. But he has hunted me down even before Wu was conceived.”

  Fong seemed to believe her and sent her away to bathe her wounds. He agreed to leave Madam Choi alone provided she came aboard and displayed her medicinal skill on Li. The pirates had not been quite caught off-guard, and some of their men were slain at the Navy’s attack, but all hostilities ceased at Li’s request. Madam Choi was escorted aboard, and the other pirates were stripped of their booty and their captives, and allowed to go free.

  Madam Choi brought her medicine kit with her and soothed Li’s wounds with a salve made from herbs and honey, wrapped a clean bandage over the lacerated shoulder and told her that the nick on her cheek would heal without scarring if she continued to apply the salve to it everyday for seven days. What did she care if it scarred. It would be a reminder not to get into such a scrape again. In the privacy of Fong’s quarters, Li told Madam Choi what she and Zhu had learned of Esen’s escape, and how Zhu suspected a plot to barter with Wu’s life and the magic gemstone.

  “What would you have me do?” Madam Choi asked. “I could sail north to the Yellow Sea, find a wide tributary and seek out Esen and kill him.”

  “No. Fong has agreed to take me to the Forbidden City himself, and present me to the Emperor—as his wife.”

  Madam Choi’s eyes bulged wide, before shifting to the bandage on Li’s injured left shoulder.

  Li’s eyes followed. “I did not agree to wed him out of terror. He could whip me a thousand times and I would not marry him if I didn’t want to… But I want to.” She held out her hand to block the pirate woman’s involuntary jerk forward. “At the time, and even now, it seemed like the best and fastest way, first, to get the Imperial Navy out of your hair, and, secondly, to get to the Forbidden City and find Wu. As wife of the Emperor’s Supreme First Admiral, the Emperor will hesitate to have me executed.” She paused, and then added quietly. “Especially if I am carrying His Majesty’s grandson… Also, and this is a slim also, I am hoping that Fong will fight to the death for me as the mother of his unborn child.”

  “You can fight for yourself,” Madam Choi said with scorn.

  Yes, she could fight for herself, but there was more at stake than just herself. “There is a time for the sabre and a time for reason.”

  Madam Choi smiled. “Your sojourn in the Etherworld was not wasted.”

  “I sincerely hope not. I still do not know what I have learned from that detour, nor do I understand what I am meant to do. I only know that this way I keep you whole, and I have safe and swift passage to Beijing.”

  “I can single-handedly slay this White Tiger and frighten away his followers.”

  “I know you can,” Li said. “Now, you won’t have to.”

  She rose to cover her bare shoulders with the clean red wedding robes that Fong had left for her, and Madam Choi ambled to her feet. “Why did you come back, Li, and allow yourself to be captured when you could have escaped with Lieutenant He Zhu and chased down your son?”

  Li leaned forward and kissed Madam Choi on the cheek. “You had no idea that the White Tiger had spotted you.”

  She guided Madam Choi back on deck, and into a waiting serpent boat manned by three sailors to be rowed back to her junk.

  Fong came to stand beside her, a look of pure puzzlement creasing his not ugly/not pretty features as he touched a fingertip to the place where the whip had seared her cheek. “It is almost healed,” he said. The idea of which was preposterous. “How can that be?”

  Li stroked the nearly smooth patch of healing skin. “Did I not say she worked miracles?”

  Her eyes darted back to the sea and she seized Fong’s military tunic by the sleeve. “Call off your man.” One of the sailors sent to escort Madam Choi to her pirate junk had pulled a dagger on her. “I have no doubt that, although she is outnumbered three to one, she will kill all of your men. Do you want that?”

  Fong’s gaze followed hers. He grinned. “I think I want to see this magic healer of a female rogue live—for the time being.” He motioned at one of his men to pass him the blowhorn. “It is done. Now come. The captain is waiting to wed us. I want you in my bed, as my wife, tonight.”

  %%%

  She combed out her black hair until it shone like newly poured ink, let the locks fall over the shimmering red gown. It was decorated with pink gold, white jade and silver pearls along the neckline and sleeves. Her slippers were of black silk and fortunately were only slightly snug. Fong knew that her feet were not the Three Inch Golden Lotus standard of perfection, but she was taking no chances and tucked them under the long red dress that just covered her toes. Li’s scorn for the degrading practice of foot binding must never surface while aboard this ship. She must walk as a noblewoman, floating and weightless like unreachable treasure, for that ideal evoked pity in men, and undying love. But for Li, deformed feet were nothing more than the crippling of a woman’s will and her actions, and a lifetime of suffering and subservience. Mothers told daughters that tiny feet were the one aspect of their beauty they controlled; however, that only applied if you thought pain and suffering was beautiful.

  Li was not unpleasantly surprised by the appearance of her husband-to-be, who wore his official dress uniform, grey tunic and black satin trousers. The tunic had broad sleeves with black trim and cyan circular collar, and around his neck was black silk ribbon and at his shoulders were double-eyed peaco
ck feathers of turquoise and black. Only officers who had performed outstanding service to the Empire were privileged to wear double-eyed peacock feathers.

  The ceremony was short, and witnessed by several of the admiral’s highest-ranking officers. They served a feast of fresh caught fish, dried scorpions skewered and dipped in a peppery sauce, apples from the Heavenly Mountains and preserved, salted plums. Li had not eaten this well in six years.

  And then, the moment she dreaded came. In his quarters, after the celebration, she accepted his jade spear. There was no romantic foreplay, no sweet words. The man was a brute and took his pleasure like a beast. If she possessed a stone brick to do to him as she had done to Lok Yu, she would have gladly, but there was no escape from this ship, which was already heading north. Even if she summoned the Ghostfire to hide her while she stole a rowboat, at the speed the warship was sailing, the rowboat would have been left in the wake before she ever boarded it.

  He rolled off her and lay silent, breathing hard. She detested the way he smelled after sex. His odour was sharp and animal-smelling mixed with something not quite as pleasant as the sea. When he left the bed, he pulled on a robe and sat opposite her in a chair, and for several minutes was quiet, before he spoke.

  No moon shone tonight, but the faint gleam of stars illuminated his face in an eerie light.

  “So, Lotus Lily, why did you marry me?”

  “Because it was your will,” she said, still lying on her back and staring at him in the dark.

  “No. That is not the reason. You take a slap like a boy and a lash like a man, a strong man. Tell me the truth. Why did you marry me?”

  “Because you are the White Tiger.”

  “Do you know why they call me the White Tiger?” he asked.

  She shook her head, wondering if he could see the movement in the dark.

  “They call me the White Tiger because we are long-lived in my family. Some stories say that my ancestors lived for five hundred years. Before they die, they spend their last years with their black hair striped with brilliant white. I am the last of my line.

  “Where I come from, the people feared us. Even the Manchus—those savage Mongols on the fringes of Manchuria, those barbarians no better than Altan and his horde who only separate themselves from their western brethren by a corruption of our name—fled at the sight of us. We were chased into the barren lands to eke out a living in the wasted mountains, but my mother took me to the coast and found a merchant sailor willing to harbour me. You see, when I was born, my hair was all white. I was a freak and my village shunned me. Later, as I grew to boyhood, my hair turned black.”

  “So, I am right to honour you,” Li said.

  “I don’t trust you, Lotus Lily.”

  “And should I trust you?” she asked. “You were ready to kill Madam Choi even when you promised me you wouldn’t.”

  “Did I make such a promise? She is alive and free. And I hope I will not regret granting you her life.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Lotus Lily’s Dilemma

  Admiral Fong understood a mother’s love for her son. His own had risked all to see him leave their land of persecution, and today, in the grey mountains of Manchuria the last of the White Tiger folk were gone. There was only him. I will outlive you, he had said. But will he? There were things he was ignorant of, things Li had not disclosed. Like the fact that her grandfather was a warlock and her mother a sorceress.

  Did that mean she, too, would be long-lived? Her mother had died young. Decapitated, her remains had been burned to a crisp. Master Yun, on the other hand: How old was he? If the stories told about her grandfather were true, then he had lived before the dynasties, before the warring states of China united.

  Li placed a hand on her swollen belly beneath her furs, to block the wind. Already she was five months pregnant. Rough seas had impeded their voyage to the central coast of Hwang-Hai, the beginning of the Yellow Sea. Li inhaled the briny air, her breath tinged with winter. The Imperial warship was still, except for the pounding waves that rocked it against its anchor. The admiral had gone ashore with his men to procure supplies and to enjoy a much-needed shore leave, but because of her delicate condition, he had refused to take her with him. She contemplated stealing a boat and going ashore on her own. From there, could she find a horse to carry her north? Too long, she had spent on this lug of a ship, and the gods only knew where her boy was. Fong had promised to get her to Beijing before her pregnancy showed, and now her belly protruded like a cannonball.

  The time for action was past. The admiral and his men were returning. She could see them on the white-peaked sea: four rowboats laden with supplies. She watched as they reached the warship and boarded, before Fong saw her and waved her inside. It was cold and he was right; she shouldn’t risk making herself ill. It was bad enough that this unborn babe was hindering her moves.

  Fong entered their quarters and tossed his furs onto the berth that they shared, and came to her where she sat preparing his tea at the table by the porthole.

  “You were gone long, husband,” Li said.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “I’ve felt worse. When I was carrying Wu, I was sick for six months. I suspect he disliked the diet of coarse red rice and fried rat.”

  He returned her smile, sat down across from her, and picked up an almond biscuit.

  “You look thoughtful, husband. What’s on your mind?”

  He screwed up his eyes as he peered at her face; she had no idea how old he was. He could be three hundred years for all she knew, but she kept silent. Some things—most things—she knew not to ask. The only way she could tell that he was not near the end of his life was because his hair remained black.

  Li poured the tea. Tiny jasmine flowers and leaves spilled into the cup, and settled at the bottom in a nest of white and yellow. A fragrant scent followed that, in Li’s condition, nauseated her. Fong stared outside the porthole, and then turned back. “Something interesting happened when I went to the dockside tavern for a drink. A very beautiful woman came to our table and sat with us. She was almost as lovely as you. At first I thought she was flirting with me. She wanted to tell me my fortune.”

  “Oh?” Li creased her eyes in amusement. “And what wonderful future does she see for you, my lord Admiral?”

  “It was not my fortune she foretold. She asked me when my child was due.” Li’s heart beat a little faster, and when she failed to react he said, “She read the tea leaves.”

  “You had tea?”

  “No, she had tea.”

  Li was finding it a little difficult to breathe now. “She didn’t follow you, did she?”

  He stared at her, curious at her remark, while she strained to look outside. “Why are you so nervous, Lotus Lily?”

  Li clasped her hands together under the table to still their shaking, swallowed, though there was nothing but dryness in her throat. “What makes you think I’m nervous?”

  “Your eyes are afire. I’ve seen that look before. You had that look the day you learned you were carrying my child. Now tell me what you know of the Black Tortoise.”

  Li licked her dry lips before dragging her eyes wide to stare her husband in the face.

  “You know that name,” he said. “You know of the prophecy.” His eyes grew hard as he acknowledged her reluctance. “Don’t lie to me, Lotus Lily.”

  “I have heard of a prophesy concerning the coming of the Black Tortoise—that one day, The Black Warrior of the North would rise out of Manchuria and save the Middle Kingdom from its enemies.”

  “That warrior is my son,” Fong said.

  Li stared. Then she laughed. He was not amused, and her laughter died into a nervous titter. Madam Choi had marked her boy with the symbol of the Black Tortoise. The Chinese Empire was Wu’s birthright, and as soon as possible, she must escape this floating prison.

  %%%

  The succeeding morning, Admiral Fong gave his captain orders to set sail. There was a cha
nge of plans. He was taking Li to Manchuria to give birth to his son, the future heir of the Middle Kingdom. Panic flooded Li from neck to knees. A sharp kick in her belly reminded her how soon the spawn of Lao Hu Fong would usurp the legacy of Chi Quan’s boy. She ran up on deck, loosely draped in her winter furs. There was a pain in her belly that must be appeased.

  “Please, Husband,” she said. “I must go to the island of Si Hwang and find the herbs to strengthen your baby boy.”

  “What’s wrong with him?” he demanded.

  “When he kicks me, it is very weak.”

  “You have only been carrying him for five months. That seems to me normal.”

  “But you want a strong boy.” Li smiled imploringly. “I must go to Si Hwang. Send a rowboat to take me.”

  “All right. If you need these herbs, you may get them. But I will take you myself.”

  “No. You mustn’t waste your time. You have more important things to do. Any of your sailors can row me to the island, but they must wait while I find the herbs and brew them.”

  “Why can’t you brew them back on board ship?”

  “Because their potency will be diminished. As soon as they are cut, they must be used.”

  The bruised sky, ominous with cloud, promised snow or rain, and she followed her escort to the rowboat. The current was with them, and it took a mere twelve minutes for the two oarsmen to reach the island. As she climbed onto the bank, she realized she was within sight of the ship. She told Fong’s men that she must go into the woods to unearth the herbs and that they must wait on the beach. Their presence—because they were male—would hinder the effect of the herbs.