The Pirate Empress

by Deborah Cannon

  “You saw images?”

  “War and treachery.”

  Treachery? A big word for such a small boy. “Come, Wu. I must get you out of here before these guards awaken.” Zhu pried off another two bamboo bars until the opening was big enough to reach through and hoist Wu out of the window. He pinched the Tiger’s Eye between his fingers, plucked the loop off the boy’s mussed hair and draped it over his own helmeted head. “I must keep this,” he said. “For now.”

  The boy was too slow and too obvious so he must stash him somewhere until he found them a horse. A group of vegetable carts sat parked outside the stables. Zhu seized the boy’s hand and dragged him to the closest one. He moved some winter melons and root vegetables out of the way, and made a small cave for Wu to hide in. “Stay quiet and still. I’ll be back soon.”

  He Zhu buried the boy’s protruding feet with more root vegetables and a giant white radish before ducking into the stables. He must take a plain horse; a gelding with no markings would serve. He sighted the perfect steed, a drab, brown animal with unremarkable features, and moved deeper into the stables to saddle it. He was cinching the last buckle, when a squeal like a pig came from outside. He ran to the stable doors and saw five sentries dragging Wu out of his hiding place, vegetables flying. The boy refused to go, and he chucked the giant white radish into the face of one of his attackers. The soldier swore, snatched Wu by the forearm, and backhanded him into the vice-grip of his comrade.

  Five armed soldiers against one. I don’t stand a chance. But that had never stopped He Zhu before. He fled back inside, leaped atop the gelding and kicked its flanks, whipping out his sabre. He yanked down his helmet’s visor just as he shot out the door. Straw went flying. The guardsmen swung to face him. His plan was to swoop down on Wu and snatch him from his captors, but two of the sentries cut him off. He wheeled, tried again, but the soldiers’ blades battered him.

  The official search for Wu was on and they had opened the gates. Now that the boy was found, the guards were trying to close them to seal the rescuer in. Zhu flew through the closing gates, a second away from the horse’s tail being clipped.

  So close, he chastised himself. He had wasted time interrogating the boy. They had lost precious minutes. The watchmen must have revived shortly after he and Wu escaped, and raised the alarm.

  But at least he had this. He fingered the gemstone with his free hand, while the other gripped the reins like his very life depended on it. The Tiger’s Eye revealed what was happening at any given moment. With this he would find Wu again. Meanwhile, he must lie low, read the gemstone’s visions and learn the fate of Esen.

  Hair flying out wildly behind him, Zhu rode in the direction of Master Yun’s temple. When he reached the frozen gardens, he alighted and led the young gelding up the path, then paused for a moment to catch his breath. The shrine with its stone fountain was empty of worshippers, all was dusty and quiet, no one had been here in many a year. Zhu tread lightly, leading the gelding inside, and tethered him to a stone inside the secret chamber behind the Jade Fountain.

  When the horse was stroked down and quiet, Zhu returned to the outer temple and stared at the jade lily pads and marble fish in the fountain’s basin. Water swarmed down the rock wall, filling the basin to just full, before reabsorbing into the stone. He drank deeply from the basin, then re-entered the secret chamber. Wearily removing his mantle, he crumpled cross-legged to the floor, and slid the gemstone from around his neck. At the same moment, his horse whinnied. Zhu rose to grab its bridle. “Easy there,” he whispered. “What troubles you?”

  A strange sound, like the batting of wings, came from outside, and he tucked the gemstone inside his mantle and listened.

  “Hush, now.” He calmed the agitated gelding, patting it one more time before returning to the door of the outer temple.

  Pine trees curled in the cold wind, and miniature mandarin bushes perched stiffly beneath their drooping branches. On some of the bare stems, hard green buds were starting to form.

  Zhu made for the giant koi pond. At this hour, no one should be about. He shivered, having left his mantle inside, and swallowed dryly. What had made the noise? He wandered to the edge of the pond, looked down. Starlight turned the water into a flickering black mirror. At first he saw nothing, then flashes of bright orange, yellow, and white—the markings of dark-speckled fish.

  The batting sound again. He looked up and gasped.

  On a rock overlooking the dark, half-frozen pond stood a crane, its smooth white neck shimmering like satin. Below it sat a ring of pale pebbles. In the center, the water was so black it looked like oil. Shadows moved as the trees above bent to the wind, and a mist clung strangely to the surface.

  Zhu wriggled in his own skin. Be calm, he ordered himself, lest the vision vanish.

  The mist cleared and Zhu held his breath. The crane was gone. A giant bird with the head of a golden pheasant, the body and tail of an azure peacock, and the legs of a crane stood in its place. As it batted its wings and landed in the water, Zhu’s mouth formed into a silent scream. He recognized it from the artists’ paintings that hung in the Emperor’s palace. Shrouded by the dusky light, Fenghuang, the shape-shifting Chinese Phoenix, spread its long graceful wings to touch the pond’s icy banks from end to end.

  If Esen the Mongol could tame the beast, then the owner of the Tiger’s Eye could, too. He Zhu whistled a soft cooing sound, the same kind of sound he imitated to soothe an agitated horse. The giant bird stopped swimming and floated on the shimmering surface, cocked its head and blinked at him. What language did the creature understand?

  “Come,” he said in the Emperor’s Chinese.

  Fenghuang blinked again.

  Did it understand Mongol? Esen had made it obey him, and Zhu knew a few words of the barbarian’s tongue. “Come to me,” he commanded in stilted Mongol.

  The phoenix opened its beak and shrilled.

  “No, no. Come back!” Then immediately he shut his mouth, glanced quickly from side to side and saw he was still alone. The sound of batting wings lifted into the cold wind and the giant phoenix sailed into the night.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Zhu admonished himself, and strained his eyes toward the vanishing bird.

  If only he had not been so reckless. That bird would have made a magnificent steed. He could have rescued Wu and escaped by flight, with no sentry the wiser.

  He Zhu exhaled, freezing now, his battle tunic flapping in the wind. He shook his head and walked back to the Koi Temple. In his excitement at discovering Fenghuang, he had forgotten his purpose: Li’s little boy. He must still locate Wu and plan his rescue. He returned to the secret chamber, resumed his position on the ground, and fumbled in his mantle for the Tiger’s Eye.

  The stone was inert, yellow-brown, on a plain gold band. He cut the thread on which the ring dangled and slipped the band onto his right index finger, and closed his eyelids. He rubbed the stone three times with his thumb, mumbling, “Where are you, Wu?” before he opened his eyes to a yellow-brown swirl that billowed into a hazy vision. The haze parted. But it was not the image he wanted to see.

  A sturdy warrior lifted wolf furs from the entrance to a tent with an air of ownership. A child giggled, and on the floor of the Mongol tent, she and a beautiful, half-naked woman reclined against red silk pillows and a gold satin coverlet. The child rolled out of her mother’s arms, and playfully buried herself among the bedding. The warrior watched as a golden foxling replaced the girl, and scampered out from between two pillows, flicking nine flaxen tails tipped with white.

  It had taken only an instant to recognize the mother. And the Mongol warrior? Who else? He was Altan.

  The image of Jasmine grew huge. Exotic kohl-lined eyes gleamed seductively. Red lips curled over a flash of white teeth. She knew he was watching her! She rose and placed her hands on her belly. Zhu, she mouthed, I have a surprise for you!

  Zhu snapped shut his eyes, and then opened them to see that he had slapped his left hand o
ver the gemstone. The vision was gone, but the memory of it remained. What was she saying? That the child was his? He jerked himself out of his stupor. Had he sired a fox faerie kit?

  Then he shook his head until he could feel his brains rattle. Was the half-girl/half-fox innocent or dangerous? What did it mean? He dared not look into the gemstone again. What he really wanted to see was where they had stashed Wu. After that he needed to find Quan.

  If His Majesty wanted to torture the boy for information they would have done it by now. But Zhu was certain that torture was not in Wu’s future.

  He was almost certain His Majesty would not have Wu killed. He wouldn’t even have the warlord killed. The Emperor needed all the weapons he could muster, and Esen still controlled the mystical Fenghuang.

  As for Wu, he was the Emperor’s grandson. His Majesty would welcome a male heir. At once a message must be sent declaring Wu’s royal blood. That would keep the boy safe for now.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  The Fall of Yulin

  “Stop!”

  He Zhu reined his horse in, forcing it to box the air. “Are you crazy?” he shouted at the figure that had stopped him in mid gallop. “You could have been killed by my horse’s hooves.”

  The dark shadow standing in his path lowered its arms. It moved toward Zhu’s horse and raised a hand to take the bridle.

  “Tao?” Zhu asked. “What are you doing here? How did you get here? I thought you couldn’t leave the crypt for long. How did you make the trip from Xian if you can’t tolerate daylight?”

  “That is for me to know,” he said. At the suspicion on Zhu’s face, Tao relented. “All right—if the movements of an undead man are that important to you…” He recounted his journey, how he travelled by night on the empty dirt roads. By day he hid in caves and vacant farm buildings and sacred temples where no questions were asked. “Several times I risked blisters to my already blistered hide when I could not find shelter. But I had to warn you.”

  “Warn me of what? It’s too late if you are referring to Esen’s insidious plan to abduct Wu.”

  Tao shook his head. “I came to warn you about the vision in the gemstone. Do not seek Jasmine. She wants only to trap you. If you go to her she will take your soul, and bind you to her will. Do not believe her lies.”

  “How do I know they are lies?”

  “She is Jasmine. Huli Jing. Her whole existence is based on lies. Listen to me Zhu, if you go to her, she will recapture your soul and possess you.”

  “She won’t. Now, get out of my way. I must go to her and learn the truth.”

  “You know the truth, Zhu. Look into your heart. Jasmine seeks only to own you.”

  “I am not interested in the fox faerie. There’s another I wish to meet.”

  Tao moved another step closer until the gelding’s head rested on his shoulder, and as he stroked its mane, miraculously the fitful animal calmed. “You are lonely, Zhu. You have always been lonely. That is why the fox faerie was able to impose her will on you. You don’t remember, but it’s true. For a while your friendship with Chi Quan soured. Neither of you knew whether you could trust the other. But Master Yun enslaved her and released you, and now she is free and wants you back. And you have no friends to counsel you because you are an outcast for choosing justice over complicity.”

  “Yes, and look at where it’s gotten me. I am useless here. I must go and learn whether I am a father. If I have spawned evil, then I must destroy it. As for Wu, he is safe, I’ve made sure of it.”

  “Fool,” Tao chastised. “Your nephew will be killed.”

  “Killed? No. The Emperor would not—” Zhu bit off his own words. The significance of Tao’s rebuke opened his eyes like a siphoning cloud.

  “Yes, my boy. You have a nephew. A family.”

  “What are you talking about? And why am I wasting time talking to a dead man? Get out of my way I say!” Zhu dug in his heels and his horse whinnied, pummelled the night with its feet, almost punching Tao in the head, but still it stayed rooted on the spot.

  “It senses my will and knows you mean to send it into danger. Listen to me, Zhu. I ask only that you hear me out, then do what you will.”

  There was no way he was getting out of here unless the hopping corpse released his horse. Zhu flapped the reins in frustration but the horse only brayed like a donkey. He relaxed his grip on its flanks, letting the muscles of his thighs slacken. “All right then. You win. Speak.”

  “Don’t you want to know who this family is?”

  “I have no family,” Zhu said. “I was raised by monks—or so they say. I have no memory of my early years. My earliest recollections are at the palace where Master Yun trained me to be a warrior. I have no mother and no father. I am an orphan. I have always been alone. Until Chi Quan befriended me when we were boys.” He snorted in impatience. “But what has this got to do with anything? I have a quest to complete.”

  “And yet, you are torn.”

  “I am not torn. I have made my decision. I must seek Jasmine. Wu will be safe.” Zhu’s eyes suddenly widened until they hurt. “Wu really is my nephew? But how?”

  “He is. And now that you know, you must stay and save him from the evil that awaits him in the Forbidden City.”

  “Wu is safe. Just now I sent a message by way of a respected merchant I encountered as I left the city gates. I paid him well with silver. He’ll deliver the news to His Majesty in person.”

  “That messenger was waylaid. Murdered by Zheng Min. He doesn’t want the Emperor to know that Wu is his grandson. He has designs on the throne himself.”

  “How do you know this unless you are party to the plot? You’ve been watching me. You’re a spy!”

  “Ah Zhu,” Tao said. “Forever suspicious; forever impulsive. For once in your life, go with your heart. Listen to what it tells you is true.” Zhu caught the gleam of white as Tao’s eyes rolled in exasperation. “Fine. You think I’m a spy? Good. Because I am. I’ve been hiding in the dungeons of the palace. And yes, I have been watching. I have been watching you ever since you arrived in Beijing, and I have been watching His Majesty’s men. They are fools, most of them. For now the dungeons are empty. They never lock the doors there because no one who enters ever leaves. The white bones of the dead are testimony to that.”

  “You left,” Zhu said, his voice acerbic. “When Zheng Min tortured you to get the truth of Lotus Lily’s whereabouts, you escaped.”

  “They thought I was dead.”

  “And so, now you are. But that was not the question I wished answered.” He Zhu sucked in a long breath. “How is Wu my nephew? And please don’t tell me that I am His Majesty’s long lost son, else I shall laugh—or spit—in your face.”

  The mockery fell short on the hopping corpse, and though the stars shed small light on his features, humiliation stained his face. For a long moment he was silent, and when he finally spoke, his voice cracked. There was scorn and recrimination, but also regret. “Ling She, the former empress, had a dalliance with a man other than her husband. This happened three years before Lotus Lily was born. So do not worry. The Emperor is not your father. Back then His Highness still led his armies against the northern invaders himself. He was gone a long time. Even when he was home, he sorely neglected her, preferring his concubines to his wife. The Empress was lonely and took another to her bed. You were the result of that union.”

  “Then why does no one know of this?”

  “Someone does.”

  “Yes, well, obviously, that someone is you,” Zhu said caustically. “Who else of the palace’s eunuchs and women knew about me?”

  “A concubine. She played midwife. Her name was Dahlia, but she disappeared shortly after your birth. I think, perhaps, the Empress paid her off to disappear and speak nothing of it. You have to understand, Zhu, if the Emperor knew of you, Ling She would have been executed.”

  “But she could have pretended that I was the Emperor’s son!”

  Tao’s face grew hard, and even i
n the night blackness, Zhu sensed the eunuch’s disapproval. “Is that how you would have liked it to be?”

  No. But the knowledge of an heir would have stabilized the Empire. In all honesty, it would have saved Ling She from the horrible death that had claimed her anyway when she failed to produce a male heir.

  “Your mother was a proud and courageous woman—a true empress. She refused to lie to her husband. She just didn’t tell him the truth. And he never asked. Many young boys were brought to the palace household to be raised as warriors.” Tao flicked a hand dismissively. “You were simply one of them.”

  %%%

  Peng was a perfect child and like all fox faeries, she was growing fast. She knew better than to turn into a nine-tailed fox kit during Altan’s strategic meetings. She slept soundly now on her bed of Chinese silk coverlets and pillows, while one of Altan’s officers waved a stick over a parchment map of the garrisoned walls northwest of Beijing; they were due to take Xuanfu and Datong.

  Altan paced the floor. Jasmine watched him and his generals from the corner of the tent where they had fashioned the nursery. His spies had returned from their sortie into the enemy camps. “It’s simple,” one of his generals was translating, “the signal towers have codes for communicating numbers in an enemy approach: one fire and one cannon salvo for up to a hundred raiders, and two of each for five hundred to one thousand. Three for up to ten thousand. And five for well over ten thousand.”

  “We can make them think we are less,” Altan said.

  The general agreed and pointed to the map of the tower placements. Some were twice the height of the wall, others nine meters high, and others half that high. There were two main types of towers: solid platforms for watching and fighting, and hollow towers where beacons were lit and supplies stored, and where some of the men slept.

  “We hit the platform towers,” Altan said. “They offer no shelter. Soldiers can only reach safety by heaving themselves up the walls on ropes, and in that position we can pick them off as easily as nesting ducks. We trick them into thinking there are only a few hundred of us, but we hit them with thousands.” He bent to roll up the map. “Put this somewhere safe. It will come in useful.”