Master Yun continued his job of tracking. It was better to isolate the location of a danger than to wait for it to surprise you. The prints moved well beyond the stone forest of rust-coloured columns. Red sand lay all around and he squinted to control his focus, sucked in the desert air to gather his Chi. The air had turned breathlessly still, the sun white heat. He hurried and the footprints stopped. Exhaling, he waited. No movement. He turned with arms raised, sleeves sliding loose to his elbows, eyes fixed on the last footprint, and then saw a solid form rise from it. The massive bleached bones of some humanlike skeleton rattled to life.
“Master Yun. Its bones walk!”
“Silence,” the warlock said. “Don’t move.”
The poet’s split second hesitation cost him, and the Yeren turned from Master Yun. The bones suddenly sprouted muscle and fine white fur; the face contorted into laughter like a monkey’s. The creature had become visible and marched straight for the poet. Ho Teng ran. Fool! How had he lasted so long in the desert when he panicked so easily? Master Yun raised his hands and called upon the powers of dust.
The sands swirled and rose and slapped at the beast until it froze in terror. The warlock held his stance until Ho Teng stopped running. Master Yun lowered his hands and the sand settled, but the beast had disappeared. Now he knew what the Yeren looked like in its physical form. Another time he must make the creature visible and then trap it, but how? The sandstorm had only startled it into hiding.
“Go back to your pithouse,” Master Yun ordered. “I need silence to think.”
Master Yun spent the rest of the day meditating in the open. So engrossed was he in his inner focus that he felt no heat from the sun. Only when the bluish face of the moon replaced the white wheel of the sun did he open his eyes. Darkness fell, and he had not eaten for twelve hours. He rose but did not return to the pithouse. Around him the tall, stone columns no longer looked rust-coloured, nor did the sand at his feet appear red; all was varying shades of grey, black and white—especially the sky.
Stars throbbed in its vastness, a single light stealing his eye. The Emperor’s celestial body shone brazenly but for how long? Master Yun perused the night as though examining a pool of ink, shivered. He looked to his moonstone, and saw the Pole Star fall.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The Isle of Peng Lai and the Magpie Bridge
Zheng Min was alone, seated upon his mount, but the slinging arrows and screaming warriors had vanished. His crossbow had been aimed at Quan’s head, but the brigade general was gone. His horse stumbled and Zheng Min realized the terrain was grossly inadequate for a hoofed steed. He alighted and left the horse standing by the edge of the sea, its reins swinging loose. The sea! What sorcery had brought him to this godforsaken place? He strode to the bank, dropped to one knee and dipped a finger into the lapping waves, and touched a dribble to his tongue. Yes, salt; it was therefore some kind of sea. He rose to his feet, followed the arc of the landscape with narrowed eyes, and decided he occupied a stone island of pink and white quartz.
The beach was of rocky crystals dotted with smooth, opaque, water-rolled pebbles. Broad-leafed plants, variegated philodendrons sprouted from green oases between the stones, and red and yellow flowers bloomed from their centers. Massive trees, shaped like animals, rippled in the warm breeze. The sky was a liquid blue with hurrying white clouds that looked as if when touched the scene would smear like a watercolour painting. Zheng Min knew he wasn’t alone. He could feel the eyes of a thousand spirits watching him. What was this place that he had been siphoned into? Glancing up, he saw the stare of a giant lemur fixed on him, eyes large as cannonballs, shining like polished stone. Where had this beast come from? The last thing he remembered was a whirling mass of red and gold that engulfed both him and Quan, and then a sinkhole, then whoosh, he was gone.
The lemur blinked. Should he shoot it? The military governor raised his crossbow, but the animal simply grinned at him, and he scowled at its insufferable arrogance. How dare it mock him! His arrow flew and pierced it in the chest; the creature screamed bloody murder and lunged. Zheng Min ran, heart hammering. He plunged into the water and the lemur stood on the shore howling. So the big-eyed creature was afraid of the water, was it? It hunched on the rose-coloured bank, claws curled, hackles raised, fangs threatening to tear out its impaler’s throat. Ha! Who was laughing now? But Zheng Min could not stand in the cold water up to his waist forever. Already, he felt numb from the hips down. He thought to whistle for his steed, but at the first lunge of the lemur, the horse had fled.
After awhile the lemur got bored and lumbered away. Zheng Min lingered a few minutes more, then slogged his way out of the sea. The waves slapped at his boots, while seawater trickled from his armour.
The quartz sand cut like glass on his feet. The gnashing sound as he walked told him he’d need a new pair of boots before this ordeal was done. He followed the scattered blood-trail to make sure the beast was disabled, and saw that it was so. It had bled out. Is giant lemur good eating? He guffawed at his own joke.
He was famished, but not that famished. Skinning and gutting a giant lemur wasn’t exactly to his taste. He looked up, moved past the creature, before stopping in front of a shallow grotto upwind of the beach. He pulled his helmet off his head for a clearer view. So the beast liked shiny things just like children. In the center of the grotto was a pile of glittering stones. These pieces of quartz had sharp, bright edges, and sparkled like diamonds. Zheng Min hunkered down, placed his helmet on the floor, and heard a gnashing sound come from behind.
He jerked about, saw nothing, and returned to the lemur’s treasure. Mingled among the stones, something bright caught his eye: an oval jewel that blazed fire. It was as large as the gemstone that Master Yun used to wear on his hand. Red, yellow and blue colours stirred at the heart of the stone—brilliant, effervescent, quite magnificent. Zheng Min found himself drawn like he had never been drawn to anything else before. He placed his crossbow on the ground near his helmet, and plucked the jewel from among the pieces of quartz. The perfect stone was set on a band of pure silver. He shoved it onto his finger.
“I would not act so quickly,” a voice said.
He spun up and around, tripping over his feet, banging his skull on the roof of the grotto, and saw a black fox with nine silver-tipped tails. He hunched to protect himself from further injury, while a drizzle of red seeped from his head wound. The black nostrils of the vixen quivered as she scented his blood. His crossbow was out of reach, having been recklessly kicked aside when she startled him. He had only a dagger in his boot. Somewhere between Shanhaiguan and this pink island, he had lost his sabre. His heart quaked. I must smell like food, he thought stupidly. He grabbed his helmet from where it sat on the ground and snapped it onto his head.
Indeed, you do.
The smooth head of the fox was so black it almost appeared blue. The fur sweeping down skull and snout gleamed. The jaws were slightly parted to show the lower length of a pink tongue. White teeth flashed against indigo lips. Zheng Min gulped, dared not take his eyes from the beast. Someone had spoken, and logic dictated that it could not be this animal, so someone else must be on this island.
You are quite wrong. There are only us. You have killed the guardian of the Fire Opal. I thank you for that.
Zheng Min’s eyes widened like chestnuts. He tore off his helmet and watched its red tassel spin as the metal tumbled and scraped on the stony island. “Get out of my thoughts,” he shrieked, pounding his scalp. Then he sucked in a gasp when he realized what he’d done. That armour could have protected him from a facial attack.
Fine. “I am out of your thoughts.”
Zheng Min blinked at the beauty that stood before him. What a moment ago was a black fox with nine silver-tipped tails was now an exquisite woman dressed all in wicked satin. Her breasts were bared and she wore a mellifluous gown in the style of Jasmine. Her hair was platinum white and gleamed like the moon, her eyes yellow. Her perfume reeked of bitter ap
ple.
“I have waited for that thing to die, but it would not succumb to my magic,” she said. “As long as I am on this accursed island, my powers are weak.”
“Huli Jing,” Zheng Min said, and bowed. “I have met your kind before.”
“Jasmine, I suppose,” the fox faerie acknowledged. “I am Queen. My name is Dahlia.”
“What are you doing here?”
“That trickster of a warlock banished me to this infernal place. We are in Peng Lai. And though to mortals it seems a paradise, to me it is pure hell. I want that ring. Give me the gemstone.”
If she was as powerful as Jasmine—more powerful than Jasmine from what she told of herself—why couldn’t she take the gemstone from him? And why could she not leave this place? “I want out of here as much as you do,” Zheng Min said. “How did we get here and where is the way out?”
“You cannot leave without my help, mortal.”
“But I can leave?” Zheng Min pinched his brow in thought. But she couldn’t. Master Yun must possess potent magic indeed to banish her to this place. And some sort of enchantment must keep her weak and unable to leave. He glanced down at the Fire Opal. Was this it? Was this the key to the door? “Does Jasmine know that you’re here? I’ve heard stories about you, Dahlia, that your powers are even greater than hers. But it is obvious that I hold the key to our exiting this place. And it is also obvious that you can’t do a damn thing about it.”
She snarled, almost reverting back into the fox. “It’s the warlock. The war has made him strong. Stronger than he has ever been and stronger than he even knows. The Ming are losing the battle and with every death of Chinese soldiers, Master Yun grows mightier. I chose my timing poorly when I crossed him.”
“Tell me how to use this.” He twisted the gemstone on his finger. “How does it work? What are the magic words?”
“There are no magic words, fool. You must engage in a bargain, a kind of trade. With collateral.”
“What kind of collateral?”
“Your life for time.”
“You want me to trade with my life? No deal. And what is this prattle about time, time for what? What about time? And don’t threaten me. I could crack your spine with these alone.” He raised his outspread hands.
“You think? Ha.” She snorted. “Come with me and find out.”
She took him to another grotto, a larger one, and one that she obviously used for shelter. On the floor was an engraving, something he had seen before. The eunuch, Tao, Lotus Lily’s tutor, had a tattoo of such a symbol on the palm of his hand. During his torture of the eunuch, Zheng Min had watched the tattoo bleed black ink.
“So, you know what this is,” Dahlia said.
“There are many such believers in the villages. Not so many in the cities. I know that it is called the Taijitu, the circle of choice. On their deathbeds the believers ask for its image. It soothes them somehow.”
“And you are not afraid of death, Zheng Min?”
He opened his mouth. “How do you know my name?”
“The same way I can read your thoughts.”
That was one power she hadn’t lost when Master Yun had banished her here.
“Everyone is afraid of death,” he said, and lowered his head to study the two simple elements on the ground that formed the backward S—one side Black and one side White. “On his deathbed, the believer is asked to choose.”
“Quite so. What do you choose, Military Governor?”
So she knew his rank, too. Zheng Min scowled. This choosing of colours was gibberish. After all, he wasn’t dying. And even if he were, he wouldn’t waste his time on these unproven beliefs. “In matters of life and death, I do not think men have a choice.”
Dahlia’s yellow eyes shone with ancient knowledge and delight. It was uncanny. She knew his thoughts so why was she asking him? “If you understood the meaning of your choice, you would switch your mind,” she said. “Your soul is black, black like mine. To choose Black on top will lead inevitably to death—in my case, a living death. Do you have any idea how old I am? Of course, you don’t. Your mortal mind could not conceive such depths in time. Nonetheless if you choose Black, you will die soon and without honour, and in your case, that means an eternity in the fire mountain of Feng Du.” She raised her hand as he tried to object. “Don’t get me wrong. This is no purgatory I am talking about; you are not in the Etherworld awaiting judgement. You are on the Isle of Peng Lai, the shadowland where magic was born. This place is as solid, as real as your own body.” She traced a finger along his arm for emphasis, raising the hairs on his skin with pleasure. “Unh-uh. Let me finish. The deed is not done. The path is not set. You forget, you bear the gemstone of What Was.”
So he was right. This ring would get him out of here. “Continue,” he said. “You have my attention.”
“With the sight of the Fire Opal, you will be allowed to redress any wrongs that you have committed in this lifetime. And don’t tell me that you have committed no wrongs. Everyone has committed a wrong some time in life. The Fire Opal is dangerous in the hands of the wise. It can be lethal in the hands of the uninitiated.” She raised a smooth ivory arm to him, her smile mocking. “Let me show you how it speaks.”
At a small hearth where incense was burning, she bade him crouch beside her and turning his hand palm up so that his knuckles felt the heat, the stone warmed, his hand burned and he quickly withdrew it from the hearth. The colour of the gemstone intensified until it became a brilliant orange, and in the center an image formed and grew forth. Zheng Min saw a man, Chi Quan, in the public square of the Forbidden City tying a horse to a green pillar. The princess, Lotus Lily, walked to the chopping block in the middle of the square flanked by guardsmen, and as Zheng Min watched, he knew what would happen next. Quan mounted his horse, placed a hand on the scimitar sheathed to his saddle before transforming into a foreign soldier who beat off the executioner and the princess’s guards with his bronze blade.
This was a deed from the past. He looked up, met the eyes of the fox faerie queen, a small evil smile curling her lips. “You can change your mind,” she said quite serenely. “You are new to the game and do not understand the consequences.”
“Oh, but I do understand, I understand completely.” He paused. Then said, “What will happen to me if I choose White on top?”
“You’ll return to the Middle Kingdom as you were, unchanged, to live out the rest of your very long, but unaccomplished life.”
“And the Fire Opal? Can I take it with me?”
“No, the gemstone cannot leave the island if you choose White on top. It has no power in an ordinary life.”
“Can I take it back to the Middle Kingdom if I choose otherwise?”
Dahlia nodded. “Therein is the bargain, the collateral—but only for a time. You must understand that if you choose Black on top, if you take the Fire Opal, your days are numbered.”
“How many days?”
“That depends on how much good you do.”
Good? Why would a black-minded fox faerie queen keep a bauble that was infused with good? Zheng Min mused, smirked. What was good for one man was bad for another. “I choose Black on top.”
Dahlia smiled. He had made the choice she desired.
%%%
“Where am I?” Quan demanded.
He looked out across the strange bridge upon which he was standing to where a very plump, pink creature stood on the crest of the arc. Quan mused over his predicament. What was this—a smiling pig? The lower lip beneath the pug nose was thin and small, and curled at each corner in an expression of serene placidity. He glanced around, failing to understand where he was or how he could be standing here, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, with a pig watching him.
The sky was midnight blue and he was supported on some sort of overpass, but what exactly he was overpassing was a riddle. Stars vibrated in the endless dusk and one in particular shone bright while beneath the dubious bridge the night filled his vision.
“You have come to ask me the meaning of the universe,” the pig said.
Slowly comprehension broke through Quan’s confused mind. He had spent enough time with his comrade-in-arms, He Zhu, now a fledgling warrior-turned-monk, to learn a few things. Of course! This must be Chao, the Transcendent Pig. Quan racked his brain to salvage what information Zhu had divulged of him. Was he a god or simply a mythical figure? If he was a creature of myth what was he doing standing here, looking surreally lifelike? But if he was real, and he must be, as surely as Quan was standing in the breathless heavens, then he freely transcended time and space. Could he truly wander in and out of time at will? The most important thing Quan recalled from Zhu’s explanations was that the inscrutable pig was an invaluable source of answers.
But the answers would cost him in both time and patience. And he was doubtful of how much he had of either. Quan bowed low and said, respectfully, “I ask again, Master Pig. “Where am I?”
“Where do you want to be?”
“In the Middle Kingdom, outside the walls of Shanhaiguan.”
“And where do you think you are?”
“I do not know.” Quan looked about him at his unearthly surroundings, scanned below the precarious bridge and saw only more depths of midnight blue and more stars winking. “How is it that I can stand here and not fall off?”
Chao peered over the edge of the bridge. “Fall off of what?”
The floor of the bridge trembled, and involuntarily, Quan snatched at his balance willing himself not to fall prey to the vertigo. He pressed his boot deeper into the floor and noted its surface, layer upon layer of soft, smooth tiles like feathers, as black and rich as a magpie’s wing. He jerked back his boot. “What enchantment is this? The floor breathes.”
The Pirate Empress Page 37
