“Don’t call me that. I have not heard that name in years. The last time I was called that, it was by a man I despise.” Li quivered with emotion as Quan stiffened. “It is I who should be outraged, not you,” she said. “What did you expect me to do? You promised to come for us and you failed. Wu was taken and I had no other recourse except to use what opportunity presented itself—we were waylaid by the Imperial Navy. They weren’t about to set us free to go about our business. And I would not abandon Madam Choi.”
“I did not abandon you. I had a wall to build and an empire to defend. I knew you were safe. Master Yun assured me you were in good hands.”
“If you cared so much about my safety, why did you join the ranks of the White Tiger? Why did you ask me to turn myself in to that monster! You saw what he did—” She ripped up the sleeve of her tunic to display the whiplash across her arm. “You felt his rancour yourself!”
“He would have killed you then and there.”
“Like you did Po, my pirate brother?”
“I did not kill him. Can you say you saw me wield the knife that stabbed him?”
“Who, then?” she asked. “Give me his name so that I can avenge my brother.”
“It was the White Tiger himself who cast that blade.” He grabbed her hand as she turned to go. “You can’t go back. We’re needed at the capital. All hell has broken loose. The palace is besieged by barbarians and His Majesty is dead.”
“My father is dead?”
“Master Yun and I saw the body before it was whisked away to the hellfires of Feng Du. And even now he has gone to barter with the Hell Master for release of your father’s soul.”
“He can do that?”
Quan shrugged. Master Yun could do almost anything, but that? Surely, even he could not survive that terrible place. Li dropped her face into her hands. Quan’s only goal was to win back her trust. A flicker of sunlight escaped a bank of cloud glancing off the figurehead of Xiang Gong. Quan looked up. “How did you do that?” he asked. “How did you get that thing to come alive and rescue us?”
“Do not call him a thing. It’s disrespectful. And to answer your question, I do not know. And while we’re on the subject of miracles, how did you slip your bonds? Did you have a hidden knife?”
Quan shook his head. “I had no blade, only my will and the training that Master Yun bestowed upon me. He taught me how to play dead and to shrink my muscles. It also helped that you were in danger of being shot, so nothing crowded my mind except the need to be free.”
Li walked to the rail and Quan followed. She stared out to sea, looking now more like a small girl than a notorious pirate chief. “So, what do we do now? I am weary, Quan. I feel like I am fighting a losing battle. It is as though I am constantly sweeping water uphill.”
“Do you forgive me?” Quan asked.
Li managed a tight smile. “Apparently, you have nothing to be forgiven for.”
Quan placed his hand on Li’s and she allowed it to stay there, her eyes fixed to the battered skin of his knuckles. She gazed up at him, a tremor of helplessness in the look. “Do you forgive me, my dearest one? I thought I would never see you again.”
“I only wish that I could kill him for you myself.”
“You must not kill him,” a voice said from behind them.
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Li threw herself into Master Yun’s arms as he left the shadows of the cabin bulkhead. He had to step back to avoid being knocked down. “You are grown into a fine, strong woman, indeed, Lotus Lily.”
Li could no longer contain her emotion. After the shock of finding Quan among Fong’s crew and now the sudden appearance of her grandfather, tears of gratitude, exhaustion and joy, spilled. She was no longer the young girl they had left with the water people, but to her, each of them looked the same. Master Yun’s silvery topknot with its loose strands whipping out any which way over his grey robe had not whitened any more than at their last meeting. His arms were just as strong and his chest as lean; only his eyes had a desperation in them that was formerly absent. He brushed away the tears and held her at arms length to view her properly, and smiled with approval. “You are well?”
“You need to ask? Look at me. I’m a mess.” She turned to Quan and noted the sorry state of his flesh and the rags they both wore, and laughed hysterically.
“All right, Li,” Master Yun said. He shook her gently to break her of the spell. “I see that you have been through an ordeal and when I saw Xiang Gong return with the both of you aboard his back, I knew all was not well, but at least you had survived and reunited.”
Li sniffed away her last laugh, which threatened to return to tears. “I am so, so, happy to see you.”
“As am I,” Quan said. “I have told Li as much as I know. Now, can you tell us: were you successful?”
Master Yun nodded, but his nod was solemn. He glanced at the sky. Sunlight winked again, and Li supposed it to be caused by a cloud, but this time a dark shade with wings fell over the pale planks of the junk. Overhead, an enormous bird circled, and perched upon its back was a strange figure.
“Quickly, step back into the shadows.”
Li and Quan followed Master Yun. They could still see the winged creature with its odd rider, but now Li knew that this was no bird. Her mouth formed a soundless O. “A dragon?” she whispered.
“Not a dragon,” Master Yun said. “Look at the body. What does it look like?”
“Its torso resembles that of a horse,” Quan said. “But its head—”
A spray of fire shot from out of its mouth and Li knew what she was seeing.
A dragon-horse.
She had learned of dragon-horses in her lessons. Legend said that the beasts terrorized the world when the earth was young, and that they were older than time itself. When the population of men grew in uncontrollable numbers, they all but wiped out the beasts. And so ended the days of the monsters: the New Years Day Nian, the dragons who once served the emperors of old, and the terrors of nightmare like the evil Jian, the seven-headed bird, the Ba She, snake-like monsters that swallowed elephants, Tao Tie the gargoyle, and the invisible Yeren.
“Qilin, the dragon-horse,” Quan gasped, for he had learned the faery-tales, too, as a boy.
“And it carries a passenger of destruction. Step back,” Master Yun warned as Li inched forward to spot the rider of the circling steed. “She searches for you. She mustn’t find you. She knows you will do anything to save your son.”
“Why are all these evil people after my boy?”
Master Yun pulled Li tight to his side before replying. “Because your boy plays a more important role in the coming events than even I had formerly thought. Come inside!”
He led them into Li’s cabin where bright light shone in through a porthole to land on the naked floorboards, and took a piece of charcoal from the cooking hearth and drew a plain cross. At the top he marked the character for North, at the bottom South. To his left he marked the character for West and to his right East. It was the Crosshairs of the Four Winds.
Master Yun briefed Li and Quan on his suspicions, on the theft of the Bloodstone and what it meant. Their only chance he told them was to create the Crosshairs that would counteract the destruction of the Emblem of Balance—the Taijitu. For with the sighting of the dragon-horse and its queen, he was certain that all that was happening now could be attributed to the destruction of the Emblem.
A memory flickered at the edges of Li’s thought, and a voice whispered in her mind: The time for me to choose has passed, but you still have a choice. Wood, fire, metal, water: all the things of the earth can still be yours. Turn to the east and you will see the cool spring and the Azure Dragon behind you. Look south, seek the Vermilion Bird and the hot days of summer. Come autumn, the White Tiger awaits you in the west. But in winter, go north with the water people and find the Black Tortoise. These were the words of the ancient monk Eng Tong.
Watching her, Master Yun nodded. “You understand,” he said. “Wu is the Bla
ck Tortoise.”
“Yes, then the Azure Dragon is my father, the Emperor.”
“The Vermilion bird is Peng, Zhu’s daughter,” Master Yun said.
“Zhu has a daughter?”
“He does, but at the moment it is not she that worries me.”
“The White Tiger,” Li said.
Master Yun’s face became very grim. “We need him to complete the Crosshairs.”
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“He is a Manchurian,” Quan said. “What real loyalty does he have to the Empire? He is no better than a soldier of fortune, in the guise of an emperor’s man. I imagine he would as soon take the throne himself as fight to claim it for someone else.”
The sighting of the dragon-horse had unnerved Master Yun more than he dared show. Dahlia was alive and stirring. When earlier he focused his hawk eyes upon her, he saw that it was she who sat on the dragon-horse, an exquisite woman, breasts bared, clad in a gown of black satin, platinum white hair gleaming like the moon, eyes yellow. She was free and amassing the Nine Armies. He no longer doubted the nature of her forces or her intent. She had slept long enough, and had returned to claim ascendency.
His hope was to convince Esen to surrender the throne. The battle that was to come was no longer a war between men. And he must rally all men of mortal birth to fight for their freedom.
“Will the White Tiger stand with us?” Master Yun asked Li.
“She is not going to his ship to ask him,” Quan stated flatly. “He may be loyal to His Majesty—though I remain sceptical on that point—but he has no such sentiments for Li. He will kill her.”
“I think that I am the only one who can ask him,” Li said.
“Then I am going with you,” Quan said.
“No, you must return to help Master Yun convince the Mongol usurper to join the fighting ranks and allow His Majesty to take his place on the Crosshairs. Convince him or kill him, but either way, he cannot hold the throne. When that’s done, go and find Wu and the one you call Peng. It is clear from Master Yun’s design that Wu must hold the northernmost point and Peng the South.”
“If it comes to that,” Quan said.
“It will come to that,” Master Yun replied. “Already, the Fox Queen has positioned her Circle.”
Jasmine had threatened to invoke the Powers of Nine. Nine was a magic number that would sway the course of the war. Nine meant everlasting, and those with the number Nine on their side would endure. Master Yun was quite convinced now of how she and her progenitor plotted to achieve this goal.
Dahlia needed a nine-tailed fox faerie to hold the center of her Magic Circle. She could do the job herself, but the magic was stronger if the nine-tailed one was young and fresh, a foxling. She needed Peng.
“Li must accomplish this task alone,” Master Yun said. She has something to barter with. She is the mother of Admiral Fong’s son.” Quan did not ask how he knew this, and Master Yun did not explain. “I need you, Brigade General. Wu and Peng are critical to the destruction of the Nine Armies. We must fight the Nine, hand and foot with every mortal man, soldier, sailor, Mongol, Manchu, rebel, pirate or peasant who is willing. I want you to lead this mortal army. But even that will only buy us time. We cannot win without magic on our side. The fox faeries will use their greatest power, and mark my words it will be this Magic Circle. Our only hope is to build a Magic Crosshairs more powerful than their Circle, and to complete it we will need the children. If Peng stands on our Southernmost point on the Crosshairs of the Four Winds, she cannot hold the Magic Circle of the Fox Queen.”
Master Yun filled Li in on all that had happened in recent months and of Wu’s adventures. “Peng is your niece,” he informed her, “a foxling born to Zhu and Jasmine. The children are in a safe place. The fewer who know the place, the safer they will remain. Although both you and Quan are Wu’s parents, do not ask me to name the place—only trust me.”
Quan interrupted. “So the children are in our possession. His Majesty is hidden and alive. We have only to obtain Fong’s cooperation, but I insist Li can’t go alone. I have served under the admiral and I can tell you from experience that the White Tiger has a heart of brass. Do not ask me to choose duty over love.”
“I am not asking you to make a choice,” Li said. “I am asking you to do the right thing. You know what that is. What is one life when so many more are at stake?”
Quan seized her and stared at the laceration on her arm. She yanked it away. “You did not react when he whipped me,” she said. “I took it and so did you. My actions simply made him desperate to restore his reputation. That was my fault. I emasculated him and turned him into a desperate man. I have seen desperation rot the kindest soul.”
“He has never been kind, and I am not certain he has a soul. You will not submit to him. Not even to save the Middle Kingdom.”
“Quan, look at what you have done for the Empire. Let me do the same.”
“But it is not the same.”
“Isn’t it? You have your sources of power and I have mine.” She glanced up at the figurehead of Xiang Gong.
“The gods are unpredictable, and sometimes unreasonable.” Quan turned desperately to the warlock. “Master Yun, forbid her to go. I will go in her stead.”
Master Yun shook his head. “Look at her, Quan. She’s strong and wilful and powerful. She will survive. She is the only one who can bend the sea to her will. Allying Fong won’t be easy, nor is it her only task. She must rally all of the water people, sea gypsy and pirate alike, to come to our aid. Even the Terror of the Seas, the Pirate King, Mo Kuan-fu is wanted in this dire time. We will need every man and woman who can wield a blade or staff. Now come, we have wasted enough time.”
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They had filled their goatskins at a small oasis, but with four riders and two horses, reserves were draining quickly. He Zhu’s sole purpose was to bring Alai and the children to a safe place. The only refuge he could think of was the Taoist temple in Xian. It was a long ride from where they were now. The wind formed patterns on the desert landscape reminding him of the yellow scales of the giant carp at Hot Lake. Where was the wall? If he could sight the curved eaves of a gate that would relieve them of these barren lands, he could rest his mind. Zhu’s breath shortened as they approached a familiar territory. A strange feeling assailed him. The wind blew steady across the desert plain. The tents of a village cut the ground with shadows. Was this Alai’s village? How had they come here? Why had neither of them recognized the change in direction?
“We can’t stay here,” Alai whispered. “It was from this place that I fled!”
What few felt tents remained quivered in the breeze. Most of the remaining structures were wooden poles and beams, weathered and cracked. The cooking fires were cold smudges, littered with charcoal. “Alai, come back. Something is wrong. The village is deserted.”
Alai reined in her horse, drawing an arm around Wu to keep him from being unseated. “I told you that my father and his men have decided to join Esen and take the Forbidden City from the Chinese rebels.”
“But where are the women? The children? The livestock? It looks like everyone fled on short notice. But why?”
Master Yun had told Zhu not to enter the village. Once inside its boundaries, he might not be able to leave.
A flicker of gold caught his eye. A white tipped tail swished. It skirted the side of a lopsided tent and pranced into the open. A fox!
Instantly, it changed and the golden pelt disappeared, leaving a woman in its place. “Hello, Zhu,” she said, shaking out the folds to her snowy white gown. She watched him seated unsteadily on his mount. Zhu’s horse whinnied, baulking as she swaggered nearer. His first thought was to protect the children. Jasmine still wanted Wu—for what ungodly purpose he wasn’t sure—and Peng was her foxling.
“Jasmine,” he said. “What do you want? Return to your Mongol master.”
“I have no master,” Jasmine snapped. “It’s high time you learned that, Zhu. And what is this we have here? Who i
s this sturdy bowmaid?”
Jasmine moved her hips like the fox flitting her tail, lifted her regal head and wrinkled her nose at him. Zhu knew to be cautious. She was testing his will, and he must not let her know the extent of his worries. He dropped from his horse, leaving Peng seated, holding the reins. He walked closer, placing his body between the fox faerie and the children. Still beautiful, fair-skinned, and with feral eyes sparkling, she went to meet him.
“Zhu,” she said softly, mockingly. She swayed her hips, swishing the white satin of her skirt, and stroked her ebony hair across her bared breasts as she approached. She leaned into his chest, but he stood his ground, the fragrance of jasmine blossoms teasing his nostrils. “How long has it been, My Champion, since we were one?”
He Zhu shut his senses to her perfume, and wiped the vision of her beauty from his eyes. The feel of her skin repulsed him. “Save that for someone else. You cannot touch me.”
“Why? Because of that?” Jasmine shot a look at Alai, then her eyes settled on little Peng whose horse shuffled restlessly next to that of the bowmaid.
“Those days are gone, Jasmine,” he said. “Leave us, or face the alternative.”
“And what is that?” She swished her gown as she turned. She laughed when he fell silent. “You’re afraid, aren’t you, Zhu? Do you think I would harm the sire of my foxling? Peng, come here.” Peng remained where she was. Alai reached out and looped an arm around her shoulders. “Do not touch my kit!” Jasmine spat.
Zhu spoke, “What do you want with her?”
“I don’t have to answer your questions; I am her mother.”
Jasmine approached Alai’s horse and stared at the boy who perched in front of her. Her eyes moved up to Alai and stayed there. “Your scent is familiar. But you are not of this time.” A small gasp escaped from the bowmaid’s lips and Zhu frowned. How did she know? “You have chosen the wrong side,” Jasmine said. “Give me the boy.”
Alai’s grip went from Peng to Wu. “I made a promise to protect this boy.”
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