The Concubine's Daughter

by null

  “I do not expect this to matter among those who know no better, but I will bring officials of my close acquaintance from Macao who will sentence you to the punishment you deserve. I am also sure of Number-Three Wife’s cooperation as your unpaid comprador. I have seen with my own eyes how you cheat those who buy your spices. Your name will be laughed at in every tea house as the fool who dared defy a fox fairy. Your ancestors will be unforgiving for all eternity and you will be lost forever to the ghosts of shame.” She picked up her sunshade in readiness to leave.

  “When my mother’s place of rest is sanctified and blessed, when her ancestral rights have been honored and fulfilled, you will hear no more from me on this or any other matter. You will owe me nothing … not even a word of good-bye.”

  It was with mixed feelings that Li left the mouth of the Pearl River on the following evening. The ceremony had been arranged as she had asked, with no one else present but Number Three. There had never been such a burning of paper offerings—the biggest, brightest, and most expensive the village joss house could provide. A mansion of many rooms, a troop of servants to fulfill her every wish, a gorgeous palanquin with four strong bearers, chests of gold and silver and rolls of banknotes had whirled above the ginger field and into the bluest of skies, to surround the spirit of Pai-Ling and restore her to her rightful place in heaven.

  Li thought with pleasure of Little Pebble and the mung-cha-cha happily settled in the House of the Kindly Moon. Number Three had willingly agreed to visit them often and to teach them what she could, and would be paid by the Double Dragon for her services. Li had made sure that a room was provided for her use, and hoped the little house by the river would become a welcome haven from the disintegration of the House of Munn.

  Despite all these satisfactions, Li was unable to sleep, The feelings that touched her heart when she thought of Ben were far more than gratitude. She went forward to the prow of Golden Sky, watching the green fire of phosphorous flaring from the bows, the distant lights of Macao strung like a glittering necklace on the dark horizon, until the bright moon and the soft sea breeze had cleansed her soul of unrest.

  “Fire in the water. That’s what I thought it was when I first went to sea as a boy.” Ben joined her, his bare feet soundless on the deck. The specters of a past he could scarcely imagine, the wrongs she had made right with such dignity, had left him deeply moved. He put his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned against him with a sense of belonging she had never known.

  “Does love mean gratitude?” she asked, just loud enough to be heard.

  “It can do,” he answered as quietly.

  “Does it also mean thinking only of one person above all others … in the morning when you listen for the first birds, and at night when you close your eyes? And if this person fills the hollow of your heart so completely there is room for no other … is this also what is meant by love?”

  “What I know of it,” Ben whispered. “I believe it is.”

  She turned to face him, her arms reaching up to him, feeling his embrace tighten about her. “If you still wish me to be your tai-tai, Young Lord, I will do so with all my heart and the fullness of my soul—”

  He stopped her words with a first kiss. “Yes! I would be a proud and happy man if you will become my tai-tai… . But only if you will call me Ben.”

  CHAPTER 14

  The Yellow Dragon

  Back at Sky House, Li fell into a sound sleep. When she awoke the following morning, it was later than usual. A square yellow envelope lay on the floor, slid beneath the door; it bore no name or address. There was something strangely sinister about its appearance that made her hesitate to touch it. She tried to think why it was there and who could have delivered it. It could only be from Ben, she decided with a rush of relief.

  She picked up the envelope, to find a wax seal on the underside that bore characters she did not recognize. Breaking it, she withdrew a folded square of the same stiff yellow paper. The center was missing from the front fold; an irregular hole, neither cut nor burned, framed a single Chinese character of the same ancient script as the seal. There was nothing more.

  The envelope looked small and unimportant in Ben’s large and capable hands. Li watched closely as he examined the slip of yellow paper with the hole in its center. She had taken it directly to the study, and was now seated before him. He stared at it in silence, holding it gingerly by its edges, sniffing it carefully, then placing it on the desk. His expression told her nothing. For a moment he did not speak, looking out to the garden.

  The weather had changed overnight; the sky was overcast, and spurts of wind tugged at the trees. A log fire glowed in the iron grate. Li felt as though a great distance had opened up between them. She had a sudden need to go to him, to pledge her support, reassure him … but his face did not allow it.

  She tried to keep the uncertainty from her voice. “It troubles you. Can you tell me what it means? If we are to become one, we must share all things.”

  The expression on Ben’s face did not change as he turned in his chair to look at her. It was as if he had never smiled at her, she thought.

  “You are right. There is something I have not spoken of that I should have.” He leaned forward, his voice as guarded as the look in his eyes. “You have heard of the triad … the black society?”

  She nodded. “I have heard of it.”

  “There is such a society known as the Yellow Dragon,” Ben went on. “Its southern lodge is in Hong Kong, but its brothers are everywhere. It is their mark on the seal.” His face was drained of color, his eyes flicking away to search the turbulent sky. But in that fraction of time, she had been startled by the mixture of fear and fury she had glimpsed in them.

  He made a physical attempt to throw off the moment. “It is an empty warning, nothing more. From time to time I am reminded by such talismans. The Yellow Dragon overlord and I had dealings in the past, but reached an understanding.” He picked up the paper, absently turning it over in his fingers. “This could have been sent by anyone wishing to cause trouble, perhaps someone from inside the house. I will speak to Ah-Ho. If it is someone among us, I will know and it will be dealt with.” He had regained something of his composure, straightening in his chair.

  “But the warning was sent to me, not to you. I must know its meaning. The hole is not cut by a blade or burned by a flame. How is it made and what does it say?”

  He left his chair, led her to the leather couch closer to the fire, and sat beside her. Taking both her hands in his, he kissed them tenderly, holding them to his cheek before he spoke. “What I am about to tell you is known only to one other, Indie Da Silva. If you decide, when I have finished, that you wish to take no further part in my life, I will understand without question and make sure that you are properly provided for and protected.”

  “If there are things that I should know, then I shall listen and share with you whatever must be faced,” Li answered.

  For over an hour, Li-Xia listened to the story of the feud between Ben’s father and Titan Ching, the Shanghai overlord who had declared a blood oath on the House of Devereaux thirty years ago. Ben had always known that the reason his father had fled Shanghai with him as an infant was not fear of the Boxer Uprising, but the oath that condemned his firstborn son to death.

  “There are complex rules governing such vendettas, calling for ritual execution of a boy between the ages of three and ten by any of the Yellow Dragon soldiers throughout the Chinese underworld. If I survived my first ten years, the oath was supposed to be withdrawn and the vendetta at an end. There are exceptions, however; if a boy is thought to show the inclinations of a warrior with the heart for revenge, the Incense Master, the personal advisor to the dragon head, can extend the blood oath a further eight years.

  “By the time I returned to Shanghai, both my father and Titan Ching were dead, so I went to the new dragon head, his son, J. T. Ching, and challenged the oath, offering to prove myself in a ku-ma-tai, or fight to the death
.” Ben paused, knowing how dramatic his words must seem.

  “To me, a life under constant threat was not worth living. I had become something of a bare-knuckle fighter, a champion in the Western sense, and luck was with me. When I defeated their senior boxer, the holder of the golden sash, it was agreed that honor had been served and the blood oath between the House of Ching and the House of Devereaux was over.”

  He indicated the vaguely ominous paper. “I do not believe this talisman is from J. T. Ching. Traditional authenticity is important to the triad; they pride themselves on the refinement of their rituals. This is too crude.” The steadiness of her gaze, so intensely absorbed she had barely blinked, made him look away.

  His hesitation to continue was more ominous to her than his words. “Then from whom? I have a right to know what you suspect.”

  He took a deep breath, shaking his head as though to clear it of unwanted images. She waited until finally he went on. “My enemies are more than I can count … but I think there is only one mad enough to have a hand in such a thing as this. His name is Chiang-Wah, known on the waterfront as Chiang-Wah the Fierce.”

  Ben could not restrain the twitch of a smile as he described his enemy. “They say he can split the planks of a sampan or crack a stone water jar by charging it like a bull. Perhaps it is this part of his training that makes him such a dangerous maniac. He was the one I defeated in mortal combat.”

  Ben considered his words carefully before saying more. “Chiang-Wah tried to burn Golden Sky before she was launched. Luck was with me again: I caught him before it was too late … but the conflict left him seriously burned, hideously maimed by flaming tar.

  “I have no doubt that he was acting for one of my many rivals. Double Dragon’s Sky Class clippers were proving their greatest competition in the river trade. It was also well known that I am a founding director of the Anti-Opium Smuggling Board, which makes me a threat to those who grow fat on the profits of the opium trade. But J. T. Ching and I had reached a personal understanding that has held firm for over a decade.”

  “Then why is this thing sent to me?”

  “Because Chiang swore revenge upon his honor as a temple boxer. He has lost all face among the tongs, not because of what he tried to do at the Double Dragon shipyards, but because he failed, which brought dishonor upon his brothers. He disappeared, and it was thought that he returned to China. There have been rumors of his death in combat a dozen times.

  “This all happened ten years ago, and has not troubled me until this moment. Until now, the only thing Chiang could take from me that could not be replaced was my life, which he knew would not be easy. But now there is you.”

  He went on, with a careful attempt to make light of the situation that left increasingly uneasy. “It is a matter I can quite quickly attend to. Now that I think about it, I greatly doubt that Chiang is behind it, or even that he is alive. It is a foolish attempt to frighten you. I ask you to ignore it and leave things to me.”

  Li prompted again, almost gently. “The hole in the talisman. What does it mean?” When he hesitated once more, she spoke with quiet deliberation. “At Ten Willows, my family had a credo: ‘Hide from nothing and run from no one.’ I would not betray that credo now.”

  “Acid … ,” he said finally in a voice she did not recognize. “The hole in the talisman is made by a single drip of sulphuric acid.” Li left the couch and picked up the talisman in disbelief, sniffing it carefully. It smelled of vinegar and almonds. She tossed it back onto the desk.

  “I am not afraid. All my life I have lived with the threat of violence and pain. Perhaps it has followed me here.”

  She spoke steadily and calmly. “I am aware of the black society; it is everywhere and always has been. No melon can be sold on a street corner, no lantern can be lit in a fan-tan parlor, no pipe can be smoked on a divan, and no building can rise without being touched by the hand of the tong. So please, do not be afraid to tell me.” Unable to face her, Ben stood abruptly, his hands clasped behind his back. His words came finally in a voice she hardly recognized.

  “The threat of disfigurement through acid is a favorite weapon of the street gang. No secret society worth its name would stoop to such cowardice—but to those who hide like rats it is as cheap and as easy as it is abominable.” He turned to the fireplace, reaching for a fire iron, jabbing a smoldering log into a geyser of sparks until the flame caught. “Sometimes the acid is injected into the empty shell of a duck egg, the hole sealed … an acid bomb easily tossed into a victim’s face.” He stopped, his hands on the mantelpiece, staring silently into the gathering flames.

  She lifted her voice, dismissing such thoughts with a brighter note. “The house you are building on Hong Kong Island, does it have high walls and a gate? Is it to be made as secure as Sky House?”

  Ben nodded, amazed by the coolness of Li’s reactions. “Yes,” he assured her. “Its walls and entrance will always be well guarded.” Ben tried to lift his tone to one of reassurance. “The area of Repulse Bay is home to the wealthy and covered by armed patrols. Every precaution has been taken to assure absolute security.”

  “And will there be a garden as beautiful as the one here?” she asked. “Will the air bring the scent of jasmine in the evening and gardenias at sunrise, and will the sound of birds greet each day?”

  “Even more beautiful; Ah-Kin has designed the grounds after the celestial gardens of Ti-Yuan, in Peking. It is to be our place of peace and contentment; and if it must, it will also be our fortress.”

  Ben turned to look at her, a slow smile returning to his face. “Your gods and mine placed you safely in my arms … and only they can take you away from me.”

  “Then I am not afraid to live there with you. Already you have given me more of freedom and happiness than I could have hoped for. If our gods continue to smile on us, we will raise sons as brave and strong as their father.”

  Ben smiled his admiration. “And daughters as brave and beautiful as their mother.”

  Li smiled back, but knew the discussion must not end there. She picked up the evil yellow square again, inspecting it more closely.

  “We must figure out how this was delivered to my room. May I be present when you speak to Ah-Ho? Perhaps we should send for her now.”

  Again his hesitation was scarcely hidden, but she persisted. “It is under my door that this foul thing has crept. If I am to ease my mind, I beg the right to judge for myself whatever she may say.”

  Moments later, Ah-Ho stood rigidly before Ben, having bowed to just the right degree. He was seated at his desk, while Li had returned to the couch. The head amah barely glanced at the card upon the desk, nor did her eyes meet his when she was asked how such a thing could be delivered within his house without her knowledge. Her replies to his questions were properly respectful but told him nothing: She could not tell how this could have happened and would make an immediate investigation.

  “You have been the head of my household for many years and have always enjoyed my trust.” Ben’s voice was firm but fair, with no hint of accusation. “I am aware of your squeeze and consider this to be your rightful reward for a large house kept well and without trouble.”

  He held up the talisman for her to see. “This is bad joss for all in Sky House. If it came from outside, then security is to be blamed. If it came from inside, then you are responsible for harboring a criminal.” He tossed the card back onto the desk and stood to face her.

  “I expect you to discover who placed this under Miss Li’s door. When she is threatened, so am I. You will tell those beneath you that unless this worthless idiot is made known to me, there will be no lai-see for the New Year. If this should happen again, I will hold you liable and inform the police. Whoever is responsible will be publicly shamed and locked away. Am I clearly understood?”

  Ah-Ho bowed, departing swiftly and silently at Ben’s wave of dismissal. Li wondered if he realized that the amah had not once acknowledged her presence.

  CHA
PTER 15

  A Thrush in the Rigging

  Li-Xia and Ben Devereaux were married aboard Golden Sky moored off Pagoda Anchorage in the Formosa Strait. The ceremony was performed by Captain Da Silva, master mariner, with the sky as their vaulted ceiling and a calm, jade-green sea as their cathedral floor.

  Winifred Bramble served as matron of honor, and Wang was present to give the bride to the groom. The only other witness was the Fish, who was then sent ashore with the rest of the skeleton crew for a week’s leave. Later that evening, Indie too slipped away in the shore boat, depositing Miss Bramble in the care of an excellent guest house in the city of Foo-chow, which she was eager to explore, while he took himself off to amusements of his own. Only Wang remained discreetly stationed forward to see to their every need, while they occupied the master’s cabin and the main saloon, connected by a speaking tube to the galley and the pantry.

  It had been the wedding of Li’s choice. She could have been married in Hong Kong; Ben had offered to make it the wedding of the year. She could have chosen St. John’s Cathedral, with a reception at Government House or the Royal Hong Kong Yacht Club or the grand ballroom of the stately Repulse Bay Hotel. Wearing a lustrous white dress, she could have been presented to the governor and leading dignitaries of the colony; there would have been flowers and jewels of great beauty and a banquet of court cuisine fit for an empress. But Li could not have borne the hidden poison that would make a mockery of their happiness and a fool of her husband.

  She knew that, in order to please her, he would have used his money and power to force society to at least pretend to accept their marriage. This she could not allow. Neither did she feel comfortable in the company of strangers, even those who claimed to be his friends. The Chinese among his acquaintances would certainly despise her. To them she would never be his tai-tai, his legitimate wife; she would always be the scheming cheep-see who used her skills in the bedroom to turn his head. The Westerners, with their fashionable ladies, would scorn her and pity him, the lonely half breed who married a girl he found in a pig basket.