by Mouse
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
About the Author
Copyright
The Five Ancestors
Book 1: Tiger
Book 2: Monkey
Book 3: Snake
Book 4: Crane
Book 5: Eagle
Book 6: Mouse
For my agent, Laura Rennert
HENNAN PROVINCE, CHINA
4348-YEAR OF THE TIGER
(1650 AD)
CHAPTER
1
The Chinese junk pitched and rolled in the pounding surf, its ancient timbers groaning under the heavy load. The boat lay low in the water, cold spray blowing over its rails with each gust of the frigid autumn wind. Hidden below a tattered tarpaulin on deck, ShaoShu—Little Mouse—wondered what he'd gotten himself into.
He shivered. The damp sea air had soaked through his thin skin, deep into his tiny bones. He had only been aboard one day, but he already yearned to have his feet back on dry land.
ShaoShu had little experience on the water. True, he'd just spent more than a week traveling down the Grand Canal with his new friends, Hok and Ying, but that ride was nothing like this one. That was fun. This was agonizing. The sooner he was off this ship, the better.
The boat lurched suddenly on the choppy seas, and a wicked crosswind lifted one corner of the tarp. ShaoShu quickly snatched it back down, catching a glimpse of General Tonglong's long ponytail braid swaying just a few paces away. ShaoShu shuddered. Tonglong—the Mantis—was uncomfortably close.
As a homeless street urchin, ShaoShu had a lifetime of practice hiding in small, inconspicuous places. He had an unnatural ability to bend and twist his small body into all sorts of strange shapes, and he put these skills to use stowing away here on Tonglong's Chinese man-o-war in order to steal some information for his new friends. This, however, had been more than he'd bargained for. Perhaps he'd pushed his luck too far.
ShaoShu shifted his position ever so slightly, and he felt the weight of the shiny cylindrical object resting on his lap. It was nothing really, some sort of spyglass. While it might prove useful to him, he had mainly taken it because it was made of a highly polished brass and glimmered with a luster he couldn't resist. It was this same fascination with shiny objects that had brought him to his current hiding place.
With each passing wave, ShaoShu sank deeper into the largest pile of treasure he'd ever seen. He was surrounded by riches that even the Emperor would be hard-pressed to imagine: golden goblets, impossibly intricate jade figurines, mounds of pearl jewelry— all of it piled here on the boat's deck and covered with a tarp like a worthless bale of straw. There were other piles, too, though none as large or magnificent as this one.
The treasure was connected to a series of dragon scrolls that contained secret dragon-style kung fu fighting techniques. One of the scrolls was also a map, and Tonglong had used it first to find Ying's mother's house, then to locate the treasure in a secret seaside cave. The cave was only accessible at low tide, and Tonglong had timed his arrival perfectly. In less than an hour, his men had stripped the cave of its contents. Now Tonglong was headed south to take care of what he called “personal business.”
ShaoShu didn't know what that business was, but he was certain he had already gathered plenty of information for Ying and Hok. The moment he saw an opportunity to sneak off the ship, he would make a break for it.
Having been aboard the better part of a day and a night, ShaoShu had learned the rhythms of the ship's watches. The laziest sailors were assigned to the watch that began at sunset, so that would be the best time to make his move. In the meantime, he would just have to wait.
From somewhere high above the deck, he heard a lookout shout, “Sail ho!”
“What do you see?” Tonglong asked, his metallic voice too close for ShaoShu's comfort.
“It's a foreign sloop, sir,” the lookout replied. “By the shape of the stern and the rake of the mast, I'd guess she's Dutch-built. Single mast with a reefed mainsail and a storm jib set taut. She's fast, sir, and sailed by seasoned seamen. No question about it, the way that rigging is set. She's off our stern, if you'd like to have a look.”
“Has anyone found my telescope yet?” Tonglong roared.
No one replied.
Tonglong stormed across the deck. “Whoever stole it will be strung up in the rigging for the birds to pluck out his eyes and feast on his liver!”
Uh-oh, ShaoShu thought, silently taking Tong long's spyglass off his lap and placing it on the treasure pile.
“Can you see who's aboard?” Tonglong called to the lookout.
“Aye, sir. Looks to be a bunch of children, if you can believe it. Four boys and a girl. At least, I think it's a girl. She's in a dress.”
ShaoShu's heart leaped. That had to be Hok, along with some helpers! Maybe Ying was with her, too. ShaoShu had last seen Hok at the apothecary shop, and she must have figured out where he'd gone. She was coming to rescue him! Hok and Ying were the smartest, kindest, bravest people he'd ever met.
“What would you like me to do, sir?” someone asked Tonglong.
“If they get close enough, blow them out of the water. People in this region need to learn to steer clear of me.”
A large lump formed in ShaoShu's throat. He'd forgotten about the gigantic qiangs, or cannons, as the sailors called them, lashed to the deck rails.
As he tried to decide what to do next, a quick darting movement caught ShaoShu's eye. He froze, and his nose twitched. He locked his gaze on the far side of the tarp and saw a small brown blur darting about close to the ground. A mouse! He couldn't believe his good luck.
ShaoShu relaxed, grateful for the company. He reached into the folds of his dirty robe and fished out the remains of a bean-paste bun he'd swiped from a sailor earlier. ShaoShu dropped a few crumbs on the treasure pile around him and sat perfectly still. A moment later, the mouse scurried over, greedily consuming the sweet treat.
As the mouse was finishing its snack, ShaoShu gently held out a larger piece, away from his body. The small furry creature hurried over and began to nibble on ShaoShu's offering. ShaoShu smiled. He had always had good luck getting animals to come to him.
ShaoShu began to slowly, carefully, move his free hand toward the mouse to pet it when a second blur of movement, this time white, caught his eye. His body went rigid. He had had enough experience living on the streets to know what it was.
Dropping the bun, he scooped up the mouse and slipped it into one of the empty pouches he always had tied to his sash. The mouse squeaked in protest, and a white head with long flowing fur poked beneath the tarp. It was a cat.
The cat hissed, and a voice called out, “Mao? What is it? Have you found something?”
Before ShaoShu could react, the tarp was thrown back and he found himself staring into a pair of the palest brown eyes he'd ever seen. The stone-faced young man glanced at the shiny telescope on the treasure pile; then he called out to Tonglong.
“Sir, I believe I've found your thief.”
CHAPTER
&n
bsp; 2
Charles stood at the helm of his sloop, breathing the clean salty air. Finally, he was in his element. No more crowded streets, no more fight clubs, and best of all, no more kung fu. They were at sea. This was the place for long-range cannon and musket fire and pistols up close. Tiger-claw fists, backflips, and flying sidekicks had no business here.
Even so, Charles glanced up at the very top of his sleek boat's single mast. Perched there was one of the best martial artists he had ever seen, a small eleven-year-old boy named Malao, or Monkey. At the base of the mast stood another kung fu master, twelve-year-old Fu, the Tiger. Fu and Malao had been sailing with him for several days, and Charles was impressed by the speed with which they had learned to help sail the boat. He supposed their lifetime of rigid training helped them learn new physical tasks quickly
Two more young kung fu masters were also with them, though they had only come aboard a few hours earlier. The first was his good friend, a girl named Hok, or Crane, who was nearly thirteen years old. The second was a sixteen-year-old he hardly knew named Ying, or Eagle. Ying had saved Charles’ life in a skirmish with Tonglong weeks ago, even getting shot in the process of distracting Tonglong so that Charles could flee. However, Charles was still finding it difficult to trust Ying. Partly because it was impossible to read Ying's facial expressions. He'd had his nose, cheeks, and forehead carved and the grooves tattooed green so that he would resemble a dragon. Charles, a Dutch, blond-haired, blue-eyed fifteen-year-old from distant Holland, would never understand these strange Chinese. Why a teenager would carve his face or why a girl would take an animal name was beyond him.
There was no denying Charles had affection for Hok, and she had asked for his help. So he was helping her. He would do almost anything for her, but what she was proposing now was out of the question.
“I am sorry,” Charles said for the third time. “We have to turn around. Tonglong's crew has spotted us.”
Hok stared at him, unblinking, then turned away. She adjusted a large bag of medicinal herbs over her shoulder and grabbed a spyglass from Ying.
Ying turned to Charles. “I thought you said this boat was fast? Can't we outrun them? Let's at least get a little closer and see what we're up against before you decide to run away.”
“I'll tell you what we're up against,” Charles replied. “I had a clean sweep of their deck with my spyglass. They have fourteen twelve-pound cannons and at least ten soldiers with muskets. I have two pistols. We don't stand a chance. I can outrun them, sure, but we can't get any closer than this. Those big guns can nearly reach us as it is. I'm turning around.”
Hok uttered a soft cry, and Charles looked over to see her gaze fixed in the direction of Tonglong's man-o-war. “Oh, no!” Hok said. “They've found him! A sailor just lifted the tarp ShaoShu was hiding under. Take a look.” She held the spyglass out to Charles, but he didn't take it.
Hok's face turned bitter, and she handed the spyglass to Ying.
Charles shook his head. What didn't they understand? He was the captain of this vessel, and he had announced his decision. They were turning around.
“Crew, ready to jibe!” Charles commanded.
Fu and Malao glanced at him questioningly
“I said, ready to jibe!” Charles repeated. “On the double!”
Fu and Malao sprang into action. Fu grabbed the jib sheet while Malao gripped a large block and tackle dangling high overhead. Hok and Ying were about to learn who was the boss.
“Jibe ho!” Charles shouted, and spun the wheel hard.
“What?” Hok and Ying asked in unison.
The boat lurched heavily to one side, and Malao shrieked, “Duck!”
Hok and Ying dropped to the deck, barely avoiding the heavy boom as it swung powerfully across the boat from port to starboard.
“Nice move, sister!” Malao said. “Me and Fu were both knocked overboard the first time Charles did that!”
Charles nodded appreciatively. He, too, was impressed by Hok's and Ying's reflexes. He continued the turn until they were pointing away from Tonglong's boat. The wind filled the sloop's sails once more, and they began racing away from the man-o-war. Charles looked back over the stern and was relieved to see that Tonglong's ship showed no signs of following or firing upon them.
Ying stood on unsteady legs and leaned his dragon face in close to Charles’ face. Ying bared his sharpened teeth and flicked out his forked tongue. “Don't you ever do that again without telling us first,” he hissed.
“Do what?” Charles asked. “Jibe?”
“Whatever it is you call turning around. That wooden pole nearly took our heads off.”
“It's called a boom,” Charles said. “And I gave you both fair warning. If you want to sail on my boat, you need to learn the language of the sea traders.”
Ying spat over the side rail. “Sea traders? Pirates is more like it.”
Charles felt his face begin to redden, his cheeks hot against the cold autumn wind. With great effort, he held his tongue—and his pistols—for Hok's sake. He knew how much she disliked violence.
Hok stood and brushed off her dress. She adjusted her herb bag, then laid a hand softly on Ying's shoulder. “There is no point in arguing. That would only waste time and energy. What we need now is a plan, as our temple brother Seh would say.”
“Where is that sneaky snake, anyway?” Ying asked.
“He is with friends,” Hok replied. “A group of honorable bandits that includes his father. Seh has been injured.”
“Oh,” Ying said, not seeming to care.
Malao swung down from the masthead and joined them on deck. He poked Charles in the side. “Well, matey, where are we shoving off to now?”
“We need to discuss it,” Charles said, gazing at Hok. He really did feel bad about abandoning her friend.
Hok said nothing.
“I want to help you, Hok,” Charles said. “I am truly sorry about ShaoShu. However, sometimes the best course of action is retreat. That doesn't mean we can't attack later when the conditions are more favorable to us.”
“What do you suggest, then?” Hok asked, not looking at him.
“I have friends in the area. We will go to them. They live on an island not far from here and—”
Ying cleared his throat and tapped Hok on the shoulder with a long fingernail. Hok's eyes widened as something unspoken passed between them.
“What?” Charles asked.
Ying turned his back to Charles and stared out to sea.
“What is it?” Charles asked again. “I can't help you if you're keeping secrets from me.”
“It's Ying's mother,” Hok replied.
Charles thought for a moment, then slapped his pale forehead. “Of course! How could I have forgotten? She was injured by Tonglong and his men before they took the treasure, right?”
“That's right,” Hok said.
“So you want to go back up the river, to the creek mouth bordered by twin pagodas?” Charles asked.
“Yes,” Hok replied.
“Then why didn't you just say so?” Charles said. “Hang on!”
CHAPTER
3
“Well, well, well,” Tonglong said, adjusting his pony-tail braid over his shoulder and tucking the end into the sash around his waist. “What do we have here?”
ShaoShu swallowed hard, fighting the urge to glance away from Tonglong's piercing gaze. He had encountered his fair share of bullies, and he knew that you had to stand up to them. You had to stare them straight in the eye.
“My name is ShaoShu,” ShaoShu replied.
“Hmm, Little Mouse?” Tonglong smirked and looked at the young man beside him at the ship's rail— the young man who had caught ShaoShu. “What do you make of the boy's name?”
“It seems fitting to me, considering the manner in which he was found,” the young man replied.
The man was, of course, referring to the cat. Trying his best to look offended, ShaoShu stared at the young man. He appeared to be
nearly twenty years old and looked Chinese, but he had pale brown eyes and wore his black hair close cropped. Instead of a typical Chinese robe and pants, he dressed like a Round Eye sailor—long trousers with pockets, buckled shoes, and a billowing shirt that was bound at the wrists. His white cat was at his feet, weaving its way between his ankles.
ShaoShu felt the mouse in his sash pouch begin to squirm, and he turned to Tonglong.
“ShaoShu,” Tonglong said. “Is that your real name?”
“It's the only thing anyone has ever called me,” ShaoShu answered.
“How old are you?”
“I don't know.”
“What do you mean you don't know?”
“I don't have any parents,” ShaoShu replied. “There's never been anyone to tell me how old I am or when my birthday is. I guess I'm about seven years old.”
Tonglong nodded. “You're an orphan?”
“Yes.”
Tonglong pointed to the young man at his side, now leaning against the ship's side rail. “He also has a unique name. He is called Lei, or Thunder. He is the chief gunner of this vessel.”
Unsure of how he should reply, ShaoShu bowed.
Lei nodded.
“When was the last time you ate something, ShaoShu?” Tonglong asked.
ShaoShu suddenly grew nervous. This sounded like a trick question. He'd swiped the bean-paste bun during the night, but he didn't want to confess it. On the other hand, he didn't want to lie to a man like Tonglong. Perhaps Tonglong had even seen the remains of the bun on the treasure pile from when ShaoShu fed the mouse and already knew the answer to his own question.
ShaoShu lowered his eyes. “I stole a bean-paste bun from a soldier on deck last night, sir.”
Tonglong frowned. “You stole something from one of my men? Right here on deck?”
“I am very sorry, sir,” ShaoShu said, looking up. “I know I shouldn't have taken the bun, and I really shouldn't have taken your spyglass. Some times I just can't help myself. Please don't string me up from the rigging for the birds to eat my liver.”
