Isle of Woman (Geodyssey)

by Piers Anthony

  Lotus joined him at the table, sitting on a cushion to get enough height. There was the go board, a grid of nineteen lines square. Beside it were two bowls of pebbles, white and black. “The game is best learned by playing,” the man said. “Take a black stone and set it at any intersection on the board.”

  Lotus took a black stone and set it in the closest corner.

  “Now observe: your stone has two freedoms. Two directions in which you might build. I will remove one of them.” He set a white stone next to it. “Now if you do not protect yourself, I will remove your other freedom, kill your stone, and take it from the board, and you will have nothing.”

  Lotus considered, and put her next black stone on the place of her second freedom. “Ah, now you flee,” he said. “I must work harder to enclose you, for a chain must be captured as a unit.” He put another white stone beside his first, starting a chain beside hers. “But if you make a mistake, I will still get you.”

  “But what about all the rest of the board?” Lotus asked.

  “It is there to be played on. It is not the stones that count, in the end, but the amount of territory you control. If I kill your first two stones, I control a territory of two points. That is not enough to win.”

  Lotus was getting the idea of it. She shifted to the center of the board, where she had more freedoms, and the battle took shape. She soon lost the game, but remained fascinated, and started another, playing with greater savvy. “Ah, you learn quickly,” the man said, concentrating.

  While they played, they chatted. Lotus told about her family’s printing business, and the man told of his family’s farm to the north. He also said something about Zhao.

  “There is a story about her. Perhaps it is not true. Certainly I would not credit it.”

  Lotus pretended nonchalance. “What is it?”

  “She was a concubine for the Son of Heaven T’ai Tsung, the father of Kao Tsung who is now the master of all, but she was not in much demand at the time. Yet it is said she did not retire a virgin.”

  “She didn’t?”

  “Mind you, this may be fanciful, and I would not impugn the good name of my master the Son of Heaven for anything.”

  “Naturally not,” Lotus agreed, catching on to the way of such narrations. “Nor would I impugn my mistress, Wu Zhao. But I like to know what is said of her.”

  “I merely mention what some unkind person bruited about. It is that some call her the Fox Woman.”

  “The Fox Woman? She does not resemble a fox to me.”

  “This is a story of China’s illustrious past. The Fox Woman of folklore is one who assumes human form and preys upon unsuspecting men by stealing their vitality and leaving them in sexual exhaustion. For some reason such men never seem to protest such treatment.”

  Lotus had gathered enough of the passions of men to appreciate why. Their appetite for sex was almost insatiable. Thus a woman with an even greater appetite would be in rare demand. “There was such a creature in China’s past?”

  “During the Han dynasty there was one who came to be known as a fox woman. She was Wei Tzu-fu. It is said that she was a servant who waited on the Son of Heaven while he changed his dress. That is to say, while he did what all men and most women must do every so often, that no other can do for them. In that state of dishabille he observed the form of her body, and was so smitten that he stood up straight, as it were, and ‘favored her’ on the spot. She became a concubine and later displaced the empress herself.”

  “But that was in the Han dynasty,” Lotus protested. “What does that have to do with Lady Zhao? Did she seduce the Son of Heaven?”

  “Not the Son of Heaven. The Son of Heaven’s young son. He was only twelve at the time, but eager to know the ways of the flesh, yet

  hesitant to approach a woman. It is said that the Lady Zhao happened to be in the vicinity when he changed his dress, and perceiving the standing sign of his dawning manhood, arranged to acquaint him with that which he most wished to know. She was then fifteen, and as lovely as a new temple, and perhaps somewhat miffed that the Son of Heaven took no notice of her. It is said that the lad was most grateful, and thereafter eagerly sought more instruction of that nature.”

  “Of course it is only a story,” Lotus said, intrigued. “Yet they do seem to be well acquainted, considering their recent separation.”

  “Yes. That is surely coincidence.” His tone suggested that it was no coincidence at all.

  They continued playing the game, conversing about other things. Lotus was enjoying herself greatly.

  Another man entered the chamber. “It is midnight; my relief has arrived,” Old Coal said.

  “Already?” Lotus asked, surprised. “The game is not finished.”

  Both men laughed. “There speaks a true go player,” the first said. “She plays for hours and doesn’t notice.”

  Lotus realized that it was true. The time had passed unnoticed while she was taken by the game, and it was long past her bedtime. Go was a great discovery.

  The replacement finished the game. Lotus lost again, but by a lesser amount. Then, reluctantly, she went to the cushions and retired for the night.

  She dreamed of go, of enclosing and being enclosed. Black stones warred with white stones, constantly.

  “Wake, girl,” the man said. “They are stirring.”

  Lotus scrambled up, logy from insufficient sleep, realizing that the rest of the night had passed. She had to be ready to serve her mistress.

  Soon Zhao emerged, looking radiantly fulfilled. Lotus approached with the wig. The woman donned it, then moved on out of the chamber. Lotus followed.

  Back at the private chamber, as Zhao let her pretense expire and her fatigue began to show, Lotus broached the awkward matter of the story of the Fox Woman. “You asked me to listen, and to tell you what is said of you, but I fear you will not like it, Lady.”

  “The Fox Woman!” Zhao said, laughing. “How apt!”

  “Apt?”

  “That was just about the way it happened. But it had to be secret, of course, for I was pledged to his disinterested father. What we did would have been called incest. I did like him, though he was three years my junior, and we passed many happy hours together. He certainly was virile, for his age.” She stretched languorously. “Still is.”

  “That was why he liked you?” Lotus was amazed by this admission. She had feared that Zhao would be furious with the story.

  “That was why. At one time he was quite smitten with me. But we knew it couldn’t last, and when his father died and the girls were sent away, I had to retire to the nunnery. Mind you, I am a sincere Buddhist, but I would have preferred to remain with Kao, had I had a choice. I thought he had set me aside when he assumed the burden of being Son of Heaven. But then he visited me at the nunnery, and I knew he had not forgotten.”

  “He visited you there?” Lotus wondered if she was being teased.

  “Yes. And the empress learned of it, and realized that I might represent the tool she needed to pry his interest from Liang. I think she was right.”

  So it seemed. It was evident that even with her head bald, the Lady Zhao had captivated the Son of Heaven.

  They went to the morning meal. Many heads turned when they entered the dining chamber. Liang’s head did not turn; she faced sullenly ahead, knowing who had displaced her the past night.

  Lotus got her meal, and sought the table where Liang’s girl sat. “I think my mistress got something yours did not, last night,” she remarked innocently, and was gratified by the other’s glare of wrath.

  After breakfast Zhao and Lotus retired to their room, where both slept much of the day. It didn’t matter that others would know why they had lost sleep; in fact it was a matter of pride. A concubine who returned from the Son of Heaven’s bed well rested obviously hadn’t interested him much.

  After that Zhao joined the Son of Heaven more often than not, and sometimes by day as well as by night. Once the Son of Heaven was playing a game of g
o with a noble, and it was Zhao who sat by his side for all to see. She was certainly accomplishing the empress’s mission. On this day there was a royal dog, whom Zhao held for awhile, then passed over to Lotus to hold. He was a frisky animal, eager to make the acquaintance of everyone, and she had to clasp his collar quite tightly to be sure that he did not stray.

  But she did get to look at the go board. Soon she saw that the Son of Heaven’s position was not good. The other player was making canny moves and gaining territory. The Son of Heaven seemed likely to lose, but of course could not complain, for it was a fair game and he had to demonstrate good sportsmanship. There was probably a considerable wager riding on the outcome, for the wealthy and powerful liked to make things interesting.

  Then Lotus caught Zhao’s signal. But what did it mean? She didn’t know what to do.

  Zhao’s eyes moved to the dog. She made the signal again. Was Lotus doing something wrong? But she was holding the animal tightly.

  Then she understood. She hoped. She let go of the dog’s collar. “Oh!” she cried in simulated dismay. “He got away!”

  Indeed, the dog rejoiced in his freedom. He bounded forward— right up onto the go board itself, scattering the stones. He licked the Son of Heaven’s face, then jumped playfully away. Several servants chased after him.

  The game had been ruined. Zhao jumped up. “Oh, you bad girl!” she exclaimed to Lotus. “You were supposed to hold that dog tight!”

  But the Son of Heaven restrained her. “It was an accident,” he said. “The dog is strong. The child did the best she could. It behooves us to be generous. We shall play again tomorrow.” He looked straight at Lotus for a moment, and his mouth quirked. Then he got up and walked away, and Zhao walked with him. Lotus followed, her eyes downcast.

  For a moment there were no other courtiers near. “Your girl is responsive,” the Son of Heaven remarked to Zhao.

  “I am sure I don’t know what you mean, O Illustrious One,” Zhao murmured.

  The Son of Heaven understood perfectly—and kept the secret. As would Zhao and Lotus. It must never be known that the mishap that had saved him from the embarrassment of a loss had been no accident.

  Next day Crystal came to the palace. The Lady Zhao brought Lotus to see her. Lotus flew into her mother’s embrace. “I’m so glad you could visit me!” she exclaimed.

  “But I didn’t come to visit you,” Crystal said, surprised. “Your father was summoned here to receive a commission for a printing job. An excellent one. It seems we are in favor now. I merely accompanied him to the palace, where I was told someone wished to see me separately.”

  Then Lotus understood. It was the favor of the Son of Heaven, coming as swiftly and effectively as his disfavor. Zhao had arranged it, of course.

  But all was not perfect. Resentment grew as it became apparent that the Lady Zhao was now the Son of Heaven’s favorite concubine. Lotus was snubbed by a number of the other girls. The court was a cauldron of ambition and scheming for favor, and whoever was successful was the target of much jealousy.

  One evening as Lotus went to the kitchen for a pastry for Zhao, she was intercepted by a kitchen hand. “So,” he said, catching hold of her arm. “Someone sneaking in to steal food, eh? Well, we’ll just put you in the pot and cook you for tomorrow’s dinner.”

  “I’m coming for the Lady Zhao,” Lotus cried.

  “A likely story.” He hauled her into a storage chamber. “Now let’s just peel the fruit, shall we?” He ripped off her tunic.

  Lotus shrieked and struggled, but he was far too strong for her. The noise of the nearby kitchen drowned out her screams. He stripped her naked and gazed at her slight body. “Not much, but might as well make use of it while it’s here.” He opened his garment to reveal his huge terrible member.

  He was going to rape her! The realization brought an odd calmness to her. She was in awful trouble, and if she wanted to survive, she had to stop acting like a foolish girl and start thinking the way Zhao would. She had to be canny.

  She pretended to faint. The man, undeterred, set her on the floor and let go of her arm so he could separate her legs.

  The moment her arm was free she grabbed for his hand with both of hers, and put her mouth to it. She bit him on the side of the hand, as hard as she could. He roared, caught by surprise. In his momentary distraction she scrambled out from under, got to her feet, and launched her body out the door.

  She ran as fast as she could back to her room, oblivious to everything except her need to escape. For the moment she had forgotten that she was naked, but it didn’t matter; she just had to get far away from the brute man.

  Women and girls stared as Lotus charged past. Then she reached her room and dived in, finding her place of safety at last.

  Zhao sat up on the bed, startled. “Lotus! What happened?”

  “The man—he—he—”

  “Come to me, child,” Zhao said, opening her arms. Lotus flung herself into them, sobbing uncontrollably. The Lady held her, stroking her hair and murmuring comfort.

  After a time, Lotus calmed enough to tell her story. Then Zhao’s questions began, as she dipped the sponge and used it gently to clean Lotus’s face and body. Lotus, distracted, didn’t think to protest this menial chore being performed by the Lady. “Did you recognize him?”

  “N-no. He wasn’t one of the kitchen regulars. I tried to tell him I was on your errand, but he wouldn’t believe me.” She winced as the sponge cleaned a bruise.

  “Would you know him again if you saw him?”

  “Oh, yes! But please don’t make me go near him!”

  “Which hand did you bite him on?” Now Zhao was brushing out her hair, which had become sadly tangled.

  Lotus had to pause to work that out. “The—his left, I think. My right side. That was where the door was, and I just wanted to get out it and away.”

  “Lotus, I must leave you for a bit, but I will return soon. Remain here. Lie on my bed.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t!”

  Zhao smiled. “It isn’t as if I have very much use for it, anymore. Use it whenever I am not here, and entertain your friends as you please. This is my directive.”

  Lotus could not demur when it was phrased that way. “Yes, Lady.”

  Zhao disengaged, straightened her gown and wig, and quietly departed. Lotus lay on the bed, her shuddering gradually subsiding.

  “Lotus.” It was a soft call from outside.

  Lotus recognized the voice of one of the girls who hadn’t snubbed her. “Come in, Bamboo.”

  The friend parted the curtain and stepped in. She was tall, thin, and lanky, with large joints, accounting for her nickname. She was the opposite of Lotus, who was small, but the two had found each other because they were both Buddhists. She paused as she saw Lotus on the bed. “My mistress sent me to inquire what happened.”

  Lotus realized how presumptuous it looked for her to be on the bed. “My mistress told me to use the bed when she wasn’t here,” she explained. “The other—I think I would rather not discuss it.”

  “My mistress says she just saw the Lady Wu Zhao forge out of the complex like an armored horse,” Bamboo said. “She said she had never seen her so angry.”

  “My Lady’s been here only a month,” Lotus pointed out. It was good to talk to a friend; it made the world settle back into its ordinary place.

  “Ah, but the Lady was here before. My mistress is the niece of one of former Son of Heaven T’ai Tsung’s concubines, so she knows. She says even in the old days the word was that it was bad to cross the Lady Zhao.”

  Lotus was alarmed. “Oh, I hope I didn’t cross her by getting in trouble! I just went for a pastry for her, and this man—” Then she was telling the story after all.

  “A strange man,” Bamboo echoed. “He must have been sent.”

  “No, I think he was just new to this kitchen, and didn’t know me.”

  Bamboo shook her head. “Everybody in that kitchen knows you, Lotus. It is said that fortune
smiles on whoever smiles on the Lady Zhao’s servant.”

  “Oh, that can’t be!” Lotus protested, embarrassed.

  “It’s because the Lady takes care of her own, and she has the ear of the Son of Heaven. That was clear in the first three days, and clear even before then to the smart ones.”

  “It wasn’t clear to me,” Lotus said, bemused.

  “Because you remain innocent. If the Lady Zhao should lose her status, many who smile on you now would ignore you.”

  “Many already ignore me!”

  “Many of the rest. But you must know that there is malice behind some of those smiles. Many are jealous.”

  “Oh, Bamboo—are you jealous?” Lotus asked, upset.

  “No. I learned early that my feelings have no effect on my body or my fate. Only on my outlook. So I keep them positive. I know that you would be just as nice if you were the servant of any other Lady.” Bamboo paused, collecting her thoughts. “But I was not speaking of other servants. I meant other ladies. They hate you because they hate the Lady Zhao. I think someone arranged to have that man there. And that the Lady Zhao knows it. That’s why she’s angry.”

  “Oh, I can’t believe—”

  Bamboo put her hand on Lotus’s hand. “Believe, my friend. But also believe this: there are those who do not hate you or your mistress. They accept the way of things. My mistress is one of them. She bid me tell you that if ever you need help, and the Lady Zhao is not near, come to her and she will do what she can.”

  “Oh, thank you for that,” Lotus said gratefully. She found that she was hungry for reassurance.

  Bamboo left. Lotus knew that the girl would tell her mistress everything, but didn’t mind. Once the story was out, she herself would not be required to tell it. She realized, too, that things happened often enough, and that any lone girl had to be wary of any strange man. She had been foolish to think herself charmed, and now she realized that she was indeed also countercharmed. That man had been too determined, too sure of himself. A new man would have been cautious, until he knew the way of things in this section.

  Zhao returned, carrying a new tunic for Lotus. It was finer than her old one. “I must go to join the Son of Heaven tonight,” Zhao said. “If you wish, you may remain here.”