As His Majesty sat in his palanquin awaiting the guards to open the palace gates, Ju Jong scuttled toward him, his scarred hands upturned in supplication. He prostrated himself, begging. “Please, sire. Think of your country. These fishermen and labourers and city men have not been trained. You send them to their deaths.”
“Coward,” Zheng Min sneered. The Emperor said nothing. He gave the signal to march.
Quan mounted his horse and took in the reins. He looked back and saw the smiling face of Jasmine. Beside her, Lotus Lily watched him. He nodded at her and she bowed slightly. He veered his horse and followed the royal palanquin, past the still kneeling grand secretary, to the gate. Master Yun stood aside as he approached and they locked eyes. Both thought the plan reckless and dangerous, but fight they must. Master Yun bowed. Quan lowered his head in respect, and Master Yun returned to the prostrate grand secretary and helped him to his feet.
The sky blackened. The Imperial Army marched through the wide streets of Beijing while a drummer announced their departure. The citizens vacated their homes to see their men off—what was left of them. Most of the male population, except for the old and the very young had been recruited. The women sucked back their tears. His Majesty promised victory and they must believe him. The drums boomed; the soldiers moved out. In time, the countryside replaced the cityscape.
Days passed in sharp winds and leg wearying marches. The evenings stretched interminably as soldiers tried to sleep despite torrential rain. By the time the army crossed the Juyong pass, the men were exhausted and drenched. Although the season for heavy rains was past, the sky was angry; she dumped vengeance on the Imperial troops. Quan wiped rain out of his eyes and squinted at the western hills toward the great burial mound of First Emperor Qin. It was rumoured that a great pottery army lay buried beneath the earth and one day the soldiers would rise again and save the Middle Kingdom from the northern invaders. Chi Quan did not believe in ghost stories. He believed in his own cunning, and the strength of his weapons and his men. He was not so sure about his emperor.
The army made the trek to Datong in thirteen days. As they neared the garrison, a cloud of crows scattered, beaks filled with worms. Quan searched the vicinity, slowing his steed to a trot. The horse reared as a foul smell greeted them. The land was speckled with bodies, and what was once rich pastureland was now a battlefield strewn with corpses. Quan froze in horror as a grim revelation struck him. The scavengers’ worms were strips of flesh torn from human bones. Bellies engorged, the crows were too sated to fly. They flapped their useless wings and staggered out of the path of the advancing army. All around, the twisted trees and wild grasses were purple with gore. A hawk circled above, a coil of intestines in its beak. Far away, Quan heard the mocking tune of the barbarians’ flute. He dismounted to retrieve a helmet, its red tassel falling limpid in his hand like blood.
His Majesty’s army were ragged peasants, toting their weapons as though they were hoe and rake. They were not trained to fight the ferocious horsemen of the steppe. But those who had stained the frontier with the blood of Quan’s kinsmen must be punished. He remounted and ordered the men to march. Lieutenant He Zhu shouted the order down the line.
The military governor rode up to Quan and snapped, “You are not the leader of this campaign—I am.”
“Oh? I thought His Majesty was leading this campaign,” Quan said.
Zheng Min scowled harder. “Of course, he is. I am his voice and his chosen commander.”
“Fine. You tell them to march.”
On the purple landscape, scavenged bodies showed white bone where crows had torn flesh from dying men. Soldiers had been stripped of their armour and weapons, and anything the Mongols had deemed valuable. As a warning to His Majesty, several top commanders had been decapitated, their gory heads pierced on pikes projecting from the ground. Quan recognized the face of the messenger who had first warned them of the Mongol attack. One of the poor man’s eyes was ruined, leaking bloody fluid.
Most of the army showed panic in their faces. It was clear that these men wouldn’t last one more day before they went screaming into the valley to certain death. Military Governor Zheng Min anxiously sought the Emperor. His Majesty glanced over at Quan whose troops stood perfectly aligned and battle-ready. They comprised two percent of the army; the remainder were untrained farmers and labourers. The drummer began to pound a beat, a song of deep mourning.
Abruptly, the Emperor declared the campaign a success. When and where these barbarians would strike next was anyone’s guess and he wasn’t about to stick around to find out. It was time to go home. Reluctantly, Quan accepted the futility of their mission, and at Zheng Min’s command, he reversed his troops and took up the rearguard.
As they marched through the wild, open countryside, Quan felt the Mongols watching them. He would turn, but see nothing and yet feel their presence. The men were jittery, anxious to get back to their homes. How were the barbarians doing this? How did they know in advance the Chinese army’s intent? A flash of gold caught Quan’s eye. Some sort of animal darted in front of his horse, spooking it, and he dug in his knees, tightened the reins, spoke softly to the brown and white stallion.
That afternoon, Esen’s men struck the rearguard. Quan’s soldiers fought to their last arrow. They battled valiantly as a thunderstorm shook them to their very core. Racked by the rain and the relentlessness of the Mongol horde, they retaliated with sabre and dagger. Finally, they used their empty bows as clubs before the barbarians cut them to shreds. Two days ahead, the Son of Heaven, escorted by Zheng Min and the Imperial vanguard, slipped safely through the Juyong pass and back to the Forbidden City.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Chinese Warlock
The Mongols were defeated. Stories circulated by Zheng Min’s men told of a fierce battle on the rugged, windswept, exposed plains of the Northeast Passage where Master of the Horses, Captain Chi Quan and his stalwart lieutenant, He Zhu, fought valiantly to save the life of their emperor. But where were they? The vanguard, the body, and the flanks of the army had survived the vicious attack. The Mongols had retreated. But with the rearguard missing, how did this qualify as a resounding defeat? Li knew men were lost in battle, even battles that were won, but Captain Chi Quan was too good a soldier to let a Mongol slay him.
She went in search of her aunt and found Jasmine in the garden courtyard, smiling into the lily pond. “They say that Captain Chi Quan and Lieutenant He Zhu are dead.”
Jasmine raised her head. “Lotus Lily, I’ve been looking for you. Come, look into the lily pond with me.”
Li shrugged off her aunt’s hand, shuddering. It felt cold and unfamiliar. What was the matter with her? Why didn’t she care that He Zhu might be dead? And what on earth was she doing making faces at a lily pond?
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Aren’t you going to do something about it? His Highness should send out a search party for them; maybe some of the soldiers are still alive.”
“What makes you think His Highness will listen to me?” Jasmine asked.
“You’re his number one concubine. He’s listened to you before.”
“Oh?” Jasmine licked her scarlet lips, and rested dark eyes on Li’s frustrated stare. “What makes you think that?”
Lately, a rumour had been circulating, an unpleasant rumour. It said that Jasmine was the one who had burned the grand secretary’s hands—with His Majesty’s consent.
“I thought you loved He Zhu,” Li said.
Jasmine laughed. “Silly girl. You are always thinking of love. Love is a means to an end. He Zhu was a fling. I was bored; he was available. When you grow up a little, you’ll understand.”
She was more grown up than she cared to be if this was the way adults behaved. “But what about Chi Quan?”
“Forget about Chi Quan. You were meant for royalty.”
Li pursed her lips in a pout. “I don’t care for royalty.”
Jasmine laughed, an e
normously disturbing laugh. Li clutched her elbows across her midriff and screwed up her eyes.
“I understand, Lotus Lily. You want adventure and excitement. You wish to bed a warrior, not a fish-belly puppet king like our emperor.”
But this was wonderful news! Jasmine understood. No matter how they felt about being concubines, her aunt had always stressed duty first. Now, Li could reveal what she had been doing for the past year—training to be a warrior!
“There’s something I want to tell you, Jasmine.”
“That you’re in love with Chi Quan?”
Yes, but no, that wasn’t it.
Her aunt shaded her eyes from the sun, smiling. She took Li’s hand, brought her to a white stone bench at the north end of the courtyard and sat her down. “Chi Quan is not good enough for you. Sure, he’s a brave warrior, a man of superior talents, but he’s not wealthy. He’s an accountant-turned-soldier, born to a millet farmer, who showed more flair with a sabre than with numbers. If you ran away with him, you would have nothing. Besides, he would never do that. He’s loyal to the man who enabled his education and his training—his emperor.” She smiled wider. “Anyway, the point is moot because our courageous captain is dead.”
“He’s not dead. He can’t be.”
Jasmine shook her head and patted Li’s hand. “Listen to me. Do you remember that Mongol warlord that was here three months ago? He wants you. He could build you a house as grand as a palace.”
“The Mongols live in tents. Tao told me so.”
“Most of them do,” Jasmine agreed, her voice low and conspiratorial. “But Esen the warlord, he is rich.”
Li jerked her hand away. The idea was repulsive to her. “He’s a barbarian!”
Her aunt’s beautiful face turned ugly. “Suit yourself. I was only trying to help. But why should I get myself into trouble for you? You belong to the Emperor.”
“Jasmine—” Li hesitated. “Are you all right?”
“What do you mean?” She rose, exhaled a breath of exasperation. “You are a spoilt, useless girl, Lotus Lily. Well, soon His Highness will ask for you and you won’t be idle any longer.”
Jasmine glanced at Tao who beckoned at the doorway. His Majesty, she was informed, requested her services. Tao gave Li an odd look, before exiting behind Jasmine, and Li decided that the only person she could discuss the missing soldiers with was Master Yun.
Inside her bedchamber she dressed in her boy’s clothes, wiped off her makeup and rearranged her hair until she transformed into the boy that everyone in her Kung Fu class knew as Li. She strode through the halls and chambers, out the palace doors, past the sentries to the courtyards, then to the public square and the main gates.
Pine trees swayed in the breeze around a temple with a red curled roof and yellow pillars. Miniature mandarin blossoms bloomed on the shrubs in the quiet of the garden. On some of the branches, small green fruit were hardening. Li swept past the little orange bushes and followed the flagstones lined with painted ceramic planters yielding bonsai trees. She peered through the open door of the Koi Temple. Just inside the doorway were two plump jade plants, and beyond, the shrine’s stone fountain was empty of worshippers. Li departed and headed for the grassy plot by the giant pond where a long-needled pine tree cast a dappled shade. This place, too, was empty.
At this hour he always meditated by the pond, but it was hot today. So, where was he? She desperately needed his counsel. Of course! She grinned to herself. She knew where he was. She moved to the edge of the water and looked down. At first she saw only the bright orange, yellow, and white markings of black-speckled fish. But below them, in the deep shadows, was a human figure.
Master Yun lay on his back at the bottom of the pool. His eyes were wide open and he was meditating beneath the rippling surface. He had achieved physical mastery over his body and his environment, and on very warm days, like today, he would sink to the bottom and stay submerged for hours.
She was warned never to disturb him while he was thus engaged. If startled out of the trance, he could drown. So she waited. And waited.
The sun was a red disk in the sky when Master Yun left his watery bed. She bowed and waited for him to speak before she did. He was silent, and mopped his dripping beard with a cloth he had stored under the pine tree, before ordering her to turn her back while he cast aside his wet robes and donned dry ones. A taut breeze fluffed the ankle length, matt-grey robe with red piping on the sleeves, and the shoulder-length, straggling grey hair that escaped from his topknot.
“This had better be important, Li,” he finally said.
Common courtesy and respect required that she bow again before raising her head to speak. “It’s very important. It concerns the warriors Captain Chi Quan and Lieutenant He Zhu.”
“They are gone,” he answered bluntly, and slipped his hands into the long bell-shaped sleeves of his robe. “It’s best that they are thought to be lost.”
Why? But before she could ask him, he started to walk. Silent, Li matched his stride. “You are growing tall and strong,” he said.
She had only come to Master Yun a year ago. Had she grown so much in a year? She decided it was wise to stay mute.
“There is something else that troubles you. Tell me what it is.”
How could she tell him? How could she explain that Li, the boy, had a relationship with the Lady Jasmine, His Majesty’s Number One Concubine?
“Stay away from her,” he warned. “She’s become a danger to you.” He reined in his stride and smiled. “I’ve been watching you for a long time, Lotus Lily. Only you didn’t know it.”
He knew! Master Yun knew she was a girl! He knew she belonged to the Emperor and he never said a word. All the time she was practising Kung Fu in his class he knew she was Lotus Lily! She composed herself and spoke calmly. “You’ve been watching me? But why?”
“I’m not sure that this is the time for me to tell you.” His eyes twitched past the sculptured parkland, out across the city to the far north and then to the west as he stopped his stride. “Jasmine is no longer your aunt.” A hand rose to silence her objections. “I know it sounds incredible, but there are many things in this world that are incredible and it is time for you to know it. For a long while now, I have suspected that something was wrong with her.”
“She has not been herself, lately. It’s scary.”
“Indeed,” he said. “That is because she is not your aunt. She’s a fox faerie. She bewitched His Majesty. But before that, I believe she killed your aunt and took her form. I was hesitant to accept it at first. But the proof is in the scarred hands of Grand Secretary Ju Jong.”
He nodded when he saw acceptance contort her expression, and he sighed in sympathy. He patted her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Li. Your real aunt would never dismiss Quan’s troops so readily. I suspect the fox faerie is responsible.”
Li’s mind danced with her newfound knowledge. She was terrified and thrilled all at once. Jasmine was a magical being. And Master Yun knew things without being told. That meant he was magical, too.
“How long have you known that I was a girl?” she asked.
“Your whole life,” Master Yun said. “Your mother was executed for conceiving a girl, shortly after your birth. You were sentenced to die with her by Imperial decree. But Tao rescued you and raised you in secret. You spent your infancy in the Koi Temple. I suppose you recall nothing of that? He nursed you on a formula of soybean and ewe’s milk. At the age of three, you were delivered to your Aunt Jasmine before she was transmuted into the wickedness she is now.”
Li frowned until she was sure her eyebrows met. She wasn’t quite clear what he meant. Was her mother a concubine? And if she was born in the palace, then who was her father?
“Your life is in danger,” Master Yun said. “You must mingle among the concubines and never leave Tao’s sight; you must never be alone. I will devise a way to get you out of the palace permanently.”
“But surely His Highness doesn’t still want to ki
ll me?” she said. “I mean he doesn’t know who I am, does he?”
“It is not he I’m worried about.”
“You’re worried about Jasmine?”
“She has great power, Li. As long as you and she remain in the palace together your life is in danger. She has allied herself with the Mongols.”
Either he had spies or he was a seer. All rulers had warlocks by their side; no emperor could rule by brute strength alone. But she had thought her emperor an exception. She had never seen Master Yun cast spells or conjure up spirits. And she had never seen him called to His Majesty’s side. In her whole life, all she ever saw him do was train students in the martial arts.
“Have you never wondered why no one notices that the feet of the concubine-to-be, Lotus Lily, are unbound?” he asked.
“I have small feet. And I wear flowerpot shoes to enhance the appearance.”
“Your feet are not that small. The illusion was not created by physical means.”
An illusion? So now, was he going to tell her he was a warlock?
He smiled.
This was too much; he could read her mind. She blushed.
“A spell,” he said. “When you were of age for foot-binding, I cast a spell over your feet. All who laid eyes on them would see perfect lotus-shaped feet.” His look turned gentle. “Lotus Lily, the ghost catcher and the fox faerie will soon meet face to face. This is a battle that you cannot witness. The fox faerie’s power grows daily. I am an old man; my vision grows dim. I see in my future a long, steep wall that will block my power to help you. I am powerless against this wall, but it will protect China’s men from dying. The wall will save the Middle Kingdom, but it will also feed the fox faerie’s voracious appetite for power. She will come for me and I don’t know if I will have the strength to defeat her. But the confrontation can’t be avoided. When this happens you must be far away from here.”
The Pirate Empress Page 4