The Pirate Empress

by Deborah Cannon

  Suddenly, Li didn’t relish the idea of running away alone. “You can come with me.”

  “No. Like the fox faerie, I only have power when I am within the palace proper. Outside I am as an ordinary man like you see now—unless an army is defeated.”

  “You’re far from ordinary,” she argued. “You can read my mind.”

  “I can read your face, your emotions. That’s something you have failed to mask.”

  He looked out over the horizon. North of the city was a pleasantly green, gently rolling landscape of pavilions, villas, temples, streams and lotus-filled lakes. Interspersed with the lovely parklands, clustered settlements led to wild scrubby hills, which sloped sharply upward into the serpentine ridge of Black Mountains where Captain Chi Quan proposed building the brick wall.

  “Jasmine’s power grows as the Emperor’s power wanes. She sucks the life out of him sexually and builds her strength. That is the wonder and the horror of the fox faerie. His Majesty no longer asks for my counsel or my presence at his war meetings. Yet that is where my strength lies. My power comes from the death of men …” His voice hoarsened from shame. “From the death of our own soldiers. At wartime I am as an army; at peacetime my power diminishes.”

  The idea of Chinese soldiers dying to increase Master Yun’s power alarmed her. Would he deliberately kill to heighten his strength? Li’s voice escaped in a frightened whisper, “Is that why they call you Ghost Catcher? Do you take their souls?”

  “Not their souls, only their strength. It is a fearsome and heavy burden and one that can easily be corrupted.” He looked over and tried to put her mind at ease. “It’s not easy to be good, is it, Li?”

  It wasn’t easy to change from thinking you lived in a boring, ordinary world, and have yourself suddenly thrust into a world where magic was real.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The Two Riders

  “Hurry, the palace gates close at dusk.”

  You still haven’t told me why the fox faerie is after me,” Li said, breathless.

  Master Yun shoved her toward the entrance to the Forbidden City where two sentries waited to lock the gates. “Ask Tao. Now, go swiftly.”

  To the west, the great death mound of First Emperor Qin loomed in the last orange light of the setting sun and two tiny shadows flickered over his vision. He had no time to see Li safely behind the gates. He leaped into the air, his robes catching the wind, lifting him with the earthly forces of the geomancer.

  The power would not last long. He had summoned the Chi of the recent dead. Quan’s soldiers had been massacred, and their energy was neither lost nor destroyed now that they were dead—only changed. The massacre had flooded Master Yun with power, power that he was terrified to show to Li. He could capture the earth’s energy and make the sands blow and the rivers rise, but his kinsmen remained vulnerable because his power was lethal to them. Somehow he had to find a way to harness the ghosts’ energy, and bend it to his will. He bounced off the rooftops of the citizens’ homes until he reached the outskirts of the city. He stood on a treetop and scouted the countryside below.

  Yes, two riders—and the rest of the troop dead.

  Amidst the dust of trampling hooves, he spied Captain Chi Quan and Lieutenant He Zhu, tattered and battle weary, weaponless, goading their horses. He steepled his hands, shot into the air, clamped his arms to his side and landed on the road in front of the two beleaguered horsemen.

  “Master Yun,” Quan exclaimed, startled, reining his horse to a halt. He placed his clasped hands to his soot-streaked forehead in a weak bow.

  Master Yun took the reins, and waited for Quan to dismount. “I’m glad to see that you survived the Mongol’s treachery.” He had almost said the fox faerie’s treachery, but recalled just in time that He Zhu was Jasmine’s lover. He gave the lieutenant a brief glance, but got no reaction.

  “Then you know,” Quan said, retrieving his horse and stroking its wind-torn mane.

  “I do. But tell me exactly what happened.”

  “They were waiting for us, waiting as if they knew we would bypass the safer, more sheltered southern route and take the Northeast Passage where the land is open and grim. We didn’t stand a chance. We rode like a massive moving target, and they ambushed us. Twenty thousand men wiped out just like that. Zhu and I barely escaped. We returned to warn his Majesty that Esen means business. Otherwise, we would have stayed and fought to our deaths.”

  “A wise decision. Your deaths would have gained nothing. Be comforted in the knowledge that your soldiers did not die in vain. The Emperor is safe.”

  “Praise the gods. In the heat of battle, we could see nothing ahead of us but a storm of arrows and a lake of blood, and the flash of sabre and dagger.”

  “No other survivors?” Master Yun asked, glancing up at He Zhu, who out of respect for his superiors had remained mounted.

  When Quan answered, his voice entered Master Yun’s ears as a hoarse whisper. “No. No other survivors.”

  The reply rang with the desperation of the warriors’ plight. At the first deaths, Master Yun had summoned the Chi of the ghost soldiers, assumed the mantle of the geomancer. He had sent a torrent of rain and lightning onto the exposed plain where the Mongols had struck, but had only managed to hinder his own people.

  “I am going to His Majesty at once,” Quan said. “We have no choice but to fortify the walls. While the wall goes up, we can establish new garrisons and train men to guard the workers. Earthen ramparts already exist; all we have to do is replace the foundation with solid brick. We will build permanent watchtowers and signal beacons, post sentries at every fortress. At the first sign of the invaders, we will attack. This at least will give us time to rebuild our decimated armies.”

  “No more war?” Zhu asked from his horse. He frowned. He was a warrior, not a sentry. He lived for the attack, not to wait passively on his ass until the enemy struck. “I’m not sure I like this idea of walls.”

  Master Yun had his own reasons for shunning walls. But Quan was right in his estimation of the Mongol invaders. Even with all the power a war gave him, Master Yun could not defeat Esen’s barbarians alone.

  “You’ve been listening to Jasmine,” Quan said irritably to Zhu. “There is something not quite right with that lady.”

  A horrible change came over Zhu’s face. As with Chi Quan, Master Yun had trained He Zhu from the time he was a boy. Always he was brash, but never was he wanton. He ignored Master Yun’s warning look. He dismounted and dropped to the road, landing firmly on leather-clad boots, and turned a grim face to his captain. Although his sword was lost in battle, his hands shot up like knife blades. Master Yun narrowed his eyes; the captain’s demeanour showed no surprise. It was clear they had quarrelled on these grounds before.

  Zhu struck out and Quan countered his attack. He kicked the captain in the stomach, and he in turn grabbed Zhu’s leg and tripped him to the ground. Quan swiftly rolled away as Zhu threw his body forward and missed. Quan leaped to his feet, but before the lieutenant could act further, Master Yun stepped onto his chest and shouted, “Stop.”

  The two men were already filthy and bloody from battle. Sweat trickled down their brows and muddied their faces. Master Yun shot a warning look and the captain backed down. The lieutenant started to his feet and Master Yun extended a hand to help him. “What do you think you are doing? The land is in peril enough without you two fighting over a concubine.”

  It was clear now the full implication of Jasmine’s power. She had free rein while living in the palace, and that meant he had to get Li out of the fox faerie’s presence as soon as possible. Her influence was spreading; she had possession of the Emperor and Military Governor Zheng Min. Like a river, she started from the mountain peak, flowing, ever gathering strength as she coursed through the palace administrators, dividing into tributaries to execute her magic. Now she was working from the ranks. Master Yun could tell by the defensiveness in Zhu’s eyes that it was already too late for him.

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  The palace guards ignored Li, and she strolled through the courtyards until she came to her own garden. She climbed the wall that separated her enclosure from the others, tiptoed past the lily pond, and slipped through the open window and into the concubine’s quarters. She froze in surprise when she saw Tao perched on the edge of her bed waiting for her.

  “Change quickly, Lotus Lily,” he said. “Before anyone sees you and asks what one of Master Yun’s boys is doing in the concubine’s chambers.”

  Her mouth was open—at first from breathing quickly—but now from the realization that Tao had punctured her masquerade. He had called her Lotus Lily while she was in the guise of Li, the boy, and he was talking to her as though tutor and pupil were long-time conspirators. She planted her hands on the hips of her boy’s tunic. “Have you always known?”

  He nodded calmly, and went to her wardrobe and pulled out her finest gown. It was of watered silk, yellow and green, trimmed with gold thread. He sat her down, and undid the pins that held her hair and watched the black shield tumble over her shoulders. He applied kohl to her eyelids and rouge to her cheeks, and hurried her out of her boy’s clothes and into the dress.

  “You knew all the time and yet you tortured me with threats of being sent to the Emperor’s bed. You knew Master Yun would never have allowed that to happen.”

  “Hush,” Tao said. He looped her jade circle around her throat where it hung to her chest on a gleaming gold chain. “There are ears and eyes in the palace.”

  Li darted a look around the room. It seemed they were alone. She put the last touches to her hair with a comb and slipped on her flowerpot shoes. She stared at her feet, and then looked up at Tao. “So, it was a spell, and not my small feet that deceived everyone for all these years.”

  “It was also a spell that kept others from recognizing Li, the boy, as Lotus Lily, His Majesty’s concubine-to-be,” Tao said. “You aren’t that great of an actor.”

  “So, I’ve got nothing to worry about?” Her grin faded to a frown when Tao’s grim expression forced her to realize the seriousness of her situation. “Then you knew where I went to when I disappeared to Master Yun’s exercise yard and you never detained me.” But if Tao was aware of her machinations, did Jasmine also suspect? She clasped her fingertips to the jade circle for luck.

  “Of course, I knew. You were accepted into Master Yun’s class by his own request.”

  Li smoothed down her silk gown and experimented with her flowerpot shoes, tapping them lightly on the floor. “So, we can stop worrying. No one will know that I am a girl if I have Master Yun’s protective spell around me.”

  “Don’t be reckless, Li. Nothing is impermeable, nor is it permanent. So far you have been safe, but this spell only works within the vicinity of the palace. Should you leave Beijing, the success of the masquerade will be entirely up to you. Master Yun’s magic will not protect you.”

  A deep chill crept along her arms to her fingertips. “Where has Master Yun gone? He didn’t answer my questions. We were at the Koi Temple, at the pond, and he walked me to the palace gates, and then vanished. He told me you would answer my questions.”

  “If he told you that, then I’ll do my best. What do you want to know?”

  “Who was my mother?”

  Li had pestered Tao with this question from the time she had learned to speak. He had never revealed her mother’s identity. She fixed an accusing stare on him, and waited.

  “Your mother was His Majesty’s third wife. Her name was Ling She. He was married twice before her. All of his empresses disappointed him, each and every one failing to give him a son. After Ling She, he abandoned marriage altogether and settled for concubines exclusively.”

  “They say she was a direct descendent of First Emperor. Is this true? Was she really a child of kings?” Then something else struck her. “And my father? Who was he?”

  “For your own safety, Li. It is better that you don’t know.”

  “Does he know? Does my father know about me?”

  “No, he doesn’t. And again I repeat, for your own safety, it is vital that he doesn’t know.”

  Li frowned, raised her head from studying the stone floor. “Why is the fox faerie after me? Does she want to kill me?”

  Tao got to his feet and moved to the door. “No more questions. It’s time for your dinner. Have you forgotten? It’s your fifteenth birthday. You and the other concubines have been requested to dine with His Majesty tonight.”

  “Wait!”

  Don’t raise your voice,” Tao scolded.

  “You haven’t given me any answers at all.”

  “I told you who your mother was, Lotus Lily. She was the Empress, Ling She. Now come.” Tao beckoned her ahead of him and, reluctantly, she walked to the great hall.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Grand Secretary’s Treachery

  The Mongol warlord, fresh from his victory over Chi Quan’s troops, sent another envoy to request trade negotiations. Quan begged His Majesty to listen to him. Walls, he insisted, were the only way to deter the invaders until the military had a chance to renew itself. The Emperor sniffed at the idea of walls. Jasmine, ever at His Majesty’s side, argued, “Trade is good. Let the Mongols pay tribute. They will set an example to all foreigners and kowtow to the Son of Heaven.”

  Quan turned his attention to He Zhu whose eyes were fixed on Jasmine. She had cast some sort of a spell over him. It was he who first objected to being made a laughing stock of, and now he agreed to her every utterance. Some evil spirit possessed her. Her behaviour was atrocious and inappropriate and yet His Majesty refused to admonish her. Surely he noticed the lustful looks that passed between her and Lieutenant He Zhu?

  “The outside world laughs at us,” Grand Secretary Ju Jong insisted.

  “Grand Secretary, watch your tongue!” The Emperor’s fury sent Ju Jong cowering, burying his scarred hands inside the sleeves of his green administrator’s robe. “Send a letter to the warlord, Esen. Tell him he is welcome to pay tribute to the Son of Heaven. If he will stop the raiding and killing of my people, I will trade with him.”

  Under no conditions could they afford further trade with the barbarians, but the grand secretary had the sense to fall mute. He scuttled out of the throne room; pitifully attempting to kowtow all the way, while the concubine tittered. Quan was dismissed. He was disgusted by the outcome of the conference, and no longer trusted He Zhu. And ever since Zheng Min’s betrayal on the open plains of the Northeast Passage, he had stopped listening to the military governor. He left the court grounds, and found Master Yun inside the Koi Temple, at the colourful gardens outside the palace proper. Master Yun sat on the floor, eyes closed and legs crossed in front of a stone fountain of jade lily pads and marble fish sculptures. Quan hesitated at the threshold, not wishing to startle his former teacher out of his trance. Putting a foot forward, he unlaced his boots, before moving indoors.

  “I warned you that His Majesty would be stubborn,” Master Yun said to the fountain. “The fox faerie has her grip on him and she won’t let him go.”

  Quan had removed his leather boots and walked barefoot. How did Master Yun know he was there?

  “I can hear you breathe.”

  Quan bowed despite the fact that the martial arts master’s back was to him.

  “What is your advice?” Quan asked. “I am at loose ends. My troops are destroyed. They were the only men trained to warfare. The others are merely soldiers in name; they have no battle experience. What is to become of us if we can’t sway His Majesty’s mind?”

  Master Yun uncrossed his legs, rose to his feet, and turned to face Quan. “We can no longer count on His Majesty’s good judgement,” Master Yun said. “Until the wall is built we must find other means. I am training ten thousand young boys for battle. Some are ready for advanced military training at the garrisons on the border ramparts. Send them there.”

  “Ten thousand is not enough. The Mongols fight dirty. They are vicious and brutal and hav
e no regard for human life. All of the Mongol tribes have unified under the warlord Esen. There are hundreds of thousands of them and if we are to defeat them, we need hundreds of thousands, too.”

  “You can’t build walls without decimating the Mongol armies first. Cut them down to a manageable size. Force them back, deep into the wolf infested cruelness of the steppe. Starve them if you have to. But cut them down.”

  Starve them? That was an idea. The Middle Kingdom lacked the organized manpower to fight the invaders, but it had something that the barren steppes didn’t. Food. Winter was coming. If they could starve the Mongol horde, they could chop their population in half.

  Quan bowed. “Thank you.”

  Unfortunately, the expression on Master Yun’s face did not look hopeful. Something else troubled him, but Quan had no time to deal with it.

  He left the Koi Temple and returned to the palace to seek out Grand Secretary Ju Jong. The man was in his accounting office, nervously checking his books, calculating sums on his abacus, shaking his head and moaning. He looked up once and groaned.

  Quan cleared his throat. “Grand Secretary. The Emperor has sent me for the letter that is to be delivered to the Mongol envoy. Has His Majesty signed it?”

  “Yes, yes. I am trying to balance the royal purse. I am trying to squeeze out enough money to satisfy the barbarian. But I’m afraid if we trade with him, come winter our own people will starve. His demands are exorbitant.”

  “I have a solution. Toss out the first letter. Write a new one. I will dictate.”

  “Are you quite mad? I can’t do that. I can’t go against His Majesty’s orders.”

  “If we’re found out, I’ll take the blame,” Quan said. “If this works, His Majesty won’t be angry. Now write, and I’ll deliver the message personally.”

  Ju Jong stared at Quan, totally unnerved. Quan fully understood the grand secretary’s horror and explained his plan anyway. First, the royal reply would accuse the Mongol leader of failing to write his request in Mongol. If the men of the steppe were sincere in their desire to pursue trade, they must follow Chinese rules. Otherwise, how could His Majesty know that this was a legitimate request? That would require Esen’s envoy to return home and have the petition rewritten. Secondly, the Mongols must apply by regular channels—like other foreigners—and resubmit the request to the governor of the border town at Xuanfu. That would further delay any need to take action on reopening trade. The bureaucratic process could take several months. By that time winter would set in and the barbarians would be weak from hunger.