The Pirate Empress

by Deborah Cannon

  The window was unshuttered to let in the night breeze. If Lotus Lily were an unwilling hostage, why would they leave her windows open? And where were the guards? He glanced around the shadowy courtyard. Where was Jasmine?

  He approached the building and positioned his back against the wall. Inside, he could hear movement: a tossing and turning, the rustle of bed sheets, a soft moan. He sidled toward the window, dipped his head to look inside, while moonlight led his search across the room to her bed. She was there, lying on her side, curled like the lotus flower.

  “Li!”

  A gasp of pain came from the pillows and she raised her head, the whites of her eyes unusually shiny because she was crying.

  “What have they done to you?” He remembered, only at the end of this outburst, to drop his voice, and clamoured over the windowsill to rush to her side. She tried to sit up, was unable without his help, but she insisted, and he propped her up in his arms. A blanket and a silk sheet covered her from the waist down, and she was still attired in the stupid dancing girl costume. “Why haven’t they given you something decent to wear? And why are you crying?” he demanded.

  She pointed to her feet. He shook his head and she motioned to him to lift the bedcovers. What he saw made his stomach revolt for he had never seen a woman’s feet bound; he had only ever seen the results of the binding after the feet had healed. Girls had their feet bound when they were young and the bones still soft, but at age sixteen Li’s feet were fully formed. They had broken her toes to make them curl.

  “I can’t walk, Quan,” she said, choking on a sob. “There’s no point in rescuing me.”

  Men normally didn’t marry women with unbound feet, but surely even Zheng Min had not insisted on this. Only a being of supreme evil could do something so heinous. He glanced outside to gauge the distance she’d have to travel to the farthest walls before looking back at her, using every ounce of will he possessed to contain his emotion. “I can carry you,” he said, voice tight.

  “But how can I climb the wall?”

  When the Emperor discovered she wasn’t a virgin, broken feet would be the least of her worries. He inhaled to get control of his Chi—nothing was impossible—and took Li’s hand. “How long did you train with Master Yun?”

  “Over a year before I went to work on the wall with you.”

  “And while you were working on the wall, you did the work of a man. Your muscles must have ached from the arduous labour and you never complained about the cold or the bad food or the hard ground you had to sleep on. When Lok Yu forced you to accept his jade spear, you didn’t cry. When Esen took you, you killed him.”

  “That wasn’t the same,” Li said. “I can’t walk.”

  “They may have broken your feet, but they cannot break your spirit. Get up. I’ll help you.”

  She threw the covers off her knees and Quan rose to watch her swing her legs onto the floor. She tried to stand, but the pain seared through her, and she crumpled and burst into tears.

  “Get up, Li. Practice your form like you were sparring and spar like it was a form. You are a bird, a magnificent eagle. You can fly!”

  She stood up, and Quan caught her before she fell again and draped her arm around his neck and lifted her to the window. He eased her down and she leaned against the outside wall until he joined her. “I’ll carry you as far as the garden wall, then you’ll have to help me get you over it. You will have to climb.”

  Tears streaming down her face, he hoisted her into his arms and brought her to the brick rampart beyond the arched bridge where he boosted her onto his shoulder and she seized the coping to hoist herself up. When she straddled the wall, she looked down at him and smiled. All right, over this one and on to the next. He dropped onto the ground on the other side and she swung her leg over to lower herself into his arms, and then he ferried her to an archway that led to an adjoining courtyard. They made their way through several more arches into several more courtyards until they found themselves in the public square.

  One more wall, and they were home free. Quan boosted Li up onto his shoulders. This wall was higher, and she would have to stand on her feet. It would hurt. She rose up onto his shoulders, all her training with Master Yun coming into play, before gripping the coping to hoist herself up with the agility of an acrobat until she straddled the top. Quan took a few steps backward, then made a running leap and catapulted to the other side, knocking the wind out of himself.

  “Li!” he shouted, crawling to his feet. “Jump. Don’t be afraid. I’ll catch you.”

  Just as she was about to swing her other leg over to face him he heard a ruckus on the opposite side of the wall, and a sentry bellowed, “The princess is trying to escape!”

  “Jump, Li!” Quan yelled.

  She tried to, but someone leaped up and caught her ankle, toppling her back inside the public square.

  “Run!” she shouted as she tumbled, not once calling out his name in order to protect him.

  The white moon hid behind a passing cloud and all around him was black as a raven’s wing. The noise beyond the wall died down, and he stepped back to make a flying leap when a hand reached out to grab him.

  “Leave her. We can rescue her later. Whatever they decide to do, it won’t be tonight. Whatever punishment they have in store for her will be done in public. We’ll have our chance then. Now come with me. We need to form a plan.”

  Tao stood before him, holding his horse, and motioned silently for him to follow. Outside the palace walls even the shadows were hidden. The stars were blinded behind dense cloud, and the moon refused to show its face. They reached the Koi Gardens where he tethered the stallion to a shrub and led Quan indoors to an empty temple. “Where is Master Yun?” Quan asked.

  “I do not know for sure. But I think he has gone to the burial mound of First Emperor.” Tao shook his head before he could be questioned further. “I know Master Yun would be here if he could, but since he isn’t, it is up to us to save Li.” His head suddenly arched in anguish and an unearthly howl poured from his throat. “I must save her. It’s because of me that they have her now!”

  Quan collapsed cross-legged on the temple floor and stared at the Jade Fountain where water trickled from the rock wall above his head. Tao slumped down beside him and his voice when he spoke was thick. “They tortured me, dripped water on my forehead for days, thrust bamboo shoots into my fingernails and watched them grow. I wouldn’t speak. I refused to betray my Lotus Lily and I did not know where she was. But they threatened to carve out my heart while I watched, and give it to her when they finally caught her. So I told them they dared not do that to a princess, and after that stupid, stupid slip, they realized what I meant, that I had rescued Ling She’s newborn and raised her under their very noses.”

  “So they broke you,” Quan said, angrily.

  “They broke me,” Tao admitted, shamefaced.

  Tao was not a warrior; he was a tutor and there was no shame in that. Quan forced himself to be kind, shut his eyes to obliterate the horror of Li’s broken feet, and composed himself. “How is it that you’re still alive?”

  “They released my bonds and left me unwatched, thinking I would simply die. They didn’t even lock the dungeon door so I crept away.” Tao fixed tearful eyes on Quan. “We haven’t much time, Captain. His Majesty has no intention of keeping his promise. He has no intention of marrying her to you, Zheng Min, or any other officer. The fox faerie controls his will.”

  “But how did you escape the sentries?”

  “How did you pass through the palace grounds like a ghost? After I learned what they meant to do to her, to me, and to any who came to her aid, I had no other thought but to escape, and ran here. A secret chamber sits behind the fountain. That’s where I hid when they came to search, that is where the infant Lotus Lily was taken, and where we should go now.”

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  It was morning when the guards came for her. She had been locked in her room all night with the windows shuttered and boar
ded. When she was brought before the Emperor he stared at her with such rage in his eyes that she couldn’t believe this man was her father. But he had ordered the decapitation of Ling She, the Empress, so what was a daughter?

  What if she told him she was carrying his grandson? Would he have mercy then? Jasmine stood by His Majesty’s side as beautiful as ever, smile dripping malice and revenge for her Mongol lover. Over her head, emerald green tiles rippled across the throne room’s ceiling, and Li locked eyes with her for a second before turning away. She wasn’t sorry that she had killed the arrogant warlord. He deserved nothing less.

  Would Zheng Min petition for her? He wanted to marry her, didn’t he? She could barely stand. Beneath the flimsy dancing girl skirt, her broken feet had swollen and if they had wanted smaller feet, they had created the exact opposite. Nausea engulfed her with each step she took, but no one offered to help, and it wasn’t until she crumpled to the floor that the military governor rushed over to proffer his arm.

  “Uh-uh,” Jasmine said. “I don’t think you want to do that.”

  Zheng Min’s desire for the fox faerie was obvious, but he couldn’t make a play for her in the presence of His Majesty. As a consolation prize, he wanted the princess. After all, she had been promised to the first high-ranking officer who found her, and no officer ranked higher than he. “I will teach her manners when she is my wife. She will learn not to run away.”

  “Observe her feet,” the fox faerie said, miffed at her near escape. “It’s obvious she had help. Who was with her?”

  The military governor had belatedly sent out a search party after the guards had locked her in her room. “No one,” he said, resorting to his habit of twisting the facts in order to save face.

  “Someone helped her. Look at her, she can hardly stand—unless she’s faking it?”

  “She’s not faking. I am supporting practically all of her weight.”

  “Well, Military Governor, you won’t want her after the Imperial physician examines her.”

  Examine her? Why? What would the Imperial physician examine her for? After Jasmine had left her mutilated on her bed, she was given nothing for the pain. Jasmine returned Li’s gaze, causing every muscle in her body to tense. Her mother, her father, her allies, the Empire, the fox faerie was taking it all. Heart swollen with rage, she turned to His Majesty and tried to bow without collapsing on her broken feet.

  “Sire,” she said. “I am your daughter. I may even be carrying your grandson who is destined to be a great warrior. Ask the concubine. She’ll tell you.”

  Zheng Min dropped Li’s arm and stared at her. “What? You’re not a virgin?”

  Li fumbled for control of her body, and managed to remain standing. The look on Zheng Min’s face was frightening. Had she made a mistake? But at least now she wouldn’t have to marry him.

  “No, Lotus Lily is, most definitely, not a virgin,” Jasmine cut in. “She’s a trollop.”

  The pain in Li’s feet was blinding, but she needed only her mouth, not her eyes, to make her rebuttal. “And what does that make you? You are Number One Concubine and you have slept with every man in this room!”

  Of all the men present at her inquisition, none seemed to grasp the truth. The sneering eyes of the scheming seductress suddenly widened; Li tried to blank out the memory of Lok Yu’s cruel pleasure just before she obliterated his face with the heavy brick. Jasmine’s red lips glistened. “Lotus Lily is not only a trollop, but she is also a murderer. The young man whose jade spear she took is dead. Summon any of the workers from the border wall, they will tell you. A boy’s body was found beside a tumble of bricks. It was no accident. That girl pretended to be a boy. When she was exposed, she killed her exposer.”

  The Emperor seemed to have lost all will, and his flat eyelids lifted to seek counsel, which the fox faerie blithely gave. He tore his gaze from Jasmine, and when he returned to Li to pronounce judgement, his eyes were dead.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The Scimitar of Yongfang

  Beware of false promises. Yongfang’s last words echoed in his mind.

  Master Yun should have been out of here by now. Instead, he was in a maze, going around in circles. Where, exactly, was he? He stopped to collect his thoughts, shone the Moonstone at the walls around him, and saw that he was inside a dirt tunnel. The more he moved forward, the farther away from his destination he seemed to go. In that case, he must move backward. If going ahead only got him more lost, then reversing his steps would return him to where he started. Master Yun touched the hilt of the bronze scimitar, lowered his Moonstone and shut his eyes. This way, then, back the way he had come. He moved by feel rather than by sight and allowed his senses to mingle with the geo forces that controlled the shifting of the earth tunnel. Direction was a state of mind and the balance of body, and he was lost as long as he used his eyes.

  By the time he came full circle, he had no idea how much time had passed, but when he opened his eyes he saw what he wanted to see—blue light, and the shadowy figures of the Night Guards Army. For a moment he lingered among the statues before walking between the aligned ranks, conscious of eyes watching. At the very front, the battle formation stood exactly as he had left it—only now he saw that some of the warriors were missing their weapons.

  Master Yun raised the bronze blade, which vibrated in his hand, and nearly dropped it. A crack of light appeared in the vaulted ceiling, widening. Air swirled around his body before a vacuum sucked him up and out of the tomb, and then he found himself atop First Emperor’s death mound, in scorching daylight, with the scuffed remains of the azure dragon at his feet.

  Someone had been here. Master Yun shoved the Scimitar into the sash beneath his robes. Not since Lotus Lily was born had he solicited the help of the Moonstone. Only out of desperation, and at the request of First Emperor’s apparition, had he succumbed to the urge and sought the visions. The eyes interfered with the senses, the forces of Chi, and he did not need to look to know that things fared badly for Lotus Lily.

  His robes caught the wind, lifting him with the earthly forces of the geomancer. He had summoned the Chi from Esen’s massacre. Quan’s men at the border wall were slaughtered days ago—on the night of Li’s abduction—and the bloodbath had flooded Master Yun with power.

  His horse was long gone. Xingbar would have returned to the stables of the Forbidden City, meanwhile Master Yun must fly. Executions always took place at midday. If he sent his steps flying fifty times a man’s natural stride, he would reach Beijing before noontide. He loped like a tiger, crossed the plains of the Yellow River loop, bounced off the treetops that lined the dirt road until he reached the outskirts of the capital; and bounded onto a farmer’s rooftop to view the crossroad below. A mounted legion of men were city-bound, and at the head marched Lieutenant He Zhu. Master Yun landed on the ground behind the black-roofed farmhouse and slid out into full few of the horsemen, and bowed.

  Startled, He Zhu reined in his horse and nodded, puzzled. “What is your business, strange soldier?”

  Soldier? Master Yun glanced down at his robes, at his armament. Strange? In his hand was the bronze scimitar. Other than that he wore nothing remotely resembling combat gear; nonetheless he decided to be cautious because if He Zhu truly did not recognize him, there must be a reason for it.

  “Not a good time to be a stranger. Where do you hail? Your uniform is unfamiliar, it looks like something out of the past.”

  The fabric of his robes, with their wide bell sleeves, was weatherworn and beat up from his adventure, but hardly military attire. What was Zhu seeing, a battle tunic from First Emperor Qin’s units? Master Yun tightened his grip on the Scimitar. Did Zhu’s strange words have something to do with Yongfang’s blade?

  “Where are you headed?” Master Yun asked. “May I accompany you?”

  Zhu’s gaze turned to the impressive citadel. The sun was still low in the sky, not yet noon. “We make for the Forbidden City where the princess is to be beheaded. Join us if you wish.�
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  Master Yun blended in with Zhu’s regiment, following on foot. Moments later, the red brick wall of the citadel came into view, and beyond it, the golden tiered roofs of the palace, curved like hats, cut across the sky. The horsemen rode slowly through the town, and at the palace gates Master Yun fell back. The Imperial convoy entered the gate, and he slipped away to the Koi Gardens and his temple.

  No sound came from inside, and at the doorway, he stabbed the Scimitar point-end into one of the nearby planters, and went to the fountain to drink. When he’d refreshed himself, he dried his hands on a soft cloth, closed his eyes for a few minutes to rest them before noticing that the jade fish at the basin’s bottom had been disturbed. He glanced over his shoulder at the temple entrance. No soldiers would be coming here today; all would be in the public square awaiting the spectacle. It wasn’t every day a princess was beheaded.

  “You can come out now,” he said, aiming his voice in the direction of the water trickling from the rock wall.

  A shadow moved from behind the curtain of rock and water, and Tao and Captain Chi Quan stepped out. They exchanged relieved greetings. Master Yun briefed the men on his quest to First Emperor’s tomb and how he had met the ghostly mound keeper and acquired his sword. When he finished, Quan recounted all of Lotus Lily’s mishaps including her kidnapping by the Mongol warlord and Zheng Min’s capture of her.

  “When Jasmine exposed Li’s deception and the murder of the boy, His Majesty decreed her beheading,” Quan said. “Tao and I were plotting her rescue when you arrived.”

  Master Yun raised thoughtful eyes from where they had been fixed on the water streaming down the rock wall into the stone basin of the fountain. “And how did you plan to do that?”