“What do I care who is on the throne? A Mongol or Chinese, it’s all the same to me. They take, and expect us to give. Well, no thanks. It’s my turn. I have a chance to take more than I ever imagined.” Mo Kuan-fu lowered his voice. “I know all about you, Lotus Lily. Some higher force protects you. You should have died that day when Bai Gu Jing turned into a two-headed shark to feast upon your drowning flesh, but did you drown? No! Nor did you become shark bait. So, that got me to wondering, and then I saw the most amazing sight. A nine-headed beast with a serpent’s body appeared out of nowhere to rescue you. I saw it with my own eyes! And now you want to tell me to relinquish my power over that other world that once slept? Why would I do that when she has chosen to serve me!”
“She does not serve you. She serves herself.”
“Then why has she not already made congee from your bones? It’s because I have not given her the okay to do so. I’m sorry, Li. I wished for you to come with me of your own free will, but clearly that’s not to be.”
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Light streamed in through a slit large enough to permit her hand to pass. Li tried to stretch but her curled legs struck a wall; she tried to stand and her head hit a wooden ceiling. Only the slit allowed air for her to breathe.
What had that traitorous brute done? Where was she? A gentle rocking motion suggested she was aboard some kind of seaborne vessel. But whose? What manner of ship was this? Her memories were vague. They had talked, she had tried to win him over and the Pirate King had duped her. She should have killed him. She would have killed him, on sight, had the White Bone Spirit not manipulated her thoughts to allow them aboard. And what had happened to her crew and the girls, her young stepsisters?
Outside her prison, she heard something like the sound of bamboo sails suddenly let loose, rapping in the wind. But the sound was too near and too loud. She peered through the slit. Fresh air bathed her nose and mouth and she gulped to ingest the sea aromas. Directly in her line of view were the lower bars of an iron cage, and all she could discern of its captive were the enormous scaly feet of a crane.
This was not Mo Kuan-fu’s pirate junk. The deck of this vessel was too clean and the wooden planks too smooth.
The rapping sound came again and the shriek of a bird in distress followed. Then a single feather drifted through the bars of the cage and onto the plank outside her peephole. Li shoved an arm outside as far as it would go until her fingers latched onto the quill. No foot came to stomp on her hand and she withdrew it to study her catch—a gold and azure feather, the hallmark of Fenghuang. What was the phoenix doing aboard this craft? And what was this craft? She stiffened as she heard the sound of voices.
“You promised me,” Mo Kuan-fu’s shout came loud and clear. “I want it deposited on the deck of my junk now. I delivered the fugitive to you. Give me my reward.”
“It is yours. And you are free to take it.”
“But how? That cage is enormous and fifty men—even one hundred men—can’t lift it with the bird inside.”
“Don’t try opening the cage, or you will lose your prize. That bird is aching for escape. It hisses when you go near it. It has already killed five of my men with its enormous wings. As to how you will deposit it onto your vessel, well that is your problem. I promised you the prized bird, but not to deliver it.”
“How did you get it aboard your warship?” the pirate asked. “We can do the same.”
“I’m afraid not. It came to me on its own. I don’t know where or how, although rumours from court tell of a Chinese Phoenix in the possession of the Emperor. Is this one and the same? I don’t know. A few days ago, it landed upon my deck and refused to leave. I recognized its kind from the tapestries His Majesty hangs in the palace. I knew it was a valuable find, and it was lucky that we had the metal to build it a cage.”
“I’ll be back with a giant makeshift winch of some kind,” the pirate warned. “Don’t leave before I get my prize.”
Sounds of departure rumbled in Li’s ears as Mo Kuan-fu returned to his junk.
Fenghuang, she thought. Her lessons had introduced her to tales of the Chinese Phoenix, a legendary bird of high virtue and grace, a symbol of power sent from the heavens to the Empress. Fenghuang would remain only if the ruler was without darkness and corruption. If it was true that a Mongol had captured the throne, if it was true that he had named himself emperor, then the ruler was, indeed, filthy with darkness and corruption.
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For some reason, Wu thought of the phoenix as he awoke from a terrible headache. He was no longer in the desert on horseback with Zhu, Alai and Peng. The thought of Fenghuang brought back memories of his mother and at first he thought he was home again, aboard Madam Choi’s pirate junk. But a dark vessel, black as the night sea, with nine sails that caught the moonlight fluttered in his waking vision. The image died, and he thought he saw a wolf or a dog, but then he stared at the eyes that peered back at him and knew they belonged to a woman. He blinked. The eyes were not the warm, brown, almond-shapes of his precious mother. They were yellow.
A face of terrible beauty unlike anything he had ever seen hung over him. This face was not that of the fox faerie who had captured him, nor that of the iron-faced ox monster that had slung him over his shoulders. This creature had pale hair the colour of newly steamed, white buns, and the effect she had on him was just like the tender confection—filled with his favourite sweet red beans. The black dress she wore trembled with each breath she took.
“So, you are the cause of all our troubles,” she said.
“How can I trouble you? I don’t know you,” Wu said.
The horribly beautiful lady smiled. “But I know you.”
Her mouth curved in a half-smile, while she laced her hands together. Wu looked down at the huge gemstone that circled her left-hand middle finger. The stone was mesmerizing, a deep melon-green with veins of red like human blood. It made him feel strangely uneasy, more so than even her presence. She noted the direction of his gaze. “Do you know what this is?” she asked, tapping the gemstone with a fingernail.
It reminded him of the Tiger’s Eye that He Zhu had left in his safekeeping. He had failed to preserve it, had failed to help his uncle and Alai. The realization struck him now. They were dead. He widened his eyes against the tears, willed them not to spill. I must show no fear; I’ve been alone before, been a prisoner before. This strange lady is no worse than Esen, the Mongol.
“The world is broken, Master Wu, just like your gemstone. My name is Dahlia, and I am the one who has broken it.”
Wu gulped, crushed the thick lump that swelled in his throat. The nine silver-tipped sails of his dream were not sails at all, but the tails of a fox faerie. “Where is Peng?” he asked, suddenly concerned for his cousin.
“Why do you care about her?”
“I like her.”
Dahlia laughed. “That’s nice, Wu. But to love your enemy is not much of a virtue. How Jasmine could think you were ever a threat, I do not know. But something goes on that I am not yet aware. What is your role in all of this my brave little warrior? Tell me, how does your existence matter?”
“It doesn’t,” he said.
“Peng thrives among my enemies, now,” Dahlia said. “She is my eyes, my ears, my tongue. With this gemstone I can see the world through her sight.” Wu’s own eyes grew very round in amazement as he listened. “Would you like to know how? You are just a young boy, not a man. You won’t understand a thing I tell you, and yet I feel compelled to tell you. This is all too easy. You are direct kin to Master Yun and yet you seem to have inherited none of his powers. But do you know who has inherited his powers?”
“Yes,” Wu interrupted. “Peng. Peng can see things that others can’t and she doesn’t need a gemstone like yours or mine.”
Dahlia glanced down at her gemstone. “Ah, so you are smarter than I thought. This ring is called the Bloodstone and it will guide the Sight of Wuji through my little Peng’s vision into its heart. There I will see wh
at my enemy plots.”
“But that’s cheating,” Wu said.
“Yes, it is,” a voice answered, which wasn’t Dahlia’s. Another beautiful woman entered the room. For the first time since he woke up, Wu wondered where he was. But he didn’t have time to ponder the issue for long. The woman gazed at him, her whole being lovely and ugly at the same time. Things stirred in his young body that until this moment he was not aware existed. He clamped his lips together, blushing. Her nearness disturbed him in a way that was unfamiliar. No introduction was necessary. This lady he recognized. She was Jasmine, Peng’s mother. Wu’s fists curled into tight balls. He looked sharply at her. He should be afraid of her, but he wasn’t. He hated her. And there was nothing she could do to him, not even those embarrassing things she was doing to his body. He would not submit; she would have to kill him. And he wasn’t afraid to die.
Jasmine slipped up to him and dropped to one knee, her white skirt tumbling like sea foam around her ankles. “So, my little man, you are finally awake.”
Wu swatted the finger that moved to his cheek. “My mother says you are evil.”
Jasmine gripped him by the jaw and kissed him on the lips. He spat at her. She laughed. “How old are you little man?”
“Old enough to know that you are evil.”
“I heard you the first time,” she said before turning to Dahlia. “Well, Grandmother, what have you learned from my Peng?”
“Shall we look?” Dahlia asked.
She raised her hand and they both gazed into the Bloodstone.
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Li realized she had very little time before Mo Kuan-fu would be back to claim his prize. He had double-crossed her. The traitorous sea hound!
It didn’t take long to figure out where she was and to whom that preposterous voice belonged. This was Fong’s warship and she was a captive of the White Tiger. Change of plans then. It was clear that no amount of talking would reach Fong’s sense of right or duty. She could pull an evil, seven-headed Jian out of a hat and it would not move him. His outrage at her desertion had blinded him to all but revenge. Well, if revenge was what he wanted, then she would make him come after it.
But first, how to get out of here? If she called upon Xiang Gong, would he rise to her aid? He had said he would only act if her life were in danger. Her life was not endangered at the moment. Furthermore, until she knew what price she had paid for his past help, she was wary. She was not drowning, not wounded. She was a prisoner, a captured animal in a cage. Did this man have no sense of morality? Or was his morality so perverted that this seemed like justice? Twice she had deserted him. He would not forgive. So she would have to get out of this fix by herself. Like her grandfather, she possessed the powers of the geomancer, but her gifts were not his gifts. So far she controlled the Ghostfire. That was all. At least, that was all she knew of. She had not tried to do much else; she had not been motivated to try. This was motivation if anything was. She had no idea how long she had been inside this box. Her back and legs cramped painfully. Soon she would soil herself. She had underestimated her ex-husband. Admiral Fong was a master of cruelty and punishment. He thought she behaved like an animal, and so he was treating her as such. Next to the whip, humiliation was his favourite tool.
Li curled into a ball, and poked her eyes and nose outside the slit. Her mouth was very dry. Did he intend to thirst her to death? Then she saw what she had hoped she would not see—a pair of booted feet with the stamp of the Imperial Navy upon them.
“Welcome home, Lotus Lily.” The voice came to her from above.
“Fong,” she said. “Let me out of here. I must talk to you.”
“We have nothing to talk about.”
“I am your wife, you owe me a hearing.”
“You forfeited that position when you abandoned your son.”
“I thought he’d be safer with you.”
“So you could return to the arms of your lover? I saw how you escaped together.”
“Forget about him. He doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but this. The world is in grave peril. All of the Middle Kingdom is threatened, including the seas. The fox faeries have reunited. Dahlia, the ancient one, stirs once more, and she plots to enslave us all.”
“I told you once before. I don’t believe in faery-tales.”
“These are no longer stories. The legends have come to life. Dahlia has released a host of mythical beasts from their time. They walk among us again. We can only defeat them if all men are united. Our petty jealousies and rivalries, our small lives, matter nothing in this context. Dahlia aims to destroy our armies and make us her slaves. Haven’t you seen evidence of this new order? Haven’t you seen Mo Kuan-fu’s consort Bai Gu Jing? She’s a White Bone Spirit, not of this world!”
“I’ve seen no such thing. Perhaps you should stop drinking the gunpowder wine of the pirates.”
“I have never drunken that concoction. Fong, please, let me out of here. If not for the sake of the Middle Kingdom, then for the sake of our son Lao.”
“I have my orders, and my orders are to rid the seas of you parasitic vermin.”
“When was the last time you received orders? When was the last time you heard from His Majesty? Don’t you know what’s happened? A Mongol is on the throne, and that fool of a Mongol thinks his alliance with the Fox Queen holds. Her plan is to take the throne from him, but we still have a chance. Master Yun, the Emperor’s warlock has retrieved His Highness, my father, from the hellfires of Feng Du. When the people see him, they will rally and we will fight. You must do the same. You must free me so that I can do my part! We must buy him time.”
Li’s neck was aching from craning it at an awkward angle in order to speak through the slit. She couldn’t see Fong’s face, but she could hear his heavy breathing, and the shifting of his feet.
“Time for what? For what purpose do we need to buy the warlock time?” Li’s lips clamped shut while Fong waited. “You do not answer.” A loud roar of laughter echoed outside her box. “Did you hear what you said? Do you expect me to believe any of it? The gods leave us to our own fate. Yan Luo would as soon speak to a goat as speak to a man.”
“Master Yun is not a man; he is a warlock.”
The booted feet began to pace back and forth in front of her peephole. The shadows flitted as he moved. “Just assume that I believe you. Exactly what role do you intend to play in this battle for supremacy?”
“All right, mock me, Fong. I deserve that. But you forget what I told you when we first married, the reason why I married you—the need to rescue Wu. He plays a part in this battle. Without him we cannot win.” Li shut her eyes, struggling with her mind. How much should she tell him? Master Yun had pledged her to silence. If the fox faeries got wind of the kingdom’s secret weapon, they could thwart it. “He is the Black Tortoise,” she said.
Fong’s footsteps ceased. Quiet prevailed. “How do you know?”
“I know because it was prophesied by the fox faerie, Jasmine, herself.”
“She specifically named the boy?”
Li hesitated. Well, did she or didn’t she? Li did not know.
Fong’s footsteps turned to leave. “I am sorry, Lotus Lily. That just won’t do. None of what you have said is credible to me.”
“Then ask the people in the coastal villages. Go back to the capital and find out for yourself! Don’t take my word for it! Only set me free to lead the water people against our enemy.”
“No,” Fong said, his footsteps pounding away.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
The Dashing Prince
“Tell the Dashing Prince that we wish an audience with him.”
The sentinel at Anding Gate scowled at Master Yun. “How did you get inside the walls?”
“The Forbidden City is not forbidden to me. I am His Majesty’s warlock.”
“His Majesty has no warlock. And as I told you before, he’s engaged. He is in conference discussing military tactics with Generalissimo Zheng Min. He doesn’t want to be d
isturbed.”
“Go and ask him anyway. Tell him I have a surprise for him. Tell him I have Altan’s daughter.”
Master Yun exchanged a quick glance with Quan as the sentinel left. Generalissimo Zheng Min? Master Yun ignored the absurdity of the new title—Master of all armies and naval forces? Ha. He was not surprised. Nor was he concerned.
Master Yun and his small convoy stood at the gate, looking innocuous. Behind him were four figures cloaked in shadow. One was very tall, the other two of medium height and the last very small.
“The palace is heavily guarded. It will be difficult to fight our way inside,” Quan said.
“We won’t need to clash blades. I think he will see reason,” Master Yun replied.
The sentinel returned. With a slight tone of surprise in his voice, he said, “All right, the Dashing Prince will see you. But you have to leave your weapons at the door.”
All of their weaponry was deposited outside the gate in the safekeeping of the guard. Quan and Master Yun entered, followed by the four shadows. The guards did not notice that the two men cast six shades. Their boots clattered down the marble halls and they entered the throne room between the stone lion dog statues. Esen looked absurd on the throne of the Emperor, and appeared no more regal than the filthy barbarian he was. Beside him stood His Majesty’s former military governor, now the Dashing Prince’s generalissimo.
“Well, well, well,” Esen said, slouched on the royal yellow cushions, slurping at a porcelain cup of wine. The red liquor slopped over the edge of the cup and trickled down like blood. A drop pinched off the base of the cup and stained a corner of the yellow cushion. One of the shadows shuffled indignantly. Master Yun hissed under his breath and the shadow stilled.
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