“That is so, but tell me, my little vixen, for I have seen the strange soldiers you are training on the plains. What’s in it for me? When you crush the world of men, what will be left for me in a world of beasts? Am I not a man?”
“I will send the armies back to where they came from.”
“And where is that?”
“Peng Lai and the Land of Legend, the Past and the Realm of the Dead. Now, enough questioning; are you with us?”
“I cannot believe that you can disappear for so long and not expect me to ask questions.”
Altan turned from pacing the wall in short stints. His falcon dropped to his gloved hand, feathers gleaming with a brown-black sheen, blood dripping from its sharp beak. Jasmine smiled, the sight of the blood compelling her to lick her lips. “You have not changed. I like that—intractable as always. Fine. Question away. I have no secrets from you.”
He gave her a narrow glance, pulled at his whiskers that needed cutting. “Where have you been? What have you been doing all these months and years, leaving our daughter to be abducted?”
“She was not abducted. My intent was to have her taken to the palace. She is a spy!”
He snorted. Then laughed uproariously. “She is a child. How can she spy?”
“You know so little about my kind, Altan. How do you think I knew how to find you? Not through tealeaves. That skill only foretells the future and is unreliable. Little Peng is my eyes and ears.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will. But I need you to return with me. I want you to meet someone.”
“I am here to see Peng.”
Jasmine hesitated. “All right. Fine. Let’s suppose I did tell you one tiny lie. Suppose I tell you that Peng is not your daughter.”
Altan’s hand went to his boot and he withdrew a shining dagger. “Whose daughter is she?”
He slashed at her throat and she slipped beyond his reach. “Don’t anger me, Warlord. I can kill you the way I killed Peng’s father. Without a second thought.”
He withdrew the dagger, sheathed it and laughed. “Of course. So, tell me. Who was he?”
“A Chinese warrior monk, a man of no consequence, at least, not anymore. I needed him to spawn my kit. His line possesses a power that I wished mine to possess, and now it does. I repeat, how do you think I knew where to find you? Peng saw your army camped here, outside the walls as she was led in by Brigade General Chi Quan.”
“He and I had a pact, a pact of honour between warriors. I was to give him his son Wu in trade for my girl.”
“Yes, well, I have Wu and he is not for you to trade. And since Peng is not your daughter, why would you trade for her?”
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Esen laughed as he entered the doorway of the war room. “So, who has the last laugh again? My brother’s encampment is gone.”
Master Yun glanced at Quan who was holding little Peng’s hand before turning back. “Do you know where they have gone?” the warlock demanded.
The Mongol’s eyes rolled to the ceiling, and then lowered to the foxling, who squeezed her own together in a concentrated frown.
“Altan has returned with my mother to the plains of Xian,” Peng said.
Why there? Then Master Yun remembered Quan’s tale of He Zhu’s demise. Had Zhu succeeded in his quest before his murder? What had happened to the fifth rib of Dilong? And how on earth did Peng know of the whereabouts of her mother and Altan?
“He knows I am not his daughter,” she said.
“Have we lost him then?” Quan asked Master Yun.
“Have we, Peng?” Master Yun asked. “Have we lost your stepfather?”
Her eyes suddenly went blank. “How should I know?”
Master Yun squatted down in front of her, his voice laced with suspicion. “You seem to know an awful lot.”
She shrugged, then her gaze turned to something happening behind him. A woman in tattered rags with burnt hair entered, holding the hand of a small boy with one white streak in his, followed by a brown, weathered man that he recognized as the pirate Ching, but whom all now called Mo Kuan-fu, the Pirate King.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
The Return of the Emperor’s Daughter
A few days passed before His Majesty sent for her. She slept in her old room with Lao, the windows barred with bamboo to resemble a cage. For her safety or to keep her prisoner? When finally Li was brought before her father, he gazed at her with such earnestness that she found it hard to believe he was the man who had ordered her execution ten years before.
Master Yun stood by the Emperor’s side, a strange sight indeed. Although she knew the old warlock had come to the palace as his advisor, in all her sojourn as a young concubine-in-training, she had never seen him as such. It was difficult to mask her suspicion, and her resentment for the injuries he had caused her. But these were bad times and such things must be forgiven. Over her head, emerald green tiles rippled across the throne room’s ceiling. This familiar sight was a memory from her childhood. When His Majesty used to call for her, she would gaze up conscientiously, but all the while, she was really looking past him to the mosaics of his ceiling. Li turned and locked glances with the warlock before returning her attention to the Emperor.
What must he think of this prodigal daughter costumed as chief of all pirates? She wore Madam Choi’s war helmet and her silk tunic with the gold dragons. Several blades were sashed to her hip. Holding her hand was Lao, her young son by Admiral Fong. She had sent for the garments from her pirate junk, which had followed her from the Yellow Sea, entered a tributary from the Gulf of Bahai, and sailed up the Grand Canal to the outskirts of Beijing where it lay anchored awaiting her orders.
Her last memory of this place was of horror when he pronounced judgement on her, a sixteen-year-old girl, dressed in a dancing girl’s costume, her feet cruelly broken by his henchmen. Her wounds had healed with Master Yun’s skill, and she stood proudly on feet that were not curled into the Ming Dynasty’s ideal of the perfect Golden Lotus. The agony with each step her broken feet had taken as she was forced to the chopping block haunted her even now.
“Majesty,” she said, and palmed her hands together in a bow. “I am Li, your daughter, and this is your number two grandson whose father, the White Tiger, will be sailing up the Grand Canal any hour now to join us.” She nudged Lao forward and he planted his small hands together and mimed his mother’s gesture.
The Emperor turned to Master Yun. “I have two grandsons?”
“You do,” the warlock replied. “But the boy we need is in the hands of the Fox Queen. Wu is the Black Tortoise and must hold the northernmost extreme of the Magic Crosshairs.”
His Majesty returned his attention to Li. “Why are you dressed like that? Why do you bear weapons like a common cutthroat?”
“Because, Your Highness,” she said. “I am a cutthroat. I am the leader of the pirates who menace the Yellow Sea. Your taxes have reduced the water people to poverty. We steal to survive.”
The Emperor’s eyes moved to Master Yun. “You expect to win back the Middle Kingdom with a ragtag bunch of sea robbers? Do you even know how to use a sword?” he asked Li. Clearly his only experience with women was with the pampered ladies of court who cringed at the sight of their own menses. “You are a woman, even if you are a pirate. Won’t you swoon at the first sign of blood? Have you ever even seen a dead man?”
“I have not only seen a dead man,” Li said, “I have killed. And on more than one occasion when required.”
The Emperor’s eyes crossed and he closed them to clear his mind, but he seemed to be at a loss, for he raised his eyelids to seek counsel from the warlock. This time Master Yun abstained. He looked to Li, knowing that father and daughter must resolve their differences themselves, and that His Majesty must accept Li for who she was and what she had become.
“Ling She resides in the Netherworld. I sent Lotus Lily to join her, declaring that she was no daughter of mine. There are no words or actions that I have r
egretted more.” He rose from his throne and extended a hand to her. “Daughter, welcome home. Forgive me if you can; and if you can’t, I understand. So much has happened in the last little while and I can scarcely grasp the situation. I have been under the spell of the fox faeries for many years, lost to the world, to Master Yun, and to you. I was deceived by all of you, and to think that all these years you lived under my roof, inside the Forbidden City, as one of my concubines-to-be. Thank the gods, I never asked for you. But I see now that your grandfather”—he glanced up at Master Yun— “ensured that that would never happen, and that, all the time, he intended to whisk you away to safety. My only regret is that it was I who was the evil from which you needed protection. It breaks my heart to know how I have been used. I cast aside my name of Tongtian, Heaven’s Pass, and never again will I be Son of Heaven. I have been punished, and perhaps the reign of the Fox Queen is further retribution.
“My sins have brought me to the hellfires of Feng Du where I was forced to climb a tree of knives. And if that didn’t bring me to my senses, then a flight from the Hell mouth on the back of a shapeshifting dragon soldier has. Those days of madness are over. This day, I accept you as the Pirate Empress, this day I embrace my daughter, and hope that we will all live to make amends.” He paused to catch his breath. “Let me greet my grandson.” He knelt to Lao’s level and smiled at the boy.
She left him to become acquainted with his grandson. Master Yun accompanied her to her courtyard where she wished to practice Tai Chi and calm the nerves caused by the unexpected reconciliation with her father. They were about to part ways when he touched her shoulder. “Li, something by those cherry trees moves.”
“Perhaps it’s Peng changed into a foxling and playing childish games.”
“No, it is not she. Wait here. Do not move.”
He faded into shadow and she was alone. A black form, the flutter of wings fell over her. Then an unlikely apparition descended from the sky, batlike, and faced her. Li sputtered in disbelief.
“Before you grow too confident, heed my words. Do you really know who the Black Tortoise is?” the apparition asked.
Li shrank back from the hideous spectre that addressed her. “Who are you?” She spun around to locate her grandfather but he was nowhere to be seen.
“I am pleased to learn that you did not kill your number two son. And I am here to remind you that you have yet to learn the identity of the Black Tortoise. It could be your firstborn, or it could be the son of Fong.”
She scowled, and the rotting figure smiled sadly. “Do you truly not remember me, Lotus Lily? I was once your tutor Tao. But my will is not my own. Even now the fox faeries have convinced others like me to join them.” He raised his wide, black sleeves, and revealed withered hands that looked like skin over fleshless bones. “My time is short. I came here to complete one more task.” His piercing eyes captured hers. They were milky pale. “Believe it, child, I am neither alive nor dead, but my body rots. My hair has turned to frost to match my eyes and my skin gleams virescent. But you must believe me.”
Li felt her insides recoil, but outwardly she remained standing where she was. “I don’t know who you are. And I don’t like what you are insinuating. How do you know me? How do you know of my sons?”
“I told you Lotus Lily, I was your tutor. I have been watching over you all of your life.”
Master Yun’s voice spoke from out of the shadows. “Go from here. You are tainted. You are no longer Tao, but a hopping corpse, conscripted by the enemy. You have said what you came to say. You are corrupted, through no fault of your own. If you truly own your will, you must go to Feng Du Mountain to be judged.”
“Alas,” he said. “I cannot. The Hell Master is no longer in control.” He glanced at Li. “And from your strange responses, it seems that you have been bargaining with the gods.”
Master Yun warned Li not to answer. “I don’t know what has compelled you to come here, Hopping Corpse, but your counsel was not requested. If you do not leave—” An arrow cut off Master Yun’s speech as it suddenly flew past his shoulder and struck the rotting figure in the chest. Tao drew it from between his ribs as easily as a spoon from a bowl of congee, and Quan advanced toward the small group, his jaw dropping in horror.
“My quarrel is not with you,” the hopping corpse told Quan, before returning to Master Yun. “And my counsel was not for you.” He gave Li one last look before he raised his arms and floated over the courtyard wall.
Li knitted her brow. “He says he was my former tutor, Tao. But I never had a tutor named Tao.”
Master Yun frowned, asked, “How many times have you called upon the water god for help?”
“Twice.” Her eyes suddenly widened.
Master Yun nodded. “Xiang Gong has taken his payment. Tao is the first victim of your stolen memory. I wonder: Who is the second? From this day forward, Li, have a care. There is always a price to be paid when mortals call upon the gods.” He turned away. “Now, you have news for me, Quan? How fare things on the northern frontier?”
“Not good, Master Yun. Our armies are small and weak compared to those of the Fox Queen. It has been confirmed that Altan has rejoined Jasmine. And Zheng Min is missing.”
“I was afraid of that. Is Esen still with us?”
“He is, but I don’t trust him.”
“And for good reason,” Master Yun said. “You must keep him away from His Majesty. Do not allow him inside the palace unescorted. His actions are unpredictable, and he lives only for reward and glory. Should he perceive either as inadequate or that he has been short-changed, he will turn on us like a wolf on a rabbit. As for our former military governor, he makes no secret that he is irked by his recent demotion. However, we have bigger fish to steam. Li, my informants tell me that the White Tiger approaches the Forbidden City. When he arrives, take him to his son so that he can see the boy is safe, and then prepare an audience with your father. When he has spoken with His Majesty he will be as tame as a kitten. Quan, come with me. I have one more errand to run.”
CHAPTER SIXTY
Zheng Min’s Betrayal
All signs of the skirmish had vanished. Zheng Min’s mare stumbled and he saw at her feet rubble, dangerous terrain for a hoofed steed. Alighting, he left her grazing on a clump of weeds at the base of the collapsed wall. Where was he? How had he come to be here? And where was the enemy? What sorcery had brought him to the end of the wall? For surely this was Shanhaiguan.
At the bank, he hovered over the lapping waves to palm water to his lips. He spat and rose to his feet, wiping his mouth. Just as he thought—salt! He traced the landscape, narrowing his eyes. Was this the shore of the Yellow Sea? Waves crashed against rock, and a broken plaque sloshed back and forth, caught in a crevice of rock and tide. He lifted the severed pieces of wood, fitting the three together and read: The First Pass Under Heaven.
A shadow hovered from above. Zheng Min remained still, but the shape on the wall did not pass. He squinted to better view the curved roof of the fortress capping the thirty-foot-high brick wall. Wind whipped in from the sea, and the Emperor’s banner of yellow triangle and green dragon quivered from one of the corner roof peaks. It, too, was broken, shredded into rags, its ends as tattered and frayed as the Empire itself.
“Who goes there!” he shouted, scared almost to witlessness. He dropped to his stomach as an arrow zinged by his ear, smashing into a boulder jutting from the beach. He rolled to his side, crossbow at the ready, took aim. The shape slunk backward into the arch of the fortress where it mixed with the shadows. Surely that was not the creature that had shot the arrow at him? Flustered, he tripped, dropping his crossbow on the ground, and as he scrabbled to collect his balance, the sun hit the Fire Opal on his finger. He spun around, twisting his feet, and saw a black fox with nine silver-tipped tails leap from the parapet.
Zheng Min gulped, dared not take his eyes from her. The smooth black head appeared almost blue; the sweeping fur along skull and snout gleamed. Moist nos
trils quivered. Jaws parted to show the lower length of a pink tongue, and white teeth flashed against indigo lips. Surely, you remember me, Zheng Min. You are the guardian of the Fire Opal. Thank you for keeping it safe. Now I would like it back. He tore off his helmet; its red tassel spun and the metal tumbled and scraped on the rocky bank, as he shouted, “Stop talking inside my head!”
She laughed, and he blinked at the beauty that stood before him. What a moment ago was a black fox with nine silver-tipped tails was now an exquisite woman dressed in wicked satin, breasts bared beneath a mellifluous black gown. Her hair, platinum white, gleamed like the moon and her perfume reeked of bitter apple. Over her shoulder was slung a C-bow, the likes of which he had never seen before: a slender, long weapon, reminiscent of the past. Zheng Min bowed.
“Why so formal, Generalissimo? Or are you back to Military Governor?” Dahlia asked.
His heart started to jitter. “What are you doing here? Did you bring me here?”
He pinched his brow when she only smiled, and glanced down at the gemstone that had allowed him to trap Quan and send him to his doom. Somehow the plan had backfired, and the brigade general was reunited with Master Yun—with the Emperor’s blessing. He, himself, had been demoted, relegated to defending the wall against the strange desert riders who seemed not to belong to Altan or to Esen—or even to Liao Dong of the Manchus.
“My side is the only side that can win,” the Fox Queen warned.
“His Majesty has been returned to his throne. I’ve seen the warriors that march with him; they are formidable. I’ve even heard rumours of a secret weapon.”
“Yes, I know about their secret weapon. It is not so secret and cannot be employed as long as I have the boy, Wu. And I had a hell of a time getting him, too. All of this has taken longer than I planned. But if you and your forces join mine, that is one less army that the warlock has at his command.”
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