Time Raiders: The Protector

by Merline Lovelace

  Before leaving their assigned quarters, Cassie checked the lily pond and the yew. The pond’s surface was smooth and still, with only a thin rim of ice around the edges that didn’t tell her anything. The tight clump of fungus high up in the yew’s branches, however, appeared to have loosened. Not much. Just enough to kick Cassie’s pulse up a notch.

  They found Inspector Li in the outer courtyard, already mounted on his muscular Three Rivers-bred gelding. Li’s topknot seemed to pull his perpetual sneer even tighter as he took in Cassie’s one-sleeved jacket.

  “Do you think to ape the ways of the women of Lo-Shun? If so, you must cut off your right breast so you may draw a bow more easily.”

  Good Lord! Were those legends that had been passed down through the ages about Amazons true? Could descendants of the fierce female warriors described by the Greek historian Herodotus be alive and kicking here in ancient China? Cassie sincerely hoped she got to meet one before she and Max departed the seventh century.

  “Mount,” Li ordered brusquely. “We are to join the empress’s cavalcade at the eastern gate.”

  Shivers of anticipation, excitement and sheer nerves danced along Cassie’s bare arm as she gathered her protesting muscles and swung into the saddle. Her nervousness tripled when they joined the empress’s elaborate entourage.

  Wu Jao rode in a magnificent litter carried on the shoulders of twelve uniformed bearers. The conveyance was lacquered in red and the royal yellow, richly ornamented and so heavily gilded it seemed to be made primarily of gold. The silk curtains had been rolled up so the empress could enjoy the sight of her subjects prostrating themselves in the dirt as she was carried by.

  To protect her heavenly countenance from being ogled, she wore a flat black hat that reminded Cassie of a high-school graduation mortarboard. This one had strings of lustrous pearls and jade beads hanging from the front and back edges, though, forming jeweled curtains. With the hat she wore a sumptuous silk cloak trimmed in ermine.

  Two of her sons and a daughter had joined her for the outing. The princes were mounted on magnificent golden stallions. Their sister, the beautiful Princess Mei Yin, lounged in a litter almost as ornate as that of the empress.

  Preceded by acrobats and jugglers, and drummers hammering great bronze gongs, the flamboyant procession started off. It provided such a banquet for the senses that Cassie had to force her mind to shut out the color and noise and focus instead on the small things around her.

  Like the smoke from joss sticks stuck in pots of sand outside street temples. She took careful note of the way it angled lazily instead of curling straight up.

  And when the procession approached the bird market with its hundreds of stalls crammed with wicker cages, she strained to listen to the shrill whistles and chirps.

  As a child Cassie had always sensed that sounds were sharper before a storm, but she didn’t know why until she studied meteorology in college. There she’d learned that sound waves travel upward and outward into the atmosphere during fair weather. A low pressure system, however, bent those waves back to the earth and made sounds seem sharper, louder. She wasn’t completely sure, but she thought the bird calls sounded louder this morning than they had when she and Max had ridden past the same market on their way into the city.

  The signs were adding up, she told herself in a desperate attempt to steady her nerves. The rain star fungus. The smoke rising at an angle. The bird trills.

  She couldn’t shake the doubts that had plagued her since Jerry Holland’s death, though, until the procession passed through the eastern gates and she got a glimpse of the high mountain pass they’d descended from yesterday. Her heart thumping, she edged her mount closer to Max’s.

  “Max! Look at the mountains.”

  Eyes narrowing, he skimmed the snow-capped peaks. “What am I looking for?”

  “Do they seem closer?”

  “Closer than what?”

  “Than they looked yesterday,” she said impatiently, “when we entered the city.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe a little. Not as hazy, anyway.”

  “Yes!”

  “Okay, Spring Leaf, clue me in here.”

  “I’m pretty sure we have a low pressure front approaching. The heavier air in a front pushes dust particles to the ground and clears the air, making distant objects appear more in focus.”

  Max nodded but seemed hung up on the “pretty sure” portion of her comment. “Do you feel confident enough to estimate when this front will arrive?”

  “Not until we pass beyond the city walls and I get a good look at the sky to the west and south.”

  Despite hedging her bets, Cassie now felt close to seventy percent certainty. That nudged to a ninety-nine-point-nine when the procession mounted a small rise to the parade ground. Imperial guards in burnished armor ringed the field, their spears crossed. Colorful banners fluttered from the royal pavilion positioned for prime viewing midfield.

  As the cavalcade followed the empress’s litter toward the pavilion, Cassie scanned the vista behind her.

  “Look.” Pointing at the sky to the south, she chanted happily, “‘Mares’ tails and mackerel scales make tall ships take in their sails.’”

  Max craned around to follow her pointing finger.

  “Sailors used to call those wispy white streaks blowing up from the south mares’ tails,” she told him. “They’re cirrus clouds and generally indicate the approach of an upper air disturbance, usually within the next twelve to twenty-four hours. If they build into altocumulus—flat gray clumps of clouds that sailors thought resembled fish scales—we’re in for some really rough weather.”

  The glint of approval in Max’s eyes almost made up for Inspector Li’s glower when they dismounted and a soldier marched up to Max.

  “Most Heavenly Empress wishes you to sit with her to watch the drill. You are to bring the sorceress with you.”

  Cassie’s confidence took a sudden nosedive but she kept her chin high as she and Max edged through the crowd of courtiers surrounding the royal pavilion. The empress sat under the colorful canopy in a thronelike chair. A considerably less elegant chair stood vacant beside her. Her sons and Princess Mei Yin were seated behind their mother, on a raised dais with the lesser nobles. The remaining courtiers stood in groups flanking the pavilion.

  Looking like a beautiful porcelain doll under her elaborate headdress, Jao flicked her doelike eyes over Cassie before turning to Max. “So, Lord Bro-dai. I see your seer has bathed and robed herself in a most peculiar fashion.”

  “She has indeed, most beautiful and gracious queen.”

  “How is she called?”

  “Cassandra in her own land. It has been suggested Spring Leaf may suit her in this land.”

  “Spring Leaf.” Jao shifted her gaze to Cassie again. “Yes, I see the new, bright green in her eyes. Tell me, Spring Leaf, what change do you foretell in the weather?”

  “I foretell rain, Your Majesty. It comes from the south.”

  “Humph.” Someone in the crowd of courtiers openly scoffed.

  Lifting a delicately painted brow, Jao singled out a slight gentleman with a long gray beard and a richly embroidered cap covering his topknot. He wore the simple blue gown and padded jacket of a scholar, but the glowing ruby button on his cap signified he held a high rank.

  “You disagree, Lord Sing?”

  The man stepped forward and prostrated himself. “No, Most Heavenly Majesty. I merely beg leave to question this as the pronouncement of a great seer, as rain comes from the south more often than it does not.”

  “True. Rise, Chief Astrologer, and question her yourself.”

  Cassie’s stomach cramped into a tight knot. Astrology was an old and greatly revered science in China. The ancients’ measurements of the heavens were so precise that their calendar accounted for anomalies like leap years, and counted the months, days and hours down to the minute. Every major event, from planting the first seed of the spring to launching a warship, was predicated
on the knowledge of seasons and tides held by learned men like this one.

  “You say it will rain, outlander.” Stroking his beard with a gnarled hand, the court astrologer pinned Cassie with a hard stare. “When?”

  She threw another glance at the sky to the south and felt the breeze on her face. The wind was freshening. She was sure it was freshening.

  “Rain will come before the hour of the goat, most revered shaman.”

  The astrologer stared into her eyes for long moments. Then slowly, so slowly, he turned to the empress.

  “She has the gift, Most Heavenly Majesty. I, too, predict rain by that hour.”

  “Do you indeed? Well, we shall see.” With a casual wave of one hand, Wu Jao dismissed the astrologer. “Lord Bro-dai, you may sit beside me. Your seer may sit at our feet.”

  Max performed severe mental gyrations for the next hour.

  Cassie leaned her bare arm into his trousered leg for warmth, saying nothing, while he divided his attention between the empress, the clouds to the south and the astounding precision of the mounted riders. Each cavalry drill was an exercise in superb horsemanship, every chariot charge a spectacle of skill and daring.

  The mounted archers put on one of the most amazing shows. Astride matched sorrel horses, a squad of some forty or so wheeled onto the parade ground. At a signal from their captain, the first twenty spurred their mounts. When they were midfield and moving at full gallop, their captain shouted a command to the drummer riding beside him. “Draw!”

  The drummer beat a wooden mallet once against a silver gong. The sound was high and thin, so it could be heard in battle over the thunder of pounding hooves. With astounding precision, the twenty rose up in their stirrups, whipped arrows from their quivers, notched them and drew their bowstrings.

  “Release!”

  The drummer banged the gong twice. A rain of lethal missiles flew toward straw targets at the far end of the field. When every one hit dead center, the spectators burst into wild applause and the empress signaled her approval with a benign smile.

  The first squad had barely cleared the field when the second squad began their run. They reached the release point at midfield, their captain gave his command and the archers drew their bows.

  Afterward Max would swear everything happened in slow motion from that point. He saw one of the horses stumble, heard the crowd gasp. The rider was already up in the stirrups, an arrow notched and drawn. His mount’s violent maneuvers as it tried to recover threw the archer sideways in the saddle. His arrow launched, soaring high into the air before beginning a lethal downward arc.

  Max saw its trajectory, realized it would hit the royal pavilion and had less than a second to react. Shoving Cassie clear of the arrow’s path, he lunged for the empress. His dive toppled her chair and took them both down just as the arrow tore through the canopy and thudded into the platform.

  There was a second or two of stunned silence from the spectators before chaos erupted. Princess Mei Yin screamed. The courtiers shouted in panic. The elite imperial guards leaped forward, their pikes shoulder high and aimed for Max. He figured he was dead meat until the empress twisted out from under him and flung up an arm.

  “Hold!”

  Max pushed to his feet and reached down for her. She’d lost her hat with its beaded veil, and her face was red with fury. Then she spotted the arrow. Its tip was buried in the platform a scant inch from where she’d been sitting.

  The color drained from Jao’s cheeks. Whirling, she hissed out a command. The archer who’d fired the missile had already been dragged off his horse. At her command, he was shoved to his knees and beheaded on the spot. His body had barely thudded to the dirt when his disgraced captain turned his bloody sword blade up and fell on it.

  The general who’d arranged the exhibition wasn’t spared Wu Jao’s wrath, either. He stepped forward to hear his fate, his face grim under his embossed leather helmet.

  “You are removed from command and banished from court,” the empress raged. “You will not show your face to me again in this lifetime, nor will any of your family.”

  “As you command, Most Revered One.”

  Jao stalked toward her litter, turned and addressed Max. “I shall not forget your bravery, Lord Bro-dai. You will be suitably rewarded.”

  “I want no reward, Majesty.”

  “Nevertheless, you shall have it.”

  The mood during the return trip to the city was somber and grim. Max rode beside Cassie, torn between relief that he’d shoved both her and the empress out of harm’s way, and sympathy for the hapless archer and his officers.

  As they approached the city, a bolt of lightning forked out of the clouds piling up in the sky to the south. Only then did he remember Cassie’s prediction.

  “Please tell me those clouds are coming this way,” he muttered.

  “They’re coming this way.”

  Chapter 8

  Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.

  —Confucius

  W ord of the empress’s near miss raced like a prairie fire and preceded the processional into the city. The gongs announcing her return sounded like death knells. The streets were almost empty as nervous residents shut themselves behind locked doors in fear of retribution.

  By the time Cassie and Max reached their quarters, the palace was buzzing with whispers of a foiled assassination plot, of a planned revolt led by the empress’s oldest son, of gods angered by some slight or another.

  “That was some exhibition,” Cassie muttered when she and Max gained the privacy of their rooms. “The Dragon Lady doesn’t make much allowance for human error.”

  “If it was error.”

  “What? You think those assassination rumors are true?”

  “I think they could be.” Shrugging, Max removed the wolf pelt. “Jao is a woman wielding power in a man’s world. Die-hard Confucianists think that’s a very unnatural state of affairs.”

  “Ha! Not just Confucianists. Those die-hards come in every shape, size and century.”

  Max nodded, but her comment about the empress allowing little margin for human error reminded him again of the forecast for rain. If the skies didn’t open soon, Max might have to demand Cassie’s life as his promised reward.

  Too wound up by the morning’s events, he paced their rooms until Peony led in a troop of servants with the midday meal. Max wasn’t hungry, but his jump partner wielded her chopsticks with increasing skill through a parade of dishes that included pheasant in brown bean sauce, steamed lotus root, Mongolian braised pork and noodles washed down with sips of fragrant tea.

  Peony took Max’s lack of appetite as a personal failure. Distressed, she pleaded with him in her soft voice. “I hear from the other servants that master covered himself with great honor today. Please to tell me which foods you wish prepared and I will obtain them from the empress’s own cooks.”

  “How about a burger and a Bud light?” he muttered, still coiled tight.

  The maid’s brow furrowed. “I have rosebud tea but it is dark green, not light. This bur-ger I do not know.”

  “It’s a special dish from our land,” Cassie explained with a speaking look at Max. “Beef, ground up and shaped like a pancake, then grilled and served on bread.”

  “Ah, so!” The maid’s face cleared. “In my land, we raise the finest of Kobe beef. It is bred according to strict tradition and fed on wheat and sake, with daily massages to soften the muscle. The beef here in China is not as tender, but I shall have it ground and make a pancake of it, as you suggest.”

  When she gathered the empty bowls and left, Cassie shook her head. “Way to go, Brody. Nothing like messing with history.”

  “Don’t worry. We both know the idea won’t catch on for another thirteen or fourteen centuries.” He glanced at the oiled rice paper covering the windows. “Where the hell is that rain you predicted?”

  “It’s coming. Soon.”

  He pushed away from the table and went into the w
alled courtyard. Cassie joined him a short time later, his wolf pelt draped over her shoulders, and sniffed the air.

  “Can’t you smell it?”

  All Max could smell was the heavy scent of spicy Mongolian pork. Frowning, he scanned the small square of sky visible above the walls. It was darker than before, almost gunmetal-gray, but so far hadn’t produced any moisture.

  “Listen!” Cassie cocked her chin. “Hear that rumble?”

  He tilted his head, straining to hear what she had, and got hit in the eye. Grunting, he knuckled his lid. “I hope that wasn’t a bird flying by.”

  “It wasn’t,” she said gleefully. “Brace yourself. Here it comes.”

  The first few splats raised little waterspouts in the ornamental pond. Several more pattered onto the stone temple housing the goddess Guan Yiu. Then the heavens opened and the rain bulleted down. Riding a wave of relief, Max whipped an arm around Cassie’s waist and swung her in a circle.

  “You did it, Spring Leaf!”

  She turned her face up to his. Her wet, spiked lashes framed laughing green eyes. “Not me, Brody the Barbarian. Mother Nature.”

  Max didn’t intend what happened next. He didn’t even know it was coming. Later, much later, he would tell himself it was a combination of relief and exultation that made him swoop in for a celebratory kiss.

  But there was only one explanation for the jolt that hit him when his mouth locked on hers. Lust, pure and simple. The scent of her, the taste of her rain-wet lips, ignited an instant heat in his belly.

  After a moment of stiff surprise, her mouth opened under his. Max didn’t stop to think, didn’t so much as consider the consequences of his rash act. Widening his stance, he tightened the arm banding her waist and speared his other hand through her wet hair.

  The shaggy wolfskin slid off her shoulders. Her arms came up to lock behind his neck. They stood hip to hip, mouth to mouth, the cold rain sheeting down around them. Max could feel her body straining against his, feel his own hardening in response.