I couldn’t go back. If I told the men back at base what I’d discovered, they’d brand me a liar. If I kept it to myself and continued to do my job, I couldn’t live with myself. There was no going back now. There just wasn’t.
“Wait.” I turned and pushed past the armed men. “I can help you repair your ship.”
The old man shook his head. “Go home. Your place is not with us.”
“I can’t. You’re right, for twenty years I’ve been out here. Doing as I was told. Shooting down runners. I’ve been lied to. They never told me there were children. They never said there were more than a couple people on these ships. I didn’t know.”
“He’s lying. Get him out of here.”
Two of the armed men started to drag me away. I fought them.
“I can’t go back now. Not now. Not knowing what I know. I have to…I have to…” What did I have to do? What did I have to offer these people? “I have to make amends. We can use my ship, Lucky. You can take whatever you need from it to repair your own.”
The big man stepped forward. It looked as if he were about to hit me. “Lies! He’s trying to trick us into putting something on our ship that will allow them to track us.”
“Hold on a moment.” The old man stepped forward. “Is there something on your ship they can use to track us?”
“Yes, but I can disable it. I know every part of that ship. I can disable the tracking devices. Please, don’t make me go back. I can’t go back. I just can’t.” I fell to the ground, sobbing. How many had there been on all those ships across all those years?
Only my cries filled the silence. Now I wished the animal, the carja, had killed me before I knew what I had done. It would have saved me from the knowledge that I’d taken away hope from so many people. I’d been an unwitting pawn in a large game and I didn’t even know what that game was.
A hand touched my shoulder, then a second. The big man and the old man helped me to my feet.
“If you try to trick us, I will kill you personally,” the big man said.
“Let’s see if Lucky and Andy can get us all out of here. Assemble a party. Strip everything from Lucky and bring it over here.”
The woman I’d first met when I crashed stood in front of me as men and women pulled tools out of Andy. She tapped my chest with her wrench and smiled. “Perhaps you’re not a skud after all.”
J.R. Murdock
Despite what you may think, J.R. Murdock did have a normal childhood. If you consider swimming in lakes, playing hide and seek in the woods, and spending more time with his imagination than a television, then yes, it was normal. There are those times when little voices will talk to him inside his head. This was never a frequent occurrence and he learned to ignore them. Most of the time.
When not listening to the voices inside his head, J.R. Murdock spends time with his wife and his favorite daughter (yes, there is only one daughter that’s why she’s his favorite). They reside in sunny San Diego which is about as close to paradise as you can get and still be in a big city.
Find out more at jrmurdock.com.
8. The Emperor’s 13th Choice
N.E. White
The imperial guard slammed the wicket in Chen-wu’s face. Shouts and the patter of foot traffic from the street behind washed over Chen-wu’s broad back and she gripped tight her short staff, her shame turning her face as hot as the smith’s furnace.
For the last five years, joining the Imperial Watz Warriors had been her goal. It was going to bring her family a secure income. No longer would her mother have to sell her body, nor auction off her two youngest daughters’ virginity. If the imperial guard would not even give Chen-wu a chance to test for entry into the Watz recruits, then what?
Her mother had said all of Chen-wu’s years of training were a waste. She wiped at her brow, thinking her mother had been right. Turning towards the street, her mind worked to find a solution.
A covered palanquin, one curtained side drawn up to reveal a noblewoman in a black, silk dress, made its way through the midday crowd of shoppers. It stopped near Chen-wu, and the woman’s servants lowered the palanquin onto an attached stand. A man removed himself from the retinue of bearers and approached.
Chen-wu stepped aside, assuming he was there to petition the imperial guard for entry as she had just done.
But he stopped before her and issued a small bow. It was only a curt nod of his head, but Chen-wu had never experienced the like and stared.
“Lady Longyu wishes to speak with you,” he said, his gaze on Chen-wu’s brushed, soft boots. Mended three times over, they were her best. She felt like casting them off when she noticed his were flawless.
Sucking in her breath, she whispered, “Me? What does the lady want with the likes of me?”
The man glanced up, his mouth agape at her audacity to question a noble’s request. Chen-wu pressed her lips into a thin line and went to prostrate herself before the lady; kneeling, then bowing to extend her arms out on the hot, cobbled street.
“At your service, my lady,” she said to the flagstones.
“You are an Imperial recruit?” the lady asked, her voice soft, but Chen-wu sensed a hard edge.
“No, my lady, I petitioned the guard, but he said I was unworthy of the Watz.”
“You look worthy enough to me.”
Chen-wu’s heart swelled. After years secretly training in wushu, running countless messages for merchant-bankers, and laboring for a smith, she had hoped someone would notice.
The lady continued, “How much coin did you offer?”
“My lady?” Chen-wu asked.
Lady Longyu sighed and Chen-wu heard the swoosh of a fan being extended.
“You are all the same, thinking it is only enough to be the fastest and the strongest. If you are not born to the Watz, warrioress, you have to buy your way in. Do you have anything?”
Chen-wu’s shame returned thirteen-fold and she groped for something to say.
“Of course not,” Lady Longuy said. “But I do. Rise, warrioress, and follow me.”
The lady tapped her fan on the edge of her palanquin and the men beneath her lifted, then started forward. Dust and street hawkers took up the space they vacated, leaving Chen-wu to contemplate their knees as she rose.
A small sliver of hope emerged. The lady would want something in return, that Chen-wu could be certain, but it would be no worse than what her mother endured, or what her sisters would. She followed.
“So you want to be one of the emperor’s fighting bitches,” Lady Longyu said.
She lay on a cushioned divan. A servant stood behind her in attendance. They were in the lady’s private parlour. It bordered an inner garden and the scent of jasmine was heavy in the air.
Many called the Watz, the emperor’s women warriors, no better than highly trained dogs. It was said, his excellency chose women instead of men as his personal guard because, unlike men, they did not aspire to rule. He felt secure no forced coup would come from their ranks. It was said, they obeyed just like dogs.
“I want to join the Watz,” Chen-wu answered.
“Why?”
“To serve the emperor.”
“You do not lie well, but you’ll learn soon enough. The emperor has yet to choose his final bride, his thirteenth bride, and time is running out.”
Chen-wu frowned. Everyone knew Emperor Lui had been staving off the choice of his last bride, his bride of luck. In the thirteenth year of his reign, he only had a few months left to choose. None had thought he would postpone such an auspicious choice so long, but that didn’t stop many from betting on which of the remaining months the announcement would come. Chen-wu had no idea what that had to do with her joining the Watz.
The lady rose and stalked about Chen-wu, inspecting her from every angle. After a moment, she nodded to herself.
“And I think you’ll be the perfect prospect to present to the Emperor on the twelfth month.”
A bark of laughter left Chen-wu’s mouth before she
clamped it shut. The servant stared at her, then the lady laughed as well.
“Yes, you will make a poor choice for the emperor and my scribe will have to invent a most convincing story about your family, but I do believe you will be perfect.”
“My lady, I do not understand,” Chen-wu said, wishing she had not followed this crazy woman so deep into the city.
Lady Longyu sat upon the couch and waved her hands in the air.
“Do you know who I am?” she asked.
“You are Lady Longyu,” Chen-wu said, then shook her head. “No, my lady, I do not know who you are.”
“My late husband was a general in the emperor’s army. He served the empire well until he was sent to fight off the Mongol hordes. He died on the battlefield.”
“May his soul reach a warm home,” Chen-wu said, and bowed her head.
“That is no matter. I am a widow, and therefore free to present myself for the emperor’s consort. I plan to do that on the eleventh month.”
Chen-wu nodded and looked down at the floor.
The lady leaned forward. “What do you think of that, warrioress?”
Shrugging, Chen-wu said, “It is not my place to have an opinion.”
“Ha! You will make a good dog, warrioress. But before that, you will ensure the emperor will choose me.”
Chen-wu’s head started to hurt. “How, my lady?”
“Families are allowed to present only one bride a month in the emperor’s thirteenth year of reign. He must choose from among them. He could have picked any one of those already presented, but he did not. He’s waiting for the last month of this year—which happens to have thirteen months! How doubly auspicious of him, don’t you think?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“I’ve sequestered a place for myself and you for the eleventh and twelfth months. He will reject me, I am a widow, and—undoubtedly—you as well.”
“Then how will—”
The lady held up a hand. “There is a young woman, no more than a child really, slated to be presented on the very last month. She is intended to be his bride of luck. But you will kill her.”
Chen-wu’s heart dropped and sweat prickled her armpits. She had killed before, many times. Once even with her bare hands, but each time had been a fair fight. Well, as fair as thieves and cutthroats allowed. But to kill an innocent child? And a noble at that? She would be an assassin and forfeit her very life, if caught.
“But if he has already refused you, my lady, why would that—”
“Two reasons,” the lady said. “No one else can be presented in her place. She is the last vetted by his eminence’s advisors and courtiers. Once she is gone, he will have to choose among those already offered.”
“He might choose any of the others,” Chen-wu said.
“True, but I know my countrymen better than you, warrioress. No family would put forth their daughter with such an ill omen lurking over the union. But I am presenting myself, and I am not as superstitious.”
A sly grin spread across Lady Longyu’s pale face and Chen-wu wondered if all noblewomen schemed as well as this one.
“So, warrioress, I will bribe the captain of the imperial guard to allow you to test for the Watz. I’ll buy you proper leathers and armours, and even commission you a sword. I can put you on an adequate stipend for whatever else you’ll need. Then when the time is right, I’ll arrange access to the bride’s chambers. How you kill her is at your discretion.”
And if Chen-wu was caught, all ties to Lady Longyu would surely be severed and denied. Chen-wu clasped her hands behind her back to keep them from shaking.
“A horse. And a yearly income for my mother and sisters,” she said, then silently cursed the small quiver in her voice.
The lady leaned back and appraised Chen-wu anew. “Yes, a black gelding to match your tresses, that’s fine. And your family will be taken care of, if you succeed.”
“No. If I succeed, no one will know I did the deed. I’ll join the Watz and provide for them myself. If I fail…” Chen-wu left the obvious hanging in the air between them.
“Agreed, warrioress. You need not fear for your family’s future.”
The child Chen-wu would have to kill was nearly forgotten when she bowed low and said, “I am Chen-wu, Lady Longyu, forever in your service.”
Chen-wu jumped at a sharp pain at the back of her arm, above her elbow.
“Stop fidgeting,” Lady Longyu said, releasing Chen-wu’s arm. As she passed, she reached out and pulled at the long, silk dress Chen-wu wore, adjusting its drape. The lady then took a step in front of Chen-wu and waited.
They stood before a massive ornate door that led into the imperial court. Two Watz warriors stood armed with spears twice their height stood sentry on either side. Beneath their half-helms, their faces were schooled into expressionless masks, so still they could have been stone.
Scowling, Chen-wu tried to mimic their bearing, but the dress pinched her neck and she feared the shoulder seams would burst from their efforts to contain Chen-wu’s muscled shoulders. Her painted face itched as if a thousand ants crawled upon her skin. At least, she thought, no one could possibly recognize her beneath so much powder.
She had never worn anything other than long, loose tunics and trousers. Growing up, when it came time for new clothes, her mother had never failed to remind Chen-wu that she should have been born a boy. A thick neck, broad back and pinched hips ensured her parent’s first born would struggle with her sex.
But fate had also given Chen-wu a strong body. Even after their father died of plague, Chen-wu knew she would be able to fend for herself. But her frail mother and sisters? They needed her. Now more than ever, if they were to avoid the clutches of the whorehouses. She sighed knowing that whether she succeeded or not, Lady Longyu would take care of them.
The lady stood in front and slightly to one side of Chen-wu. She wore a crimson gown embroidered with animals of the zodiac. A raven perched above her left breast, ready to take wing. Her headdress, a bead-encrusted, wing-shaped frame, was laced with her pressed hair. It was tall and reached out far to each side. Chen-wu feared it would topple. But the lady wore it, and the bells that dangled for its ends, with a grace that belied the absurdity of the contraption.
The lady had wanted Chen-wu to accompany her for two reasons, she had said: “One, a bride is always offered by the head of her clan. Since my clan belongs to the Emperor’s and I am a widow, I have no one to champion me other than myself. Nonetheless, it would appear unseemingly to stand before the emperor alone. Two, you need to see the child-bride. She’ll be there. I’ll point her out—mark her face.”
Chen-wu had nodded.
And after a month in the lady’s employ, practicing her sword forms and sneaking around in the dark to develop her night vision, Chen-wu had donned a dress for the first time in her life. She shuddered at the way the smooth silk slid across her skin like a snake, but then thought of her sisters. They would relish an opportunity like this. Chen-wu had to make sure they could. She stilled her limbs and waited.
A drum beat from within the court sounded, and as one the Watz tapped their spear butts upon the marble floor. The doors parted and Chen-wu’s mouth dropped open.
It seemed a thousand faces pressed from between the pillars of the imperial court. They gawked at the eleventh bride.
Lady Longyu moved forward using short, mincing steps; the only movement her bound feet allowed. Chen-wu followed, mimicking her gait and trying to keep her large, flat feet from escaping the hem of her dress. She kept her eyes trained on the ground, but stole glances at the noblemen and noblewomen who hid behind fans and stared with scorn plain on their faces. No sound could be heard except the rustle of their silk dresses and the jingle of Lady Longyu’s headdress.
At an appropriate distance, Lady Longyu stopped. As practiced, Chen-wu moved to her side, slightly behind her. She lifted her face, and began her speech; extolling the lady’s lineage, listing her virtues, and hinting at her wealth.
Halfway through, Chen-wu realized too late that she had locked her gaze with the emperor’s.
He sat on a raised dais, dressed in a beguiling, simple silk robe. The late afternoon sunlight from an adjacent courtyard caught the gold threads woven into the fabric, making it seem as if he glowed. Chen-wu was surprised to see he was no older than herself, in his mid-twenties. She had never really given the emperor much thought, so high his station was from hers, and now she stood before him, speaking directly at his grace.
When finished, she snapped her eyes back to the ground and made a deep bow from the waist. She backed up until she was well behind the lady, and stood at attention, her cheeks flushed with excitement. Her heart pounded in her chest as if she had run across the city.
Three court advisors came forth, two of which Chen-wu knew were bribed by Lady Longyu to argue in her favor. They did so. But from stolen glances at the emperor, it appeared to Chen-wu they were not persuasive enough.
The emperor lifted his hand in dismissal, the lady bowed before him, then she and Chen-wu turned to leave. On their way out, the lady swooned and Chen-wu had to dive forward to catch her lest she fall. In the confusion to right herself, the lady pointed out the thirteenth bride.
The child-bride, and two men who appeared to be family, were off to one side of the court. She sat upon a small chair, cut to mimic the emperor’s throne, gilded in gold and silver. Behind them, two guards stood over her. They looked fat and bored. Their attention was not on Chen-wu or the lady struggling in her arms. But the child’s was, and Chen-wu saw an indifference in those young eyes.
Memorizing the girl’s features, Chen-wu lifted the lady and they continued out. The whispered gossip started before the court doors closed behind them.
“I must do it,” Chen-wu said to the quarter-moon. It hung like a jewel in the dark sky.
A night breeze made its way over the stone wall of the lady’s garden and brushed against Chen-wu’s hot brow. She wiped at the sweat there and closed her eyes. The haughty face of the child-bride floated in her mind’s eye, and though she found it easy to dislike the child, and was even a bit jealous, she could not bring herself to hate her.
Lucky or Unlucky? 13 Stories of Fate Page 16