Lucky or Unlucky? 13 Stories of Fate

by Michael Aaron

  The sounds of steps leaked from beneath the thick door that barred her inside. They grew louder until they stopped just outside. A clank of metal and then the door opened.

  Two guards. One had his sword drawn. The other motioned her forward.

  A secret death, she thought. That was just. She was nobody. She deserved to die in the dark with no witnesses.

  Standing, she moved where they told her to go, walking past closed cells until they came to a hall. They continued, and made so many turns, and descended so many steps that Chen-wu had no idea where they might be. Not that she knew beforehand, but she had an idea that she was beneath the palace in the dungeons. Now, she was lost.

  It didn’t matter, she supposed. Her body would be found floating in the sewers. Would anyone bother to take it to her mother?

  After a time, they came to a stout door so short she would have to duck to get through. One of the guards pressed her against the wall, jabbed her ribs with the hilt of his sword, and punched the side of her head. Her head rolled and she saw stars. She sucked in her breath at the new stabs of pain.

  “Don’t move,” he said, while the other unlocked the door. He pushed it open and they shoved Chen-wu into an open sewer ditch.

  She landed on her side, the chains tangling her limbs. The door slammed behind her and she dared to look around. She was alone. The street above the ditch was empty. Unbelieving, she sat up.

  “You are not as strong as you seemed, warrioress. You have failed. My condolences.”

  Lady Longyu sat upon her palanquin on the other side of the road, a silk scarf muffled her voice. She had been hidden from view until Chen-wu gained a better vantage point.

  She swallowed bile as she dragged herself out of the muck. “I underestimated the Watz recruits,” she said, trying to understand what had just happened.

  “You have nothing to prove, warrioress.”

  Don’t I? Chen-wu thought, but she said nothing as she got to her feet. She favored one ankle.

  “I hope the others look worse,” Lady Longyu said.

  Chen-wu stiffened. The lady did not know. Had she bribed the guards before the test to ensure Chen-wu would return to the lady? Of course. Chen-wu should have known the lady would do nothing to jeopardize her plans.

  With a curt nod, Chen-wu held out her chained hands. “Have you a file?” she asked.

  Less than two hours later, she stood before the royal court’s great doors as she had one month before. This time she stood in front of the lady, with thicker paint to hide the bruises and torn skin. Her headdress trembled with the effort to stand tall and appear as if nothing hurt.

  The tap of the warrioress’ spears made Chen-wu jump and she glanced their way. As of yet, they had not recognized her. Lady Longyu’s beautician was a master, but it was no easy feat to hide Chen-wu’s size. The dress had been altered to better fit her wide frame, and the sleeves were roomy enough for her bulky limbs, but it felt as if she were naked before them. She expected an arrow point to pierce her back at any moment.

  The lady nudged her, and Chen-wu saw the doors had opened and a crowd stared at them.

  She started forward, too late realizing that she failed to walk in the mincing steps that marked a lady’s worth. Not that it mattered. In a few moments, she’d get to walk away from this all. Then all she had to do was kill the child-bride. She vowed her conscience would not sway her from that goal.

  At a respectful distance, she stopped, her head bowed at the proper angle, her eyes trained at His Excellency’s feet. He wore a shorter robe today, revealing silk trousers stuffed in riding boots. A memory from yesterday’s fight flashed in her mind, but then Lady Longyu began the announcement.

  She gave a short speech exalting the efforts of a small, but ancient, noble clan to enlarge their women and increase their fertility. After years of good breeding, they sent their most worthy princess, the youthful Lady Gang-shi. It did nothing to impress the courtiers. Chen-wu was obviously past her prime. A murmur of mirth spread throughout the room by the time the lady had finished.

  Why Chen-wu felt a rush of heat to her cheeks she couldn’t explain. Not all in her family were as big. Her sisters would grow into the waif beauty her mother had once known.

  The emperor raised his hand in what Chen-wu thought would be a gesture of dismissal and she started to turn away, but instead he silenced the room.

  “Are there other virtues your lineage can claim, Lady Gang-shi?” he asked.

  Chen-wu looked over her shoulder at Lady Longyu, her headdress clamoring with her sudden movement.

  “Your Excellence,” Lady Longyu said, moving forward. “Lady Gang-shi has many virtues. Animal husbandry among them.” She bowed her head and moved back as laughter filled the hall.

  Again he raised his hand for silence. “She looks as strong as a Watz,” he said.

  A confused rustling spread across the crowd, and Chen-wu took a step back, staring into the emperor’s face.

  He had been there. Above, on the walkway. He had been passing behind the Watz warriors as they encouraged the recruits fighting Chen-wu. He had stopped to watch. At the time, she hadn’t registered him, so complete her concentration on the battles before her. But now, the memory filled her with dread.

  A smile eased across His Excellency’s face.

  “It is often wise to hold a viper closest to you. Is that not an ancient proverb, Lady Gang-shi? Do you know it?”

  Chen-wu shook her head, sending her headdress rattling. She wanted to yank it from her head and throw it upon the marble floor. “No, Your Excellency. I’ve never heard of it,” she said, again taking a step back.

  He rose from his seat and took one step down towards her.

  “I must say, you are a surprise offer as a bride, but I can see your worth.”

  Gasps filled the room and Lady Longyu moved to stand between them.

  “Your Excellency—”

  “All my other brides are daughters of politicians and merchants. None are warriors. I might have to remedy that.”

  Chen-wu could only hear her own heart in the silence that smothered the room. She didn’t notice the Watz warrioress who now flanked her, Lady Longyu gone.

  This was it, she thought, they would spill her guts on the palace floor itself. She couldn’t tear her gaze from his lips as he announced her verdict.

  “You will be my thirteenth bride, Lady Gang-shi.”

  He held his hand out to her, the most sincerest smile on his face Chen-wu had ever seen.

  She blinked hard several times. “But, it is not the thirteenth month. I am not—”

  “I had no intention of choosing on the final month of this year. Idle speculation often leads to rumors and gossip.” He tutted and shook his head. “Wars, and other misdeeds, are often started thus. But in our union, there will only be strength.”

  He motioned with his fingers, and she could not deny him. He was the emperor, after all. She strode forward and placed her hand in his.

  A few claps echoed lonely in the hall before others took it up. It was half-hearted, but His Excellency had chosen and they would abide by it, even in their confusion.

  It took Chen-wu several months to get used to answering to Mistress Gang-shi, but eventually it came.

  After the wedding, and consummating the marriage, her first order of business was taking care of Lady Longyu. But she found the emperor had already dispatched the meddlesome women to that far-off province Chen-wu was supposedly from.

  She then brought her family to the palace as servants. Their identity would always be a secret, and they rarely saw each other, but Chen-wu was happy to know that her mother had a respectable job sweeping the vast rooms in the palace, and her sisters could find a place among the seamstresses or artisans.

  At times, Chen-wu saw her mother from a distance and the old woman would cock her head. Chen-wu imagined that her mother would be perpetually stunned that her daughter had become a consort to the emperor.

  No matter.

&
nbsp; His Excellency knew everything about her, and accepted her, finding worth in her size and strength. As he had watched her fight and beat the Watz trainer, he had a vision of her bearing him warrior sons that would lead his armies. He never failed to whisper in her ear that if luck hadn’t turned him down that path on that day, he would have never seen her and sent his spies to find out all there was to know about her. What a surprise it was for him to find that the Lady Longyu had been scheming to assassinate his child-bride. In his vast wisdom, he thought it best to use the lady’s weapon rather than kill it.

  Though she thought it no better than what her mother had done to keep them alive, Chen-wu was grateful to lay with His Excellency every night until she conceived—so long as she led the Watz.

  N.E. White

  N. E. White, a Tex-Mex hybrid, lives in Northern California with her smack-talking, Kiwi husband of eighteen years, and her dog. She has a M.S. in Fire Ecology and currently works from her home as a GIS Specialist making maps and predicting fire spread within western landscapes. She also likes to write speculative fiction. You can read more at nilaewhite.wordpress.com.

  9. Getty Lucky

  J.M. Odell

  Giles stood on the sidewalk outside the subway entrance. He pulled off his glasses to wipe them dry.

  Fog covered the street like a shroud. It cut off the skyscrapers, obscured the store signs, and made ghosts of the pedestrians. The weather seemed an omen, of prospects cut short and people who would fade from his life.

  He shook the thought away to focus instead on the receding beacon of Amy’s blonde hair. All too soon, she was swallowed by the mist. For long moments, he stayed rooted, but she didn’t reappear. Nor did he expect it, not really. She had her own job to go to, the one she’d still have tomorrow. He wished he could say the same.

  With a grimace, he turned away. Not wanting to worry her, he’d given her no warning of what was to come. And now the chance was gone. He wished he’d been able to choke out the baleful words.

  Water trickled under his collar. With a shiver, he followed the crowds across the street.

  As he approached the glass towers on the other side, a young man stepped up to pull open the nearest door. Giles noticed the greasy, ill-combed hair and scruffy beard, but also the fellow’s pinched face and the goose bumps on his bare arms. Reaching into his pocket, Giles pulled out a few coins and held them out.

  The vagrant held up his hands and drawled, “Don’t want your money, man. I’m doing this for the karma.”

  “Karma?” Giles arched an eyebrow.

  “Yeah. The universe, you know? She likes things in balance. You do good things for people, she looks after you—with the important stuff, anyway.”

  In dry tones, Giles replied, “Right. It sure looks like it’s working for you.”

  He reached into his briefcase and pulled out the paper bag that held his sandwich and apple. “Here. You could use more food, less of whatever it is you’re on.” He dropped the bag into the man’s hand.

  The fellow didn’t move. “I don’t want to take your lunch, man.” But he sounded uncertain. His eyes strayed back to the bag.

  “Think of it as avoiding waste. I won’t have an appetite.” With a sour smile, Giles passed through the door.

  He stopped to buy coffee and then allowed the crowds to sweep him through the concourse, to the bank of elevators that would take him to his office, and his doom.

  For the moment, he stood alone. He pushed the elevator button and then waited, watching the numbers flash above the doors. The one in front of him counted down, but stopped at thirteen. The one to his left counted up, but also stopped at thirteen. Then the one to his right did the same.

  “Three times a charm,” he muttered. In this case, it was probably a curse, or maybe a warning. And suddenly, he couldn’t face it. He turned on his heel and waded back into the crowds.

  “Hey, buddy, you’re going the wrong way.” With a sneer, Mike Summer bumped Giles’s shoulder, jostling his coffee.

  Whereas Giles was ordinary, Mike was tall and well-built, the kind of fellow who turned heads. Luck followed him like a lost puppy. He didn’t sweat for every inch of progress. Nor did he respect people who did. They were both in line for the same promotion, or had been.

  Ignoring Mike’s comment, Giles kept going, past the stores in the indoor concourse, to the nearest bench.

  It was a simple rectangle of wooden slats. Sinking down, he shoved his briefcase between his feet and put his head in his hands.

  The bench creaked with a weight of another person, someone who’d chosen to sit very close. Hoping that Amy had found him, Giles glanced sidelong through his fingers. He saw rumpled tweed trousers stuffed into rubber galoshes. Just what he needed—another drifter. This one was probably looking for money.

  The man cleared his throat. “I can provide what you need.”

  “Sure you can.” Giles lifted his head. He gave the man a cold stare.

  The newcomer had a lined face and a gray mustache. Unruly salt-and-pepper hair straggled from under a fedora hat. He reached into the pocket of his overcoat.

  Giles stiffened and leaned away. When he saw what the man held, he blurted out, “Is that a bomb?”

  The device was the size of a cell phone. It was cobbled together, but not very well. The two sides of its plastic case didn’t quite meet. Bits of colored wire protruded from the sides. The thing was bound by bands of tape, and more covered its face. It had only a single button.

  “Hardly.” The man had a deep, authoritative voice. He made a show of pushing the button, but nothing happened. Then he offered the device. “You’ve seen my face and my fingerprints are all over this thing, inside and out. This is a machine of my own devising. You need luck.”

  Giles snorted. “I need more than that. I’m about to be fired.”

  “I know.” At Giles’s incredulous look, the man shrugged. “Not the details. The fact is, I need someone just like you. To find you, I created my own luck. And here I am. I can give you what you need.”

  Giles debated just walking away. But in his mind’s eye, he saw Mike’s sneer. It provided a reminder of what was coming. This lunatic offered distraction and delay. “And you are?”

  The man flashed a smile. “Alex Barnen, Dr. Barnen. I’m a theoretical physicist.” He waved the device. “Well, not so theoretical, not anymore. And you?”

  “Giles Leblanc. I’m a project manager with the bank.” He used his thumb to point toward the elevators. “Until I get upstairs, at least.” Despite his best efforts to prevent it, his tone turned plaintive. “What am I going to tell my girlfriend? I don’t even know what happened.”

  Dr. Barnen dropped his toy into Giles’s hand. “When you need luck, push the button. It’ll only give you a few minutes, though, and its range is small. It takes a while to reset, so wait until you really need it. I’ll meet you back here tonight. You get off at five?” As he talked, he stood up. Without waiting for an answer, he strode off. Though he moved fast, his gait was awkward.

  Giles stared after him. Then he shoved the device in his pocket, gulped down his coffee, and headed back to the elevators.

  By the time one finally arrived, a crowd had gathered. Giles found himself squeezed to the back. Sweat trickled between his shoulder blades, making them itch. When he got to his floor, he wormed his way out, but his briefcase remained stuck. Impatient, he yanked it free. A corner of his laptap caught him in the knee. “Ow.”

  Limping across the hall, he waved his card at the security scanner.

  The lock clicked. He pulled the door open, too fast, and it banged against his knee—the same one, of course. Grumbling, he hobbled to his cubicle.

  “Giles.” Myrna, his boss, stepped in, right behind him. She was an older woman, attractive in a tailored navy suit. “I’d like to see you in my office—right now.” Her voice was cold.

  As she strode off, he grimaced and fought the urge to run.

  Giles took off his coat and reached for
a hanger. The device, still inside his coat pocket, bumped his bruised knee. He winced. Now he wished he’d reacted faster, that he’d given the thing back. Just his luck—he’d be stuck downtown all day, feeling like crap, so he could give a piece of garbage back to its owner.

  The trash bin beckoned.

  He dithered for a moment, but finally pulled the thing out and dropped it into his jacket pocket. He felt bad enough without adding guilt to his conscience. Okay, so he’d push the damn button. That way, when he handed the thing back to the old loon, he could honestly say he’d tried it.

  Giles headed for Myrna’s office. As he passed Mike Summer’s cubicle, Mike looked up. He wore a satisfied smile.

  Giles averted his eyes, pretended he hadn’t seen.

  Myrna waved him to a chair and closed her door. She dropped a report in front of him. “Your project is a mess. The lead designer says this isn’t what his team recommended, or what he approved.”

  Giles reached into his pocket and pushed the button.

  Nothing happened.

  He snorted, but kept the sound quiet, under his breath. Derision wouldn’t help his cause.

  Picking up the papers, he made a show of leafing through them. But on page four, the third item down caught his eye. He slowed and read more carefully. His jaw dropped. “I didn’t write this.” He waved the papers at her. “Where did this come from?”

  She frowned at him. “From you, a few weeks ago.”

  “This isn’t what I sent.”

  “What do you mean?” She eyed him. “Where’s your laptop?”

  “Still in my briefcase.”

  “Go get it.”

  Hope added bounce to his step. This was starting to look like luck. Or perhaps it was karma. The drifter might have the right idea. Maybe the little things were balanced by getting the big stuff right.