The Pirate Empress (30 page)

“Datong. In eleven days time.”

“We can never get to Datong in time to warn the sentry there.”

The mole shrugged. “I will do what I can to detain them.”

“How many ride?”

“Too many. Many thousands.”

Quan swallowed. He must send His Majesty word that he needed more soldiers.

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The Emperor snatched the gemstone from Wu, and the vision vanished. “Bring it back,” he demanded, and shook the ring, shoved it onto his finger and commanded it to reveal its secrets. Nothing happened. He tore it off his finger and threw it at Esen. “Make it work.”

“Only the boy can open its eye,” the warlord said.

“Then slice the boy, finger by finger, until he makes it work.”

Military Governor Zheng Min stole the boy’s frightened gaze. “Best do what His Majesty desires, else you will suffer at his hand.”

“I don’t know how.”

The Imperial yellow silk sleeves flapped at the boy. “What do you mean you don’t know how? We all witnessed your sorcery!”

Zheng Min threw Wu a warning glare, and the boy’s sharp eyes jerked askance for a second, before he lowered them to the marble floor without speaking.

“Show me the face of the rebel who plots the downfall of my throne!”

The gemstone in Wu’s hand remained a hard yellow-brown, as inert as a frozen pond.

“The boy is frightened, Your Majesty,” Zheng Min said. “He needs to rest and eat. Later, I am sure he will show you what you ask to see.”

Wu was led away by a palace eunuch, and when Esen started to follow, the Emperor detained him. “You are an enemy of the Middle Kingdom. I order your removal from my court by beheading.”

That got a rise from Esen who jerked up from his complacent mood. “I’ve brought you a gift much more valuable than the Tiger’s Eye. Don’t you wish to know who that boy is? I have knowledge that you have been seeking for many years, news concerning your daughter Lotus Lily—news that may change the course of this war. If the people know that you have an heir—”

“Warlord,” the military governor cut in. “What gibberish do you speak? We have searched the mountain and plain for her. We all know that Lotus Lily is dead.” His apprehension as he pushed his lies went undetected by His Majesty—but not by Esen.

“She is not dead,” the warlord said. “Merely corrupted by pirates.”

Zheng Min’s brows shot up and His Majesty’s mouth dropped open. “Who was her rescuer?”

The effect the news triggered bolstered the Mongol’s bravado. “What guarantee do I have that you will not kill me after I give you the information you seek?”

“None. Do you think a mere barbarian can dictate to me conditions? You raise your bow to me and you are already dead.” The Emperor sent his eyes to the sentries posted at various spots around the room. Fully armed, they raised crossbows, all aimed at Esen.

“Only I know how to make the boy open the eye of the gemstone,” Esen said.

Was he telling the truth? Of one thing Zheng Min was certain, the barbarian had knowledge that might advance the military governor’s position. The boy was also a weapon that could be used against Brigade General Chi Quan—for the time would come when Quan must be removed from the picture.

The Emperor exchanged concerned glances with Zheng Min, who bowed. “Your Majesty. You have far more important matters to attend to. I will deal with this barbarian. It is obvious that he has information that we need. I will torture him as I tortured the traitorous eunuch who defied you. I will get all of the information out of him. I promise.”

“No!” Esen yelled, proving to all that he had degenerated into a coward after his long tenure away. The warlord kicked and thrashed as sentries seized him by the armpits and dragged him to the dungeons.

“Do not trouble yourself with this trifle, Majesty,” Zheng Min said. “I will take care of it.” He bowed, and followed the prisoner out.

The cold stone walls deflected the chill air back at him as he descended into the dark light of the dungeon. The click of heavy boots resounded on the stone floor. He ordered the guards to manacle the barbarian to the wall where he had once held Lotus Lily’s tutor, Tao. The snick and clank of metal clasps ensured Esen’s bondage, and he dismissed both of the guards.

Fear gleamed in the Mongol’s black eyes.

Cooperate or suffer torture. It was the warlord’s own choice.

“Stop your snivelling, barbarian,” Zheng Min ordered. “If I didn’t know you in your heyday, I would think you were a woman. Get up. Stop slumping there like an ill-hung tapestry.”

His wrists were shackled, but his feet were not, and the military governor stood just beyond kicking reach. Zheng Min picked up a length of chain and rolled it noisily on a stone table, feeling its weight. Not too heavy and not too light, just the right weight to tear the flesh and beat a man blue. Not heavy enough to crack bones. One smack with this would give him the Mongol’s undivided attention. Little blood would ensue, and most of the bleeding would occur under the skin.
Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that
.

“Now, I want the whole story,” he said crisply. “Where did you find the boy? How do you know his father is Brigade General, Chi Quan?”

“Brigade General?” Esen echoed.

The chain fell with a clatter to the stone table. “That’s right. You wouldn’t know about his latest promotion. You’ve been off in the bush on a wild goose chase… And, it seems, you have found the goose.” He paused for emphasis. “Tell me, where is Lotus Lily?”

“I found her among the pirates off the coast of Fukien province.”

All of the Emperor’s army and all of his men couldn’t find the slippery princess. But this savage of the steppe had. Zheng Min masked his disgust and resentment. He made his voice flat and noncommittal. “So, the strange warrior in ancient armour was Quan, and it was he that rescued her.”

Esen shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Of that, I can’t be sure. I only know that Lotus Lily claims the boy is her son.”

“And where there is a son, there is a sire. Of course, the father is Quan. The boy said so himself. Who else could it be?”

“I saw four figures with her atop First Emperor’s tomb, but I was too far away to discern who they were. Only one was I certain of. And that was the warlock. I could see his grey robes billowing in the wind. I shot at him but killed another. If Quan lives, and is now Brigade General as you say, then the man I killed was not he.” The warlord rubbed his grimy chin on his shoulder, as he dug into his memory. “Who else went missing that day?”

Zheng Min ravaged his own recollections of that day. Who else? He drummed his fingertips over the icy links of the chain lying on the stone table. Who else vanished without leave that day? Lieutenant He Zhu. Although the rescue was swift, the horseman who had swept Lotus Lily to safety must have been him. The rider was fast, a skilled swordsman, larger in build than most Ming soldiers, and he wore Imperial colours.

Where had He Zhu been hiding himself all these years? Traitors, he thought—all of them. He had only to prove it. But all of the Middle Kingdom was in flux. Its borders were precarious, and now the Manchus had chosen the worst possible time to attack the crumbling walls of the Northeast. The worse case scenario was that the two barbarian empires would join forces, and if they won, who would rule? This must not happen. His Majesty was weak, unable to rally the peasants to fight. They would all rather run and hide, and wait for it to be over. And then, at the end of it, suffer the domination of their conqueror.

Not acceptable.

Zheng Min turned to the barbarian. “What is a piece of the Empire worth to you, warlord? Will you join the Ming against the Manchus? Will you fight against your own brother who has usurped you in your absence?”

“The Manchus are no friends of mine,” Esen said.

“And your brother? What of Altan? Are you content to go back to Mongolia, crawling on your hands and knees like a worm escaped from the crow’s beak, in the hopes that your brother will take you back and allow you to be one of his lieutenants?”

Esen’s face reddened with rage, and he tried to slam a fist onto his thigh, but only succeeded in wrenching his wrist in the manacle, and wincing in pain. “I serve under no one. The Mongol empire is mine!”

“No more, barbarian. Altan has the loyalty of your warriors. Has that magic gemstone not shown you the truth?”

By the slump in his cheeks and the fire in his eyes, the military governor knew the warlord was fully aware of his nonexistent status. “Altan wreaks havoc on the Northwestern frontier. He tears the walls down as quickly as we repair them. His men fall to the Ming only to rise again as if by magic. And magic, I think, is involved. Where is the lady Jasmine?” Although Zheng Min hated to admit it, even to himself, he had no doubt that the fox faerie had deserted His Majesty and taken up with Altan. “Your brother has the magic of
Huli Jing
on his side. And as far as they are concerned, you are dead.”

“I am not dead!”

“Then fight with us. Even though Altan has mesmerized hundreds of thousands to his side, surely you can win back the faithful. That creature you ride—
Fenghuang
, the Chinese Phoenix—is a mount fit for an emperor. And yet, only you control her. Why is that, Esen? You have brought us many weapons, weapons of great power. But I will take them away from you if you do not comply with my design. We will find a way to use these weapons even without you. So what do you say? With your army, and the might of the Ming, we will crush the encroaching Manchus who menace the defenses around Beijing. When the capital is secure once more, the Imperial Army will help you defeat your brother and take back your horde. In addition, I promise you land in the north and luxuries beyond your most avaricious dreams.”

Esen wasn’t stupid and Zheng Min could see the wheels of his mind clicking over the offer. Thrusting himself forward from the dungeon’s frigid walls, he asked, “And how, pray to the gods, do you intend to convince the Emperor to parcel out his land to those he insults as savages and barbarians? I’ve just seen how faithful his sentries are in that gaudy yellow cage he calls a throne room. He will never agree to those conditions.”

“Not your problem, warlord. I will take care of it.”

Esen’s cold, black eyes grew as wide as those of a giant carp. His visibly dry lower lip cracked to emit a seep of blood. Thirst was almost as torturous as a beating. This man was close to breaking.

“All this talk I hear concerning a rebel insurgence,” the Mongol uttered softly, eyes severely narrowing. “I believe I am witness to a plan.” His voice got loud as he spat out his accusation. “The Emperor wishes to see the face of the rebel? He has only to look at his right-hand man.”

“Keep your mouth shut, warlord. His Majesty will never believe you.”

Zheng Min paced the floor of the dungeon, his heels echoing on the stone like metal. Using the chain on the barbarian was utterly tempting, but he refrained. “Brigade General Chi Quan is the man who stole Lotus Lily from you. His demise and a golden future for yourself are my most sincere promises. You give me your word and I’ll give you mine. What do you say, warlord? I know the thirst you are feeling. Shall I send for a cup of rice wine so that we might drink on it?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

The Pirate Truce

After everything Li had done, the Imperial warship was returning to the pirate lair in the South China Sea. Admiral Fong intended to wipe them out. So his loyalties remained with the Emperor. But what would happen if the tide of war took a drastic turn?
Does it mean that much to you for your son to be the new ruler of China?
Not going to happen
,
Li thought. Not if she could help it. This child, this unborn boy in her womb, the Supreme Admiral’s own son, would save the pirate leader from his ruthless clutches.

Li was six months pregnant. She was useless burdened like this, and she had to rid herself of the burden without harming him. She knew just how.

Before Tao left her on that bleak and miserable island, he had taken a broken reed and soaked it in the poison she had spilled over the fire. Some of it had slopped onto the icy ground. Before the spill froze, he had sopped up some and stoppered it in the reed. Though by now the liquid was completely absorbed into the reed’s fibres, it was still potent enough if she chewed on it to release its cleansing effects. It could no longer kill the fetus as the fresh brew would have, but it could induce early labour.

Tao had made her promise not to use it except under the direst of emergencies. Li could think of nothing more dire than this. At this stage of her pregnancy the mother would suffer more than the child. Her life was as much at risk as his. Did she dare?

Li dug into the toe of her shoe where she kept the slim, stoppered reed. It was the thickness of the tip of a chopstick and the length of her baby finger. Live or die. She must take the chance. Every other time she had been required to make a life and death decision, she had dived in, eyes wide open, without a thought to the consequences. Now? Now, she knew Wu’s life depended on whether or not she lived. She gouged out the dead grass that plugged the two ends of the reed and shoved them into her mouth, followed by the reed itself, and chewed. A horrible, bitter taste mixed with her saliva as the fibres of grass and reed formed a coarse, unpleasant wad on her tongue. She swallowed the acrid taste, before chewing some more, until she thought her stomach might heave up its contents before the poison worked.

In a matter of minutes, she was doubled over in agony, and one tremendous contraction had her toppling to the floor. A passing sailor outside her door heard her fall and cry out. He rapped at the door while Li curled into a ball. “Madam Fong. Are you well?”

“No, Seaman, call my husband. The baby is coming.”

“But you’re not due—”

“The baby doesn’t care about schedules. Call my husband quickly. We must find the medicine woman, Madame Choi.”

The sailor muttered something about a ‘pirate witchdoctor’ before his footfalls pounded outside on the deck. She took advantage of the silence to spit the wad of reed fibres into her hand and discard it under the bunk. Just in time, too, because a few seconds later, Admiral Fong swung open the door with two sailors, rushed to her, and dropped to his knees. “Lotus Lily, what can we do? We have no midwives.”

Now was not the time to scold him for deviating from the original plan. They would have hit the Yellow Sea and met Beijing by now had he not changed his mind to return to the south coast and attack the looting pirates.

“How far are we from land?” she asked.

“Too far. From your groans and the movement of your belly, it seems the boy is ready to greet the world.”

Li swallowed a gasp as another contraction sent knives of pain into her core. “You must seek out Madam Choi, else neither I nor your son will survive this catastrophe. The last she told me of her plans, the squads were headed to Chiang-ping.”

Chiang-ping was Captain Ching’s headquarters in Vietnam, and to reach it, one had to travel up the White Dragon Tail Passage, which opened from the sea. The hidden pirate’s den was easy to defend because its location on the river limited the size of craft that could approach it. It was very likely Admiral Fong’s warship was too large. Access to the den was difficult by land, cut off from the continent by nearly impenetrable terrain. Pirate booty was bought and sold there. That was where Captain Ching would ransom the ferryboat women, and that was where he would sell their possessions and all of the loot he had taken from the sunken
Say Leng
.

Hopefully, the pirates would still be there; otherwise where else could they search? If Fong didn’t find Madam Choi soon, Li and her baby might die.

“Help me get her up onto the bed,” Fong order his men. The two sailors that had accompanied him each placed a hand under her arms and shoulders, while her husband lifted her legs. They laid her flat on her back, but she immediately coiled into a ball.

“What can I do?” Fong demanded.

“Find Madam Choi,” Li gasped.

Fong turned and sent his men out ahead of him. He shut the door and Li was left with her agony. A spasm shook her from heel to chest and she almost regretted her impulsive action.
I will survive this
, she told herself.
I must
. She pinched her eyes tight and inhaled. This could well become the biggest battle she had ever fought. Fong’s son was determined to enter the world, but how to help him? He was positioned much too high in her abdomen. She kneaded her stomach, hoping to detect his feet at the upper end of her belly.

Another contraction squeezed the breath out of her. How much more could she take? Wu’s birth had been a trifle compared to this.

She blacked out her mind and thought of nothing but empty space, focused on a bright spot behind her eyes. How soon one forgets, she chastised herself. She snapped open her eyes to stare at her swollen feet. Swollen from the pregnancy, but whole, and not in pain at all. Nothing compared to the torture of having your feet broken and bound.
Practice your form like you were sparring and spar like it was a form. You are a bird, a magnificent eagle. You can fly!

Tears wet her eyes. She must get out of this alive—if only to unite Wu with his father.

“A ship, a ship!” she heard through the cabin walls. “Flying the red flag.”

The red flag. Red Squadron. That was Madam Choi’s fleet.
If only they don’t come to arms, if only they recognize each other before they blow one another out of the sea.

Li braced herself and rolled off the bunk and onto her feet, dragged herself to the porthole to stare outside. The red flag was raised, a warning to the warship to stand down or risk a broadside; and at the prow the ominous figurehead of the snake-bodied, nine yellow-headed Xiang Gong ploughed headlong toward them.

Fong ignored the warning, remained on course. Madam Choi also stayed her course. Then, without warning, she fired a round of cannon. Fong returned fire, obviously failing to recognize Madam Choi’s ship. If they continued this way, one or the other of them would sink.

Li clawed her way to the door and hauled herself onto the deck. Beside the helmsman, Fong was ordering another round of cannon fire. Li shouted, “That is Madam Choi’s flagship. Stop firing or you will bring death down on all of us, especially your unborn son!”

She collapsed onto the deck, writhing in agony. This boy wanted out. Fong grabbed the blowhorn and shouted, “Lotus Lily is aboard this ship! If you want to see her alive, stop your fire!”

The cannons from the Red Flag ship ceased, and Madam Choi appeared at the rail. “Why are you here?” she demanded. “I thought you had returned to the Forbidden City.”

“Lotus Lily needs your help.”

Madam Choi ordered her men to stand down while she took a serpent boat to the warship. Once on board, she laid Li down on the deck and examined her. “This woman must be put to bed straight away,” she said. “I must take her back to my junk where I can treat her properly and ensure the birth of your son.” Before he could object, she added, “I need my medicines and the skills of my daughters. I need a birthing tub and you do not have one on your ship. If I do not take her in the next five minutes, mother and child will die.”

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Admiral Fong scowled at the insolent men under Madam Choi’s command. These south coast pirates were the worst of the lot. Not only were they robbers but they were also defectors who worked for the deposed Tay-son family, the former rulers of Vietnam. The White Tiger had been tracking them for quite awhile, and in the years that he had worked underground he had learned the ways of the pirate traitors. Ties binding their leaders and followers were based on personal alliances; Tay-son sponsorship increased their battle skills and taught them discipline, and that was why they were so hard to eradicate. Small gangs of pirates were joined under one leader, and often these leaders would join forces with shore bandits to ransack and plunder innocent villages on the coast. But when Madam Choi revived her husband’s method of organized looting, the pirates got the upper hand. They plotted in the beachside taverns, joining up with huge gangs and slipping the jaws of justice.

For many, social mobility on land was denied them. But as pirates in an organization they could have rank, wealth and prestige. He knew even before meeting up with Madam Choi, what the Tay-son called her: Queen of the Eastern Seas. And this Captain Ching, he was better known as the King-Who-Pacifies-The-Waves. The Tay-son confirmed military rank upon these rogues and gave them incentive to rob and plunder, and although Fong knew this was a temporary survival strategy, they who began their careers as destitute fishermen and labourers, now had a way out of endless poverty.

The promises of the Tay-son were too attractive to ignore, and even in the short time that Fong had been away from the pirate waters, unstable leadership in the Vietnamese court had made smugglers of Chinese pirates. Profits were guaranteed for bringing in Chinese wealth to sustain the former royal family. And until they recouped their stolen empire, they did not care how it was done or who helped them. At each port as Fong voyaged south from the Yellow Sea, word had slipped to him of a notorious Chinese pirate who now flaunted the Vietnamese style. They called him Mo Kuan-fu—the Pirate King.

Fong looked up from his musings and beckoned to a boy who was poling a raft between the pirate junk and his warship.

“I wish to talk to you, son. I don’t mean to harm you. Your mother is birthing my son. And Lotus Lily is my wife.”

The boy was Po, and his expression did not change. He stared suspiciously at the admiral, then poled his raft to the side of the ship and was helped aboard via a long rope ladder. Fong studied the thin, tall lad who said, “I will not tell you anything concerning my mother’s squadrons or her associates.”

“Your mother and I have formed a truce until my wife and son are back on board. I mean them no harm.”

“Then what do you want with me?”

“Do you intend to serve your entire life as a scourge of the seas?”

While Po laughed, Fong remained stern. This was no laughing matter. The pirates were strong, almost invincible and they travelled in fleets. This confederation under Madam Choi had six fleets—Red, Black, White, Green, Blue and Yellow Flag fleets. Red, he knew represented her own. When Po came of age—which could be any day now—he too, would sail under one of the coloured flags.

“You are a hunted man, Po. Your mother and sisters, too, are wanted, and if you are taken by the Imperial Navy, all of you will hang, or worse. If you are judged to be a traitor like your associate the Pirate King, you will be subjected to slicing until the living blood has drained from your body. Do you know what an excruciating torture that is? You will long wish you could stab a dagger into your heart before the ordeal leaves you dead.”

Fong shook his head and laughed as Po took a step backward. “That is a warning only. I asked you aboard to offer you an alternative.” He paused for a moment and let his eyes sweep over the grand structure of His Majesty’s finest warship. “The Emperor is in need of fine young men like yourself. You join my ranks and I will see to it that you move swiftly to a position of power. You know the sea and the water people. You would be a great asset to my crew.”

Po scowled. “My loyalty is to my captain, who happens to be my mother. She is also a descendent of Shennong, which is why you won’t betray her. Without her skills, your son won’t survive this early birthing. Without her doctoring afterwards, he will not survive his first year.”

“I’m not asking you to betray your mother. I am asking you to declare your loyalty. I know you’re a pirate. But whose needs do you serve: the needs of the Middle Kingdom or the desires of greedy, wretched social castaways who will stoop to any level to feed their avarice? Are you a Tay-son stooge? Or do you plunder for your family’s survival. Think carefully, son. There’s a difference.”

“A pirate by any name is still a pirate,” Po shot back.

“Yes, but not everyone agrees to disguise themselves as Vietnamese scum—like your Captain Ching.”

“How did you know about him?” Po glanced at Fong’s ink black hair which had just the tiniest traces of white bands mixed among the black. His voice turned thoughtful. “I’ve heard stories about you since I was a little boy.”

“The White Tiger eats little boys,” Fong said.

Po involuntarily winced, and Fong sighed. “But alas, you are no longer a little boy. You have a choice. My purpose is merely to warn you.”