The Pirate Empress (31 page)

“In appearance we serve where we best benefit. In our hearts, we serve for the survival our family,” Po said.

“An acceptable answer,” Fong replied, and released the boy to re-join the pirate junk.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The Flight of the Tiger’s Eye

The suburbs of Beijing appeared on the red horizon beyond the fields and parklands. He Zhu pulled his visor low to mask his face as he approached. The road was empty, but he dodged between the farmhouses and sheds nonetheless. Ahead, the curved roofs of the Forbidden City shone golden in the late burning sun. Li’s last words tumbled in his mind:
May Lei Shen protect you.

It had taken months to return north, and the weather had turned against him with storms slowing his progress. It was as though the thunder god were blocking his return. He marched on foot now, forced to put his lame mare to rest when she stumbled over a rock and broke her ankle. It gave him no pleasure to slice his blade across her still beating throat.

How much time until nightfall? Zhu measured the angle of the light against the straight wall of the citadel. He must find Wu. And if he couldn’t find Wu, then he must go to the northern frontier and sniff out Esen.

He Zhu climbed a nearby tree until he got a clear look over the wall and the maze of palace courtyards. The throne room opened to a long, lily pool-flanked ramp that led to the public square. That way was barred to him, but he could enter via Lotus Lily’s chamber. Her room was attached to one of the inner courtyards; he remembered because that courtyard was next to Jasmine’s. He had a brief flash of memory, and then forced the image of the fox faerie’s beauty from his mind. Whatever he did, he must avoid the archway of the main palace. Sentries were posted there. He dropped out of the tree just outside the barricaded palace, and shot a nervous glance behind him.

Since his arrival in Beijing, he’d had the unearthly feeling of being watched. Where was
Fenghuang
? Where had Esen stabled the phoenix? With its great mass, pheasant’s head and peacock’s tail, it would be impossible to hide. Zhu lowered his eyes from the sky to gaze at the Forbidden City as the red ball of the sun fell below the horizon, and the curved, hat-shaped roofs silhouetted against the night sky. He walked several paces back, ran full speed and jumped at the wall, then seizing the coping with his hands, hauled himself up, dropped into the public square and followed the shadows to the rear of the main structure.

Concealed by his grey mantle, he met no sentry. He blended in with the whispering sounds and the dark movements of the night, following the maze of palace courtyards until he recognized where he was. He approached the brick wall of Li’s courtyard and peered over. A light drizzle wet the white flagstones; it was near bedtime and most of the palace household were preparing for sleep. Zhu eased himself over the brick impediment and crept behind the arched bridge. Below it was a lily pond, which he deftly avoided. A splash in the night would draw sentries here quicker than a horse could sneeze. Quietly, he crossed the stone patio to a cherry tree, and from there he tried to locate Li’s room. If empty and unguarded, it might be a way in.

The windows were barred shut, and there were guards: two lazy shadows in the courtyard. Someone—a prisoner—was in Li’s former bedchamber. He threw a pebble to the far southeast corner to draw their attention. While the first went to investigate, Zhu skittered to the wall of the building behind the second sentry and knocked him out with a hand-chop to his neck. That should lay him out for hours. Zhu positioned his back against the wall mimicking a guard. When the first returned, Zhu stuck out his foot, tripped him and laid him flat on his back. His helmet had struck stone, and Zhu checked to see that the guard was unconscious, but not dead.

He approached the windows, peeked between the bamboo bars, and heard breathing and, every now and then, a stifled sob. He risked a glance behind him, then unsheathed his sabre and pried a bamboo bar off the window. Silence ensued and he peered inside the chamber. “Wu,” he whispered. “Are you there? Don’t be afraid. I’ve come to take you to your mother.”

Rapid footfalls followed as the small boy stumbled across the marble floors to the window. “Zhu!” he said. “I’m so happy to see you. Where is Ma-ma?”

“She had to warn Madam Choi of an attack by an Imperial warship. But, my boy, you are safe!” Zhu’s exuberance suddenly turned serious. “Where is Esen? Has His Majesty killed him?”

Wu grabbed two bamboo bars at either end and poked his head out of the window. “I don’t think so. Soldiers took me away from him. I think they brought him to the dungeons!”

“Good. Are you well? Did they treat you all right?”

“I’m fine, but His Majesty doesn’t know I’m his grandson. Military Governor Zheng Min made me promise not to tell. He said the Emperor will kill my parents if he knows. And that he might kill me, too!”

That was possible, but highly unlikely. Why would Zheng Min care? “I must take you away from here until we know the mind of the Emperor. You’re alive, so that’s a good sign. Where is the gemstone?” Despite the dark he could see the boy’s mortification. “I see you understand why you’re still alive. It’s because you have the Tiger’s Eye.”

Wu raised his flushed face, eyes round, expecting a severe rebuke. “I’m sorry, Zhu. I stole it, but I put it back. Then the warlord forced me to steal it again. He took me with it.”

“It’s not your fault, son. Though, in future, perhaps you will think twice before you touch another man’s possessions.”

Wu lowered his head in a bow of deep contrition. Then, because he was just a little boy with a boy’s brief memory, the remorse switched to curiosity. “Does the gemstone show pictures for you as it does for me?” he asked

“You saw images?”

“War and treachery.”

Treachery?
A big word for such a small boy. “Come, Wu. I must get you out of here before these guards awaken.” Zhu pried off another two bamboo bars until the opening was big enough to reach through and hoist Wu out of the window. He pinched the Tiger’s Eye between his fingers, plucked the loop off the boy’s mussed hair and draped it over his own helmeted head. “I must keep this,” he said. “For now.”

The boy was too slow and too obvious so he must stash him somewhere until he found them a horse. A group of vegetable carts sat parked outside the stables. Zhu seized the boy’s hand and dragged him to the closest one. He moved some winter melons and root vegetables out of the way, and made a small cave for Wu to hide in. “Stay quiet and still. I’ll be back soon.”

He Zhu buried the boy’s protruding feet with more root vegetables and a giant white radish before ducking into the stables. He must take a plain horse; a gelding with no markings would serve. He sighted the perfect steed, a drab, brown animal with unremarkable features, and moved deeper into the stables to saddle it. He was cinching the last buckle, when a squeal like a pig came from outside. He ran to the stable doors and saw five sentries dragging Wu out of his hiding place, vegetables flying. The boy refused to go, and he chucked the giant white radish into the face of one of his attackers. The soldier swore, snatched Wu by the forearm, and backhanded him into the vice-grip of his comrade.

Five armed soldiers against one. I don’t stand a chance.
But that had never stopped He Zhu before. He fled back inside, leaped atop the gelding and kicked its flanks, whipping out his sabre. He yanked down his helmet’s visor just as he shot out the door. Straw went flying. The guardsmen swung to face him. His plan was to swoop down on Wu and snatch him from his captors, but two of the sentries cut him off. He wheeled, tried again, but the soldiers’ blades battered him.

The official search for Wu was on and they had opened the gates. Now that the boy was found, the guards were trying to close them to seal the rescuer in. Zhu flew through the closing gates, a second away from the horse’s tail being clipped.

So close, he chastised himself. He had wasted time interrogating the boy. They had lost precious minutes. The watchmen must have revived shortly after he and Wu escaped, and raised the alarm.

But at least he had this. He fingered the gemstone with his free hand, while the other gripped the reins like his very life depended on it. The Tiger’s Eye revealed what was happening at any given moment. With this he would find Wu again. Meanwhile, he must lie low, read the gemstone’s visions and learn the fate of Esen.

Hair flying out wildly behind him, Zhu rode in the direction of Master Yun’s temple. When he reached the frozen gardens, he alighted and led the young gelding up the path, then paused for a moment to catch his breath. The shrine with its stone fountain was empty of worshippers, all was dusty and quiet, no one had been here in many a year. Zhu tread lightly, leading the gelding inside, and tethered him to a stone inside the secret chamber behind the Jade Fountain.

When the horse was stroked down and quiet, Zhu returned to the outer temple and stared at the jade lily pads and marble fish in the fountain’s basin. Water swarmed down the rock wall, filling the basin to just full, before reabsorbing into the stone. He drank deeply from the basin, then re-entered the secret chamber. Wearily removing his mantle, he crumpled cross-legged to the floor, and slid the gemstone from around his neck. At the same moment, his horse whinnied. Zhu rose to grab its bridle. “Easy there,” he whispered. “What troubles you?”

A strange sound, like the batting of wings, came from outside, and he tucked the gemstone inside his mantle and listened.

“Hush, now.” He calmed the agitated gelding, patting it one more time before returning to the door of the outer temple.

Pine trees curled in the cold wind, and miniature mandarin bushes perched stiffly beneath their drooping branches. On some of the bare stems, hard green buds were starting to form.

Zhu made for the giant koi pond. At this hour, no one should be about. He shivered, having left his mantle inside, and swallowed dryly. What had made the noise? He wandered to the edge of the pond, looked down. Starlight turned the water into a flickering black mirror. At first he saw nothing, then flashes of bright orange, yellow, and white—the markings of dark-speckled fish.

The batting sound again. He looked up and gasped.

On a rock overlooking the dark, half-frozen pond stood a crane, its smooth white neck shimmering like satin. Below it sat a ring of pale pebbles. In the center, the water was so black it looked like oil. Shadows moved as the trees above bent to the wind, and a mist clung strangely to the surface.

Zhu wriggled in his own skin.
Be calm
, he ordered himself, lest the vision vanish.

The mist cleared and Zhu held his breath. The crane was gone. A giant bird with the head of a golden pheasant, the body and tail of an azure peacock, and the legs of a crane stood in its place. As it batted its wings and landed in the water, Zhu’s mouth formed into a silent scream. He recognized it from the artists’ paintings that hung in the Emperor’s palace. Shrouded by the dusky light,
Fenghuang
, the shape-shifting Chinese Phoenix, spread its long graceful wings to touch the pond’s icy banks from end to end.

If Esen the Mongol could tame the beast, then the owner of the Tiger’s Eye could, too. He Zhu whistled a soft cooing sound, the same kind of sound he imitated to soothe an agitated horse. The giant bird stopped swimming and floated on the shimmering surface, cocked its head and blinked at him. What language did the creature understand?

“Come,” he said in the Emperor’s Chinese.

Fenghuang
blinked again.

Did it understand Mongol? Esen had made it obey him, and Zhu knew a few words of the barbarian’s tongue. “Come to me,” he commanded in stilted Mongol.

The phoenix opened its beak and shrilled.

“No, no. Come back!” Then immediately he shut his mouth, glanced quickly from side to side and saw he was still alone. The sound of batting wings lifted into the cold wind and the giant phoenix sailed into the night.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Zhu admonished himself, and strained his eyes toward the vanishing bird.

If only he had not been so reckless. That bird would have made a magnificent steed. He could have rescued Wu and escaped by flight, with no sentry the wiser.

He Zhu exhaled, freezing now, his battle tunic flapping in the wind. He shook his head and walked back to the Koi Temple. In his excitement at discovering
Fenghuang
, he had forgotten his purpose: Li’s little boy. He must still locate Wu and plan his rescue. He returned to the secret chamber, resumed his position on the ground, and fumbled in his mantle for the Tiger’s Eye.

The stone was inert, yellow-brown, on a plain gold band. He cut the thread on which the ring dangled and slipped the band onto his right index finger, and closed his eyelids. He rubbed the stone three times with his thumb, mumbling, “Where are you, Wu?” before he opened his eyes to a yellow-brown swirl that billowed into a hazy vision. The haze parted. But it was not the image he wanted to see.

A sturdy warrior lifted wolf furs from the entrance to a tent with an air of ownership. A child giggled, and on the floor of the Mongol tent, she and a beautiful, half-naked woman reclined against red silk pillows and a gold satin coverlet. The child rolled out of her mother’s arms, and playfully buried herself among the bedding. The warrior watched as a golden foxling replaced the girl, and scampered out from between two pillows, flicking nine flaxen tails tipped with white.