The Pirate Empress (39 page)

Master Yun held his will against the beast. At first it was easy, but soon, as the minutes passed, the will of the Yeren grew strong.
I will not murder this innocent creature,
he thought,
not until I know if his heart is malignant or benign.
Hurry, Master Poet. Hurry on your way.

The force of the Yeren felt like a wall against his hands. In a few seconds, Master Yun would crumple or explode. He waited as long as he could, then threw off the power of stones, releasing the beast. At that same instant, he called upon the powers of dust to blind it in a violent sandstorm. Master Yun whistled for his steed, leaped onto the back of Xingbar and turned south, then east to the wall. In the blur of dust, he glimpsed Ho Teng’s frantic attempt to follow in the same direction. Already the rust-coloured columns were closing in.

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Zheng Min assumed the Fox Queen had brought him to the rose-coloured beach to wait for a ship. “So, where is this transport that will take me home? Or do you wave your hands and open a hole in the air from which I can pass back into my own time?”

Dahlia dipped her eyes seductively. Her wicked satin gown swirled around her, rippling like a black sea. “What makes you think this isn’t your time, Military Governor?”

Damned if he knew. He was so confused by how he had got here—and with all her talk about time and then allowing him to see the past through the Fire Opal, which he now wore on his right hand—he just assumed this whole experience was some kind of contortion of time.

A heavy turquoise fog tinged with cherry blossom drifted over the island. Zheng Min could only glimpse the sea between the clouds of heavenly mist. The peak of the hill that harboured the giant lemur’s jewelled grotto broke out of the enchanted veil. Was this a further example of her sorcery, a fog to dampen his senses? His head spun and he tottered slightly before regaining his balance. He’d only felt like this on those occasions when he had imbibed too much of the Emperor’s finest rice wine. Had the fox faerie queen slipped him an opiate while he was distracted by the Fire Opal’s visions?

No, Military Governor, you are not drunk, nor inebriated in any other way. We are simply waiting for your ride. Kua Fu is shy because of his height. He sends the vapours ahead to mask his approach.

“Please speak aloud,” Zheng Min insisted. “It’s unnerving to hear you in my head.”

“As you like.” Dahlia spoke loudly to mock him.

“This ship, Kua Fu is its captain?”

Dahlia slipped him a sideways glance. “In a manner of speaking. A man is captain of himself, is he not?”

He frowned and she smiled, and shot a swift look at the gemstone on his finger. “Are you coming with me?” he asked.

He would love to have this beautiful fox faerie on his arm, if only to flaunt her in the face of Jasmine who had jilted him. She was a queen in every sense of the word. Cool, delicious, and as black in her beauty as Jasmine was gold. Her yellow eyes held more power than Jasmine’s ever did, and her platinum white hair was the moon itself. She had not reverted to her fox form since he’d met her, but what wonders could she do with those nine silver-tipped tails? In the Forbidden City nine was the Emperor’s number and meant everlasting. The number nine was found in many ornaments within the palace and was associated with the dragon. What tremendous power she must have.

“I can’t leave until you have righted the wrong you saw in the Fire Opal. Only then will I be freed.” She raised a pearl-white arm and touched the air above the tideline. A chilling spark flung her backward into his arms. “You see? I cannot leave. Master Yun has seen to that.”

“This is one of his spells? Why does he want to imprison you? What have you done?”

“Does it matter if I’ve done anything? That warlock is bent on absolute power. He banished me simply because of something I know. And when you return for me, Military Governor, after you’ve seen to the fall of Chi Quan and Master Yun, I will gladly sit by your side as your queen.”

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Time knows no bounds, Quan mused. Wasn’t that what Chao had said? If time had no bounds then it was possible for him to return to the exact time and spot where he was before Jasmine had whisked him through the rift and onto
Que Qiao
.

“You learn quickly, Brigade General,” Chao said. “Already events have come and gone, have yet to be and are just so. Where is your beloved Li? Where is the faithful He Zhu? Will Master Yun return in time? And in time for what? And what of Zheng Min? If you time things properly, you can have the option to face him or pass him like two warships in the night.”

“I am no coward,” Quan said. “I will face him.”

“Then you choose duty.”

Did he? Was he going to, once again, choose duty over love? “I will take what comes,” he said.

The pig smiled. “East or west?”

East was wood, home and hearth. Domestic bliss. West was metal, blade and arrow. War.

“I have seen the darkness in Military Governor Zheng Min. I have seen the hopelessness that corrupts the hearts of the guardians of the Dragon Wall. Zi Shicheng and his Manchu allies threaten the throne; Altan and his hordes threaten the security of the frontier. I only wish that I could see how my beloved Li fares so that I can make the right choice. I know, because she is a mother, her heart will bid her to come after her son.”

“So far, the war has not reached the South Coast. Li fights the battles of the water people.” Chao sighed. “If it will make the choice easier for you, I can show you this. Look below the bridge to the west.”

The Transcendent Pig turned his pin-like eyes to the western endpoint of the Magpie Bridge. Quan’s eyes followed. Nothing had altered. The sleek birds were locked head to tail and wing to wing in a solid arch beneath their feet. The end of the bridge, like the end of the border wall, was so long and distant that it still faded beyond Quan’s vision into the twilight.

But then, at the very far extreme of his sight, something did change. A gateway opened, a rift in the atmosphere that allowed him to see the earth. What was once an endless chasm of midnight blue scattered with luminous stars now opened to a green sea. In that sea was a turquoise mist dissolving into clouds of pink. The sea! Was Chao showing him Li’s life among the sea gypsies? But where was this? No landmarks looked familiar. He strained his eyes, but failed to see any people or junks or boats of any kind. Then a huge hand reached up from the mist as if to snatch him out of the sky. Quan gasped but refrained from leaping off the bridge.

“That is only Kua Fu,” the pig said. “Don’t worry, it is not you he is trying to snatch. He is not a particularly bright giant and doesn’t realize that the lights of heaven are completely out of his reach. He is perplexed by the absence of the sun at night, and during the day he chases after it. You see, for him, it is day, although to you it is night. But all of his leaping and chasing serves little purpose because he manages to accomplish nothing more than create that pretty mist around him from all his splashing in the sea.”

Quan did not question how he could see what was happening below the bridge or even the existence of giants. He was stunned by the vista, the jungle in the landmass across from the pink-clouded island and the desert above it.

“Kua Fu is very old,” Chao said, “He does not have much longer to live. You see the desert sands, there? They are of his making. He has drained many lakes and rivers to quench his thirst in his search for the sun, leaving the land barren.” The pig dipped his pug nose in the direction of the jade-hued jungle. “That was the wooden club he used to carry before he dropped it from sheer exhaustion. It took root and bloomed into the mangrove trees of the South Coast. But alas, these days, Kua Fu is not seen by mortal men. He spends most of his time walking from the shores of Peng Lai Isle to the mainland—because that is where the sun shines brightest.”

“What would he do if he caught the sun?” Quan asked, horrified by the idea that the sun was snatchable.

“He will never catch it,” Chao said. “Anyone who has the notion that the sun is his to take, clearly thinks too much of himself.” An opinion Quan was well aware of.

The twilight closed in and the vision began to dissolve. But before it vanished completely, Quan saw the giant’s hand again. This time it had caught something—a tiny manlike form.

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The poet had no horse. Master Yun could see the rust-coloured columns blocking his flight and the confused Yeren waiting. Master Yun wheeled Xingbar in a sharp turn and raced to the hapless poet. He swooped down on the terrified man and swept him onto the muscled back of his steed. “We ride together, after all,” he said.

Ho Teng’s answer was a petrified grip around the warlock’s waist and a muffled cry that was swallowed by the wind. Master Yun aimed his horse in the direction of the green-headed vultures and sent dust curling beneath them. They rode swiftly across the desert until the red sands changed to white. After a time, the warlock reined Xingbar to a trot to allow the horse to rest. Master Yun looked up into the sky and saw that the harsh white sun had turned to red. They were once again on familiar turf.

“We are not headed deeper into the desert. We are headed for the frontier wall. Why do we follow the demon birds?” Ho Teng asked from behind him.

“The green-headed carrion feeders are a harbinger of death, but whose death? I do not know.” Master Yun fell silent, glanced down at his moonstone. Its pale, cold surface remained blank. He glanced up again squinting, and noted how the vultures circled an area west of the Jiayuguan pass, north of the wall.

Ho Teng’s voice came from near the back of Master Yun’s neck and he could feel hot breath, the sensation of it raising his hackles. The grip on his waist tightened. “Either something has died or something is about to feel the wrath of Feng Du,” the poet said. “But why is this something so important as to draw the attention of so many demon birds?”

Master Yun sent his gaze to the Moonstone once more. This time the gemstone opened its sight, revealing a scene of urgent dust and speed:

He Zhu rode over the rubble of Altan’s destruction onto the plain, skirting the south side of the wall. Below him were the brown, bare untilled farms of the poor. Summer had reached the land: the pools and rivers were full and teaming with plump black carp, and along the banks pale reeds sprang into new growth. He turned north, racing toward the western stronghold. Hazy in the distance, the three towers of Jiayuguan with their curved eaves appeared over the western sands. He reined in his horse, slowed it to a trot, and then brought it to a halt. This section was unguarded; the sentinels had all deserted. He dismounted, led the gelding to a scrawny shrub and tethered it before climbing the crumbling wall to the top. The land where Altan’s tents were pitched was yellow-grey sand. Zhu’s mantle flapped in the wind as his muscles strained and he heaved himself up to watch. Moments later, he dropped down to the other side, and strode to the warlord’s tent where a young girl cast a shadow against the felt. He lifted the wolf pelt covering the door and drew his sword.

The vision vanished. Master Yun snapped wide his eyes before twisting to seek the passenger behind him, and caught a grimace on the poet’s face that matched the ferocity of the fist gripping his side.

“Ho Teng, I will set you on the road at the entrance to the pass. After that you must find your own way. There is something I must do before I return to the Red Desert.”

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Jasmine, the fox, on all fours, sent earth flying behind her. She fled the walls of Shanhaiguan and forged through the land until she reached a stone rampart. Through yellow mist the Black Mountains snaked, rolling in sharp peaks and valleys like a dead dragon that had fallen from the sky. Below the last ridge, many miles away sat Altan’s camp.

The sun dropped behind the western range, and she reached her destination. Nestled in a sheltered clearing, the felt tents of the tribe flanked a small lake filled with yellow reeds. She followed the melodic notes of a piper to the camp, paused and listened. Then searched the sky. A flock of carrion birds wheeled nearby.

Instantly, she transmuted into her woman form. No warriors greeted her on the edge of the camp. Only a quiet scene where Mongol women attended to daily tasks, secure in the belief that their men would soon destroy the last outposts of the Dragon Wall. Most of the men were on raids, the majority at the eastern endpoint.
Nothing is dead or dying nearby, so what’s with the birds?
she wondered.

Jasmine lifted the wolf furs from the entrance to Altan’s tent and the mournful notes of the piper’s song followed her in. A young girl, dressed in the orange-red of the Vermilion bird, stood against a backdrop of red silk pillows.

Jasmine glanced around at the lantern-lit tent. “What are you doing here alone, Peng?” Peng had grown quickly in the last few months. Unlike mortal babies, she was already the size of a Mongol four-year-old and just as mischievous. “Where is your nurse?”

At that moment, the wolf furs parted and a young woman dressed in a short hide tunic slipped in. She opened her mouth, startled to find her mistress at home. “I went to fetch the girl a drink of water,” she said, apologetically.

“You are never supposed to leave Peng alone. What do you think the Khan will do to you when he finds out?” She was well aware that in a blink of a wolf’s eye, her mistress could morph into a fox and cover the miles to the battlefront before the day was out.