The Pirate Empress (51 page)

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Hang on, we approach.”

The sun found a gap in the haze where it could shine through. Towers of rock appeared out of nowhere, and Li gasped in surprise. The nine-headed, snake-bodied water god leaped from the sea onto the prow of a junk, which loomed out of the fog.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Madam Choi’s Advice

Po stared in wonder as Li slid to the deck. He went to her, threw his arms about her waist. Then grabbed her face by the ears and kissed her on the right temple. “I saw the tsunami,” he said. “It raged out of the sea, through the fog like a mountain of water. Then—” Po jabbed a thumb at the nine-headed snake god, “—
He
vanished. Next thing I knew, Xiang Gong was racing toward our junk with you on his back. How did you summon him? I have tried and tried for so long, and he has never answered me.”

Li removed herself from his not so brotherly embrace and smiled at him. “How long have I been gone, Po? You’ve become quite a man.”

The young pirate grinned. With his tunic sleeves torn to reveal his arms and the tops of his burgeoning shoulders, Po was every bit the pirate that Mo Kuan-fu was in his heyday. His face contorted into distraction as he realized that Li had appeared out of nowhere on the back of a god. “Tell me. What happened? Where are Mo Kuan-fu and his fleet?”

Good question, Li thought. “I don’t know. One minute I was aboard his ship, the next I was attacked by the White Bone Spirit. I hope he is far away from here. Where
are
we by the way?”

“In the Yellow Sea, off the coast of Tsingtao. Ma-ma decided that we must reach you in Beijing before you entered the Forbidden City. We had word that the Mongol Altan kidnapped Brigade General Chi Quan’s son. No one knows what has happened to the brigade general. There are rumours he is dead.”

“No. Quan would not dare die on me and leave our son at the mercy of barbarians.”

“I’m sorry,” Po said. “I am not lying.”

Li ignored that and glanced about, troubled by the quietness of the junk. The sails were furled and the ship lay at anchor; no other boats were in sight. They were berthed in a shallow bay surrounded by tall rocks that shot upward from the sea. Where was Madam Choi’s fleet? She seldom sailed alone. Where were the girls? Where was Madam Choi herself? This bay was a perfect hiding place. What were they hiding from?

“I must see your mother. Where is she?”

“Li,” Po said, reaching for her arm.

“What is it, Po? You act as though a ghost breathes down your neck.”

He hesitated, glanced away, then back at her, his dark serious eyes cryptic. “There were consequences to your desertion of Admiral Fong.”

“What did he do?” she demanded. “Tell me, Po, before I implode.”

“He wanted you back as you knew he would. On the day you left he threatened us, but then left peacefully. That same night he returned with armed men and took Number Two Daughter from her bed. He thought if he had one of my sisters we would help him get you back. Screams of terror woke us, and we raced on deck to see the admiral and his men with Number Two Daughter. Ma-ma could not stand to lose another child, and she speared the kidnapper with a lance, but Fong was also quick. A sniper on the masthead shot an arrow, which nearly pierced her heart. By the time we saw its source it was too late. I, in turn, threw my dagger; Fong dodged and it only struck his arm. A deep cut. But I know he lives. Ma-ma on the other hand…”

“No.” Li could not bear it if Madam Choi was dead because of her bad choices.

“I did all I could. But I am not the healer my mother is.”

Tears sprang to Li’s eyes. Her throat seized up.
Oh what have I done?
Her heart raced like the trapped wings of a fly.

“I gave her medicine, but she is weak. The arrow has poisoned the blood.”

Li ignored the fact she was wet to the skin and raced across the deck, leaving Po staring. She found Madam Choi in her quarters on a fur-covered pallet. A bandage of pale cloth wrapped her ribs, and by the dim light of the porthole, Li could see the rise and fall of the dressing. Her face looked pale.

Madame Choi raised her lids, failed to lift her head, though she did turn it slightly. Her voice was frail. “I knew you would return. Where is Mo Kuan-fu?” She punctuated her question by sending her eyes to the porthole where the sea could be glimpsed every time the junk rolled with the incoming tide.

“I left him,” Li said. “I fear he’s not too far behind.”

“We are safe for a time,” Madam Choi said. “Mo Kuan-fu doesn’t know of my hiding place.”

Li knelt beside the pirate woman’s pallet. “You must get better. When you are well, I must go to Beijing. Po says Wu is captive of the Mongol’s new Khan, Altan. Is it true? If so, there is only one way to get him back. We must get silver. The Mongols are greedy and stupid for silver. They know if we plunder the ships that are supplying the Emperor’s coffers, there will be nothing to finance the war. The troops will desert; they are deserting as we speak. Without silver to pay the Chinese armies and watchmen at the towers, there will be no one left to fight and the Mongols will take what they want.”

Madam Choi sighed, tried to roll her head up to meet Li’s eyes. She was too weak, or the pain of her wound was too severe, and she let her head drop back. “Do you hear yourself, Li? Do you understand what you are saying? To go that route means helping the barbarians defeat your emperor.”

Despite her concern for Madam Choi’s health, Li stiffened. “He is
your
emperor, too.

“The water people have never had much use for emperors.”

“No. And, for reasons that you are well aware of, neither do I.”

Madam Choi reached out to Li with a trembling arm. She leaned closer, her sweat-soaked hair hanging down her feverish face. Her eyes were bright, her touch hot. “If the Middle Kingdom falls,” she said, “a new emperor will rule. That emperor will be a barbarian.”

Right now, that was the least of Li’s concerns. She blinked away her emotion and clasped her clammy hand on Madam Choi’s. “Since when do you care? What happens along the desert and mountain frontiers never worried you before.”

“Never before have the foreigners been so close to tightening the noose around our necks. They attack at all fronts. If there is one rule of war, it is this: If you’re weak, you die.”

Li had no answer for that. She merely said, “I want Wu back. Silver will buy him back.”

“And what of your other son? Your husband?”

Li spat. “That arrogant savage beast of an admiral shot you. He kidnapped Number Two Daughter. I despise him. And even if I didn’t, even if he hadn’t done this heinous thing—” She tapped the edge of the bandage around Madam Choi’s chest. “Even if he hadn’t tried to kill you, Fong doesn’t love me. He loves the image I represent. And it has always been clear between us, from the outset, that I
don’t
love him and never will. He knows it. Young Lao is the sacrifice I have to make to get Wu back. Lao is with his father. Fong will love him twenty times more than he could ever love me. I can no longer live with Fong. He is my enemy. He went back on his word to help me save Wu. They all went back on their word. Mo Kuan-fu is a liar, too. You and Po were right. I was an idiot to ever trust him.”

Madam Choi pointed to a blanket at the foot of her bed and instructed Li to wrap it around her. Whether from the chill of her sea journey or her rage, Li was now shaking worse than a frightened dog. She rubbed herself down and draped the blanket around her shoulders, and knelt beside the pallet.

“Your plan could bring a barbarian emperor closer to the throne,” Madam Choi warned, voice quivering. “Is that what you want?”

Li flung the blanket to the floor and rose. “So be it. I want my boy back.”

Madam Choi managed to prop herself up to glare at Li. “Such selfishness. Ingratitude. When Master Yun first sent you to me, he meant for me to train you. I thought I had taught you better than that.”

“
Taught
me? Taught me what?”

“You think I haven’t? You think I haven’t trained you? What do you think you have been doing all this time among the water people? How do you think you were able to call upon the power of Xiang Gong?” Madam Choi pointed to the porthole. “I saw his effigy melt off the prow and dive to your rescue. Listen to me, Li. I do not know how much longer the gods will allow me to live. When I am gone, Po will need you by his side—”

“Don’t talk like that. You are
not
going to die.”

“Wu is no longer your destiny. Take your place among the pirates as their empress.”

“NO, I won’t listen to this. You will get better.” Li dropped her head in exhaustion.
I’m sorry. Please don’t make me choose.
Her whole life had been devoted to the conception and raising of her darling boy. She lifted her eyes, whispered, “I wish Master Yun was here to advise me. I don’t think I can live without Wu.”

“So you would rather die?” Madam Choi’s eyes softened and her voice changed, the quivering gone now. “I wonder. What would Master Yun tell you?”

What would he tell me?
“He would tell me that the better question to ask was whether my death was worthy of dying.”

Madam Choi exhaled a sparse breath, and stroked her ribs. “My time is near, perhaps. I do not know. Neither do you know when you will die. None of us has a choice as to when we will die or by what means, but we can decide how we will behave when our time comes. We live in times of war: here on the high seas and on every border of the Middle Kingdom. We can die cowards, snivelling and screaming of the unfairness of life, or we can die fighting with dignity and honour.”

“There is no honour in dying.”

“Isn’t there? Are some things not worth dying for? You have lived among us for many years now. You know how precarious life on the sea can be. It is not the life that you knew when you were a concubine of the Imperial palace. Now you know what it means to be one of the poor. But unfortunately your emperor does not. I am the daughter of a peasant, a rice farmer. When the peasants fare well and their crops flourish, the nobility increase their own wealth and the poor are elevated out of poverty. But when the crops of the peasants fail and they are taxed to desperation, the wealth of the nobility dwindles and the poor become destitute. It is a simple thing. But one who has not experienced it cannot see it.” She collapsed back on the bed, the strain of talking too much for her fragile body.

Li apologized and suggested she depart to allow Madam Choi some rest, but the pirate woman shook her head. “No. Stay. Your company invigorates me.”

“I fear the war is coming to the South Coast,” Li said. The Mongols nibbled at the northwestern front, the Manchus at the east. Mo Kuan-fu’s pirates ravaged the South Coast. And the Spanish, Portuguese and Turks wanted a piece of the golden moon cake that was China.

Madam Choi’s dim eyes absorbed the jade wedding band that Li still wore on her left hand. “War is already here. Your admiral did not take kindly to your abandonment of himself and his son. He has invaded the safe havens of the water people and split us up. Your days are numbered Li, as far as your husband is concerned. He will hunt you to the death and take any who shelter you with him. Even as I speak, Mo Kuan-fu is feeling the sting of the White Tiger’s bite. If you feel I have taught you no lessons, then here is your first. Prepare for death. It is inevitable.”

Li stared at Madam Choi, mouth open, her damp clothes clinging to her.

“I am alive until I am dead,” Li said, waving her ringed hand in the air. “I intend to stay alive. And I mean to get the ransom that will buy me back my son. This wedding band will help me do it.”

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Chi Quan’s idea was to go directly to the Emperor and explain that Wu was his grandson. Surely, His Majesty would see reason and grant him an army with which he could seek out Altan’s daughter. The surest way of attaining the return of his son was to trade Peng for Wu.

The pull of the amulet was strong and certain. The steely blues, purples and silver of the forged metal glowed with all the power of the azure dragon. Despite the shifting of the rust-coloured columns, the Charm of Bearing led ever eastward like a magnet to iron. The poet remained to lure the Yeren off Quan’s trail.

He was soon free of the red sands and in sight of the wall. To the southwest were the triple towers marking the Jiayuguan pass, to the east the road to Beijing. He had no horse and it took him many weeks to cross the hostile land. Even in summer, the yellow grass barely covered the well-trodden loess that lined the north side of the wall. He entered the lands of the Middle Kingdom through a breach in the walls, and dared not linger at one of the garrisons. Mongols now occupied most of the strongholds west of Beijing, and it was only a matter of time before the Forbidden City itself was under siege.

Quan climbed over the rubble and brick of the broken wall. The first thing he saw was the decaying carcass of a horse with a forelimb twisted in an unnatural position. Two human legs stuck out from under the eviscerated animal, and Quan understood instantly what had happened. Flies swarmed around the stomach opening where the yellow-white ribs were visible, and the skin and meat had peeled back from desiccation. The legs of the man were mostly bone now, the flesh eaten away by carnivores, but still partially wrapped in leggings of Chinese cloth. The feet had been encased in soldier’s boots, but these too had been gnawed at and were frayed to ribbons around their tops and soles. The warrior was waylaid by the bitterness of winter and forced to slay his lame horse and hide inside its gutted body for warmth.