THREE
Any hopes Wen had held concerning the piratical nature of the Green Turban Movement were dashed by Chin Gwai's actions once the cargo ship had been secured. The armor from the murdered soldiers Chin apportioned to his men, along with those weapons that were still usable. The fine silks, precious stones, and all the money hidden anywhere on the ship were bundled together and tossed overboard as an offering to Áo Guăng, the dragon king of the Eastern Sea.
And Wen was made to scrub the Jade Maiden's deck, as punishment for having had the effrontery to throw the young woman into the sea before Chin could lecture her on the perfidy of the Ming and the righteousness of his cause, and then murder her himself. That night, watching the Maiden's wake bubble behind her like cold green fire, Wen several times thought he saw, from the edges of his vision, a slender figure floating above the water, in the space between the Maiden and the captured ship. But whenever he tried to focus, there was nothing to see but stars.
Toward the end of the following day—after Wen had endured his own lecture about the evils of piracy for the sake of profit—the two ships arrived at Penglai. There Chin arranged to sell the captive fuchuan to a friendly trader—at a ridiculously low price, Wen thought—and had the sacks of rice carted away to someplace he would not mention to the crew.
The only good thing about Chin's secrecy was that it took him away for several hours, leaving Wen free to walk to Pocapetl's wine-shop. The staring faces of the dead soldiers continued to accuse him—and he hadn't done anything!—and Wen wanted to see if that potent mescal wine could do anything to drive the faces away.
The first thing he saw, once his eyes had accustomed themselves to the gloom of Pocapetl's shop, was One-Eyed Lum hunched forward over a table. The second thing he saw was the young woman Lum was talking with. "Thank gods," Wen murmured as he went to them, pausing only briefly to gag as the smell of the place forced itself into his awareness.
"I am very sorry," he began. Then he found himself on the floor. His jaw ached, but he was not aware of having been slapped. No, punched. That had definitely been a punch he was not aware of having been given. His first thought was that Number One Grandfather had somehow followed him into the shop. Then he saw the expression on the young woman's face.
"I said I was sorry." He got to his feet, cautiously.
"And that is why I only hit you the once," the young woman said. Her voice was, Wen decided, the most remarkable thing he had ever heard. Unlike most women's voices, this one was deep, slow, and thick—like strong wine mixed with syrup. It was a voice that seemed to drip with suggestions of vast sexual experience. Which made it all the more remarkable that it was coming from the mouth of a woman whose waist could be spanned with two hands and the top of whose head perhaps reached Wen's shoulders, and whose face suggested a girl still unable to imagine her sixteenth birthday.
"Remind me," he said, rubbing his jaw, "never to do or say anything in your presence without apologizing first."
"You have to admit," the woman said, "that I had just cause. You did throw me into the sea." She picked up a cup. Wen smelled the dusty explosiveness of mescal, and marveled that someone as tiny as this could handle such strong wine.
"I couldn't think of anything else at the time," Wen said. "And believe me, you didn't want to meet our great leader." One-Eyed-Lum winced at this, and Wen reminded himself that Lum was the first mate and probably had to report every indiscretion to Chin Gwai. "Who is a great and clever general," Wen added, "but who does seem to carry a bit of a grudge where the Ming dynasty is concerned."
"First Mate Lum was just explaining to me the fate of my guards," she said. "If there really was a chance of that happening to me, then I thank you for sparing me. Even if I did spend an unpleasant moment or two swallowing sea-water."
"At least I untied you before I dropped—before I let you go."
"Yes," she said. It sounded more like an accusation. "Yes, you did, didn't you?"
Wen changed the subject. "Might I ask who you are, that you required a military escort?" He gestured to Pocapetl, who brought over a jar and an empty cup; Wen poured himself a generous amount, thought a moment, shrugged and refilled the young woman's cup.
"I am Yin Fengzi," she said. "My father is Yin Dengzi, tax commissioner for the Nanzhou district."
"That's impressive." Hearing a dry cough, Wen refilled One-Eyed Lum's cup as well, before picking up his own and taking a long swallow. "Why were you on a ship, though? And heading to the north country?"
No comments:
Post a Comment