Free The Pirate Empress by Deborah Cannon Page A

ridge, several miles away in a shallow vale, she sighted the warlord’s encampment. The haunting tune of a barbarian’s flute pricked her ears. Clustered beneath the shadow of the foothills, the felt tents of the tribe ranged against a reed-filled lake. She followed the melodic notes of the flute into the camp.
    She sniffed, listened outside the wolf-skin door, and then slipped into the tent. The golden fox alighted with barely a click of nails on the hard earth floor. Her glittering stare transformed from those of a beast to the sultry kohl-lined gaze of the concubine.
    “Hello, Esen,” she said, standing before him in her woman form and shaking out the folds to her snowy white gown. The startled man was seated cross-legged on his sleeping furs, a young, naked girl performing oral sex in his lap. “Is this a bad time?”
    The warlord rose, dumping his lover onto the floor. The girl scrambled to dress and he hustled her out, all the time making assurances that it was the bladder of rice wine she had drunk and not a fox faerie she was seeing. The interior of the tent was opulently graced with brocaded cushions and pillows pilfered from the Chinese; the felt walls were lined with hangings of colourful satin. The silk robe covering the fleeing girl was one of China’s finest. Jasmine shook her black hair, the mirth bubbling to get out. “So, my lord, this is how you entertain yourself while I’m at the Chinese court?”
    The Mongol scowled, dressed roughly, not caring what she saw. “I want that girl—Lotus Lily. Why have you not brought her to me?”
    “I came to tell you that you have nothing to worry about concerning the prophecy. Lotus Lily is still a virgin, and I see nothing in the offing for her in the way of a man. I will bring her to you when the time is right. Stop with these petty raids, Esen, you are wasting men and arms. The time will come when you will need all of your forces. You cannot demand an invitation to the Forbidden City, and even if you were successful in gaining an audience with the Emperor, you couldn’t kidnap Lotus Lily. Something protects her there. But I feel that force weakening, and when the opportunity arises, I’ll bring her to you. Now go. Pack up your camp and move it farther away from the capital. Your presence here makes Captain Chi Quan nervous.”
    “A nervous captain is a captain under my control.”
    “Do you want the girl or not?” Jasmine demanded.
    Esen allowed a smile to erase his scowl.
    “So, where is your pretty little brother?” she asked, changing the subject.
    He went to the door of his tent and shouted, “Altan! Get in here.”
    A lean copper-skinned warrior entered the tent wearing a single black pigtail and a leather falconer’s glove on his left hand. He bowed mockingly as he addressed her. “You have news?”
    “I came to tell your brother to prepare for war, but first he must move his camp.”
    The warlord cracked a smile as he winked at his younger sib, and then he threw wide his tent furs to step outside. He strode out into the afternoon sun while Altan remained behind, and Jasmine pinned the elder with a dark gaze. The oaf was strutting his stuff like one of his roosters, voice blaring like a Chinese trumpet, summoning all to prepare to move.
    Amused, she turned to his baby brother who was watching her with lustful eyes. “You play with dragonfire,” she whispered, and inhaled deeply, before leaping on him like an animal in heat.
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    This time, Captain Chi Quan had no intention of announcing his arrival on Mongol turf with the rattle of drums or an army of hundreds of thousands. He needed only a small detachment, but to beat the Mongols at their own game, he would have to fight dirty.
    Three days after Esen’s raid on Xuanfu, Quan was ordered by His Majesty to lead four thousand handpicked horsemen on a two-day ride into the western plains as far as Red Salt Lake on the edge of the Ordos Desert. No nomadic warriors blocked their arrival; Quan