1807 AD, Naozhou Island, China

Shih Yang extended the taper to light the stick of incense, and was pleased that her hand remained steady. Shouts echoed through the fortress. The humidity was particular heavy tonight, the air thick and stifling, and though she could smell salt, the sea breeze failed to reach her private chambers. A distant scream sounded from the harbor, far below. She paused, cocking her head. Had she imagined it?

Impossible to say.

Drawing back the sleeve of her changshan, she watched the tip of the incense stick burn bright. She dropped the taper into a bronze bowl and blew out the flame with a quick huff. A coil of sandalwood smoke immediately arose to hang lazily in the thick, still air.

Pressing her hands together, she lowered to her knees before the portraits of her parents and bowed her head.

Though her expression was serene, her heart was pounding. The hastily written letter lay on the alter before the portraits.

The letter that had, with awful calligraphy, thrown her magnificent and treacherous and deadly world upside down by crudely detailing the death of the mighty Zheng Yi.

“Husband. Honored one. Your spirit has journeyed beyond. May the ancestors guide your steps, may the Immortals light your path. Rest without pain, without worry. Your debts in this life are fulfilled, your duties complete.”

Her very words summoned to mind the endless vortex of debts that were very much unpaid, duties that desperately needed seeing to. For a moment the scope of their empire yawned in her mind, stretching from the salt mines in Tian Pai to the bustling docks of the mighty Guangzhou, from the countless settlements and raised villages on the Pearl River Delta to the smuggling dens and recruiting grounds of Hainan Island, from the foreign-held Macao to the Leizhou Peninsula. A hundred cities, a thousand ships, a hundred thousand sea bandits, all waiting, poised, to learn the fate of the infamous Red Flag armada now that Zheng Yi was dead.

Shih Yang cleared her mind, wiping away the map of the South China Sea and its infinite concerns. “Wait patiently in the comfort of our ancestors’ hall, for one day I shall follow. Until then, accept these offerings, small comforts from the living to the honored departed. Remember us, protect us, as we remember you always.”

She closed her eyes and allowed the truth to truly hit home. He was gone. His raucous laughter, his fearless ambition, his hunger for battle. Gone was his wild, unpredictable energy, his restless yearning, his hatred of the Qing dynasty, his smell, his rough hands, his hungry mouth.

Lost to a typhoon, washed overboard, consumed by the sea that had been his true love, his jealous mistress.

“Go gently, husband. Your memory will remain honored in this household forever.”

Even at this last, Shih Yang allowed herself a smile. If there was one thing she knew, it was that Zheng Yi would go nowhere, not even to the halls of his ancestors, gently. He was probably roaring demands for wine already, searching out the pretty serving girls amongst the immortals, and scheming for power.

Power.

She sat back on her heels, her pulse racing in her ears.

The fortress seemed to tremble around her like a junk assailed by monsoon winds. She must act. Zheng Yi had been her face, her instrument, the roaring voice of her commands, but with him gone, her empire was in jeopardy. The wolves and hyenas would be slavering in the gambling dens and canteens in the harbor town below, the great captains of the other five fleets plotting, wondering if they could overthrow her, claim her power, and rule over the six fleets with impunity.

Shih Yang’s lips curved into a slow and contemptuous smile. The dogs. They’d squander it in less than a year. Spend the millions in the community chest, break her every rule, disrespect the passports issued to merchants seeking her protection, and shatter her empire into a hundred squabbling precincts.

She inhaled smoothly, thoughts spinning, dancing, as they ever did, questing and seeking the right solution. Life had ever been a ceaseless challenge where one misstep would leave her floating in the brine, throat slashed, with crabs nibbling at her flesh. To reach for the heavens, to seek to elevate one’s station, was to court destruction. Yet always she had triumphed, dominating this cruel world with wits and guile and strength of will.

This death and the changes it would bring was nothing new. The only difference from this moment and that precarious day she’d first met Zheng Yi was that now she had an empire to lose.

For but a moment she indulged the memory. All too soon she would have to unleash a typhoon of her own making, but here, before her ancestral shrine, with the incense heavy in the air, she allowed herself to recall the tromp of sandalled feet on the balcony that surrounded the floating brothel. The panicked whispers of the other women, the tension so thick in the air it could smother a child.

And then her screen door had been yanked aside by dirty hands, making way for Zheng Yi who stepped within, hand resting on the pommel of his blade, face cast in its suspicious frown, eyes glaring at her as if already seeking disappointment.

“They say the Pearl River Delta is named after you.”

She had smoothed down her skirt and kept her voice tranquil. Twenty-five years old, she knew far too well the effect of her beauty on men. “Customers will say anything when thinking with their wrong head.”

He’d barked a laugh. “And that’s how you take their secrets?”

She’d allowed herself a slight smile. “Taking secrets is easy. It’s knowing who to sell them to that’s an art.”

He’d sniffed audibly, glancing around her meager quarters, then grinned at her. “I am the illustrious Zheng Yi! Ruler of the Red Flag Fleet, and terror of the South China Sea. I am in need of a wife.”

But even as he played the role of a simple brute, she’d seen the calculation in his dark eyes, the quicksilver thoughts.

“The magnificent Zheng Yi is known from Canton to the Red Delta Coast as a truly dangerous man. Such a man needs an equally dangerous wife by his side.”

He’d sneered. “And you are one such?”

Only then had she risen and stepped forward to peer up into his striking face. “If ambition were fuel, I have enough to set the world on fire.”

“Ha!” Again that bark. For a moment she’d thought he’d take her then and there, plow her while his men waited just outside, and disappointment had cast a shadow over her gleaming mind. But then he’d stepped away, pausing only to look back at her over his shoulder. “Come on then. There’s a world out there that needs burning.”

Shih Yang sighed and lowered her head. In only six years they’d accomplished so much. Six wild years of murder and nascent bureaucracy, of systematic corruption and sea battles, of sailing into one bay or port after another to conquer or trade, uniting the shifting world of sea bandits under the red banner of their fleet.

And Zheng Yi was he was dead and she left alone at the helm of their ship.

A ship that needed an iron hand at the wheel.

Shih Yang rose smoothly to her feet. The scent of sandalwood filled her austere chambers. The candle flames sat heavy and still.

It was time to exert herself.

She inclined her head, and one of her two serving girls who awaited her pleasure sprang to her feet and bowed low.

“Request the presence of Captains Chen Zhaoming, Li Fengyuan, and Wu Jiancheng.”

The girl bowed low and cracked open her door just enough to slip outside, revealing, if only for an instant, the arm and leg of a sailor from her Golden Phoenix standing guard.

She turned her attention to the next servant. “I would also speak with Yang Xiuqing. If Huang Renzhi is on the island, request that he attend me. Then have Lin Yusheng await my pleasure—I will speak to him after my council.”

The servant girl bowed equally low and fled.

The massive Zhao Guoxiang, first officer of the Golden Phoenix, stepped into her doorway. “Esteemed mistress. The port is on fire with rumor and speculation.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” She drew herself up. “Collect enough men to go below and establish order. Anyone who has been caught speaking treason is to be hanged immediately. Anyone who fails to display the proper respect to whom you represent is to be whipped. It is time to assert our authority. And see to it that Captain Fang Shuren is arrested, and his lieutenants thrown in jail.”

“Arrest Captain Fang?” Zhao barely managed to conceal his shock.

“Yes. He’s the obvious figurehead for any rebellion, and I am not blinded like my late husband was to his treachery. We cut the head off the snake tonight.”

“Yes, mistress.” Zhao bowed his shaggy head. “I have already summoned the crews from the Steadfast Courage and the Wave Cutter to double the guards outside your door and at the fortress main gate. I’ll leave Second Officer Feng in charge in my absence.”

Shih Yang inclined her head but a fraction. “Very good. Please request that Zhang Bao attend me immediately.”

Zhao bowed low and departed her chamber.

Now to deal with her adopted son.

Zhang Bao. Seventeen years old, handsome, quick to laugh, and with a temper that matched her late husband’s. He had hidden his ambition almost as well as his desire for Shih Yang, but he was a warrior, not a diplomat, and she had seen his lust for power and her flesh from the very first moment they’d met.

Captain Fang was no doubt scheming even now how best to turn Bao against her. A figurehead behind which the seventy thousand sea bandits of the Red Fleet could unite. A boisterous, uncomplicated, violent young man who would do Fang’s bidding.

Shih Yang smiled.

Alas for poor Fang.

She moved to her desk and began sorting through her accounts, maps, and nautical charts, not really seeing the documents even as she ordered them. She would bind Bao to her side, yoke him to her ambition. And with him as her new figurehead, she would not only maintain control of her empire, but expand it.

With careful hands she smoothed out her favorite map, its vellum rich to the touch, the cobalt blue of the inked oceans rich, the many islands and complex coasts of the deltas and mainland meticulously depicted.

Her empire.

Shih Yang pursed her limbs. Few understood how delicate it was. A spider’s web with threads flung across the seas and bays, deltas, and island harbors. A courtesan’s dream spun up to compensate for the rotten weakness of the Qing emperor. A harnessing of greed and a desire for order. A hundred outposts held together by her rules, her laws, her will, her ambition.

Yet if she faltered for but a moment, it could be torn apart as easily as any spider’s web.

Yes. She would bed the young Zhang Bao, and bedazzle him with the most refined techniques she had learned in her youth. Together they would lead the Red Fleet to greater heights. Meet the Portuguese in Macao with strength, continue to dominate the Qing navy, and bring ever more order and prosperity to the South China Sea.

The air shifted.

The candle flames streamed sidelong.

Someone was in her chambers.

Shih Yang snatched up her stolen Portuguese flintlock pistol from her desk and spun, raising the gun to point it at a strangely dressed foreigner who stood against the far wall, hands linked behind his back, manner utterly unafraid.

“Please forgive the intrusion. I have come with an offer that I believe will be of great interest to you.”

The man was handsome despite being a European, his black hair hanging about his shoulders, and he spoke flawless Cantonese. His manner was confident, his eyes the impossible blue of a summer sky, and something about his mild smile checked her urge to just blow half his head off and call for her guards.

He’d not only bypassed her guards, but entered her chambers without using the door. A sorcerer?

“How dare you presume?” Her voice was harsh and utterly without fear.

“I know you very well, Zheng Yi Sao. Your dreams, your desires, your hopes, your ambitions. You have my condolences on your husband’s death, and for the fall of your empire in three years’ time.”

She tightened the grip on her pistol. “You can see the future?”

“I have seen it.” His tone was melodious, calm, and utterly rich with sublime confidence. “In three years’ time you will surrender to the Viceroy of Liangguang, Bai Ling, turning over two hundred ships, discharging nearly a twenty thousand sea bandits under your personal command in exchange for pardons and a fine meal of pork and wine.”

Shih Yang sneered. “And why by the heavens would I do such a thing?”

“Guo Podai will turn over his Black Fleet to Bai Ling in exchange for the rank of sublieutenant in the navy. The Portuguese and British will lend their ships in hounding you, and Bai Ling’s policies of militia training and embargoes will cut off your supply lines. You will sense the tides turning against you, and realize that, in 1810, you yet retain enough power to negotiate a surrender pleasing to your honor. And so you will accept a parcel of land in Canton where you will build a gambling den and live out your life, disappearing from the pages of history, your efforts forgotten, your laws broken, your empire fading like dawn mist before the sun.”

His eyes were mesmerizing. Her chambers seemed to recede as he gained ever more prominence.

A sorcerer indeed.

Yet his words stuck her like knives, cutting to the very quick of her deepest fears. “A pretty tale. Any charlatan could spin the like.”

“True. But I am no charlatan. I know that you will fall in love with Zhang Bao, though when he dies fifteen years’ time off the coast of Penghu, leaving you with a daughter and son, you will marry again. Three years, Zheng Yi Sao. Three years of fighting desperately against the rising tide is all that remains you despite your brilliance.”

Her pistol began to waver, so she drew it back, muzzle pointed at the ceiling. Her heart was racing once more. “Why do you tell me this? Have you come only to gloat?”

“Because I have an offer, as I said. You have a one in a hundred chance of changing the world as you see fit. A competition. A grand, impossible battle of wits and will against ninety-nine strangers, the winner of which will be granted a single, world-altering wish. Anything, Zheng Yi Sao. Immortality. Infinite wealth. To change the past or the future. Whomever wins this competition shall have the power of the heavens granted to them for but a moment, and with that power you could ensure that your empire lasts forever, that your name is immortalized, or anything else that you desire.”

His words rang with authority, and Shih Yang’s breath caught. For a moment she could only meet his smiling gaze, and then her mind was clamoring for more information, for facts, seeking the hidden angles. “And why do you offer this opportunity to me?”

The man spread his hands. “Because you are and will be the most successful sea bandit to have ever lived. You are beautiful, a genius, with a will of iron and the ability to carve out an impossible confederation of sea bandits against so many odds that they may as well be infinite. I have chosen you, Zheng Yi Sao, because I believe you have it in you to make it to the top of the Eternal Tower, to defeat your every foe, and in doing so earn me almost as much glory and fame. You know your self worth. And I know it, too.”

Shih Yang licked her lower lip. Not one crack had appeared in his veneer. Not a single moment of doubt or hesitation. Her heart was pounding, pounding.

Could it be true?

Assuredly not.

And yet.

“You’re not the first swindler with a tongue of gold that I’ve met.” She aimed her pistol at his chest once more. “Proof, or I shall kill you where you stand.”

“Proof? Very well. Gaze upon the wonders of heaven, and know that they could be yours.” And the man extended his palm, over which a ball of burning white light appeared.

Shih Yang’s eyes widened as the heatless flame expanded to form the perfect illusion of a tower, one of such complexity and wonder that her eyes couldn’t settle on any one aspect of it. Despite the sense of vast scale, still it rose to the ceiling and there was cut off, as if its height was beyond imagining.

“The Tower Eternal. An endless wonder, a thousand worlds, a place of magic and peril and beauty.” The man’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “Overseen The Teacher, it is home to billions, and every marvel under the heavens can be found on its floors. All you need do is seize this opportunity, to defy your destiny, and strive to wield the power of the gods.”

Shih Yang lowered the pistol to her side as she studied the marvel. Never had she seen something so beautiful. Her gaze devoured the illusion, and when finally she tore her eyes free, she knew she had made her decision.

All her life she had strived to achieve the impossible. If there was a chance that she could now actually do so, it would be madness to turn away.

“This competition. What form does it take? These competitors. Who are they?”

The man closed his hand and the tower faded from view. Once more they stood in the sultry, incense-laden chamber, which now seemed dull and unrefined in comparison. “All will be explained. All you need is pass through a portal with me into the Tower.”

And an oval of burning white light appeared by the stranger’s side, its face a swirling mirror of golden fire.

“Your name,” whispered Shih Yang. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“I am Odysseus,” said the man. “And shall be your patron as you climb the tower. Shall we?”

For a brief moment Shih Yang thought of her world, her men, her ships, her plans, her web of influence, her foes, and every aspect of this damnable, terrible, thrilling life she had been leading. Could she risk it all, this miniature, sordid empire she’d built month by month, year by year, with blood and salt and iron?

Then she cast it all aside, and clutching her pistol tight, stepped through the burning portal into eternity.