Chena Yang stood on the deck of her ship, arms neatly folded. Draped in her bright red admiral's robe, she surveyed her fleet, and for the thousandth time she swelled with pride.
Dozens of junks, each one hundreds of feet long and with a rudder five times the height of a woman, rode the easterly winds across the great ocean. The mighty red square sails of the junks shaded the squat, slope-roofed grain ships, which carried enough supplies to feed Chena Yang's three-hundred-strong crew for months.
With a smile, she turned back the cabin and entered the admiral's quarters, where a shrine to the ocean god, one of the very few male deities, overlooked her bed, and a painting of the empress stared back at her with ladylike dispassion.
Chena Yang was no stranger to the sea. For twenty-three years, she had had the honor of sailing to the empire's many client states to receive homage and tribute for the empress. But now, for the first time in her life, she had been ordered to go further- to sail across the great ocean and find new nations to trade with. None of them, of course, could be as great and rich as her homeland, but still there could be much to gain.
Chena Yang sat down in her silken hammock, staring wistfully at the empty stretch of floor in the middle of her quarters. It was just enough room, she mused, for a statue. At the next great city-state they found, she would commission a sculpture to commemorate the discovery, and she would place it here, where she would see it every morning and night.
Eventually, Chena Yang decided that she desired a walk around the deck. But when she opened the door to her quarters, she found her second-in-command, Unajin Li. The small, thin-faced woman waited with her head bowed in observance of the taboo on common crewwomen entering the admiral's quarters.
"Admiral," said Unajin Li, with a full, unabbreviated bow, "we have sighted land."
Chena Yang stood up straight. Finally, it had happened. Her navigators and cartographers and weather-readers had foretold this, and now it was happening. Chena Yang had never doubted them; although she would never say so in presence of the haughty nobility, they were the most skilled women in the empire.
Hurrying out to the bow of the ship, Chena Yang peered into the distance. With just her bare eyes, she could see it: a fuzzy black coast, stretching out in either direction as far as the fog allowed her to see it. She sniffed the air, and she could have sworn that she could smell the grass.
"Magnificent," she said. "Prepare a landing party. I want woodcutters, builders, harquebusiers and at least two horsewomen with me."
"At once, Admiral!"
Less than half an hour later, the landing boat launched, with Chena Yang at the head and her whole complement behind her, equipped and ready. The horses pattered and whinnied, stirring themselves into a frenzy, and the women were not much calmer. They were fine sailors, all of them, but after six weeks without sight of land, uncharted territory made them anxious. It was inevitable.
The shore grew in the distance, resolving into mountains bordered by trees denser than Chena Yang had ever seen. Instead of grass, she smelled the sweet musk of flowers.
At last, the boat landed, hull hissing onto the sand. The horses leapt out, and the whole company cooperated to haul the flat wooden hulk out of the water. For a moment, Chena Yang allowed her crew to drink in the beauty before them. Thick jungle fought with the seaside rocks, with vines and insects and nimble little furry things twisting between the trees. Great, grim mountains rose above the canopy in the distance, blue and hazy. Mosquitoes swarmed thick in the air.
Before Chena Yang had to order them to, her crew set about their jobs. Soon, a landing area was cleared, with the first structures coming up around a fire pit. A scouting team disappeared into the forest.
The scouts were led by Bortujai, a woman who hailed from the northern steppe provinces. Her people were a rugged kind, masterful archers who taught their daughters to ride horses and allowed their men to roam the world freely, rather than keeping them on the homestead where civilized men belonged.
Minutes later, Bortujai returned, flustered and covered in leaves, skin lined with scratches that she barely seemed to notice. "I can't see anything, Admiral," she grunted. "The foliage is too thick. We're safe as far as I can tell."
"Then we'll have to post a full guard," said Chena Yang.
"Admiral, there is something else. There appear to be natives here. I've seen scratches on tree bark that don't look natural, and there was an arrangement of sticks that I think was supposed to be an animal trap. And I found this." She opened her hand to reveal a scratched stone triangle.
"A spearhead," said Chena Yang. "You've done well, Bortujai. As soon as our base is set up, we'll investigate. You and your women, help with the border fence, then you have my permission to rest."
"Yes, Admiral."
With folded arms, Chena Yang watched her crew execute their work. When they finished, dozens of trees had been felled, and a fine wooden fort stood on the soil, lined with lit torches and armed sentries. A full complement of shelters stood within the fence, complete with a latrine that drained into the ocean.
"Now," said Chena Yang, "to investigate the natives. Bortujai, you will accompany me. And I want Yiang Keng and Muzha Shen as well."
Yiang Keng appeared instantly. A young woman, barely more than twenty years of age, she had volunteered to come on this mission and had never looked back. At every turn, she jumped at the chance to prove herself, and Chena Yang loved her for it.
Muzha Shen came next, draped in heavy cloth armor, with her old army cap spilling over her broad, smiling face. Her curved sword, forged for a war that had ended decades ago, hung proud and ready at her hip. In age, she more than doubled Yiang Keng, which made her one of the few crew members who was older than Chena Yang, but the vitality of her youth was still plain in her strong step, strong voice and strong will.
"The three of you," said Chena Yang, "Go back to the fleets and each bring me five of your best women. We'll go out into jungle and search for these natives." She held up the arrowhead. "And if we can, we'll receive our first homage from them. Understood?"
"Yes, Admiral!" said the women, in unison.
They wasted no time. Back on the junks, as the three women left to gather their parties, Chena Yang turned to her personal wardrobe and took the opportunity to change her outfit. As much as she loved her floor-length robe with its drooping sleeves, such attire would never do in the thick rainforest. In their place, she donned a form-fitting red dress which reached only to her shins, and she let her black hair fall freely to the small of her back.
Soon, Bortujai, Yiang Keng and Muzha Shen returned with fifteen soldiers, some of whom Chena Yang recognized, most of whom she didn't. They gave Chena Yang a quick bow, and the party was off. The women at the shore camp watched with respectful excitement as the eighteen women waded into thickness.
The jungle made for a rebellious walking surface. Sticks snatched at the hem of Chena Yang's dress, her feet sank into smelly soil, and strange insects tickled at her skin. But the thrill of exploration still pushed her on. Above the rhythmic 'whack' of Muzha Shen cleaving through the leaves with her sword, exotic birdsongs beckoned her.
Muzha Shen halted, sheathing her sword. "Admiral," she said. "I see a fire ahead. I think we've found them!"
"At last," said Chena Yang. "Let's go and meet them." Taking the lead, she elbowed her way through the last of the branches and vines until finally sunlight poured into her eyes. She stepped out of the jungle.
A clearing of ridden-down mud stretched fifty sword-lengths ahead, populated by huts of pitch and thatch that clustered in a hodgepodge around two fires, one large and one small. Women in fiber clothes and copper-tone skin crouched around the huts, talking and tinkering over bits of bone, wood and animal hide. When they saw Chena Yang, they jumped. They babbled to each other in a barbarian tongue and scrambled. Before chaos could set in, a middle-aged woman in a thick fur cape stepped out from the biggest hut and bellowed a one-word command. All at once, the natives froze.
Bortujai drew her composite bow. Chena Yang stayed her with a hand.
"You," said the fur-caped woman, pointing grandly to Chena Yang. "You have returned."
Chena Yang failed to hide her surprise. "You can speak our language!"
"You are sea women," said the fur-caped woman. "You came from the west, beyond the shore. When my mother was chief, other sea-women came. They gave us silk and rice. We gave them furs and charms."
