China is the most amazing place on this planet. Its landscapes are so magnificent that the millions of songs, poems, paintings, and sculptures cannot even scratch the surface of that depth of beauty. Simply describing the varied landscapes could fill a library, so I will only say that I fell in love with that land and understood why Xia would choose it as her eternal living place.

We flew over the most beautiful place in the world and I knew I was the first to see it from this height. Now such a view is commonplace in photographs but then it was a magical first experience for all of humankind. The Yangtze River was, and is, gorgeous. Approaching Xia’s home like this served for more than a pretty view. It meant that I did not spread my illness during the approach, hopefully avoiding alerting Xia to my intentions to infect her whole household.

I had not been awake when Sally rode Dawn and looked through her eyes to find her with Xia. No one seemed worried that our daughter was within the clutches of the oldest, most secretive Incola in the whole world. The others were not anxious and so I felt only a sort of excitement. I wanted to meet Xia. She must have answers to the many questions I had about Incola.

Xia’s home was a compound on the edge of the coast of China made up of a dozen buildings arranged symmetrically around a series of courtyards that led to a large main palace. A wall surrounded the entire complex with a wide strip of land between. The wall itself seemed to be a building made up of two walls with space between and a flat roof on which soldiers patrolled. It was breached by an elaborately decorated gate to the north and south. On the east and west sides, small stages or large alters, stood covered in little bundles and burning incense. Many Chinese participated in ancestor worship and since Xia might be the Yellow Empress, the ancestor of all Chinese, it made sense that her altars would be overflowing with offerings. As I watched, a woman laid one more carefully on the top of the pile and then went back to her husband.

Our approach and landing was met by rows of soldiers in formation and servants who stood lining the walkway. We were greeted by a man about my own age, who spoke English and was dressed very finely in elaborately woven silk robes decorated with none other than the Yellow Dragon. He had an entourage of men with him, all high ranking in this court judging by their robes and how the Yellow Dragon was displayed. I noticed two peculiarities. One: every man there, including soldiers and servants, bore the Yellow Dragon on some article of clothing, whereas I had believed that only an Emperor could wear its likeness. And two: every person there was male.

My own men were shown great respect and treated without suspicion when they came in the main gate. Our belongings were carried inside. My men received rooms in the two buildings closest to the main one, in which I was given a room. We were invited to rest and freshen up as there was to be a great feast in our honor that night.

The feast was elaborate and flavored with exotic spices. We were all served individual bowls of rice and then the large dishes were placed on the center of the table for all to take from. Whole fish, cooked with head and tail on; a whole goose with golden braised skin; meats and vegetables cooked in unfamiliar styles; noodles; deliciously sweet fruits that were completely unrecognizable; and dumplings filled with a variety of fillings made up the meal.

All members of the household ate with us so I feared no poison. At first my others did not want to eat for fear that was Xia’s method of riding but I convinced them that even if it was, she would soon be too sick to ride anyone. I ate and drank and listened to beautifully strange music played on some plucked string instruments and some flutes. The musical scale used was different than in Western music and seemed alien but calming, if not a little sad, to me.

“Here we eat unfamiliar food as not to insult our hostess but she cannot even appear in person. How can I not take that as a personal affront? I have traveled around the world to meet Xia and she cannot be bothered to come from her chambers to greet me?”

The man who had been spokesperson at our arrival looked puzzled. Then he gazed at me and said calmly, “I am here.”

“You! I do not even know who you are. I am here to see Xia, Yellow Empress, ancestor of all Chinese, ancient female Incola, friend of the talking beast, Bai Ze, keeper of the knowledge of all supernatural creatures.”

Comprehension dawned on the man’s face. He turned to me and I met his gaze. He said, “I am Xia.” Before I could question that statement, every member of that household stood and in unison repeated, “I am Xia.” My dinner partner continued, “There is no one here who is not Xia. She looks through all of our eyes, uses us to speak her words.”

How could she ride so many at once? I wondered. Then I thought of the time when Sally rode Dawn and Mary Martha rode the unborn child. I had been able to see through both of their eyes. Maybe she had others just as I did, but she gave her others their own bodies. How could I ask her without sharing the details of my own mind? “But where is she? Physically. Where is her body?”

Sally could stand it no longer and shouted, “And where is our daughter?”

He stood. “Come. Xia will see you with her own eyes but it will take some time.”

Why? Why would it take time? I did not understand but I followed him, leaving my men feasting. We went down a hall, passing closed and open doors on either side. The man stopped at one of the open doors and gestured that I should look. Dawn sat eating while a tattoo was applied to her arm. Her hands were bound in a sort of mitten so a man sat next to her feeding her. When she saw me, she neither ran from us nor to us. She simply raised her skirts, showing off her tattoo covered legs.

Sally showed me a memory from when she last rode Dawn. Her hands were covered now because when she arrived at Xia’s palace, she would not stop picking strips of her flesh and putting them on the men. Strangely, the Xia men did not seem affected by Dawn’s gift of touch. They threw the bits of skin into the fire. She had put her hands on them, attempted to seduce them into giving her more children, but they had no difficulty resisting. Her will could not overwhelm Xia’s.

“Doesn’t Xia wish to use her to birth an army of Carriers?” I exclaimed out loud.

“Goodness, no. Why would anyone wish that? No, I do all I can to keep down the number of us. What do you call them?”

“Incola is the word I was told meant leader, owner, rider. That one person has Carriers, human cattle to be ridden when the Incola wishes to jump bodies, leaving his own for a while,” I explained to the man who, as he was ridden by Xia, could be centuries older than I.

We descended a staircase, then another, and then another. I would have thought that a basement would be less ornate, less fancy than the residence above but here quite the opposite was true. Once we were well below ground, light filled every corner. The man who was Xia saw me examining one of the fixtures on the wall and explained that it was electricity that so well-lit Xia’s personal chamber. I did not think having all of that power, basically lightning, flowing through a home was safe. I knew of the inventions but preferred the safety and comfort of gaslights.

The stairway opened into a small entry room, dominated by two giant doors painted bright red, which symbolized happiness here, and decorated by a yellow dragon each that culminated in large metal door knockers forged to look like the dragons’ heads. Every surface of that room was lacquered and polished so that it seemed to have a mirrored finish.

The man who was Xia asked me to avert my eyes. The door was locked in a hidden fashion similar to Julian’s secret room at our home in London. I heard a series of clicks, slides, and groans. The doors opened toward us and I looked into a gargantuan empty room. Empty is not the correct word. Columns carved with minuscule Chinese characters filled the space. I walked in and immediately a painting to my left caught my attention. In it, an octopus’ tentacles caressed and trapped a nude woman. The petite mort on her face said she enjoyed the sea creature’s touch. The painting next to it was similar in subject matter. Every painting was similar. Some were more or less graphic. Some had men. Most featured a woman and an octopus or squid.

“Are you a fan of shunga?” he asked me.

At the time I did not know that word but did not wish to offer offense before meeting Xia so I asked a question instead. “Aren’t these Japanese works?”

He complimented me on my eye for detail, stating that most outsiders would not recognize the differences.

“Why would the ancestor of all Chinese collect Japanese art?” I pressed.

“Come,” he dodged the question. “You can ask Xia. She wakes.”

“I thought you were Xia,” I mumbled mockingly.

He pretended not to hear or perhaps he did not care. He led me to a bed at the back of the room. The word bed is a bit of a misnomer. This pillowed platform was wide enough for eight people to lay side by side, maybe more. It held but one at the moment. A woman, so elderly, dried and wrinkled that at first I thought her a mummy, lay on her back on the right of the bed.

Her white hair, spread out around her head, began to change first. It went gray, then salt and pepper. As the pepper began to outweigh the salt, the age spots on her face disappeared. The number of her wrinkles halved and then halved again. She opened her eyes. Her cataracts faded and her dark sparkling eyes looked deep inside me. I knew her and she knew me. There would be no secrets between us.

Xia sat up, the sheet sliding down, exposing her above the waist. I should have looked away but I could not, so great was the transformation. Her breasts tightened and lifted, her skin as well. Dark hair fell straight down her back past her waist, the last of the gray having vanished. She pushed down the covers, making me aware of her complete nudity, and slid out of bed.

Her waist, thin without the aid of corseting, and her strong but small body disappeared in the robes that the man who had led me there held for her. The first layer was thin but several more were added and cinched, pinned and tied. She had her own cultural rules to follow just as I did, but I knew she was nude beneath the layers. The knowledge that she wore no undergarments sent tingles down my spine.

Xia stood before me a gorgeous woman no older than I, when I had thought her a desiccated ancient mummy only moments before. She held her hand out to me. Her tiny, delicate, dainty hand entreated me from the loose folds of her large sleeves. I reached my hand out but Sally remembered our gift of touch and snatched it back just in time. I shook my head no, even though I wanted to touch her more than anything.

Her lips plumped and smoothed, turning the most pleasant shade of pink. I longed to kiss her but then she spoke. “There is no need to worry. Your power will not work on me or mine.” I scarcely understood the words she said, so caught up was I in the timbre of her voice. Again she held out her hand. This time I took it in my own. “It seems counterintuitive but touching me helps fight the…” She paused, searching for the phrase to express it best. “Fight the hold my glamor has over you.”

She was every bit as lovely as she had been before we clasped hands but her beauty was less intoxicating. I did not feel obsession rearing its ugly head. Xia pulled me to a painting. Xia was a small woman, her head barely reaching my earlobe level. We stood and admired the skill of the artist, for it appeared that the octopus moved through the water. All I could think of was how Xia’s naked body would look as water lapped over it.

She spoke, breaking my fantasy. “The octopus is a most interesting and alien creature. Did you know that they have a brain in each of their eight arms in addition to their central brain? The arms have literal minds of their own and can act completely independent of the head.” We moved to the next painting. They were wood carved imprints. This one did not feature an octopus, just two women engaged in sex. “The suction cups on the octopus’ arms can taste what they touch.” The next piece was of big waves breaking apart a small boat while an octopus dragged a man down into the depths.

“You asked me why the mother of China would collect Japanese art. In your travels, have you noticed a similarity in appearance, language, and culture with Han Chinese, Japanese, and Korean?” I had never been to Japan or Korea but it felt like a hypothetical or leading question so I just nodded. “The people I come from originated near the mouth of Yangtze River area and moved over the Korean peninsula and into Japan. We have a common ancestor but our genetics are now so distinct that I cannot count people from Korea or Japan as family. I cannot use them as vessels. The Japanese and I are connected. They are not mine; I cannot own them but I can own their art. I lived there for many years, hiding from what I was. I became obsessed with shunga, Japanese erotic art. But the longer I denied who I was and what I needed, the more split I became. With no vessels for my splinter selves, I went insane.”

“Dawn is insane.”

“Is that her name? Dawn?” She pulled me to another painting. It was more erotic than the last and I tried to concentrate on what she said, rather than allow my imagination to run wild again. “Yes, she is. But it is different. Her mind feels empty, as if she made room for her splinters but they never arrived. You are the opposite, almost full.” Before I could question her statement, she continued. “I have gone my entire life without ever having encountered another woman with my abilities and now within such a short span, I have met two. I have not allowed her to see me as I fear it would complicate matters.”

“She cannot ride you.”

“Of course not.” When it became clear that I did not understand why she assumed she was safe from Dawn’s possession, Xia said, “She cannot become one of us until she kills her mother. Killing the body that birthed us is the only way a female Incola can be born. You should have ended her in infancy. She will always be a threat to you.”

Deirdre threatened to make an appearance because Dawn was a threat. Mary Martha grew when Xia said we should have aborted our daughter. Ruth felt guilty about killing our mother at birth. But Sally was too close to the surface, too intrigued by what Xia said. There simply was not room at the front for us all.

“Even if she did kill you, she would never be able to ride me.”

“Because you’re too powerful of an Incola.” I said it as a statement, so convinced was I that I understood.

“No,” she said, furrowing her brow. “Do you really not know? How can you be so powerful, have consolidated so much power, destroyed or taken over so much of the Incola world and know so little about yourself?”

I released her hand. “The Incola I’ve met are not as forthcoming as you.” She was what we would call a church-bell back in London. A talkative woman, this Xia.

“They would be secretive. They did not want you to know all you are capable of and most of them weren’t aware that our abilities differ from theirs.” She turned so that we might look directly at each other. “Dawn can never ride me because we, female…Incola, can only ride our direct descendants. You share the same wretched blood as your daughter. She is your vessel. You and I are at the top of our family tree. No one can ride us.”

“But my first husband was able to ride me.”

An eyebrow lift was the only hint that she recognized the unintentional double entendre. That beautiful, perfectly arched eyebrow lowered. “You were young. Since you are still you, I assume that ride did not end as he wished. I have been able to kill anyone who tried to ride.”

I nodded. The movement set my eyes on Xia’s toes peeking from beneath her robe hems. I was glad she did not have to suffer the pain of lotus feet. But then I thought of how her feet would be comely no matter. “I can push Incola out. Dawn can trap them in her mind.”

“You can ride her without becoming trapped though.”

Again I nodded. My words failed me. How did she know so much when we’d only just met? So breathtakingly gorgeous. So intoxicatingly wise. That isn’t a real word but her dazzling self muddied my mind. Xia waited for me to catch up. “Not me. I cannot seem to ride at all. I am stuck in this body. One of my splinters, I call them my others, rides and I see through her eyes.”

“That is how we ride. We are not like our male counterparts. They can only have one body at a time, killing off their previous form. We must stay in our original body but our splinters, our others, can be sent to ride our descendants. We can see through their eyes, live many lives through them concurrently. Controlling so many minds at the same time is easier when I put this body in stasis. I find the most deaths I can carry is eight. Any more after that inside my mind leads to insanity. I can feel yours pressing to get out. You must be close to that.”

Her voice made speaking coherently difficult. I managed four words. “I carry seven others.”

“You need vessels. Dawn is your only living descendant?”

Ask her! Effie pleaded.

Ask her what? I asked silently.

About Dawn and if our men can be saved.

No, not yet. I replied to Effie and then answered Xia’s question. “Yes. I had a son as well, but he died.”

“He died, bringing about the birth of one of your others.” She spoke it as a statement. She did not need me to confirm. In fact, she confirmed for me our suspicion of how the others were born. “Then Dawn is your only vessel. One splinter could permanently take residence but you need room for all.” We walked to another painting. I didn’t even look at it. I only had eyes for Xia. My eyes would not drag themselves away from her glorious face. No detail was too minute to memorize. I counted her eyelashes and wondered what I wouldn’t do for Xia. Her almond shaped eyes looked at mine and she smiled knowingly at me. She reached out and took my hand. The world around Xia came back into focus.

She spoke, further strengthening my grip on reality. “I apologize. The effects of my glamor seem to have increased manyfold while I slept in stasis. It is why I lock myself away, allowing my body to grow old. This body cannot go into the world anymore. Being in public is too dangerous. Even my own splinters cannot resist.”

“Will that happen to us?” Sally asked aloud.

“I don’t want to live in a cave!” added Jo.

I reprimanded them aloud. “Xia was sharing a personal pain and you made it about us. For shame, for shame. You think we will ever be as Xia is!”

“It is possible. My touch, at first, just made people attracted to me, made them desire my company. Then, around the time I turned one thousand, mere proximity began to trigger the effect. After two thousand years, the area around my home became congested with people just hoping for a Xia sighting. That is when I started putting myself into stasis. Only a few months at first and then years.”

“How long was this stasis?” I asked.

“For the past two centuries or so, I have lived only through my splinters.”

No wonder no other Incola knew about her. She was old enough to be a myth. I wondered how old she was but did not ask. If she really was the Yellow Empress of lore, she could be over four thousand years old. “That is why they bring their offerings to your altars outside the gates, because you are a deity.”

She flinched as if my words stung and I wished instantly to take them back. How could I be so callous? I hurt Xia. I began to stutter apologies.

“No, no. It is I who is sorry. I wish you had not seen that. It must be impossible for an outsider to understand the need for such a loss of life.”

I thought back to the woman I had watched lay a tiny bundle on the altar. Tears glistened on her cheeks. Her hand lingered on the bundle. The moving bundle. A baby. Peasants were leaving their babies on the altar to die of exposure. I yanked my hand from Xia’s. I tried to run, check on the baby, see if it still lived. Sally stopped me. She knew only pain awaited me outside those walls.

Even with my back to her, being in the same room as Xia meant her glamor hit me hard. I tried to keep my outrage and yelled before it vanished completely. “I’m glad I brought my precious blight to your home!” I pulled the weapon from my pocket and brandished it at her.

She retrieved something from under her pillow. Bringing it back to me, she held out a cylinder similar to mine. “I used mine long ago, when I was relatively young. I thought we were evil and sought to end it all. Did the monks give that to you? I tried to develop a weapon and was able to make these two. I used one and the other disappeared.”

“Why didn’t you use yours as I am trying to do?”

“I did. I traveled as far as I could, travel being what it was back then. I was arrogant and thought only the Han had this power. There were very few large populations living together. Most people lived isolated and I never found them. You have a chance. Then there will only be you and I.” Her glamor mesmerized completely. When she said that last sentence, I could no longer feel the earth beneath my feet. I soared with the thought of it being just she and I.

She came and took my hand once again allowing me to manage my wayward thoughts. She spoke again, and I knew she kept no secrets from me. I only had to ask and she would tell me everything. “The villagers bring their baby girls to the altar if they are my direct descendants. I commanded them to do this long ago for two reasons. The first is that if they were my descendants then their death would bring a splinter and that splinter could be used to possess a male descendant. I did not want a male Incola, immune from my weapon, to rise in power. My splinters ride them all.

“Now that so long has passed, so many generations between me and those babies, the connection between us is so minuscule that their deaths no longer make a splinter. The second reason is that I did not want a country filled with insane women. Very few would have killed their own mothers so they would continue to splinter as their family died. Those splinters would build inside their minds with nowhere to go and make the women go mad.”

Xia paused for a few minutes. Whether it was to allow me time to process or herself time to recover from sharing such a dark part of herself, I do not know. We looked at more art, all the while holding hands. When she spoke again, it was soft and gentle. “Do you know how many deaths Dawn carries?”

That was difficult to answer. If others were made when our family died, she should have more than she did. “Dawn has a tumor and some of her splinters were absorbed by it. She only has one other that I know of and then there are my son and two husbands.”

“Dawn imprisoned them, those who attempted to ride her?”

“Any who have ever entered her mind, even if they escape for a time, whenever they do die, they are trapped. When she tires of their screams, Dawn cannibalizes them.”

Ask her! Effie begged me.

Before I could ask, Xia volunteered the information. “I have never heard of such a thing. What a horrific end to any creature.”

Ask her! Effie insisted.

If she’d never heard of it then she has no solution, I reasoned. I asked anyway. “Is there any way to save them?”

Xia shook her head. “Even if you killed Dawn, and your son and husbands did have bodies to return to, if they are as consumed as you say, they would never be themselves again.”