The Anzu's Egg 1

by J F Mehentee

  They’d had them surgically altered, Biyu said, repeating Tarigan’s explanation. They’re trying to resemble some of us.

  The enormity of what Tarigan had told us shattered the idea that a war with the Leyakians was being fought a thousand miles east of us. A covert war was already being fought on our doorstep, one of the westernmost islands.

  The anzu’s egg, finding one, is no longer about relic hunting, I said. If the Leyakians are going to such lengths to prevent us from finding one, the Resistance, Rahmat, must be a real threat.

  Biyu placed a hand on my thigh and rested her shoulder against mine.

  Are you saying we’re searching for the egg as resistance fighters and not relic hunters?

  I nodded.

  Tarigan sees what we’re doing as helping the Shani and Zadrinesia. That’s why he offered to pay for all the damage I caused. He’s trying to recruit us.

  Biyu snorted.

  I still think it’s a fritting bribe. She sat up and no longer leaned on me. But you’re right. It explains why the Ministry of Holy and Demonic Magic is funding so much of the department’s work. We have to find as many of our magical relics before the Leyakians do. She shook her head. But Tarigan is Shani, not Ministry. Her hand, the one still resting on my thigh, tightened its grip. The Leyakians know frit all about magic and relics. Tarigan wants to know where they’re getting their information from.

  I recalled the chameleon suits and the raincoats the Leyakians wore. District Eight manufactured the cloth. They had adapted the ancient magic use by the tribespeople of Rupa to make themselves invisible while hunting in the jungle. But how had the Leyakians come by that magic in the first place? To my knowledge, Rupa wasn’t under occupation. Biyu had a point: how were the Leyakians getting their information?

  ‘Take the next left, please,’ I said to the taxi driver. I have to buy some sweets, I explained to Biyu. I’ve some questions for Toojan.

  After I’d purchased the laddoos, we took a taxi to District Three, the temple district.

  Temple after temple lined the streets, and stallholders filled the alcoves and alleys between them. The combination of sandalwood, myrrh, benzoin and the smoke from the funeral ghats behind the temples made my nostrils itch. Strings of marigolds and jasmine hung from horizontal poles while the flower sellers tied unopened lotus flowers into bundles. In the spaces unoccupied by stallholders, ascetics meditated, held a yoga pose or both, their bodies either smeared in ash, scarified or tattooed.

  ‘Madam Biyu.’

  I turned and saw a stall holder beckon her over. He wore a straw hat, its rim tattered and likely to unravel. A clay pipe with a long stem hung from his grizzled mouth.

  Biyu looked everywhere but at me.

  ‘Give me a mo.’ She placed a palm against my shoulder. ‘Stay here. There’s no need for you to come.’

  I watched and wondered why Biyu was taking to a man who—from the crystals, animal paws and bulging pouches hung beneath his awning—sold amulets. The man smiled between nods and shakes of his head. Biyu bowed, the edges of the seller’s lips and eyes crinkling. He waved to her before she turned, and then he waved at me.

  ‘What was all that about?’ I asked, waving back.

  Biyu’s transparent third eyelids slid across her eyes.

  ‘Just business,’ she said.

  She stared straight ahead. Something funny was going on.

  ‘Just business with an amulet seller?’

  ‘Look,’ she said, pointing. ‘We’re here.’

  Compared to the ziggurats, the stair-stepped pyramids and the pagodas, Toojan’s temple was a wooden hut. Granted, intricate carvings of kirin, griffins and—prominent among them—dragons covered the walls and gabled roof.

  Referred to by his followers as The Eye, Toojan sat on the temple steps. A sorcerer and sage reincarnated over millennia, his latest incarnation was as a saffron-robed, shaven-headed eight-year-old boy. A kitten lay in Toojan’s lap.

  ‘You two are late,’ the boy said. He didn’t look up from his examination of the kitten’s crooked tail.

  I rolled my eyes. We’d caught him in one of his sour moods.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. I motioned at the steps. He nodded. Biyu and I sat either side of him.

  I leaned in and watched him run the kink in the kitten’s tail between thumb and forefinger. From its keening, the kitten must have broken it recently. Whatever he was doing to the tail had to hurt.

  ‘Guru Toojan,’ I began.

  Toojan glanced at my torn shoes and shook his head despairingly.

  ‘I know why you’re here, Thanjay.’ His missing upper front teeth caused an occasional lisp. ‘You want to know who’s leaking information to the Leyakians. Did you bring the laddooth?’

  He’d seen the paper bag, the grease turning the bottom of it shiny. I unrolled the top of the bag and peered in at the three orange balls of clarified butter, sugar and flour.

  ‘Two,’ Toojan said, ‘and I’ll tell you.’

  I didn’t hesitate.

  ‘One laddoo.’

  ‘That’th outrageouth,’ Toojan said, the pitch of his voice matching the kitten’s keening.

  ‘Unless they’re offerings, food is prohibited in the temple. And you’re not supposed to eat anything between lunch and dinner. I’m breaking a rule just giving you one laddoo.’

  ‘You can say it’th for the kitten.’

  Toojan and I exchanged a look of surprise when the kitten stopped whimpering and sniffed the bag.

  ‘Sweets aren’t good for kittens,’ Biyu said, her voice a coo. Somehow, she always forgot the soul of an ancient sorcerer and sage dwelt inside the youngster’s body. ‘You don’t want to poison it—do you?’

  Toojan regarded Biyu with his big hazel eyes—the little bugger had made them water. He turned to me with a squint. A notch creased the middle of his brow.

  ‘Two,’ he said. ‘There’s three in the bag.’

  I said nothing. Tears ran down his cheeks.

  Sanjay, Biyu said. You’re upsetting him.

  ‘It thuckth being a monk,’ Toojan said. His shoulders jerked between sobs. Passers-by glowered at Biyu and me.

  ‘All right,’ I said, playing along. ‘We’ll make it two.’

  Biyu didn’t see the demonic smile Toojan shot me. Toojan liked games and bartering was one them.

  We had met when he was three. He was playing on the temple steps as I climbed them. Back then, I’d made offerings to the entire pantheon of gods who occupied the temple district. One had heard my prayer about Biyu’s work driving a wedge between us, and so he or she—I didn’t know which one—could reverse it.

  ‘Too complex for our minds to comprehend, all gods are the manifestation of a single creator,’ he’d said as I passed him. To hear such a thing from a toddler had left me transfixed. ‘You need only visit one temple, Sanjay. Why not leave all your oblations at this one?’ He’d then bent forward and gave me a conspiratorial wink that belied his physical age. ‘Bring sweets,’ he’d whispered. ‘Laddoos are my favourite.’

  It’s beyond me why Toojan chose me to be his friend. He didn’t consider himself sacred, to be revered and to whom every wish must be granted. He considered himself as nothing more than human being who remembered his past lives and was stuck in the body of a child monk.

  ‘Tho,’ Toojan said, yanking me back into the present. The kitten squealed again. The little monk continued to massage its broken tail. ‘You’re here about the Leyakians and the anzu’s egg—right?’

  Biyu and I nodded. What did Toojan expecting our visit augur?

  Toojan returned his attention to the kitten that continued to protest at him touching its tail, though it didn’t pull away.

  ‘Locate the egg and you’ll discover one way the Leyakians are being fed information,’ he said, his voice sounding as if he were reciting a list of facts by rote. His eyes had turned golden, his pupils missing. ‘Destiny chose you both to find the egg, and you’ll receive help from a Kazeran w
ho isn’t who they seem. You’ll have little choice but to accept their help, but that doesn’t mean you can trust them.’

  I glanced over at Biyu. Her eyes mirrored my concern. Why accept help from someone we couldn’t trust?

  ‘The egg is the last of its kind,’ Toojan continued. ‘The anzu that laid it was the pet of a long-dead trickster and a god of war, Yahata. That anzu, and most likely its offspring, could cause earthquakes. It was a weapon capable of swallowing armies and sinking islands. The egg you seek is dangerous and highly prized. Hide it well.’

  If the Leyakians found the egg, somehow got it to hatch and made the anzu their pet… The consequences made me shiver. I hadn’t forgotten I’d killed a Leyakian just hours ago. My knowing what was at stake dulled the guilt gnawing at me.

  ‘You said the anzu that laid the egg belonged to a long-dead god,’ Biyu said. ‘Even if a chick were inside it, wouldn’t it be dead by now?’

  Toojan stopped ministering to the kitten and closed his eyes. He sat so still, I thought he’d stopped breathing. The kitten regarded Biyu and then me, as if to say, what did you do to him?

  The sorcerer and sage opened his eyes, and his hands began moving again.

  ‘I’ve theen all that providence wants me to see. If the egg remains viable, I don’t know how.’ His scrutiny fell upon the paper bag and its sweet, greasy contents. His irises were hazel again. ‘Can I have my laddooth now?’

  Biyu bowed before standing.

  ‘Thank you, Toojan,’ she said.

  The young monk returned the bow.

  ‘You’re welcome, Biyu.’ Toojan faced me. ‘May I have that third laddoo?’

  ‘I’ll leave you boys to your negotiations,’ Biyu said, then strode away without a backward glance. She understood the third laddoo was just an excuse for a man-to-man chat, which often involved Toojan complaining about monastic life and the occasional plea to smuggle in some alcohol. All he ever got from me were sweets.

  I pushed the paper bag over to the little monk.

  ‘What would you like to discuss?’ I said. ‘This anzu’s egg business means I can’t stay long.’

  Toojan raised an eyebrow.

  ‘This conversation isn’t about me, Thanjay.’

  Khuda, I thought. If he wanted to talk about me, it had to be serious.

  Before I could ask him what I was supposed to say, Toojan held up the kitten’s broken tail.

  ‘This tail ith like your guilt over what happened to Biyu,’ he said. ‘It causes pain and will be an encumbrance throughout life.’ He gave it a sharp tug. The kitten yelped.

  Toojan offered up the detached appendage. There was no blood, and when I examined the kitten, it licked fur already covering the stub.

  ‘If you’re to thupport and protect your wife, you must rid yourself of your guilt.’ Toojan placed the still warm tail in my hand. A stubby finger pointed at the amulet seller who’d called out to Biyu earlier. ‘He’ll pay a good prith for the tail. Just as he pays a good prith for the skin Biyu sheds.’

  I felt the muscles along my brow tighten.

  ‘What does Biyu need the money for?’

  7

  I sat in the pharmacy rolling the qi tablet for Biyu, the practice’s purchase ledger open before me. Because of my depleted qi, I wasn’t sure how efficacious the tablet would be later tonight. Half an hour had passed since I’d opened the ledger and Biyu had left for the vault. Susilo Tarigan had sent over some of Supervisor Pak’s folders in the hope they might help us with our search for the anzu’s egg. I had left Biyu to the documents, claiming I was behind on the pharmacy’s stocktaking, which was a half-lie.

  Back in the temple district, Toojan had told me Biyu often sold her shed skin to the amulet seller. Without my knowing, she’d been doing so for the past three years.

  After her mother’s death, Biyu managed the practice’s bookkeeping for Master Healer Lee. I was happy for her to keep doing so after her father passed the practice on to me. With the additional income from the Ministry’s finder’s fees for those relics we delivered to them, I thought we were flush.

  According to the pharmacy’s purchase ledger, Biyu used the money from her shed skins to help re-stock the pharmacy with some of our more expensive ingredients, ingredients for which we didn’t charge our poorer patients. News of our discounts had led to more such patients registering with us. Now, after checking the ledger, there were months when our costs exceeded our fees.

  Why Biyu had kept such a thing a secret escaped me. I wondered if it had anything to do with us having to get by on one income and her thinking our situation was her fault. Whatever her reason, and not wanting to dent her pride, I’d said nothing.

  I dropped the tablet into a separate pill holder and, so I didn’t forget it, slipped the box into my trouser pocket. I slid off the seat and put the ledger away to avoid alerting Biyu I was on to her.

  Biyu arrived in the hallway at the same time I locked the pharmacy. The light shining through the reception door had dimmed to a dusty orange. I glanced at the clock on the wall next to the door: Five-thirty.

  ‘I haven’t finished rolling a second tablet,’ I said to her.

  Nothing in Biyu’s eyes suggested she thought the lack of qi tablets a problem.

  ‘It’ll take me three hours to fly to Kazera,’ she said. ‘You’ll have plenty of time to continue rolling the tablet.’

  I wanted to remind her I’d be wrapped in blankets and wearing mittens, but I recognised the determination in her eyes. We had less than twenty-four hours to find the anzu’s egg and save Rahmat. With so much at stake, Biyu running out of energy before we could return to Bagh-e-Khuda was a risk we’d had to take.

  ‘Learn anything from the folders Tarigan sent?’ I said.

  Biyu stopped at the foot of the stairs up to our living area.

  ‘I did,’ she said, and began to climb the stairs. ‘I’ll explain on the way.’

  Upstairs, I’d already packed a rucksack with Biyu’s clothes, my relic hunting tools and some dried fruit. I’d also filled two canteens with water and a drum to refill them with. I slung on the lightening revolver’s belt and buckled it. Next, I retrieved the revolver and flicked the safety. The dynamo hummed beneath the handgrip. I’d recharged the wards that powered the dynamo earlier. The charge would last me through the night and until noon tomorrow. I flipped the safety back on and slid the revolver into its holster.

  In the bedroom, I took the fur-lined parkas from the wardrobe and stuffed the mittens farther into their pockets.

  ‘Your scarf,’ Biyu said as she undressed. ‘You forgot it last time.’

  Before I lugged the heavy coats out of the room, I pecked her on the cheek and thanked her—as much for reminding me about the scarf as for everything else she did.

  Like the trapdoor to the vault, wards hid the roof’s door and released the ladder leading up to it.

  Up on the roof, Biyu doubled her size and absorbed the last of the sun’s rays. I tugged the waterproof canvas from the basket she’d carry me in. I filled the basket with blankets, my rucksack, the canteens and the water drum. The basket’s metal framework converged into a point with a five-foot-wide ring welded to it. I tested the four furled canvases hanging from the frame.

  After I’d activated the ward to seal the roof door, I returned to the basket and waited for Biyu to levitate.

  Biyu’s size kept doubling until she reached thirty feet in length. This evening, all her scales were the colour of dark jade, and the hair around her head had become white. Over the years, I equated her mood with the colour she turned. The green scales signalled anticipation and the white hair apprehension. Her snake-like body coiled in the air until she aimed her giant snout at me and nodded. Biyu was ready to leave. I raised an arm in acknowledgement and then climbed into the basket.

  Seated against a corner, I gathered the blankets around my legs. The basket wobbled as Biyu grasped it. My buttocks sunk into the woven base as Biyu hoisted the basket into the air.

/>   I smell more rain, she said.

  Of the two ropes hanging above me, I tugged the one with a green cotton handkerchief tied around its knotted base. A pyramid of waterproof canvas unfurled to cover the basket’s mouth and sides. Not having a head for heights, I didn’t care that it obscured my view. I pulled out the pillbox and began to roll the qi tablet. Once Biyu gained sufficient altitude—though not too high I’d suffocate—I’d lose sensation in my fingers without the mittens.

  Kazera is mostly mountains and plains, Biyu said. We continued to rise. According to Supervisor Pak’s notes, we’re looking for a mountain with triple peaks.

  I visualised a mountaintop that resembled a crown and shared the image with the Biyu.

  Could be, she said. It was the earthly home of the god, Yahata, and his pet anzu. Pak’s notes describe how the egg laid by the anzu caused the theft of a tablet from the god of the universe. Pak thinks Yahata baited his pet by claiming the anzu’s offspring would become a better thief than its parent. Remember, Yahata was the god of war and a trickster. Turns out, the anzu proved its master wrong by stealing the very thing that gave the holder complete command over the universe: The Tablet of Divine Decree.

  Biyu paused. In the same moment I experienced her sadness, the basket sank.

  There’s nothing in his notes about what happened after the theft, Biyu continued.

  A story—truth or myth—wasn’t much of one without a conclusion, closure for whoever’s listening to it or reading about it. Not knowing what happened to the god and his anzu left me dissatisfied. But why had it made Biyu sad?

  She’d heard my question.

  That story reminds me of me. Another pause, although this time Biyu shielded her thoughts. Pak often pitted one student against the other. It was his way of making us work harder. A month before the accident, he’d recruited a new postgraduate student. While he never came straight out with it, he insinuated she was smarter than me and likely to be more successful.

  I felt Biyu’s anguished sigh.