Venera Dreams

by Claude Lalumiere

  Sharp physical pain pulled Dematria back to the material world, back to the Platea Theatrum. One of the wolves had attacked her. He had gone for her neck, but even in her vermilion trance Dematria had reflexively protected herself by blocking the assault with her forearm.

  They were both on the ground now, the wolf’s jaws clamped on her arm, tearing it to shreds. The second wolf hung back, observing the fight and protecting his fellow centurion’s flank.

  Dematria’s blood covered the wolf-soldier’s snout, filled his mouth. Due to the divine attributes of vermilion, Dematria’s consciousness extended to her shed blood. She was one with her blood as it slid down the wolf’s throat, as her blood itself became one with the wolf.

  Dematria herself became one with the wolf. Her desperate, vermilion-enhanced consciousness overwhelmed that of the overconfident and obedient soldier’s, and she now commanded the changeling’s body. With her newfound wolf senses, heightened by vermilion, she detected that the other wolf was smelling that something was not right with his fellow centurion. Dematria could not afford to wait.

  Before the other wolf could be fully on guard, Dematria set upon him and tore at his throat until he lay dead before her.

  With wolf eyes, she looked back at her bleeding, savaged human body. She did not have long to live. There was no time to waste.

  This wolf body had escaped unscathed from that first confrontation with another wolf. She knew she could not always be so fortunate. The Hecate Centuria was a full hundred soldiers strong. She had possessed one and killed a second. That was only two.

  With a last sniff at her dying human vessel, Dematria howled at the full moon and set out to hunt the 98 remaining werewolves.

  THE SECRET DRAGON OF IMPERIAL POWER

  (SUMMER 1515)

  The promise of vermilion acts as a powerful lure for the hedonistic Zhengde Emperor. The small sample with which I gained admittance to his inner circle has worked its predictable charms. He yearns to re-experience that elusive euphoria. Here in China, they mine cinnabar, with which they produce a dye vermilion in colour. The Chinese revere that hue more than any other and use it as decoration to garish excess. Even before I provided him with the drug extracted from the vermilion plant of Venera, the emperor had been beguiled for years by rumours of its potency.

  As per your coded instructions received by autopigeon yesterday, in response to my confirmation that China does indeed plan to send a mission of some sort to Venera, I have now revealed to the Zhengde Emperor that I possess firsthand knowledge of our island nation. He still believes me to be a disgraced alchemist from Constantinople who fled to China to avoid a sordid scandal involving the effeminate son of one of the sultan’s concubines and a stash of contraband vermilion spice. The Zhengde Emperor, who is fascinated by everything foreign or debauched, did not question my story of having once visited our beloved city-state as an apprentice and having been seduced by its decadence; that, at least, is only a mild distortion of the truth. As to my larger cover story … the other Turks in the young Zhengde’s entourage have given me knowing glances. They care not a whit about China or its irresponsible, childish, gullible emperor. As long as I do nothing to undermine the privileges Zhengde confers upon them, they will not betray me. But I nevertheless feel their eyes upon me. The young emperor is capricious, and I must be careful that he not grow bored with my erstwhile countrymen. The announcement that I would soon leave the imperial entourage to take part in the mission to Venera was received with obvious relief by this cadre of opportunistic and wary Turks.

  I have, however, befriended someone very close to the emperor: Ibrahim Ben-Jawhar, a diminutive Moroccan Jew who every night shares Zhengde’s bed after the emperor tires of his concubines’ attentions. Zhengde is an indulgent sensualist; he usually plays with his concubines for a few hours after retiring to bed, but sometimes he is so eager for his little Jew that only a few minutes elapse before he summons him. The emperor babbles in bed, and Ibrahim is ever eager to share the contents of that pillow talk. The Jew craves attention, and flattery is a sure way to gain his trust. As most in the emperor’s entourage dislike Ibrahim, he is even more disposed to confide in someone who offers amiable companionship.

  The Venera operation is to be undertaken by the Secret Dragon of Imperial Power, the Chinese equivalent to our own Vermilion Eye. Murmurs abound that the Secret Dragon is displeased with the Zhengde Emperor, whose cavalier attitude toward ruling his empire is an obvious disgrace; Zhengde spends more time diddling his concubines and collecting exotic animals than he does administering China. Most people believe the Secret Dragon to be no more than a corps of glorified bodyguards, but I suspect that the full scope of the organization’s activities is beyond even Zhengde’s knowledge. The controversial ruler is prone to provoke rebellion from various factions with designs on the Chinese throne. Despite the Secret Dragon’s dissatisfaction with Zhengde, it is a fiercely loyal organization; scarcely a day goes by without some would-be assassin being thwarted or news of some treasonous plot being foiled.

  I am now convinced that the most important aspect of my mission to China on behalf of the Vermilion Eye is to infiltrate the Secret Dragon of Imperial Power. I believe that, in the hands of a more cunning head of state, the Secret Dragon would be a most effective weapon for Chinese expansion, posing a more serious threat to Venera than any European power, in spite of the great distance between our two lands.

  Their martial skills — which I have seen in action on several occasions, when assassins came close to the emperor — seem almost superhuman. Such talents bespeak not only rigorous training but also a tradition at least centuries old, honed by untold generations of master practitioners.

  Tomorrow, we set off for the Forbidden City. Alas, my best source of information will then dry up. Ibrahim will not follow the entourage to the capital. He will stay behind in this satellite palace, this Pao Fang (“Leopard’s Chamber”). Zhengde has created a number of such satellite palaces — each of them housing an abundant harem and a large collection of live and dangerous animals — draining the imperial coffers. The Venera expedition will be another drain on an already strained treasury. But the emperor’s word is law, regardless of what the rest of the court may think.

  Upon our arrival to the imperial palace, I am scheduled to be formally introduced to the other members of the expedition. I will then send another autopigeon, with a full report of what I will have learned of China’s plans regarding Venera.

  I yearn to be back home — or, more precisely, I wish to be me again. Some nights, I feel so far from my own identity and from my true life that I have surprised myself praying to Allah. I may tell myself that I have long ago left behind such superstitious nonsense, but early indoctrination has imprinted this notion of a supreme god deep in my subconscious. Do not worry, Scheherazade: my focus on this mission is steadfast, as is my devotion to our city-goddess.

  May the Eye watch over Venera and keep us safe!

  Your devoutly loyal agent, Karim Khalil.

  The Secret Dragon of Imperial Power is even more of a potential threat to Veneran security than I previously believed. But I am getting ahead of myself. Let me recap the important details of this mission since my last autopigeon message to you, Scheherazade.

  We left the Pao Fang (before my departure, Ibrahim confessed that he looked forward to having free run of the concubines in Zhengde’s absence), bound for the imperial palace — the Forbidden City. Most of the retinue either walked or rode on donkeys and horses. But a select group, of which I numbered, enjoyed the luxury of the emperor’s land-dragon.

  This vehicle was a gift from the Secret Dragon of Imperial Power to the Zhengde Emperor upon his ascension. This was the first — and, as I shall report below, not the only — evidence of the Secret Dragon’s scientific advancement, which I fear might outclass that of Venera and the Vermilion Eye. The vehicle measures fifteen by fifty feet and never touches the ground. It does not fly like a bird, rather it floats on a thic
k bed of steam produced by a hidden mechanism within the ornate metal platform of the vehicle. It is not a rapid vehicle — it is much slower than a horse — but it is perhaps the most comfortable mode of travel yet invented. I have not been able to establish for certain whether the impressionable Zhengde believes the vehicle to be powered by Secret Dragon sorcery — the Secret Dragon delights in nurturing this cloak of mysticism — or if he is aware of the technological capabilities of his own empire.

  The insides of the land-dragon matched the emperor’s usual taste for excess. (This pleasure taken in sensual excess is certainly a common trait between China and Venera, except that here only the elite enjoy these luxuries, whereas in Venera all may partake in the fruits of decadence.) There was a sealed-off section at the back where two young female servants prepared food and a tiny cabin at the front where one of the Secret Dragon navigated the vessel, while the rest of the floor was given to cushions, mats, and low tables. Ostensibly, there were open windows that could allow for a view of the outside, but they were blocked by some of the many thin curtains that arranged the space so as to give it the illusion of palatial grandeur. Somehow, diffuse light snaked its way in, augmented by oil lanterns. Aside from the servants and the pilot, a contingent of five Secret Dragons rode the land-dragon as bodyguards and another three, more high-ranking, sat with the emperor and myself.

  Secret Dragons do not retain their birth names. Once inducted into the order, they abandon all other social ties and legacies and are given titles that may change as they gain prestige and seniority. Thus, my three high-ranking companions sported colourful names. Celestial Griffon of Supreme Wisdom, a lean, stern elder who never eats in the presence of others, speaks in curt bursts, especially by elaborate Chinese standards; and he never removes the gloves that cover his hands. Lunar Dragon of Jade is the only woman I have yet seen among the ranks of the Secret Dragon: she is completely bald, without even eyebrows; she weighs her rare words with precise consideration; and her stony grey stare is utterly devoid of empathy. Azure Tiger of the Hidden Mountains displays a gregarious manner and slight plumpness that fail to hide a keen analytical mind.

  The other Turks in Zhengde’s entourage did not follow us. Zhengde had them dismissed and escorted south to Guangdong, where most of them will probably try to find a ship bound for the Ottoman Empire. It happened with no warning, so they did not have the opportunity to put the lie to my cover story — at least to the emperor, whom they were not even permitted to see once he had given his orders. I worry what they might tell their military escort, but any accusation will, I hope, carry the taint of jealousy.

  All three of my Secret Dragon companions were hungry for information about myself and about Venera; in turn, they deftly sidestepped any questions of my own. I revealed as much as I dared, peppering the truth with convenient lies, while pretending not to notice their rhetorical tactics. Nevertheless, I was able to ascertain what they knew of Venera, which is very little beyond its Mediterranean location, its legendary abundance of vermilion, rumours of its sexual decadence, conflicting stories about its social makeup (some close to the truth; some comically absurd), hints about its technological wonders, and outlandish tales of demonic presences. Of the three Secret Dragons, Azure Tiger especially seemed to warm to me.

  I must confess that I, too, feel drawn to him. Were I in a position to be my true self, I believe Azure Tiger and I would become as like brothers. Already, shared laughter comes easily to us. His profound wisdom and intelligence are tempered by genuine compassion and empathy. He strikes me as an admirable man of uncommon ethics and integrity. I know my mission requires me to exploit our friendship on behalf of Veneran interests, but I cannot help but wish circumstances were different.

  China is a violent land; it knows nothing of the peace and security we enjoy in Venera. We were but three hours into our journey to the Forbidden City when we were beset by assassins. As I later learned, this time it was not by the usual mercenaries engaged by those with pretensions to the throne. No, this assault was staged by the Terrestrial Phoenix of Utopian Anarchy, a terrorist organization that seeks to destroy not only the rule of the Ming Dynasty but also the entire apparatus of the Chinese government and of imperial tradition.

  There were more assailants than I could count. I still do not know how they entered the land-dragon, but one moment they were nowhere in sight and the next a squadron of masked, green-garbed warriors had all of us surrounded.

  Three Secret Dragon guards were killed immediately, before anyone could react. Nevertheless, the response from the surviving Secret Dragons was both swift and deadly, even though they were outnumbered perhaps as much as four-to-one, or even five-to-one.

  Azure Tiger’s speed surprised me. One does not expect someone of his girth to move like a feline, but the high-ranking Secret Dragon earns his name. All I could detect was a red-and-blue blur, and in the blink of an eye he had repelled an attack upon himself by a quartet of Terrestrial Phoenixes (although I did not yet know that’s who they were). Azure Tiger then positioned himself to guard both the emperor and myself.

  In an amused tone, as if he were not really taking the situation seriously, Azure Tiger told me: “I bested our assailants with the Swift Mist of Confounding Violence. Now, I stand guard in the Steel Fortress of Omniscient Vigilance.” I turned to Zhengde, but he seemed more bored than worried. To him, it was only one more among so many assassination attempts so easily thwarted by the Secret Dragon, or perhaps the emperor truly believed himself so divinely blessed that no mortal harm could possibly befall him.

  Before us, Secret Dragons and Terrestrial Phoenixes fought savagely. Blood splattered on the silk finery of the land-dragon, although the combatants moved too quickly for me to make sense of the conflict. Bodies, immobile and lifeless, fell to the floor faster than I could count.

  I released a strangled breath when the action stopped abruptly. Among the Terrestrial Phoenix, there were five survivors; among the Secret Dragon, only one guard was left standing, while all three of the senior officers remained alive, although Celestial Griffon of Supreme Wisdom suffered two visible wounds: a cut in his left forearm and a gash in his right thigh. The five Phoenixes were backed against the opposing wall to where I stood with Azure Tiger and the Zhengde Emperor. Facing them was Lunar Dragon of Jade and the one remaining Secret Dragon guard.

  Celestial Griffon said: “Stand down, Mighty Ram of the Eternal Day.” And the Secret Dragon guardsman stepped aside from the conflict, leaving Lunar Dragon of Jade alone to face the five Terrestrial Phoenixes. Azure Tiger laughed; for several beats, no-one moved.

  Still snickering and somewhat relaxing the stance of the Steel Fortress of Omniscient Awareness, Azure Tiger addressed me, loud enough for all to hear: “Pay attention, Karim Khalil.”

  The five Phoenixes took this as a cue to rush Lunar Dragon of Jade. They moved with alarming speed, while she slithered and danced in slow motion. Yet not one of their blows and jabs managed to connect, nor did any of them succeed in stepping past her.

  Azure Tiger commented: “Lunar Dragon of Jade is outwitting the agents of the Terrestrial Phoenix of Utopian Anarchy with the Elusive and Impenetrable Water Snake.” He would continue to provide commentary as the fight went on.

  With no warning, Lunar Dragon lunged toward one, then another Phoenix — “Destructive Woodpecker Kiss” — and they slumped to the floor, lifeless.

  The other three surrounded Lunar Dragon, stabbing at her with their daggers, but all of them missed their mark. “Untouchable Sun Lizard.”

  Then, she leapt in the air and kicked the heads of two more Phoenixes: “Leaping Frog Kick of Resounding Death.” The sound of their necks snapping was like a burst of violent, echoing thunder. The two men died before having time to utter even a grunt. Zhengde clapped and hollered in delight, like a little boy at a puppet show.

  Lunar Dragon landed two feet away from the one remaining Phoenix. Azure Tiger described her pose as “The Insidious Claw of the Alert Hawk.”


  Celestial Griffon, clutching the wound on his thigh, addressed our erstwhile attacker: “Young Phoenix, if you don’t want to share the fate of your comrades, surrender now.”

  All our eyes were on the Terrestrial Phoenix as he surveyed the room. Finally, he knelt, head bowed, and laid his knives on the floor. I relaxed, relieved at the thought that the violence was over.

  And then, in a flash, everything changed.

  Azure Tiger, who had relaxed his defensive stance, was felled — but not killed — by another Terrestrial Phoenix, who seemed to appear out of nowhere. The assailant moved in on the emperor, but I propelled myself between the Phoenix and Zhengde. The Phoenix’s dagger pierced my left wrist. I confess that I screamed at the intensity of the pain.

  When I opened my eyes, Lunar Dragon’s foot was crushing the final would-be assassin’s neck against the ground; he was already dead. Farther back, the one who had pretended to surrender had taken up his knives again, but the wounded Celestial Griffon went into action, his fingers aimed at the Phoenix’s belly. The Secret Dragon’s hands shone like metal; his fingers looked like scissors. He disembowelled the last surviving Phoenix before he could attack anyone.