by Raven Bond
The memory of danger caused her to remember the weight of the gun on her thigh. Hurriedly, she pulled up her skirts and began to take it off. Her maid would be here any moment. It wouldn't do for her to see the Lady Scholar with a pistol strapped to her leg.
She had no more than removed it when there was a knock at the door. Gun still in hand, she hurriedly searched for a place to hide it, and stuffed it under the pillows on the bed as the knock came again.
Abigail reached the door and opened it to see a lovely little woman with golden hair peeking out from under her uniform cap.
“Lady Hadley?” she said in a low voice with a trace of accent Abigail could not quite place. “You requested a personal maid?” The maid gazed at her with deep blue eyes.
“Yes, please come in,” Abigail said with a smile. The maid was adorable. She appeared like a little china doll. At least she wouldn't have to deal with some old doddering biddy, Abigail reflected. “What is your name, dear.”
“Illiya, Lady Hadley,” she said timidly, in a small, quiet, accented voice. She stood still in the room with her hands clasped in front of her.
“Well, Illiya,” Abigail said. “I need help removing my corset. I am afraid that the laces are quite beyond me by the feel of it. Then I will need you to run a bath. Can we do that?”
“Of course, My Lady,” Illiya said. She followed Abigail into the bedroom.
“I can get the dress itself, Illiya.” Abigail turned away from her. She disliked others fussing over her, and would not have called for the woman if she was certain that she could deal with the bloody corset by herself.
“Very good, My Lady. I shall start the bath then.” Abigail heard the water splashing into the tub as she stepped out of her dress. She reached behind her to find her worst fears confirmed. The laces were a snarl that she could do nothing with by herself. She heard the maid come up behind her.
“If I may, My Lady?” Illiya said and began to work at the laces. Abigail raised her arms and felt surprisingly strong hands unravel the mess behind her. After a few moments, Abigail felt the laces loosen and immediately breathed more easily. A few more tugs and the corset came off. She sighed in relief.
“Are you just arrived in Hong Kong?” The maid asked behind her.
“Yes, I. . .” A sudden blow in the small of her back sent Abigail sprawling forward on the bed in pain. Her legs suddenly refused to work. The maid leapt on top of her, and she felt a sharp blade press into the side of her neck. Abigail was startled at the sudden change of tone.
“Do not scream.” The voice was now as cold as winter. “Where is he?” Her other hand grabbed Abigail's hair and pulled her head back.
“I don't know what you. . .” Abigail gasped. The blade pressed in harder, and her head was jerked back farther.
“Do not play the fool with me,” Illiya hissed. “Turn over quickly; no tricks.”
Keeping the blade pressed tightly against Abigail’s throat, Illiya's weight shifted. She turned Abigail over by twisting her hair painfully until she was forced to flop over like a landed fish. The small woman was incredibly strong.
Blinking back tears, Abigail locked glazed eyes at a cruel mask of a face. The woman held up the knife so that Abigail could see the light dance on the blade. Illiya stroked the point down Abigail's cheek, softly.
“You are quite beautiful, you know,” the other woman said with a dark threat in her voice. “I could change that forever in a moment, and that would only be the beginning. Now, tell me where he is, and save us both such trouble.” Illiya's smile would have done for a wolves’ leer. Abigail subtly began to reach her hand for the gun under the pillows.
“I am sure I don't know what you are talking about,” Abigail babbled. “You must have me confused with someone else.” The maid's mouth tightened into a thin line. Abigail felt the point of the blade begin to pierce her skin. At that moment, the front door chimed.
Illiya glared towards the door, irritated at the interruption. Abigail grabbed her pistol and stabbed it into the maids' side. She thumbed the switch to kill and pulled the trigger all in one desperate motion.
There was a muffled crack, and the smell of burning cloth. Illiya jerked, dropping the knife as she fell off the side of the bed. Abigail awkwardly rolled over, feeling gradually beginning to return to her legs. To her surprise, the maid started to rise up off the floor.
“You. . .” Illiya snarled at Abigail. Abigail shot her again, the bolt causing the front of the maids' uniform to smoke as it hit. The small woman tumbled backward, her heels drumming against the floor, and then she went still.
The chime sounded again, followed by knocking. Abigail haltingly raised herself off the bed, gun still in hand. She staggered up to lean against the bedroom doorway. A rustle of cloth made her snap the gun towards the sound. She saw the small maid crouching on the floor, her knife once more in her hand. The knocking grew louder, and a voice could be heard faintly calling Abigail's name.
The small woman's mouth issued an inhuman snarl. Faster than Abigail could pull the trigger again, the tiny nightmare sprang from her crouch, jumping backwards through the glass window behind her.
Abigail stared after Illiya in blank amazement. She stumbled over to the ruined window, gun at the ready. The glass had fallen in a spray on the pavement below, but there was no sign of a body. Abigail thought that it must be a drop of at least twenty feet. Extraordinary.
The surprising sound of knocking on the door rapidly became a rather insistent pounding.
Walking with increasing steadiness as more feeling returned to her legs, Abigail reached the front door. She cracked it open, gun ready but out of sight. She caught Richard Preemus in mid knock.
“Forgive me, Lady Hadley,” he said in that deep voice, “but I have been waiting for some time now. I do hope you are ready.” His eyes narrowed on her cheek. “What is that? Are you alright? I thought I heard noises.”
Abigail raised her free hand up to cover the cut left by the knife. “I am fine, thank you. There was an accident with the window is all. My personal maid has not yet arrived, I am afraid.”
“Windows can be treacherous things,” Preemus replied. “Are you certain you are alright?”
“Quite!” Abigail replied. “I hate to impose on you, but would you be so good as to inform the desk that I will need someone to see to the window? I shall dress and join you presently. I am sorry to keep you waiting. Believe me; I earnestly desire to hear what you have to say.” Preemus opened his mouth, then closed it again.
“Alright,” he allowed, “I shall do as you ask.” Preemus held up an admonishing finger. “But I warn you, if you are not downstairs in twenty minutes, I shall be forced to enter your room, reputation or not. Are we clear, Lady Abigail?”
“Exceedingly, Mr. Preemus,” Abigail said meekly. It was important that this Crown official not enter her room while it still reeked of ozone from the shooting. It could lead to too many questions that Abigail did not know how to answer.
“I shall be expeditious,” she promised him.
“Very well,” Preemus relented. “I do not think it too much to ask to share a civilized cup of tea.”
Abigail found that she had to restrain herself from raising the gun hidden in her hand and shooting him in the head. It would be oh so satisfying, and oh so wrong. She sighed and hurried to dress.
Chapter 3
An Fong's Audience Room, Hong Kong, China
Will nodded his thanks to the young serving woman as she poured more tea into the delicate jade cup. It was the third cup he had been served. Three cups before talking business meant that An Fong was treating him as an honored equal. Will thought that was hopeful. He just hoped his bladder was up to the negotiating that was ahead.
There had been no more attacks on the frantic drive up to An Fong's house. Fortress was a more accurate description for the place. A tall, walled estate, with solid iron gates and guards, well-kitted braces of guards. They were armed with either sparkies or shot ri
fles, and eager to use them from the reception they'd received when their group rolled up to the gates.
Old Lee had traveled in the back of the steam car. His orders had sent everyone scurrying about like ants. A still-living Georgios was carefully carried inside to an infirmary that appeared better equipped than many hospitals. A group of tunic-clad people had swarmed over him with serious intent to save him.
When Will had been informed that the only thing they could do now was wait to see if the big Greek pulled through, he stepped out of the room with Saira, leaving Tiku with Giorgios. He hated dividing his forces in potentially hostile territory, but if things did go south, Tiku could at least provide Giorgios some protection.
A polite retainer had offered hospitality, with the promise of clean clothes and rooms, but Will insisted on seeing An Fong immediately. First though, he'd demanded to step out into the courtyard alone. Not being sure exactly what the attack meant, he wanted to inform Rogers of what had happened via the portable Aetherwave located on his arm bracer. Hunting Owl didn't want anyone to know of the portable devices if he could avoid it. He believed in playing his cards close to his chest when he could. After being reassured that the ship appeared to be in no danger, Will had allowed the prissy little man who was their minder lead Saira and himself to An Fong's audience room, where they now sat on silk cushions, sipping tea.
Will glanced around the chamber again while lifting the cup to his lips. The room was larger than the cargo holds of the Wind Dancer, and was lined with tall pillars that marched off into the shadows. The main lighting came from a skylight that shone down on a raised platform. The platform supported a large throne-like chair which held An Fong. You could hide a small army in the shadows at the edges of the room, Hunting Owl thought to himself in approval. It was a safe bet that there were weapons trained on them.
He barely wet his lips, as he looked up at An Fong. The man on the throne was clad in a brilliant green robe, carrying his years with a quiet dignity that Will associated with some of the council elders of his youth. Hardly what Will would have thought of when he imagined a crime overlord. So far their conversation had been bland small talk about Hong Kong and the wider world. The only real surprise was silently sitting to An Fong's right in the form of Guang, the bodyguard. He was now wearing a black silk robe, long sword case at his feet. He was sipping his own tea quietly, watching Will and the old man talk. Will wasn't sure yet how he fit, but he was more than just muscle.
It was time to dance, Will thought. They had never gotten a chance to get this deep into an organization like the Fong's. No matter what the Black Ships were up to, they needed somewhere to fence their booty, refuel, get information on new targets. They couldn't be that independent. If anyone would know anything, it would be the man sitting across from him, and Will had what that man needed. He placed a hand on the cylinder. An Fong noticed the gesture and spoke.
“We appreciate the efforts that you have taken on behalf of our mutual friend and ourselves, Captain Hunting Owl.” The old man had a surprisingly strong voice for one of his apparent years. Will nodded acknowledgment of the crime lord’s words.
“Did not the Sage write that to aid one's friends is to court Heavens bounty?” Will answered. Fong grunted, and picked up his tea.
“I see that you are not merely a man of action William Hunting Owl, but of learning as well.” He sipped. “The bounty of Heaven indeed may not be counted.”
“Perhaps so,” Will agreed. “But as men we must seek to reach understanding of its bounty, however limited that understanding may be. But before we speak of such matters, forgive me if I am too forward.” Will leaned towards the throne determinedly. “Do you know why we were attacked?” The ancient man smiled like a skull.
“Would it surprise you to learn that I do not know, William Hunting Owl? That such men should dare to reach so is not the order of things. This disturbs me. It also disturbs me that they would know of your coming.”
“I can promise you that whoever these men are, they did not learn things from me or mine.” Will said levelly. An Fong grunted again at this.
“I would presume no less,” Fong replied. “The reputation of Hunting Owl and the Wind Dancer for honest dealing is well known to us, even while we disagree on some of those dealings. No, I fear that this is a matter closer to us.”
“Who rules in China today William Hunting Owl?” An Fong asked suddenly. He continued on before Will could answer. “I will tell you,” the old crook rasped. “No one does.”
“We were once a great people. We built great things, we made great songs. We ruled this land for two thousand years. Then in my father's day the Europeans came, and we were shamed. They killed our young men with their guns and the poppy they brought. Our women were sold to their brothels, and our children were sold to their factories. The Emperor and that bitch who followed him, became their dogs, and barked for their pleasure. The Court Officials grew fat, along with the white devils, on the death of our people.” Guang stirred for the first time in his seat, but remained silent. Fong sipped at his tea again.
“Then the Demons came from the sky. They burned the Empress in the great city and the Court with her. They burned the poppy fields and choked the life from all foreigner and Chin alike, with their black smoke.” He nodded, eyes looking on something not in the room. “They did to the Europeans what the Europeans had done to us. They did to us worse than the Europeans had done to us.” An Fong turned his gaze upon Will.
“Now the British sit in this city and pretend to be lords of our lands. It is not so. Outside here, bandits and thugs use the science given us by the British Queen to squeeze a pitiful life from the survivors of the War.” An Fong shrugged as if throwing off a blanket.
“But such matters are of no interest to a Redman such as yourself I am sure,” An Fong observed. He set down his cup. “Let us speak on how men may understand the bounty of Heaven. Do you know what it is you carry?”
“I do,” said Will. “I believe that it is for you. Is that right?” Fong cackled at the question.
“You are impertinent,” he said with approval. “This will carry you far unless you speak so to the wrong person, William Hunting Owl!” An Fong smiled repressively. “Suffice that it is for someone dear to me. If you know what it is, then you know that time is important.” His face became stern. “What is your price for it?” Will nodded at the question; clearly it was time to talk bluntly.
“I want information,” the Captain said starkly. “There are sky raiders who manage to keep out of the light. One might even say that their ships are black. You know everything that moves in the underworld from Rangoon to Seattle. I want to know anything that you know about them. That is my only price.”
There was a long silence at this. Will noticed Saira tensing as the silence grew longer. Will's hand moved casually near his gun. The next words the old man spoke would probably say if Saira and he lived or died.
“Before I decide if I will pay your price,” An said humbly, “I would ask a question of my own. What would you do with this information?”
“I would use it to hunt them down, kill them all, and anyone who deals with them.” Will replied without hesitation. The old crime lord nodded at his answer. If in approval or not, Will could not say.
“I will not pay your price, William Hunting Owl,” he pronounced. Will readied himself to make a move. An Fong had to know that Will would either destroy the cylinder or kill him. What he hoped the old pirate hadn't figured on was Will and Saira taking him hostage. Well, or most likely die trying, Will thought bleakly.
“The price you state is too small for so valuable a thing to me,” An Fong continued. “It would be dishonorable to be so miserly. We know little of this evil you hunt. We know it is real, our own endeavors have felt their depredations. We have sought to show them the error of their ways without success. Should you succeed in your hunt, the House of An would reward you for it.”
“But certainly they have to land, re-supp
ly, sell what they have taken somewhere you have knowledge of,” Hunting Owl protested. An Fong kept shaking his head as Will was speaking.
“Not where we have found, nor with any business we know,” the crime lord replied. “They may as well be ghosts in truth. We have searched for them, believe this.” The old man frowned for the first time as if in thought.
“There may be one,” he said slowly, “who deals with them here in this ancient city. Her name is Chang. She appeared here six years ago. Where her wealth comes from none may say. She provides all manner of things that do not come from us, or any other House that we know. She may be whom you seek.”
“Given what you say,” Will asked cautiously, “how is it that you have not already confronted her?” An Fong grunted again.
“Soon after her appearance here, the House of Choy attempted to do so,” An Fong explained. “The Choy were all made mysteriously dead. Since then, she has insinuated herself not only with the other Houses, but with the British as well. It would not be wise for the House of An to confront her.”
Will looked at Saira out of the corner of his eye and caught her secret hand signal that An Fong was telling the truth. He sighed, and held up the cylinder.
“I thank you for what aid you are able to provide,” Will said. The same young woman who had poured the tea appeared from the shadows to take the cylinder from him.
“We are reluctant to set you on this path William Hunting Owl,” An Fong said gravely. “All who have sought the Jade Woman, as Chang is known here, have disappeared never to be seen again.”
“Still,” Will observed shrewdly, “you believe she is whom I seek. You just do not want to be the one who confronts her.”
“We sense that there is a greater power behind her,” An Fong replied soberly, “A power that is hidden from us. It is not another organization that we know of, or one of the nation states. We would know if this was so, I assure you.” He smiled coldly, and Will was reminded once again of a skull. “Their secrets are not as secure as they would believe.”
