by Raven Bond
No steel or adept powers could stand against the claws of a Court Demon. The power to summon such things was reserved for use only by the Throne alone. Or, she thought hotly, the corrupt Sorcerer of a corrupt Empress bent on a shameless revenge for an imagined slight of the heart. The Westerner, Strong, looked at her again.
“See here,” he said earnestly. “Do you care about this Xu at all?”
“No!” she replied fiercely. “I loathe him! It is because I do not care for him that he has sent such a thing I am sure!”
Strong nodded briskly.
“Right then.” He looked around the room in the glow of light cast by the globe of mage light overhead. He rummaged in a pack beside the bed. With a cry of triumph, he waved a pair of writing brushes over his head. He thrust one of them into Jinhao’s hand.
“Here is what we do,” Strong said to her. The flash of light and almost subliminal growl came again. Strong looked in the direction of the window.
“Hungry little bastard. Where was I?” He held up a brush, gesturing emphatically.
“Ah yes! Here is what we do. Take your brush and dip it into some of that blood oozing everywhere. Draw a circle with it that is about so big.” He vaguely gestured at the floor of the room. Jinhao looked at the brush with some distaste.
“That seems disrespectful,” she said. Strong had already begun drawing the circle on the floor. He looked up at her with an arched eyebrow.
“Is a Demon sent by this Xu likely to be respectful?” he asked mildly.
“No.” she agreed reluctantly. She knelt to begin the macabre task. Bright flashes and a louder audible growling from the window saw her finish her task, with her half of the circle meeting the half drawn by Strong. Owen hopped around her to draw strange symbols against the edge of the circle.
“There,” he said with a satisfied air. “Now stand here,” he pointed with his cane at a spot farthest from the window. She promptly moved to stand where he directed. Strong moved to stand near the window, brush in one hand, and cane in the other.
“Should we not be within the circle?” she asked. All the pictures she had seen of Western Sorcerers showed them standing within a circle like the one they had drawn on the floor. Owen spared her a glance over his shoulder.
“No, we are exactly where we are supposed to be,” he said. He rolled his shoulders as if preparing to lift a heavy weight. “This is a different type of circle. I intend to lower my wards and invite it in. No matter what you may see or hear, stay where you are, and do not cross the circle no matter what.”
Jinhao opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. What was she to do? This was a type of fighting that she was unfamiliar with. Despite his strange British ways, he seemed to know what he was doing. She drew her swords, despite knowing they would do little except to provide her with something to clasp with her hands. She had seen the aftermath of a Demon attack before. Still, if this Owen Strong was wrong, she would at least go down fighting.
The ending appeared, at first, to be almost anti-climactic. Strong, still in his ridiculous nightgown, raised his arms, chanting in a strange language Jinhao did not recognize. The flashes of light and the growling stopped suddenly. Strong hopped to one side and with a quick swoosh of his brush closed the last arc of the circle. He then came around the circle to stand near her.
“Now watch,” he said breathlessly. “And remember what I said, do not cross the circle.”
Jinhao watched the empty space enclosed by the blood circle. A tall shape gradually formed in it, scaled and crocodile-snouted, with sharp horns and far too many teeth. A wave of sulfur-tinged stink accompanied its appearance. To her horror, the thing had no eyes, only blank flesh where they should reside above the snout. The thing seemed to snuffle around blindly until it reached the edge of the circle where it was met by another flash of light. The monster shrank back as if wounded. Owen straightened beside her, his voice booming at the towering thing.
“You are the servant of Xu the Court Sorcerer!” The thing turned with surprising speed to regard Owen with its sightless eyes. The crocodile snout opened and words flowed from within, in a melodious tone of voice.
“Xu has commanded me to rend the flesh of one that I have scented in this place,” it said. “I am the servant of no human!”
“Be that as it may,” Strong replied. “Still you do his bidding.” The mountain of scaled fangs snapped its snout at this.
“I must do as Xu asked,” it said in that same beautiful voice. “If I do not succeed in the task, Xu will cause me more torment.”
“You cannot succeed at the task, for I have imprisoned you,” Strong pointed out. “I could simply leave you here until the sun comes up. The rays of the sun will cause you much torment.”
“This is so,” it acknowledged. “Know that should I escape this prison I shall rend you for the pleasure of it alone.”
“I do not doubt that you may try,” Strong said pointedly. “However, I have another proposal.” The thing seemed to sink back on unseen haunches.
“What is your proposal, human?” the Demon asked. A forked tongue lolled from the reptilian snout.
“I will allow you to return from whence you came, provided that you give oath never to seek harm to myself, the one Xu sent you to rend, or any other being of this existence.”
“I cannot swear such an oath as you propose, human. Xu will summon me again from my abode to rend more of your kind.”
“What if I give you the means to rend Xu and then you must return to your realm with peace between us evermore?” Owen asked. The thing regarded Owen for what seemed to Jinhao like a long time.
“You would do such a thing?” it asked. “Why?” Owen shrugged.
“Xu is no friend of mine, and clearly an enemy” he said. The Demon nodded its snout vigorously.
“I will do as you propose, human,” it said. Jinhao thought she detected a note of bloodthirsty glee in the beautiful voice.
“And your oath that you will neither harm me or any other, except Xu, on this plane of existence, nor cause any to come to harm.”
“Very well,” the thing seemed to dip its snout in resignation. “I do so vow.” The Western Sorcerer regarded the Demon as if testing the truth of its words. Finally, he nodded as if to himself, raising his cane.
“Then I shall send you back to the one who has summoned you,” he announced. “Remember your oath!”
He pointed the cane at the monstrous Demon, directing Magia while speaking in that strange throat-tearing language that he had used earlier. The mountainous form of scales and fangs faded slowly from sight. When it was gone, Strong staggered slightly. Jinhao made to catch him only to have him throw up a palm to stop her.
“No, I am fine,” he croaked. “Doing a Demon-turning like that takes it out of you is all.”
“I thought that you would kill it,” Jinhao said.
Strong laughed at her.
“What on earth for? That Demon had never done anything to either of us. This way, it destroys your lovesick, demented Sorcerer and goes home. And without ever being able to hurt another human. I would call that a victory. I do hope you meant it about not liking this Xu, as he’s likely Demon bait at this point.”
Jinhao thought of the slimy Court Sorcerer and all the transgressions that he was known to have committed. She shook her head solemnly.
“No,” she said. “Nor do I suspect that any other shall mourn his passing.”
Strong nodded and slapped his hands together.
“Well then, all’s well that ends well,” he looked around the room, taking in the dead corpses and the circle of blood. “I suppose that I shall have to speak to the landlord about another room to sleep in, as well as pay a cleaning fee on this one, despite the enormous amount I’ve already given him.”
Jinhao looked at him with surprise.
“You knew that you paid him too much …” she asked.
“Of course,” Strong replied. “Sometimes it is simply easier to appear
as the stupid Westerner. Horned One knows I can afford it!”
Jinhao looked at him with something akin to respect.
“If you wish,” she said, “I shall speak to him for you.” Owen smiled at her.
“That would be most helpful,” he said cheerily. He gestured to the blood-soaked white robe that he wore. “I don’t suppose that he would have a spare nightgown as well.”
Jinhao gazed at the offending garment with bemusement.
“Is that what it’s called? Why do you wear it?”
“Well, it is what one wears to bed,” Owen said. “At least if one does not have companionship to keep one warm.”
Jinhao shrugged. Different peoples had different customs. Why bother to sleep in clothing at all? Surely the British were no stranger than the northern hill men who covered their bodies in the fat of yaks.
“I shall ask him,” she promised. She waved her hand in front of her face. “I suspect that the stink shall cause him trouble enough though.”
Owen shrugged his shoulders, obviously not concerned.
“Can’t be helped,” he said shortly. “It’s what the air is like in their world. When you invite one to come to our world you have to expect that to happen.” She looked at him quizzically.
“Have you visited the Demon world then?” she asked incredulously. Again the shrug of shoulders.
“I like to be well traveled,” Owen replied blandly.
She blinked at his calm acceptance of such strange things.
“I see. I shall go then and talk to the landlord.” She gazed again at the curious white garment. “I shall also see if he has any ‘night gowns’, although I feel that you should be prepared for disappointment.”
Owen cocked an eyebrow at this statement.
“Do you mean that he will not have any night gowns or that I will not have any company in bed?”
“Yes,” Jinhao replied, smiling sweetly. “Best be prepared to do without.”
It took Jinhao some time to arrange things to her liking and required Owen Strong to open his purse again to soothe the aggrieved landlord. Finally, though, Jinhao got to clean up and return to her sleeping place on the roof of the stable.
She knew that the dawn could not be far off. Deciding that sleep would not be hers this night, she settled to gaze at the stars from her lofty resting place.
As she absently looked at the starry pageant above her, she saw a falling star streak across the sky. The brilliant streak of light morphed in her sight into a line of light across a dark velvet cloth. Jinhao knew that she must be seeing a vision. She knew these occasionally occurred in her family.
In her vision, the line was connected to the Britisher, Owen Strong. As was the way of such visions, the cloth had vanished. Strong stood against the skyline of Hong Kong, holding one end of the brilliant line. The other end was held by a mass of people, some Han, and some European. Together they held the line against a swirling mass of dark clouds that threatened Hong Kong. The clouds broke against the bright line as they advanced, Strong and the others standing firm against the storm.
The vision was shattered by one of the caravan guards poking his head through the trapdoor of the roof and calling her name. Jinhao came to herself and absently answered him.
“Ay, Jinhao,” the man replied. “It is as well that you are dressed already! That old woman of a Trader wants us to go quick like. Seems there is some rumor about the quizi that has him scared to stay a moment longer.”
The quizi, the foreign Demon, she thought. No, his name was Owen Strong, and he had proved last night that he was no evil Demon. She remembered his stand against the true Demon.
Perhaps, she thought, the plan that Grandfather had sent her north to carry out simply needed a remake. Yes, she thought, eyes still spinning with the aftermath of vision. Perhaps he could be the one they were waiting for. It seemed unlikely, given that he was not only foreign, but a Sorcerer as well, but there was no arguing with vision. One either followed vision when it came, as Grandfather had always said, or let it go by. Jinhao shook herself and hurried to the ladder that led to the main house of the inn.
Lee Shen met her as she was descending from the loft. He turned from directing the loading of the pack horses and raised a hand to call her to him. He appeared to be more worried than usual.
“Ho Jinhao,” he said, a look of concern on his face. “There are wild rumors going around among the inn staff about your behavior with the quizi last night.” Jinhao blinked at the outrageousness of this remark.
“My behavior?” she asked incredulously. “What in the nine hells does that mean?” Lee Shen’s face became crestfallen at her tone.
“Then it is true,” he said almost sadly. “You were with the foreigner last night.”
Jinhao placed her hands on her hips.
“What if I were?” she challenged. “I did nothing to endanger either the caravan or any member of it. My off-duty time is my own, as we agreed.”
She forbore from mentioning the Court Demon as that would lead to all kinds of questions that she would prefer not to answer. If the Demon had caught her out in the wilds, as would have happened the night before last, likely every member of the caravan would be dead, and she would be dead along with them. The old trail boss looked even more uncomfortable.
“Do not misunderstand me,” he said almost pleadingly. “I have any number of friends who are British or, hells, worse in Hong Kong. It is that he is a Sorcerer too!” He looked at the ground, unwilling to meet her eyes.
“What are you trying to say?” Jinhao pressed.
“Chen Lu asked that I release you from your employ with us,” Lee Shen said miserably. He produced a small coin bag, holding it out to her. “Here are your wages.”
Jinhao almost sighed in relief. Now she was completely free to follow the path of the vision. She took the small bag from his hands.
“May you have a safe journey to the city,” she said to him gently. The poor man looked as if he had been asked to kill his dog.
“It is unjust,” he insisted to her. “I almost quit in protest, but I have a wife …” Jinhao held up her hand, stopping him from making more apologies.
“It is as it is supposed to be,” she said. “I hold you blameless in this.” The old man bowed to her.
“Should you wish it, I shall be at the Electric Eel wine house. I shall be hiring for a caravan going north, and I would like to hire you to go along with it.” Jinhao smiled at the old man.
“Perhaps,” she said easily. “I shall certainly come and raise a cup of wine with you.”
With that they parted, expressing many further sentiments of respect and admiration between them.
Jinhao walked out the door of the stable into the mild morning sunlight, her slight tension easing as she allowed the responsibility for the trade caravan to fall from her shoulders.
~ ~ ~
Owen Strong was just entering the courtyard wearing his red-trimmed black travel cloak again. Jinhao noticed that he openly carried the cane made of red metal. She may not be as well-versed in esoteric matters as others in her family, but even she knew that the red metal was the mark of someone powerful, or at least someone quite wealthy. Jinhao also noticed that his eyes were constantly moving, analyzing and judging. All the while he affected the air of the dissolute young nobleman. She nodded to herself, recognizing the pattern. He was no dandy, whatever he might play at. This insight gave her renewed resolve. She strode up to him purposefully. He gave her a wan smile in return. He was clearly not a person who enjoyed mornings, or at least not a morning after the magical exertions of the previous evening.
“Good morning, Jinhao,” he said in High Court Mandarin. “I hope that you are none the worse for our little adventure last night?”
She bowed to him right hand over left fist, as one would to a comrade in arms. She was not surprised when he returned the gesture.
“I am well, Owen Strong,” she replied. “It seems that I owe you a life debt for saving me f
rom the Demon last night.”
Strong raised an eyebrow at this.
“I would think that the debt goes both ways,” he replied, “as your intervention with the assassins was most fortuitous.”
Jinhao bowed her head at this statement.
“Perhaps,” she replied looking directly at him. “None the less, as is our custom, I must accompany you under the terms of the life-debt.”
“What?”
“Do not be alarmed,” she produced the coin purse that Lee Shen had given her. “I come with my own source of funds.”
“It is not that,” Strong protested. “It is simply that I travel alone.” Jinhao nodded at this.
“Under the life debt, I must accompany you or forfeit my life in shame,” she said sadly, shaking her head.
“Well, we cannot have that,” Strong replied. “Damn Mandarin,” he muttered in English. “I thought that you just said that you would have to kill yourself if you couldn’t come along with me.”
“But I will have to,” Jinhao protested in the same language. “If I do not, and it becomes known, then anyone may end my life who finds out!” She looked at him with wide-eyed innocence. “May one ask where you are bound this day?”
The Britisher shrugged in his cloak.
“I have a fancy to see Hong Kong and perhaps settle there,” he said brightly. “I have been traveling around a fair bit, and heard that the city is an interesting place for the unconventional. Do you know it?”
Jinhao smiled at him.
“Then we are both in luck,” she replied. “For I know the city well, and I, too, am – how did you say? Unconventional, also.”
Strong regarded her for a handful of heartbeats.
“You are an Imperial Adept,” he stated baldly. Adepts only came in two types; those who were under Imperial authority, and those who were rebelling against the Throne. To not be of the first was to be an outlaw.
“No longer,” Jinhao replied. “You have seen the trouble I am in at Court.” She regarded him levelly. “You are followed by expensive assassins that seek your death. You are no common British nobleman.”
Strong looked nonplussed at this statement.
