Shadow Pavilion

by Liz Williams

  “Where are they now?” Jhai looked along the line of footprints to where the dock ended and the harbor began. A man, in sneakers, running. A tiger, large. “And I don’t think there’s much mystery there, either.”

  “Shit,” the demon said. “It’s not like I’ve got a particular attachment to Go. I just don’t like to think of anyone going through what I did.”

  “At least he might be keeping them distracted,” Jhai said. “But I do wonder about the dynamic. Lara’s sisters can’t stand her. They keep plotting against Agni. It’s a very fragile political balance inside the Hunting Lodge. I’m not sure whether that’s to our advantage or not.”

  “Let’s assume not,” the demon said with a sigh. “It just makes matters simpler.”

  He turned at a whistle, to see Exorcist Lao beckoning to him. “Hang on a minute,” he said to Jhai, and walked to meet his colleague. “What’s happening?”

  “I don’t know whether they came in this way,” Lao said. “They’ve probably got a number of exit and entry points throughout the city—the meat locker was almost certainly one of them. But they left through here. Come and see.” He gestured toward the market and Zhu Irzh followed him in. Paugeng’s security teams were milling about, as well as the regular police. Zhu Irzh saw with some satisfaction that the forensic unit was already hard at work.

  “Take a look at that,” Lao said, and pointed at an empty space between two partially collapsed stalls.

  At first, Zhu Irzh thought that there was nothing there. Then, glancing at it from the corners of his eyes, he noticed a faint swirling in the air, as if a congregation of dust motes had gathered.

  “Take a deep breath,” Lao instructed. The demon did so. Spice, and a rank green odor that was unpleasantly familiar. Black earth and an undernote of water and rot.

  “That’s the portal,” Zhu Irzh said.

  “Oh yeah.”

  “So what are you going to do about it?”

  “I’ve contained it,” Lao said. “At least, I think I’ve contained it.”

  Zhu Irzh looked at him. “You’d better be sure, Lao. Don’t want anything bursting out all of a sudden.”

  “Well, that’s the problem,” Lao said. “Now that we’ve found it, I somehow doubt that they’ll want to use it again. They’ll know we’re waiting on the other side. If Agni’s got any sense—”

  “But does he, though? I’d say that Agni’s gone out through arrogance and into mad.”

  “These bloody demons,” Lao said. “Always getting above themselves. Sorry, Zhu Irzh. You know I don’t mean you.”

  Zhu Irzh was used to being made an exception. “Cool,” he said. “If you need extra people, I can probably ask Paugeng Security to do it.”

  “Good idea,” said Lao, apparently keen to make up for his earlier lapse of tact. “They’re a lot more gung ho than the police, anyway. You can tell they’re just waiting for something to shoot.”

  Zhu Irzh grinned as he walked out of the market. Probably best not to mention that to Jhai …

  She was not where he had left her. Zhu Irzh walked around the side of the building, looking for the Paugeng security team. They were standing in a tight huddle under an awning, one of them speaking into a cellphone.

  “Hi,” the demon said. “Jhai not with you?”

  “No,” one of the team replied. “We haven’t seen her since we got here.”

  “I was just talking to her. She probably went into the market.” But already, the prickle of unease was starting to make its presence felt. He went quickly back into the market building. There was no sign of Jhai. She had a phone of her own, of course; Zhu Irzh flipped the speed dial and waited. No reply. Eventually he got the answerphone and left a message. Word was already filtering around the teams in the market: within minutes, Ma had ordered a search. Jhai was taken seriously; she would not simply have wandered off.

  Half an hour later, there was still no Jhai.

  “He’s got her,” Zhu Irzh said to Lao. “Simple as that.”

  The exorcist nodded. “I think you’re right. Open the portal in the market, create a diversion—he must have been sure that Jhai would come down here when she found out what was happening. And then just—snap.”

  “I wish Chen were here,” Zhu Irzh said. “Any word?”

  “Not yet. I left Robin looking after the circle,” Lao said, and held out his cellphone. Zhu Irzh looked to see the circle upon it. “Cell cam. If anything happens, Robin will let me know. I ought to get back there, though.”

  “I’m going to have to go after her,” Zhu Irzh said.

  Lao gave a frustrated sigh. “Yes, I suppose you are, but you’re not going through this portal and you’re not going alone, either.”

  “We’re running out of personnel, Lao.”

  “No, we’re not. What about No Ro Shi? Hunting demons is what he does for a living.”

  “The trouble with No Ro Shi,” Zhu Irzh said, “is that I’m never sure whether he’d be happier just hunting me.”

  “It’s often a good sign, coming full circle,” the demon-hunter said to Zhu Irzh. They were once more standing in Men Ling Street, not far from the place where Zhu Irzh and the badger had been snatched.

  “You think so?” the demon said dubiously. Men Ling Street looked different in daylight: even more depressing, were such a thing possible. The area was, however, quieter: a lot of the drug dealers and pimps had moved out of the surrounding tenements, unnerved by such a massive police presence. At least something had improved, No Ro Shi had remarked, although Zhu Irzh, schooled in the rather different agenda of the Vice Division of Hell, had felt vaguely to blame for the loss in people’s business. He did not voice this thought, feeling that No Ro Shi might prove unsympathetic.

  “So what’s been happening with this situation?” the demon-hunter now said to Ma. The crime scene tape was still present, and a forensic scientist was quietly occupied in the area surrounding the underground meat locker, but apart from a single police vehicle, everyone seemed to have packed up and moved on to pastures new, like crime groupies. Most of the original team had departed for the market, Zhu Irzh knew. He said as much to No Ro Shi.

  “They’ve got pretty much all the evidence they needed from this site,” Ma explained. “It’s all down to the lab now. Marrying up body parts to DNA records, that sort of thing. I gather from the lab that they’ve already accounted for quite a few missing persons.”

  “This must have been rich pickings for Agni’s crew,” No Ro Shi remarked, glancing around the dingy confines of Men Ling Street. “Derelicts, prostitutes, criminals …”

  “Having experienced Agni’s hospitality, I suspect that’s why they wanted to expand,” Zhu Irzh said. “The girls seem to like a proper chase—I don’t suppose a few terrified humans proved entertaining for long.”

  No Ro Shi’s hand wandered to the hilt of his sword. “I confess, I’m looking forward to getting to grips with your girls.”

  “I wouldn’t be too enthusiastic,” Zhu Irzh said. “You haven’t met them yet.”

  Ma’s brow creased in worry. “Are you sure you’ll be all right, just the two of you?”

  “No.”

  “Certainly!”

  “The thing is,” Zhu Irzh said, “even if we went in with a whole team of people, they’d probably just get picked off. It’s not just the tigresses down there—it’s a whole realm of Hell. And we don’t, yet, have a team who are experienced magical warriors. It used to be just Chen and this guy—” he gestured in the direction of No Ro Shi “—and that’s only recently changed, as you know.”

  “I used to be afraid,” Ma said. “Now I’m just angry.”

  “I can relate to that. Anyway, No Ro Shi, if we’re going, we’d better get on with it.”

  “I agree,” the demon-hunter said. He slapped Ma on the arm. “Look after the portal, Ma. Don’t want anything breaking through.”

  Zhu Irzh followed him cautiously into the empty chamber. In the thin shaft of daylight coming thr
ough the door, it was even more out of place: as though the room should properly only exist at night. It was evident, too, how thick the layer of dust was that lay over everything: the forensic team had disturbed some of it, for the room swam with a maze of flying motes, but even so, the tapestries were still gray. It seemed to Zhu Irzh as though this room belonged to some other building entirely, that the rest of the tenement had been constructed around its dusty core.

  Lao’s wards still held. Zhu Irzh could see them, snaking around the gap in the air that marked the middle of the room. They were a little frayed now, although Ma had told him that Lao had only renewed them a day or so ago. This suggested magical activity on the other side: a depressing, but probably inevitable, occurrence. Lao must have his work cut out, Zhu Irzh thought: what with tiger demons, supernatural assassins, and Chen’s personal woes, it had been quite a week for them all. And was continuing to be so. No Ro Shi motioned to the portal. “You want to go first?”

  The demon-hunter was actually being polite, Zhu Irzh realized. Keen as he was to get to the action, No Ro Shi was courteously offering Zhu Irzh the chance to do so before him. “You are most welcome,” Zhu Irzh said.

  “Thank you.” The demon-hunter gave him a little bow. Then he drew his sword, whistling down through the motes of dust, cut through Lao’s ward as though it was nothing more than cobweb, and stepped through.

  Zhu Irzh was close behind. Despite the warmth into which they now came, his skin was icy with apprehension; he had not, he thought, permitted himself to acknowledge just how much the Hunting Lodge had unnerved him. But now, he was in a position to witness the journey through this particular gateway: a journey that he had already made, but being unconscious, had not seen.

  It was different to the way that Krishna had shown them. Zhu Irzh and the demon-hunter, unmoving, sped through tunnels as if traveling down through earth. They crossed chasms at speed, looking down to see fires burning and smoldering deep within, occasionally sending up spouts of flame. This was a road of earth and blaze: the walls of caverns illuminated by the flicker of heat. A dryness invaded Zhu Irzh’s throat; he heard No Ro Shi give a cough, quickly stifled. They shot through glittering caverns, stalactites of bright gold, encrusted with jewels and crystals. Yet when the demon looked sidelong, all was darkness and shadow. Illusion only, like all riches.

  No Ro Shi touched his arm, making him jump. “There’s something up ahead.”

  Zhu Irzh looked to where the demon-hunter was pointing and saw a dim greenness. “Oh great. We’re nearly there.” And in an instant, the jungle was rushing up, swallowing them into its voracious throat. Zhu Irzh saw the demon-hunter turn, the great sword hissing through the air, and something like a creeper crashed down around them, pumping green blood. Zhu Irzh’s own borrowed sword was already whirling, on the principle that even if he wasn’t aiming at anything, it would deter anyone who might get in his way. He was distantly aware that No Ro Shi had ducked.

  “No sign of incoming, no sign of further hostiles.” The demon-hunter spoke urgently, as if into an intercom.

  “What was that thing you hit?”

  “No idea.”

  “Oh. Well, never mind.” Zhu Irzh looked around him, now that they had slowed to a halt. They were standing in a clearing, not unlike the one in which the deva’s little temple had stood, but there was no sign of any structures and the place did not seem familiar, although with all the greenery, it was difficult to tell. Best of all, there was not a tiger in sight.

  “They’re not here.”

  “That we can see.” No Ro Shi was not so enthusiastic. He circled the clearing, sword drawn. “Why are they not here?”

  “Business elsewhere?” Zhu Irzh was inclined to an uncomplicated gratitude.

  “Let’s hope so,” No Ro Shi said. He turned to the demon. “Can you find the way to the Hunting Lodge from here?”

  “You must be joking,” Zhu Irzh said. “I’ve no idea where we are. Last time I came this way, I was unconscious. But listen, No Ro Shi—the portal in that room was regularly used. There must be some sign of where Agni’s girls came from—tigers or women, this is dense growth. There must be some sort of track.”

  “You’re right,” the demon-hunter said. “All we have to do is find it.”

  Swords still drawn, they fanned out, searching the undergrowth around the clearing, and Zhu Irzh was rewarded with a shout from the demon-hunter.

  “Over here!”

  He had found a narrow path leading through the mass of ferns and vines. It looked long disused: a snaking track no more than the width of a human body and, in places, barely that. But this, Zhu Irzh surmised, was more a result of the speed of growth in this realm of Hell, rather than a proper indication of the last time that the track had been used. He said as much to No Ro Shi. The demon-hunter gave a grim nod. “I’ve known places like this. Plant magic. Places where plants grow faster than you can run.”

  “I’ve not come across that here,” Zhu Irzh said. “Doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

  “Pity there’s no way of taking a parallel path.” No Ro Shi was studying the terrain. “It’s much too dense.”

  “If we’ve no option but to go this way,” Zhu Irzh said, “then that will have to be it. But I suggest you keep an eye on what’s above you.” He nodded up to the canopy of interwoven branches, many of them over a foot in width. It crossed his mind to try to climb, but neither he nor the demon-hunter had a cat’s dexterity and he’d rather face Agni’s harem on the ground.

  They started walking, No Ro Shi in front and Zhu Irzh bringing up the rear. He turned often, reacting to sounds imagined or heard. As before, the jungle was full of noises, only some of which were familiar. Zhu Irzh could have sworn that he heard voices, calling to one another in a sibilant, unknown tongue. But whenever he glanced round, there was never anything there.

  Ahead, No Ro Shi ducked behind a vine. Zhu Irzh followed; he had full approval of the demon-hunter’s instincts. “What is it?”

  No Ro Shi pointed. “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s your Hunting Lodge.”

  55

  They were here. Inari sensed the presence of Chen and the badger the moment they set foot in the Celestial Palace, and her spirit grew weak and diffuse with relief. If Seijin noticed, the assassin gave no sign, but strode ahead, still wearing the mask of Mhara.

  They had seen no one in their progress through the Palace and Inari could not understand why this should be: Did the Palace have no guards? Heaven was filled with warriors: she had seen that during the war with Hell. She was, for a long moment, tempted to fly back the way she had come, in search of Chen, but when she tried to do so, she found that she was still bound by the assassin’s presence.

  And then, finally, they encountered the guards.

  There were a dozen of them, all running. They wore white and silver armor, ornate and traditional. They looked like Jhai’s Celestial bodyguard Miss Qi, with their pale hair, bound into topknots, and their filmy blue eyes. They bowed as soon as they saw Seijin.

  “Lord Emperor!”

  Seijin waved them up. “No need for that. What is wrong?”

  “Don’t listen to him!” Inari squeaked. “He isn’t the Emperor! He—”

  A silvery streak of lightning cut through the air, nearly striking Inari. She heard one of the guards cry, “A demon! See, behind the Emperor!”

  “No, wait!” Inari shouted, but her voice was a mouse’s voice, here in Heaven’s halls, and a moment later the sword struck home. She felt herself split, blasted into a thousand fragments and scattered like ash across the walls and ceiling. The atoms that contained her consciousness heard Seijin say, easily, “Well done, soldier! I commend your swift action. Now, what is amiss?”—and she heard, too, the guard reply, “Someone has broken through the Dowager Empress’ apartments, My Lord. Some minutes ago—we set off immediately, but it seems we are too late.”

  “I must not detain you,” Seijin said. “Proceed with your work.”

 
“But Lord Emperor—you are alone, where are your personal bodyguards? I—”

  “Do as I tell you!” Seijin snapped, and Inari, scattered as she was, thought that it was the Lord Lady’s tone behind the command as much as the appearance of Mhara that sent the guards bolting down the corridor. Seijin walked on without looking back, and the atoms of Inari were pulled relentlessly in the assassin’s wake. Seijin no longer bothered to speak to her and she wondered, with forlorn hope, whether the assassin had remembered that she was even there.

  The beauty of the Celestial Palace continued to be oppressive. Seijin led Inari through rooms lined with diamonds and silk, under ceilings that depicted the night sky in all its wheeling splendor and those that shone like the sun. They passed through a great silent hall lined with war banners: the aristocracies of Heaven, some so ancient that they had become completely translucent, their devices appearing to float in midair, shimmering in the soft light. At first Inari thought this was the throne room, but no: it housed the banners alone, and as she glided past, her spirit beginning to knit back together again, the banners sang their songs of wars fought and wars won, all in the name of rightness. Inari supposed they were entitled, but she found it all a little smug. Yet then again, she was a demon, presumably a wicked thing … What if one of the guards had a sharper sword? Would she be blasted apart, an atomic explosion taking the Celestial Palace with her, or would she simply sigh out on the wind between the worlds, with Chen still so close? The guards’ reaction to her had proved Seijin right, and Inari did not like that.

  “Nearly there,” the Lord Lady said over one shoulder and Inari realized that Seijin was still conscious of her presence. Seijin spoke mockingly, the words coming cruel from Mhara’s mouth. And in the assassin’s hand, Inari glimpsed the sharpness of a razor.

  “They’re—well, dead for the moment,” Chen murmured, straightening up. The badger peered past him.

  “What has happened to them?”

  “Seijin has happened.”

  The guards did not look dead as a human would know it, the badger thought. He could still see the life glowing within them, as if turned down like gas on a stove to a low blue flame. But their eyes were open, staring milkily at nothing; their mouths, too, were ajar, and no breath seeped out of them. Their chests both bore the same wound: a ragged, bloody-edged hole that looked as though someone had thrust out their arms on either side, punched through the ribs and stolen their hearts. He could see their lungs, deflated like balloons.