Sparrow Falling

by Gaie Sebold

  “No. Sometimes I wonder if you’re my son at all.”

  Chen Shun stood outside the door, looking in. His handsome face wore an expression of mild exasperation. “Father!” Liu jumped to his feet. “I thought... what happened? Are you well? What...”

  “I am as well as can be expected, under the circumstances. I am disappointed in you. That my son should fail at such a task...”

  “I didn’t fail! Father, this is the Harp! The very one, the Queen’s most prized...”

  Chen Shun shrugged, barely glancing at the Harp. “Your task was not to steal the Harp, your task was to please Ao Guang, at which you have, noticeably, failed. And now I must suffer.”

  “Father, I’m sorry, I thought...”

  “What does it matter what you thought?” Chen Shun huffed. “The damage is done. Min drops poison in Ao Guang’s ear and I am likely to lose everything.”

  “But he let you visit me...”

  “Well, I still have some powers of persuasion. Now, what are you going to do about it?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t... what can I do?”

  “As my son it is your duty to protect my interests, and help me overcome the influence of such as Min. It is not mine to think of ways in which you can do so. Did I not instruct you? Did you not learn at my feet? And now when I am oppressed on all sides, you will not help me!”

  “Father, please, I only...”

  “Oh, enough. You whine as much as your mother did. I suppose, then, that I must try and do it all myself.”

  Liu struggled to find words, but those that emerged were not the ones he expected. “Why does he hate you so? Min?”

  “What?” Chen Shun had already begun to turn away, but here he paused, and looked over his shoulder. “Because he is a rigid old fool, with no imagination and less humour. Why else?”

  “Was it a woman?”

  “A woman! I have better taste than to share a woman with Min! I hope at least you have managed to find yourself a few women and are not a eunuch. What has that to do with anything?”

  His side gave a sudden wrenching twinge. Evvie. She was a woman, yes, but not as his father meant it. He fought against the pain, and the fear that went with it. “Father, if I knew more about Min, and what happened, perhaps I might think of something.”

  “Oh, you will never change Min’s mind, he made it up a hundred years ago, and now it is set, like a clay pot. Also, hah, cracked like one. Well, now I must clear up your mess. In the meantime, try not to make things worse.” He walked away.

  Liu slumped down again, feeling, as he often did after dealing with his father, as though he had been trying to get hold of something that constantly evaded his grasp while punching him in the stomach.

  His only hope was that Chen Shun would somehow work around Ao Guang; he was very good at persuasion. He always had been.

  “Tell me,” the Harp said. “Why do you wish to help him?”

  “What? He’s my father,” Liu said. “It’s honour. And respect. Of course I have to help him!”

  “Has he shown you either of those things?”

  Liu hunched his shoulders. “Leave me alone. You’ve been with the Folk too long.”

  “I do not understand. You are Folk, so is your father.”

  “I’m half-Folk. I’m not... I have to... no, you don’t understand.” Liu drew his knees up, folded his arms on them, and put his head down. He didn’t want to look at himself, or the Harp, any more.

  He heard the Harp sigh.

  “The creature has a point,” said a voice.

  Liu opened his eyes and saw, beyond the bars, Min.

  “Well, young man? What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “Lord Min...” Liu got to his feet, and stood as straight as he could, hiding the pain in his side. He bowed.

  “You have better manners than your father,” Min said. “You had some difficulty answering the creature’s question.”

  “I believe I did, my Lord: I honour and respect my father as is only right and proper for a son.”

  “Strange, that your father should have so carefully instilled in you that quite proper belief, while he himself has neither honour or respect for any being.”

  Liu remained silent.

  “You asked him a question which he, too, found difficult to answer. I shall answer it. It is a simple story. Has he spoken to you of my daughter?”

  “No, Lord Min.”

  “Half-Folk, like you.”

  Liu was conscious of shock. He had always thought Min despised humans, and such mixed-blood creatures as himself.

  “A respectful, dutiful girl,” Min said, “most skilled at embroidery.” The words were those of a traditional father, to whom girls were an ornament at best, a burden ever. But the crackle in his voice told another tale.

  “She made me a gift of a fine robe, and when she was searching for thread to embroider it, your father, meeting her in the guise of a merchant, persuaded her to buy a certain golden thread that he said would bring fortune and longevity to the wearer of the robe, and with it she stitched gold pomegranates, with great skill. But when I put the robe on...” Min paused. “You must have been still with your mother then. There was something in the thread... it acted upon me like strong wine, or opium. I became a clown, for all to see. Dancing, leaping... your father found it most amusing, as did others of the Court.”

  Heavy Min, cavorting like an acrobat. It might have been a funny image, if Liu had not heard the darkness in his voice. As obsessed with his dignity as Min was, there was more here than mortification.

  “I am sorry, Lord Min. That was a foolish and unpleasant trick.”

  “Yes, it was.” Min glared through the bars. “My daughter blamed herself for my humiliation. She threw herself down a well, and died.”

  Something cold and bitter welled up in Liu. Was there a woman? His father had skirted the question – or perhaps had just forgotten that Min’s daughter even existed. She had not mattered to him.

  He bowed deeply. “That grieves me greatly, my Lord Min. I did not know.”

  “Yes, I did not think he had told you, or I would not have done so. I get no pleasure from recounting it.” Min tapped the bars with one long gilded fingernail. “I think that your father did not train you as well as he supposes. I heard you earlier. It seems you have, somehow, learned compassion. Perhaps it was from your mother. It is said, after all, that a patient woman can roast an ox with a lantern.”

  “My Lord is kinder than I deserve.”

  “He is right.” The Harp’s voice shivered through the chamber. “You are not cruel, Little Fox; reckless, perhaps, foolish, certainly. But I believe you meant to be kind to me.”

  “As for you,” Min said, “you are what the boy claims.”

  “I have been the Queen’s toy for more years than I can bear to count. Long enough to know that all I once knew was dust on the wind before this boy was ever born. I was her favourite, yes. and would be again, perhaps, if I was prepared to pretend I adore her despite all she has done to me. But I grew weary of pretence, and since I would not, she could not. So she cast me into exile.”

  Min stood for a moment, in frowning silence. “Ao Guang does not know this,” he said, “that you were exiled. Better that he does not.”

  Liu stared at Min. “My Lord?”

  “It is also said that a son pays his father’s debt. I do not think, on this occasion, that this would be just.”

  “Do you mean you will help me?”

  “I will speak to Ao Guang for you.”

  “My Lord, may I make a suggestion?”

  “If you ask compassion for your father...”

  “I ask only this, my Lord. Will you speak to Ao Guang on my behalf, using words I will suggest to you?”

  “I have learned not to trust the words of foxes, boy. What is your plan?”

  “I would see the Harp freed from his bondage, and I think it can be done in a way that will please Ao Guang.”

  “And your
father?”

  “My father,” Liu said, “was eloquent enough to be walking about and blaming me for his troubles. I think perhaps he must rely on his own tongue now, not mine. My lord, I can never compensate for the wrong my father did you, or the grief he caused you. He did not mean such a tragedy to happen, I am sure, but that does not mean it did not. If I can ever do you some service, though it will never be enough, I hope you will call on me.”

  “For that, you would need to be free, and in your right mind,” Min said.

  “This is true.” Liu attempted his most engaging grin.

  “You look sickly,” Min said.

  “I am in some discomfort, my Lord.”

  “A spell?”

  “One that tells me someone I care for is...” Liu’s vision misted, and he struggled for the next word. “Hurt.”

  “Then tell me quickly before you faint.”

  “Tell Ao Guang...” Liu scrabbled for consciousness, for the words that normally came so easily. “Tell Ao Guang that this Harp is indeed the Queen’s favourite, and that he has suffered dreadfully at her hands, because she is a barbarian. Tell him that as he is the most wise and compassionate of rulers, he can prove himself her better...”

  “I HAVE DONE my best,” Min said, “always to fulfil my duty. This court,” he gestured to the assembled notables, “is the heart of all that is most wise and most benevolent.” Ao Guang drew his head back, looking very smug. “Is not all that happens here,” Min went on, “reflected in the Lower World, and does not all that happens in the Lower World reflect back upon us? And if those of the Higher do not act in accordance with the traditions, how may the creatures of the Lower do so?”

  Liu, in pain, exhausted, and frantic with worry, nonetheless reflected briefly that Min would be horrified if he had any knowledge of how rapidly things were changing in Eveline’s world. What would he make of Aiden’s latest style of decoration?

  And if Min, or any here, had the slightest knowledge of the Etheric science that could be turned against the Folk of the Higher worlds... but that thought was so dangerous he crushed it down, in case some hint of it should show on his face.

  “My Lord Dragon, I have examined the case, and I believe that the Harp is indeed what Chen Shun’s son claims it to be. For it has undergone foul tortures at the hands of the barbarian Queen: centuries of terrible pain, humiliation, and loss. No wonder his music sounded imperfect to your ears – it is the cry of a soul tormented. He has begged the Queen to end his life, and she will not. My Lord Dragon, oh most mighty and most compassionate, I can tell you only that the boy has done what was asked of him.”

  “I see,” Ao Guang examined one claw. He was today a dragon in form as well as name; which could be either good or bad, depending. Liu clenched his hands. He had coached Min as best he could, but... please, let this work. “And I am supposed to be content?”

  “Why, no, my Lord,” Min said. “How could you be? Yet being of the sharp and noble mind that you are, I am sure you have seen how this unfortunate situation may be turned to good.”

  “Of course, but after all this trouble I am too weary to explain it all,” Ao Guang said. “You do it.”

  Min bowed. “As it please your Majesty. Why, to show how far you are above the depraved and ugly practices of the barbarian court, you need only free this poor creature from his bonds, and let him die, as he desires. Then your wisdom and compassion – in contrast to the loathsome cruelty of the barbarian Queen – will be as the sound of trumpets falling upon the ear of the worlds. For is it not said that the fragrance of flowers clings to the hand that bestows them?”

  “Indeed,” Ao Guang said. “Yes, have the Harp brought to me. Was there something else?”

  “Yes, your Majesty.” Min glanced towards where Liu was standing. “Since his son has striven mightily to honour him, and has fulfilled the request you made to its last detail, I believe you will not, in your great wisdom, hold the boy responsible for its failure to please you.

  “Yet his father is still, rightly, in your disfavour. And lest he fail to understand that your compassion is that of strength, I think you would yourself suggest that the boy be returned at once back to the barbarian lands, so that Chen Shun may forfeit the honour and pleasure of having a good and dutiful son at his side.”

  Liu could not help himself from glancing up at Min in shock. Those were not his words.

  Then he looked at his father.

  Chen Shun’s face was stubborn, closed. He looked away.

  “I WILL GIVE you one piece of advice,” the Harp said. “I desired the Queen’s admiration. I paid with everything I ever loved. Consider always whether what you desire will cost you what you love.”

  “I wish there had been another way,” Liu said.

  “Do not wish for things. Make them be. That is two pieces of advice, and it is enough. Goodbye, Little Fox.” The Harp looked up at Ao Guang.

  Ao Guang, with a gesture so casual it seemed almost careless, waved a claw.

  There was a sound like a thousand snowflakes disintegrating, and a shimmer of strings.

  A scatter of gilded dust lay on the floor. As the court murmured, like the sound of a breeze in the strings of a harp, a servant with a broom hurried up, soft-footed, to sweep it away.

  Aloft

  “THERE!” ADELITA POINTED.

  “Are you sure?” Beth said.

  “Yes, it’s the Russian embassy, and look, you can see there’s a party! Ma? Ma Pether!”

  “I en’t looking at nothing.” Ma’s unlit pipe shuddered between her teeth, and her hands clenched white-knuckled on a strut. The Aerymouse tilted and swooped.

  Eagle Estates

  WHEN THE FIGURE stepped from the shadows, Stug’s hands came up, clutching his cane across his chest. A thug, a murderer. Not now! Not now, when he was so close! His face clenched in a grimace, and he gripped the cane hard.

  “Why sir, you look quite fearsome. Not scared of old Bartholomew, are we?”

  “Simms! What are you doing here?” The man looked more like a burglar than ever, with a great sack over his shoulder.

  “Looking to your interests, sir, merely looking to your interests.”

  “I can’t deal with you now. I’ve business.” If the girl saw Simms, she’d flee. He could not help glancing down the street.

  “If you’re looking for that wench Eveline, sir, you’re out of luck.” Simms shook his head. “Wish you’d taken my advice, that I do, sir, but don’t you worry, I’ve dealt with it.”

  “What do you mean, you’ve dealt with it? Where is she?” Stug stepped forward, his cane coming up, baring his teeth. “What have you done?”

  Stug stepped back, raised his free hand. “I’ve ensured she won’t blab, that’s what I’ve done. Sending a girl to do a man’s job, I dunno, sir, really I don’t.”

  “You’ve ruined it all!”

  “Now, that’s unkind, sir, when all I’ve done is ensure there won’t be any unpleasantness. Oh, I expect you’ll be wanting the prize, sir, won’t you?”

  He slid the sack from his back with unwonted gentleness, and opened the mouth.

  There, fast asleep, her thumb in her mouth, was a tiny girl, wrapped in blankets. Asleep or... her mouth moved around her thumb, and Stug breathed out.

  “Is that...”

  “The Russian ambassador’s daughter, sir, yes it is.”

  Even as elation surged in him, Stug realised just how much Bartholomew must have known, just how dangerous he was.

  But he was a wild animal, and would sniff out Stug’s intentions in a moment. Stug must be careful.

  “Bring her inside,” he said, and unlocked the door to his offices with trembling hands.

  Once upstairs, he lit the lamps. The shutters were tightly drawn – he had gone through the place before he left, darkening every window, ensuring no light would escape to spark the interest of that patrolling officer, or any other passer-by. We shall hunt the badger by owl-light, it is a deed of darkness. What nonse
nse the brain threw up. Was it Webster? Or Shakespeare? Now Shakespeare was a man who knew something of ambition. He’d had a son, who had died, had he not? Stug shook his head. Enough. It was the excitement, the nearness of his hopes, that filled his brain with these whispering fragments. “Put her down. Wait. How can I be sure?” he said. “If this is some by-blow of yours...”

  “Now, sir, would a child of mine be dressed so fine? Look at that lace. Besides, you’ll know tomorrow, the hue-and-cry will be all over London. And further, I should say. All the way to Mother Russia, they’ll be wailing.”

  “Then you’ll get paid tomorrow,” Stug said. “Late. Midnight.” By tomorrow he could have made arrangements to get Simms dealt with. Maybe even with the Folk. That would have a certain symmetry to it. And after that, this foul business would be done, and all would be as it was meant to be. He could wash his hands of it. Make a donation, perhaps, to some charitable organisation.

  “Very well, sir, as it suits you, as it suits,” Bartholomew Simms said. “Perhaps a little on account, for my trouble?”

  “Very well.” Stug unlocked the safe, constantly glancing over his shoulder at the child. She was still sleeping, perhaps he had drugged her... would that change things? What if she was damaged? He shoved the money bag at Simms without looking, and took hold of the baby, propping her upright. She opened her eyes, and blinked at him, then her mouth turned down and she began to cry, a thin wail. “Hush!” he told her.

  She cried louder. Someone might hear.

  “Give her your watch,” Simms said. “Let her listen to it. That often calms ’em.”

  “How do you...” Never mind, it was no matter. He had to quiet her. He whipped the watch from its pocket and held it to the child’s ear.

  She quieted. “Good. Now, Simms...” But when Stug looked up, Simms, for all his heavy boots and bullish breadth, had disappeared as silently as one of the Folk.