Chasing the Dragon

by Justina Robson

  "What is it?" he demanded.

  "Some's missing," Mina said with angry conviction. She poked the remains back into place, rather roughly, and reached into another pocket, where short bits of thread were tangled together in balls. She added one of these balls and then cursed. "Lily will have to fix you or it'll fall out again." She stared at the hole and then, still holding his leg, looked sideways into the corner of the room, clearly thinking hard.

  "But what happened?"

  "Bit of you been stole," she said. "Must be a rat." She sat down with a thump and then pulled a couple of long strands out and set to working them with her nimble little fingers. He saw her shaping a simple doll out of them, as he'd watched someone else do, a long time ago. She twirled and tied, making arms, legs, a head. Then she dabbed the thing on her tongue and set it on the palm of her hand.

  It stood attentively, listening, growing before his eyes into a strong, dark figure with gleaming eyes like dots of jet. It had the long legs of a satyr and a long narrow tail and a ferocious number of whiskers about its head.

  "Mogu, hunt me that rat," Mina said to it.

  The doll creature, imp sized now, leapt off her hand and scampered away, sniffing. Its tiny claws scratched the boards, pattered, hesitated, pattered, and then it had gone.

  "Stole?" Zal ventured, seeing Mina's look turn thoughtful again.

  "Someone making something," Mina said. Her eyes narrowed craftily. "Stealing from under our noses. Someone very clever. Or thinks they are. Should have been more careful though." She clapped her hands. "Good games! Get up now and run to Lily. Tell her what I said and to fix your leg."

  "Making something?"

  But Mina was already standing up, her expression getting the glassy look he knew meant she was no longer hearing him. She began to work again.

  Zal suppressed the urge to run to Mr. V and cry. He went carefully back downstairs, trying not to do much with the damaged leg, though it felt no weaker than the other one. As he passed the kitchen he felt a draft of air and saw Tubianca coming out. She eyed him, her plumed tail twitching.

  Tubianca was a very large, pure white cat, with a round face, a tiny black nose, a tiny pink mouth, and huge lavender-coloured eyes. Thick, luxuriantly long fur covered every bit of her. "What are you doing?" Her voice was as smooth as cream with the kind of depersonalised interest that made Zal think of freezing railway station platforms or groups of young politicised elves at a rally. She had never taken much notice of him, except once or twice as a pouncing object, an experience he heartily longed never to repeat. Lily had sewn him up before.

  "Mina sent me to Lily's," he said, truthfully, because Tubianca could detect any kind of lie and would anger to a lacerating rage in a flash.

  "I thought I heard mention of rats." She padded silently out into the hall and put herself between him and the door. "And earlier Mr. V was talking to you about fires. Why is that? It's high time you were in the rag basket with all the rest of the pointless little experiments. Why would anyone talk to you, you useless, uninteresting, slow-footed sack of worthless ends?"

  "I don't know," Zal said, glad that she wasn't the best questioner in the world. He took a few more steps, but any farther would take him within easy reach of Tubianca's paws so he had to stop. "Excuse me, please."

  She ignored him. "What rats could there be? It cannot be. You must have fallen on a tack. What did she say?"

  Zal told her, omitting the part about making things. Seeing her round eyes narrow to slits he took a risk on her pride and added, "Don't worry though, she already sent a doodoll to catch it."

  "What?!" Tubianca bristled, and without another word she was past him and up the stairs in a streak of white ire.

  Zal took his chance and ran out the door and up the path as fast as he possibly could. He made almost no sound, but all the way he seemed to feel the cat's baleful stare on his back. The clear evidence of his own vulnerability filled him with horror once again as it had before when he had been shredded by her claws. It was a long time ago now and he'd nearly forgotten it, but he hadn't forgotten it enough to stop running.

  He hated running to Lily to be doctored, but he had no choice. Or had he? He slowed down, looking back and seeing the path clear. Mr. V had been trying to tell him that he had. There was no trusting faeries-he had to remember that, but he didn't want to. He badly didn't want to. As he reached Lily's imposing door he rang the bell at the silver pull, and the book in his pocket banged against his chest. At least he had a good reason to seem nervous.

  There was a pause and then the door was opened. Lily looked out, then down. She was tall, powerful, and pregnant, an imposingly healthy woman with a practical gaze whose actual colouring and appearance fluctuated several times a second so that she seemed to be a universal avatar of female promise. More than once he saw her ears lengthen and bones refine themselves to elfin. She had other forms, but for him she kept it simple. Her clothes were immaculately tailored and stuck about all over with needles and pins of various sizes and shapes. Their points winked like stars. She spoke as if he had interrupted something very important, with a vexed, harried air, "Have you come for ... ? What have you come for?"

  He felt the brief blight of her confusion and her disappointment in him for the millionth time, but it was old news. His stories had run out long ago, and he was used to the role of inconvenient child. "Mina sent me. Something ate my leg." He showed her. "She sent Mogu to hunt it."

  Lily frowned and her face went cold. "Come in."

  He endured the mending without looking at what she was doing. She hummed to herself the while, like an angry bee, and finally, snapping the last thread and putting the needle in her lapel, she said with pleasure, "It has been many ages since someone dared steal from us. I would like to see this person. And I'd like to see Glinda."

  Zal knew this was not-the-name for the third sister. He'd never seen her.

  "And I suppose 'biancs needs a kick up the arse," added Lily. "Letting it in as if she had nothing better to do. Maybe she'll redeem herself by finding how it got here."

  "Lily," Zal murmured to get her attention, quietly, in case she didn't want to be interrupted. He often wanted to talk to her, or anyone, but in the sisters' case if they weren't in the mood then it was useless, and irritating them was a big mistake. He could feel this as a certainty so implacable and frightening that he had never even tried it.

  "Mmn, what is it?"

  He steeled himself for retaliation. "You promised."

  Like Mina, she had a way of looking at someone that was so acute it was like being pinned under the most powerful microscope. "Yes, I did," she said. "But consider this. Would you like her to come here?"

  The answer to that was obviously not. He had supposed as much. He couldn't understand at all what she got out of his being there. "I want to leave."

  "Do you? Well, before we think about that we have to deal with this rat business." It had clearly put her in a good mood. She was almost indulgent.

  Such luck could come once in an aeon here. He braced himself and asked as if it had been eating him up for ages, which it had, so no worries. "Who is Mr. V?"

  "Mr. who? Oh. Well. Nobody you need to bother about. He's Lily's little helper. Odd-job man. That's all. Now fetch my coat and hat. It's time we paid a visit to Glinda." With a pretended annoyance she began to pull all the needles and pins out of her dress bodice and put them into a silver holder, but Zal could tell she was happy, because her hum had started to have a kind of tune in it that you might almost describe as perky. However, there were also times, and this was one of them, where he was reminded that what appeared to be going on here was only an illusion. As she got herself ready the world shivered and shifted around her, instead of the other way about, and he saw for an instant things that defied his ability to understand, huge and yet tiny forces of utter and no magic at all, underpinning the thin, colourful skim with the steadfastness of a mountain and the flimsiness of thin air. He closed his eyes and held the doo
rframe for an instant, blinded.

  As he was regaining his balance he realised Lily had futzed her reply. He didn't know why she had, but he did know suddenly that she wasn't entirely happy about Mr. V's position. That was two things he knew, and he would bet that this was not the second thing Mr. V had been thinking of when he said Zal would learn more. Unfortunately he had no reason or way to reach the attic now that they were fussing about leaving. Lily tugged at her skirt, muttered something about Glinda stealing that dress and hiding it away-something she said often with great rancour-and then, after she'd dragged a brush through her hair and practiced a couple of expressions (polite interest, detached understanding, and what could have been affectionate condescension) in the hall mirror they were off.

  The path, which had never gone farther than Lily's house, stretched off into the distance and around a bend. Zal had to trot a step in three to keep up with Lily as she strode out, whistling, her hair streaming behind her. As he did so her words repeated through his head and he knew a third thing, because it was obvious now that he'd been reminded of his real position here as the worthless fluff. He didn't want the silver-eyed girl to come here and be stuck with him until forever, but obviously for some reason, Lily did.

  The day that had begun so unpromisingly was now so interesting Zal was happy. He felt there were many things to think of that could spoil that if he wasn't very very careful, so for the time being he didn't think and enjoyed himself with the anticipation of more discoveries all the way to Glinda's house.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ila woke up with the sun shining on her face. For a moment she didn't know where she was. She could see grass and trees, but then the glass wall of the building became familiar beyond them and she realised she was still at work. Lifting her head she looked around and saw Malachi's yurt, flaps opened wide. Inside it Malachi was down to his rolled-up shirtsleeves, cleaning. Outside it most of his possessions lay broken in a heap next to the gravel path. Next to her a tartan thermos flask and a paper sandwich bag lay side by side. She reached out for them, and a heavy weight of purple silk velvet slithered off her arm. She felt the air suddenly cool on her hand and looked down to see herself swathed in the heavy cloth.

  She raised an eyebrow, but she felt too sleepy to react otherwise. The flask contained coffee, the sandwich was tuna salad. Salad was wrong for breakfast, but her stomach was hurting. She sat up and ate it, chewing slowly, watching Malachi fuss and fiddle with his few remaining things, polishing his desk, using a handheld vacuum cleaner on his rugs and the felt walls. It was quite peaceful. After sleep her Al systems remained on standby until she let them work, so she didn't let them. Her memories of the night before were bad enough.

  At last Malachi glanced her way. He abandoned his dusting and snatched his jacket and coat up from their hangers before striding over to her. In spite of his efforts and the state of the place he looked immaculate, his short hair glittering with coal-dust glamour. "At last. Thought you'd never rejoin us."

  Lila balled up the sandwich bag and tossed it over his head onto the trash pile. She swallowed, yawned, and peered up at him. "Who says I have?"

  "We have to make a house call."

  Lila scowled, unscrewed the coffee mug cap, and sniffed. It was a latte, with caramel syrup, boiling hot. She gloated over it secretly. "Not until I finish this we don't. Take a pew."

  Malachi was buttoning his cuffs. He shrugged the jacket on, adjusted it, and did up one button. "We shouldn't be late." He checked his watch. "Already a bit tight on time. It's after nine, you know."

  "So?"

  She was reluctant to spoil the moment but considered the sandwich and the drink and conceded a few notches to him, "Who are we going to see?"

  His reply was offhand. "Azevedo. She's a medium. Or a seer. One of the Children."

  "I guess it's not a care visit."

  "Only for you. We're going about your sister."

  "Great." She didn't want to think about that, so of course it was first thing on the agenda. "Anything else?"

  "I think she can help us find Zal."

  Lila squinted up at him as he shimmied into his long coat and pulled the sleeves of his jacket until they fit inside correctly. She tried to distract herself from the sharp spark of hope that was trying to find life inside her. "D'you think fifty years has passed for him too?"

  "I don't know," he said honestly after a short pause. "It wouldn't be that much, for an elf."

  "I wasn't worried about him being old," she said, though now she thought of it maybe she was. "But ..." She didn't finish. She wanted to say that a lot of things could change in that kind of time, except she was looking at someone who seemed not to have. "I'm not sure that the message I got was from him."

  Malachi nodded. "Azevedo will be able to tell."

  Now that she'd started her mind was loading up on problems. "That thing, last night, the demon. After we see her I have to get back to Demonia and look for T. I think he's in trouble."

  "Understatement of the century. I think you should stay away from Demonia or it'll be the last thing you do." He frowned.

  "Yeah but ... he was looking for something. For me. I feel-"

  "What? Responsible? I don't think so. No. It's a stupid idea. No." He saw that his reason was having no effect and changed tack. "Anyway, what trouble could he be in? Think about it. You might even make him look bad, rushing to help."

  She drank the coffee. It was delicious. "We'll see."

  Malachi groaned inwardly. He didn't think now was the moment to share his intuition about Teazle's circumstances. He had to save that for when she really started steaming off. But because he couldn't use it he found himself blurting out what had been on his mind while he was trying to bring order back to his office. "Do you ever think about after?"

  She scowled again. "Huh?"

  "Here you are, days back from Under, fifty years gone, and the first thing you do is go all out to put the gang back together. Some of us waited. Some didn't. Or couldn't. Point is, what about after? What is your plan? You're burning all your boats just to get Zal. You think that's going to fix things?" He was appalled to find he sounded exactly like somebody's hysterical middle-aged mother.

  She drained the coffee mug, screwed the top on, and put it down on the grass. "Nothing can be fixed. So what? Zal always said `don't look down."'

  "But he did." They both knew it was true, but Malachi could see she wasn't about to stop. There was an implacable force inside her now that he'd never seen before their short, ill-fated run into Faery. It made his blood run cold sometimes. He had nothing with which to stop her. Couldn't even apply a brake. He could help her, or he could leave and that was it. "Who the hell put you in charge?" he said angrily. He knew it was a bad reaction. He put his hands in his pockets and found his car keys. "Ah shit, I'll meet you in the lot."

  She watched him stalk away into the building. She remembered when she'd had manners and been polite. It was a long time ago. She got to her feet and shook out the cloak. Its mood had changed to something more serious apparently. It sat heavily on her, like theatre curtains, with a hood hanging at her back over a short shoulder cape that covered the arm slits in the main body. The hem was weighted. Beneath it she was free to be herself today. The leather and metal of the body armour she was used to moved easily, like her skin. It was her skin. She let it grow up to her collarbones and neck until only her hands and face were free, were human. Walking to the car park was worse than she thought it would be. Every step felt like a step towards an execution. Against her skin she could just detect the inert length of the black pen. She saw it scything through the demon in her mind's eye, saw the creature buckling and folding impossibly into the blade, sucked away, its howls of fury becoming screams of despair. Where had it gone? She didn't care.

  She got in the car without a word, and Malachi leaned back on the old seats and spun them out into the growing warmth of midmorning downtown. After the confines and events at the agency, driving down the h
ills into the city's heart was like riding a slowly splurging river into a land of calm, colour, and normality. Lila found herself leaning on the door, hanging out of it, watching the people on the street as they went about their business. She was almost used to the way they looked, their peculiar clothing with its huge variety of anachronistic and outworld styles, the fact that everything on sale reflected a fascination with demons, fey, and elves yet she saw none of these on the street. It was like a hobby, or a fetish for most, or maybe in her good moments she thought it was the humans putting a toe in the water.

  News scans flashed headlines at her, which she accepted only because she saw the word "ghost" in the leaders. Journalists and photographers had found one of the wrecks and squeezed out some footage past the agency suppression, or been allowed to leak it, she wasn't sure.

  After "Mysterious wrecks pile up on South Bay Shores" it read "Today the beaches of the South Bay area were visited by the unearthly ships of yesteryear. Live-shot pictures of the doomed vessel show clearly a glow (the images pulsed to show where) and identifying features of this one-time legendary craft, The Golden Hind *link to more about the Hind*. Outworld specialist groups claim this is just part of the increasing invasion of Otopian space by manifestations from the Beyond *link to claims* *link to manifestation* *link to Beyond*. Meanwhile government officials deny there is any upsurge in the number of recorded anomalies in the Bay area *link to govt statistics* and say there is nothing unusual going on. Those of us who remember the Hunter's Reign may like to consider otherwise *link to Hunter's Reign*.

  Lila drilled out a few links and saw that the government was still sticking to its rationalist materialist line, though this was creaky and looked more like a matter of pride and determination than any scientific effort to achieve objective reality. She wondered how it had lasted so long and asked Malachi.