by Liz Williams
“Welcome!” he cried, mocking, as some two dozen men were brought before him. An overseer in a pointed helmet forced each of them to their knees and as they knelt, the Khan made his way along the line, casting magic from his outstretched hand. Soon the kneeling warriors, too, were enmeshed in magic. It hissed and spat, meeting lines of force in the land. Zhu Irzh strove to keep his face blank: this must have been what was done to him and Raksha. Not a happy thought, and what was worse, he had no recollection of it. He could feel this magic, too, tugging and nagging at his awareness, sending out tendrils in an effort to bring any strays back into the fold. He hoped the Khan wasn’t paying attention to it, and in desperation he thought of Omi, keeping his promise and not far away, the demon’s unlikely talisman.
To his surprise, it worked. The tendril snaked away, approaching one of the other warriors with greater confidence, and eventually withdrawing. The Khan made a sweeping gesture, both arms up toward the sky.
“Come! Rise in the presence of your master!”
And the new warriors did so, their faces as slack and expressionless as those around him. The Khan gave a crow of triumph. “Excellent. And now, we ride!”
•
It was much later in the day. Demons have greater stamina than humans but even so, Zhu Irzh was exhausted. Beside him, Raksha’s beautiful face was also haggard. He wondered what kind of toll this was taking on her, snatched and whirled far from her own time. And what had happened to the woman he’d seen perched high on that balustrade in Urumchi? Was this the same Raksha, her existence somehow temporally folded so that it was the identical girl who now traveled time? Or would she meet herself, if the Khan took them back to the twenty-first century? Difficult questions, which the demon did not feel equipped to answer. The whole thing was making his head hurt. Chen was usually better at this sort of philosophical issue, but even Chen had his limitations. And what of Roerich? Where was he now?
“I’m out of my depth,” Zhu Irzh confessed in an undertone to Raksha. She gave him a troubled glance.
“You think I know what I’m doing, then?”
“Well, no. I guess we’re just along for the ride.” He looked down at the city that sprawled across the plain, far below them. They had come out in a narrow gorge, a very different country from the roll of the steppes. Crags towered above them, greened with scrub and a thin scattering of grass, and the air smelled fresh, of fir and pine. The demon had no idea where they were. The city itself was big, but not modern. Low buildings were surrounded by a thick brick wall, a massive fortification. Surely the Khan wasn’t planning to attack that? It looked as though it would withstand everything except heavy mortar fire, and the Khan had no war machines with him, no trebuchets or even, as far as Zhu Irzh was aware, a battering ram. A city like the one below was constructed to withstand concerted assault, and long sieges.
Beyond the city, Zhu Irzh could see something else: a village, perhaps. But it didn’t look quite like a village.
“Can you see what that is?” he whispered to Raksha. The shaman squinted against the sunlight; shading her eyes would have betrayed independent thought and neither of them wanted to risk that.
“I can’t — wait a moment. It looks like a palace. Yes, I think it is. A palace surrounded by gardens — I can see a lake. And there’s a hill not far away, with some kind of terrace built around it.”
Now that she’d filled in the picture for him, Zhu Irzh found it easier to see. “Why isn’t it inside the city?” he asked. “It doesn’t make sense to have those fortifications and then build your palace outside it.”
“I don’t know,” Raksha said. “I don’t understand it either.”
“I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see what happens,” Zhu Irzh said.
The contingent to which he and Raksha had been assigned was in the process of setting up camp. The warriors moved with mechanical precision; Zhu Irzh and the shaman joined in, doing their best to mimic the jerky movements of their colleagues. Soon a blaze was leaping up into the evening air, redolent of pine resin. Zhu Irzh found it easier to think, as though the fragrant smoke cleared his head, but it didn’t seem to have the same effect on the others, still deeply enmeshed within the Khan’s spell.
“I have an idea,” the demon murmured to Raksha, as a warrior doled out dollops of porridge and dried meat. “I can’t see Omi anywhere — I hope he’s made it along with us — but what do you think about my trying to eavesdrop on the Khan? Find out where we are and what he’s up to?”
“Do you think he discusses this with anyone?” Raksha asked dubiously.
“I’ve seen him talking to one of the ifrit-types,” Zhu Irzh said. “The one in the general’s helmet. He seems to be functioning as a kind of second in command.”
“It’s worth a try,” Raksha said. “As long as you’re not seen. Do you want me to come with you?”
“No. If anyone seems to notice I’m missing, try and create a diversion.” He nearly said: Take your clothes off or something, but thought better of it. As Raksha kept watch on the rest of the cohort, Zhu Irzh slipped like a shadow amongst the pines.
The Khan’s own encampment was some distance away, centered on a cave in the rocks. Zhu Irzh planned to approach it via a circuitous route, coming up through the trees and along the side of the cave. He moved as silently as he could, with the soft carpet of pine needles serving to cushion his footing. It was a shock, therefore, when a hand fell on his shoulder. Zhu Irzh spun around, striking out, and Omi stepped quickly back.
“Sorry! Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“God, you move quietly!” Demons didn’t tend to suffer from pounding hearts, but if he’d been human, he thought, it might have been enough to finish him off. He leaned against a nearby pine. Omi laughed.
“Good training. My apologies.”
“It’s okay. I’m glad you’re here.”
“I came in your wake,” Omi said. “If I can tap into the right current, I’m able to follow the Khan.”
“I was spying,” the demon said, and explained.
“Might be worth it,” Omi said. “Shall I come with you?”
Zhu Irzh nearly told him that if he could move with that degree of stealth, he was welcome to go in the demon’s stead. Together, they crept through the forest. It was a remarkably silent place, Zhu Irzh thought. Normally this kind of woodland would be filled with night sounds — the call of owls, the whirr of nightjars. But this wood was as quiet as though a lid had been placed upon it. He whispered as much to Omi.
“I think it’s the Khan,” the young warrior whispered in return. “I’ve noticed it before. He has an inimical effect on life.”
They were nearing the cave now. Zhu Irzh could hear the sound of voices and the crackle of flames. With Omi close behind him, he edged around the side of the rocks and peered out.
The Khan was seated squarely in front of a campfire. He held his hands out before him, as if warming them, but when the demon shifted position he saw that the Khan’s hands were directly in the fire itself. Zhu Irzh’s eyebrows rose. A human’s fingers would be crisped within seconds, given the level of the blaze, but the Khan’s hands were steady. His face was lit by the fire, giving him a livid countenance. The scarlet streaks of the flames made him look as though he had been flayed.
“What’s he doing?” Zhu Irzh murmured.
“I think he’s drawing power from the fire.”
Zhu Irzh thought that Omi was right. The Khan was growing in stature, swelling like a frog. A moment later he let his hands drop and the fire abruptly went out, extinguished as though someone had doused it with water. Only a handful of coals, glowing like an ifrit’s eye, remained and one by one winked out. The clearing in front of the cave was lost in shadows and smoke. The Khan rose and strode down the path toward the forest. The ifrit general followed, at a gesture from his leader.
“Where’s he going?”
Omi and Zhu Irzh slid through the trees at a safe distance. Unlike them, the Khan did not
seem to care how much noise he made. He crashed through the undergrowth, unheeding of whatever lay in his path. At first the demon thought he was heading for the main encampment, but it soon became evident that the Khan was, for once, not concerned with his warriors. Through the gloom, the demon could still see the magical threads by which he held them, snaking around one thick wrist and extending out into the darkness, a spidery web of power.
The Khan was now heading straight down the mountainside, making it difficult for even Zhu Irzh and Omi to follow him. Both needed to be careful of their footing, and Zhu Irzh started to worry that they would lose sight of their quarry. He was also concerned that someone might be following them, and kept casting glances over his shoulder. There was no one to be seen, but Omi had managed to creep up on him and Zhu Irzh was by no means confident of his own abilities.
There was something up ahead. Zhu Irzh strained to see, but it wasn’t clear — some kind of building? But who would put any construction on such a steep hillside? The first heavy rain would wash its foundations away. Then Omi gave a little indrawn breath of understanding, and Zhu Irzh understood, too.
“It’s a portal!”
A black square in the air, distinct even against the shadows of the trees. A darkly glittering outline betrayed its extent. The Khan stepped through it, accompanied by his general. Omi and the demon glanced at one another, waited for a second, and then they followed.
FORTY-EIGHT
Inari stood at the window of her turret in Agarta, watching as the steppe sped by. Agarta was, so Nandini had told her, legendary for its serenity, the peacefulness which it bestowed upon its inhabitants, and this had been something which Inari had experienced for herself. So why was she now aware of such a tension in her stomach, the baby turning uneasily within, and a band like a strap of steel tightening around her head?
Chen was down in the Council chamber with the Book, talking to Nandini. Inari knew that it was a good idea to try and get some sleep, but she was too restless. Maybe this was just some symptom of pregnancy; perhaps going for a walk would be a good idea…
With that thought in mind, she went through the door and down the stairs, heading for the ramparts. But before she reached them, there was a curious vibration in the air. Halfway down the stairs, Inari nearly fell. She clutched the banister for support and regained her footing.
Agarta was shuddering. The staircase on which Inari stood began to creak, a sound she did not think stone was capable of making. Alarmed, Inari hastened down the stairs, gripping the banister in case the shuddering came again. It did not and she was beginning to feel that it had been nothing more than a temporary perturbation when she reached the bottom of the steps and the city gave a great groan like an animal in pain.
Singapore Three had been subject to earthquakes: some naturally generated, some not. Living on a houseboat, this had been a constant fear, but Chen had also told Inari what to do if a quake hit while she was out in the city. She was, she understood, safer outside than in, and although this did not really apply to the self-contained Agarta, she didn’t like the idea of all that stone tumbling down the stairwell on top of her. So she bolted as quickly as she dared toward the door and out onto the ramparts.
There, she collided with Jhai, emerging just as rapidly from another doorway. The two women clutched one another.
“What — ?” Jhai stared at the thing rising up ahead of them, across the rampart. It took a moment for Inari to recognize it, accustomed as her eyes had become to smaller structures. Even Agarta’s towers were dwarfed by this building.
Jhai pointed a trembling figure at the monstrosity. “That’s Paugeng.”
She was right. The skyscraper rocketed into the heavens, with its red Jaruda bird symbol blazing at them over the edge of the rampart. Inari could see a strip of sea through a gap in the clustering buildings, and the lights of the city beyond. From forty stories up, late in the evening, the skyline of Singapore Three was an impressive sight.
“We’re home!” Jhai sounded more appalled than relieved.
“But I thought Agarta wasn’t able to travel outside the west of China?”
“So did I. Maybe it’s changed its mind.” But the agonizing creaks and groans that were resonating throughout the city’s structure suggested a different tale to Inari. Now Nandini ran out onto the terrace. Her impassive, remote serenity was gone: her face was distorted and she was wringing her hands. Jhai seized her by the arm.
“What’s going on?”
“Agarta has been hijacked! We have been wrenched out of our path, stolen away!”
“Who’d hijack a flying city?” Jhai asked, but Inari, with an awful sinking in the pit of her stomach, found that she already knew the answer to that question.
“The Empress! Where is she?”
At this, Nandini rushed off, looking even more panic-stricken.
•
Chen had been in the main chamber of the city when the shift had occurred. Nandini, obviously closer than Chen to the city’s own soul, had screamed and run from the room. This change in her was almost more startling than their sudden alteration in location. Chen and Roerich, with a horrified glance at one another, rushed to the window.
“The city’s in pain,” Roerich said. “I can feel it.”
“It shouldn’t be here,” Chen said, the policeman in him coming to the fore. “There’s helicopter traffic at this level — and if we go any higher, we’ll be in the flight path.” Paugeng wasn’t so close to the airport, but it was still within crashing distance, and after that episode in New York all those years ago, the combination of flight and large buildings was not an appealing one. Just as this thought struck him, Agarta shot upward at dizzying speed. Both Chen and Roerich were thrown against the wall.
“First flying boats,” Chen said through gritted teeth, “and now flying cities.” He’d not counted on such an aerial week. Below, the vast tower of Paugeng was receding fast. Around it, the towers of Singapore Three were approaching the dimensions of pins. The shattered stumps of those buildings that had been demolished in the last, goddess-induced quake were clearly visible, with the cranes around them looking like small pecking birds.
“What is Nandini thinking?” Chen asked.
“I don’t think this is Nandini’s doing,” Roerich replied. “I think the city is panicking.”
Looking down at the vertiginous view, Chen agreed. He was about to suggest to Roerich that they go in search of Nandini, when Agarta veered sharply to the left and soared out across the bay. Suddenly looking down on water was slightly better than the concrete jungle below, but the harbor was conspicuous now, and so was the empty space where Chen’s houseboat should have been. Another thing to worry about, but at the moment, his main concern was Inari.
As if he had read Chen’s thoughts, Roerich said, “If you need to look for your wife, Chen, please do so. We’ll find her first, and then go in search of Nandini.”
“I’d appreciate it,” Chen said, and headed for the reeling stairs.
By the time he reached the ramparts, the city was once more coming back over Singapore Three. Someone had, by now, noticed that local airspace was being occupied by an unauthorized visitor, and as Chen approached the bottom of the stairs, a jet streaked past, flying low over the harbor and coming back around across the hills. Agarta was, so Chen had been told, supposed to be invisible to the eyes of unenlightened mortals but unless the Chinese air force was suddenly embarking upon a particularly tricky set of maneuvers, he had the feeling that the city was, by now, all too visible.
Just as he stepped out onto the ramparts, Inari appeared around the corner, with Jhai in tow.
“We think it’s the Empress,” Jhai told him curtly.
“Seems like the most probable candidate. Does anyone know where Nandini was holding her?”
Jhai shook her head. “No idea. But if it is the Empress, she doesn’t seem to have much control over her latest acquisition.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Chen agree
d, as the city lurched back over the skyscrapers. “Inari, wait here. Hang onto something!”
“I’ll try not to fall off,” his wife wryly remarked. As she braced herself against one of the pillars, Chen, Roerich, and Jhai pelted down the stairs.
“Does Agarta have dungeons?” Chen shouted to Roerich, against the sudden roar of the wind in the narrow passages. It looked as though the city’s internal climate was breaking down and that wasn’t good news: the non-humans could probably cope but at this altitude, anyone else was likely to freeze. And Agarta didn’t seem like the kind of place that would possess dungeons.
“I think there are rooms on one of the lower levels,” Roerich called back, confirming his fears. “But they’re not really cells. Agarta doesn’t often take prisoners, as you can imagine.”
They reached a wide platform and Chen, startled, saw that the center of the city was almost hollow. Parapets circled an echoing space, filled with dim light. He felt as though he had stepped into the presence of some vast entity, not a god, but a living, thinking being, and a moment later realized that this was precisely what had happened. They were at the heart of Agarta, the source of the voice Roerich had mentioned.
