by Liz Williams
Not far away, across the line of barrels, the eyes of a terracotta warrior blinked open and Zhu Irzh thought: Oh shit. Blood-magic to energize an army of earth, and it seemed that the blood of a magician was worth any number of mortal captives.
FIFTY
The Roc soared downward, its broad wings spread wide like a fan, catching and riding the thermals that spiraled up between the skyscrapers of the city. Looking back, Chen could still see the inverted cone of Agarta. He fumbled at the strap around his neck, checking that the Book was still intact and had not fallen out into the depths of Singapore Three. But the scroll was still safely stored in its case.
“Bird!” Jhai shouted, scrambling forward. “Can you take us there?”
There was Paugeng, coming fast up ahead. Chen had never thought that he’d be so pleased to set eyes on Jhai’s slightly sinister headquarters.
“Very well,” the Roc said, and veered.
“What is that building?” Roerich asked.
“It belongs to Jhai,” Chen said. “It’s pretty secure.”
Although if the Empress decided to do something really rash, like crash Agarta into the city, he doubted that even Paugeng would be secure for long. He could see from the thoughtful look on Roerich’s face that the Russian was entertaining similar doubts.
The Roc soared downward and came to light on the roof of the corporation. Up here, so many stories high, it was almost cold. Chen helped Inari down from the Roc’s back; she looked exhausted. Security guards were running toward them, weapons drawn.
“Hey!” Jhai shouted. “It’s me.” Within minutes, she had everyone organized: Inari was led down to Jhai’s own apartment in order to get some rest, and the others to a boardroom. Before she left, Jhai spoke to the Roc, urgently and at length. To his regret, Chen was too far away to hear what she said, but it seemed to satisfy the bird, for it dipped its bronzed head in acknowledgement and flapped up to perch patiently on a stanchion.
“What did you say to it?” Chen asked, as they made their way down the stairs.
“Promises,” Jhai said curtly, and would not elaborate.
In the boardroom, Chen looked at the faces around him. Jhai, Robin, and Roerich. It was a reassuring sight, but he missed Zhu Irzh. He’d grown so used to having the demon around that his absence felt like a spat tooth. And what had become of the badger? Chen could count on the ability of Inari’s familiar to look after itself but there were limits. Not to mention the houseboat… At this thought Chen sighed and turned his attention back to the matter in hand.
“…best I go now if you can arrange transport,” Robin was saying.
Roerich leaned across the boardroom table. “Where is the temple located? Is it close by?”
“No, it’s across the city. I’ll get you a car — ”
But just as Jhai spoke, the air on the other side of the boardroom started to shimmer. It glowed blue, a Celestial azure, and for a moment Chen thought the Empress had found them. Then the air solidified into a familiar figure and Mhara stepped into the room.
Robin ran to him without a sound. They did not embrace but took hands for a moment, then Robin stepped back. Chen could almost see the mantle of the priestesshood fall over her, like a veil. The Emperor of Heaven turned to Chen.
“My mother.”
“Yes, we’ve had a few problems,” Chen said.
Roerich bowed. “But Chen has secured what you sent him in search of.”
Mhara smiled. “Do you mean Inari, or the Book?”
Chen returned the smile. “Both, in fact. Inari’s resting. The Book is here.” With relief, he unhooked the strap from his shoulder and handed over the parchment in its case. As soon as he did so, there was a change in the entity. From being an inert object, it returned to life; Chen could feel this, as though the Book had pulled a thread which bound them.
“I am in another place,” the Book said wonderingly. “But I know you.”
“Yes. I am your Emperor,” Mhara said. “You have been on a long journey, haven’t you?”
“I tried to mend things.” The Book sounded regretful.
“Go back,” Mhara said, and reached out a hand. He drew a gateway in the air and held the Book out to it. “When all is well again, I will come and talk to you. We’ll discuss your unhappiness.”
“Thank you,” Chen heard the Book say, but it was already fading and in another moment it had disappeared through the air.
“Good,” Mhara said. “Back where it belongs.”
“I’m profoundly glad to be rid of the thing,” Chen said.
“Yes, it’s caused enough trouble. Well done, Chen.”
“It’s my job. And anyway, I had a lot of help. Do you know what’s happened to Zhu Irzh?”
“I have no idea. This omniscience thing — it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, you know,” Mhara said ruefully. “But in the meantime, we need to deal with my mother.”
“This floating city,” Jhai said. “I’m assuming we can’t just shoot it down out to sea?”
“Quite apart from any ethical considerations,” Roerich said, “the resulting tidal wave would cause as much havoc as anything the Empress is planning.”
“I’m surprised she’s managed to take over the city so quickly,” Chen said.
“The trouble with Agarta,” Roerich said, “as we found with young Omi, is that people become beguiled by the city. But like all spells, it’s reversible. If the Empress found a way to reverse it, it may be that the city has become besotted by her.”
“The power of the Imperial Court is often one of glamour,” Mhara pointed out. “My mother was once beloved of all Heaven. And she’s had quite some time, alone in her prison, to work on her magic. Her power might be decaying, but if she’s found a way to gain back even a fraction of what she had, it could be enough.”
“Inari told me that when they first came across the Empress’ ship, her guards were absent,” Chen said. “I got the impression that they had too much to deal with — that the incursions into the Sea of Night were increasing. We know that the barriers between these various Hells are breaking down.”
Mhara sighed. “I’m responsible for this. I thought we were keeping a close enough eye on the situation, but I became distracted when the Book went missing. I should be the one to shoulder the blame. Besides, she’s my mother.”
Chen was about to reply when a sound shrilled through the boardroom. Jhai jumped up. “What the — that’s the alarm!”
Footsteps were already thudding along the hallway outside the boardroom. Chen and the others rushed outside to see a security detail heading down the stairs. Jhai grabbed a guard.
“What’s going on?”
“Incursion in the atrium, ma’am. We’ve had to shut down the elevators.”
“For god’s sake,” Jhai muttered. “Can’t get a moment’s peace.”
“In the event that it’s Mother…” the Emperor said, and next moment Chen was standing by Mhara’s side in Paugeng’s large atrium. Ferns fronded the entrance, almost hiding the reception desk from view. But behind it, the receptionist was screaming. A brief rattle of gunfire came from the courtyard of the atrium. A Celestial warrior was striding through the atrium: a male presence, of similar pallor to Miss Qi. Chen’s first thought was one of relief: Mhara had managed to summon backup. But just as Chen started to step out, the Emperor caught him by the arm. The warrior raised a spear and sent out a bolt of energy to the far end of the atrium. There was the sound of gunfire again, but the bullets clattered harmlessly to the floor.
“That’s the incursion?” Jhai cried.
All the Celestials Mhara had sent to Earth, Chen thought, all those heavenly presences who were now in residence in Singapore Three. Miss Qi had told him that the Empress had taken control of her on the Sea of Night. It looked as though she’d tried the same trick again. And succeeded.
Beside Chen, Mhara raised a hand in turn. The warrior halted in his tracks. An expression of bewilderment crossed his face.
&n
bsp; “Hold your fire!” Jhai snapped to an unseen guard. A sensation of peace and calm washed over Chen, something that had become entirely unfamiliar in recent months. It was coming from Mhara: Heaven’s energy, channeled through its Emperor. It struck the warrior like a soft blow and he fell to his knees. Chen saw a small dark thread recoil from the top of the warrior’s head, snapping like elastic and then shooting away out of the door. The warrior blinked, the Empress’ hold on him broken.
“All well and good,” Mhara said grimly, “but what about the rest of them?”
FIFTY-ONE
The cavern was falling down around Zhu Irzh’s ears. With Omi, he cowered behind the barrels, waiting for rocks to stop falling. Above the racket, the Khan’s voice was thundering in a rage-induced spell and the demon could hear laughter, too — the mad Emperor Shi Huang Di. It could be no one else.
At last the noise stopped. The pale sky of dawn was now visible through the shattered roof. Zhu Irzh peered cautiously over a barrel. The terracotta army stood where it had stood before, its lines unharmed. But the army itself was stirring: sword arms flexing, bows becoming strung. Zhu Irzh stared. The terracotta warriors did not look human, but neither did they appear to be made of clay, either. Their skins were a reddish, ruddy color; their eyes small black slits. Despite their earthy origins, they moved with an unnatural fluidity which reminded Zhu Irzh of demonkind. Possessed, but by what?
The Khan gave a roar of triumph. He raised his hands high above his head and cried, “Onward!” Ignoring the remaining human captives, he stepped over the bloodstained body of the magician and beckoned to the army. “Move!”
And the army did so, striding forward across the floor of the cavern toward the collapsed wall. It poured through the gap and the Khan marched beside it. Once he had passed through the gap Zhu Irzh and Omi ran out from behind the barrels and cut Raksha’s bonds, then, as a matter of principle, freed the other warriors, who rose stiffly and followed the Khan with blank expressions.
“Thank you,” Raksha said. “Who were those warriors?”
The demon attempted to explain, as they followed the army. The Khan was wasting no time. As they emerged into the dawn light Zhu Irzh saw the animated army marching through another black portal in the air.
“Now that he’s got his warriors,” Zhu Irzh said to Omi, “where do you think he’s going?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Omi answered.
•
As they stepped through the portal, Zhu Irzh realized for the first time the extent of the army. The ifrits had been joined by the warriors from Samarkand and the steppes, and these in turn by the terracotta soldiers. In all, the demon estimated, there must have been several thousand individuals, all under the will of the Khan. At the other end of the long line rode the cavalry: human and clay, the terracotta horses prancing with eager life. They rode toward a square of light, which the demon assumed to be another portal.
Another moment — and then the square flooded open. Zhu Irzh, briefly blinded, threw a hand up to protect his eyes and felt himself being whisked forward. He stumbled out onto concrete.
Familiarity. He knew this place, the smell of the air: cooking and the harbor and inadequate drains. A little like Hell, but uniquely its own self, and the demon was surprised to find how much it felt like home. The Khan had taken his troops to Singapore Three. Omi, wide-eyed, said, “This is — ”
“I know. But why are we here?”
Omi’s eyes widened yet further. “I think that might have something to do with it.”
The demon followed the direction of his gaze. They were close to the Opera House, the army spilling out into the wide area in front of the domed building. The wide avenue of Shaopeng led down toward the harbor, and at the end of it Zhu Irzh could see a strip of sky with something like a chandelier hanging in it. At first, with a distinct sense of disbelief, he thought he was looking at a UFO. Then he realized that this, too, was familiar.
“Agarta,” Omi breathed, but with more dismay than any other discernible emotion.
“What’s it doing here? I thought it couldn’t travel beyond the West.”
“Neither could the Khan.”
That was true enough. The Book’s attempts to change the course of history seemed not to have been final — the existence of Singapore Three, as dissolute, stinking, and hectic as ever, was the final proof of that for Zhu Irzh — but it had certainly shaken things loose.
Raksha was glancing about her, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her expression — fear, wonder, and something that might almost have been amusement — was enough to give her away to anyone who might be watching. Zhu Irzh seized her by the arm and pulled her into a nearby alleyway.
“Time to leave the military,” he said. Ahead, Agarta was beginning to move.
FIFTY-TWO
Miss Qi would go with the security detail, Mhara informed Chen, as she knew how to handle her fellow Celestials. He did not want casualties, but under the circumstances, they might be difficult to avoid. Jhai was making her own plans. But they all decided it would be best for Inari to remain at Paugeng. The Emperor would have offered the sanctuary of his own temple, Chen knew, but recently it had hardly proved such for his wife, given that the temple had been the scene of Inari’s own death. As for Paugeng, it wasn’t ideal but at least it was reasonably defended. And present in this dimension.
“What about you?” Chen asked Mhara.
“I’m going to try to get onto Agarta. But at the moment — it’s shutting me out. Roerich has some ideas which we’re going to try.”
“I’ll stay with you,” Chen said. Inari’s safety was paramount, but after that, he needed to look after his city and the best chance of that was by helping Mhara. He started as his phone rang and an unknown number appeared on the screen.
“Yes?”
“Chen! It’s me!”
“Zhu Irzh! Where are you?”
“Here, in the city,” the demon said, speaking hurriedly. “So is the Khan. So is an army.”
“What kind of army?”
“All sorts — warriors from the steppe, horsemen, and he’s brought the terracotta army with him.”
For a moment, Chen didn’t think he’d heard properly. “The what?”
“That army that mad warlord had made,” Zhu Irzh said. “The one in Xi’an, to accompany him into the afterlife. The Khan’s animated them.”
“I see.” Though he didn’t, exactly. “All we’ve got to deal with is a rogue flying city, the demented former Empress of Heaven, and some possessed Celestials.”
“Yes, I saw Agarta,” Zhu Irzh said. “What’s it doing here?”
As briefly as possible, Chen brought him up-to-date. “We’re in Paugeng. Jhai’s here, too.” The demon hadn’t actually asked after his fiancée, Chen noted: perhaps he’d automatically assumed that Jhai was fine. One tended to, somehow.
“Then we’re heading over,” Zhu Irzh said.
“Be careful,” Chen told him. “There’s been one battle in the hallway already.”
•
He had not, the demon said later, encountered too many problems.
“Met a Celestial but she seemed stoned rather than aggressive. Other than that, the Khan’s army is congregating around the Opera House.”
“I know,” Chen said. “I spoke to the precinct. The army’s been drafted in.”
“I don’t know how much to worry about it,” Zhu Irzh said. “On the one hand you’ve got horsemen and clay zombies. Against the Chinese infantry, even in the middle of a city, you’d think it would be no contest. But then again, the Khan’s behind them.” He looked suddenly somber, an unfamiliar expression on the normally upbeat demon’s features.
“He’s really got to you, hasn’t he?” Chen said. Both Roerich and Jhai had spoken to him of the Khan, but this was the first time that Chen had been able to see for himself how greatly the warlord had affected the demon.
“Yeah. I don’t know why. Nicholas said he’d m
arked me but I don’t know why. He had me under a possession spell for a while but Omi managed to break it, otherwise I’d be standing outside the Opera House now waiting for orders.”
“Well,” Chen said firmly, “you’re free and that’s all that matters.”
“What’s happening with Agarta?”
“See for yourself.”
They were now in Jhai’s private apartments, high up in Paugeng. From here, they could see a huge swathe of the city. Agarta hung like a lantern directly above the Opera House itself: the gilded dome of the Opera seemed to be trying to reach up and touch Agarta’s base, as though the two were mirror images of one another.
