by Marty Chan
Amina cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention. “My mother used to say that sharing a meal reminds us life is a journey we take together, no matter where we are from. Mahindaize was the major crop in my world. Mahindaize sustained my people. Hzintalli is a stew made from what survived the invasion.”
“It reminds us that life perseveres,” Mr. Serenity added.
“Yes.” She offered the bowl of corn to Ning Shu, who nodded and dished a spoon of the warm kernels on her plate. Then she dished some onto a plate for Hakeem’s death mask, before passing the bowl to Ehrich, who raised an eyebrow, confused.
Ning Shu explained: “To ease Hakeem’s transition to the eternal sleep, his death mask experiences part of Hakeem’s life.”
“An exquisite design,” Mr. Serenity said. “How did you learn to do this?”
“From my father. We fashioned the death mask for my mother. It was the first time in a while that we were together for longer than a meal. For two days we did nothing but study her face—her lines, her hair, even her freckles. Then, when we were ready, my father mixed the compounds and cast her face in the bronze mould. He said the cast could only capture the shape of my mother’s face; we had to breathe our memories into her features. He guided my hand when I carved the worry lines along the bronze forehead and he told me stories. How they shared their first kiss under the mulberry tree that grew outside my bedroom window. How, when my grandmother died, I couldn’t stop crying until Mother wrapped her arms around me. My father said he stood outside the room, watching, unwilling to come in. He said this was a cherished moment between mother and daughter, and he knew better than to interrupt. He told me the stories would ease my mother’s transition from life to death.” Ning Shu’s face contorted into a grimace of pain. “He wouldn’t shed a tear for my mother—claimed the death mask was a celebration of her life, but I knew he was lying. When he thought he was alone, he caressed her cheek. He looked so lonely and lost without her. I watched from behind a pillar as he leaned over and kissed her bronze lips. I wanted to hug him, but I knew this was his moment. His story to her.
“When Hakeem came to me with his doubts about continuing to work for my father, I told him he had to quit and leave. He was so scared of my father that he refused to even entertain the idea of defecting. I told him this story of my father to show him that Ba Tian, the cruel and merciless warlord of the House of Qi, could be as lost and vulnerable as any man. And if he feels pain like any man, he can be defeated. Hakeem’s death opened the portal and allowed us to banish my father. This is the story I give to his death mask to take to the other side.”
“I wish I knew him so I could give him a story,” Ehrich said.
“You can share a meal with him and remind him life continues,” Ning Shu said. “This looks incredible, Amina.”
“Thank you. Everyone please eat. Let’s give Hakeem a proper send off.”
Mr. Serenity spooned the hzintalli into his mouth and his face puckered as if he had sucked a lemon. Ehrich followed suit and nearly gagged on the sour milk taste swilling around his tongue.
“Is something wrong?” Amina asked.
“The path to your destiny does not go past the kitchen,” he said.
“Can’t be that bad,” Ning Shu said. She took a bite and self-consciously chewed for several minutes until she could force down the food. “The meat…has a…a…robust texture.”
“I don’t care what any of you say, this is the food of my people and I will not be insulted.” Amina scooped a healthy portion of both hzintalli and mahindaize into her mouth, chewed once and delicately regurgitated the mixture on to her plate.
Everyone burst into laughter. Ehrich pushed his dish toward Hakeem’s death mask. “We shouldn’t be the only ones to suffer.”
More laughter.
“Okay, okay. From now on, I’ll stick to the battlefield,” Amina proclaimed.
“Our stomachs thank you,” Mr. Serenity quipped. “I think I have a Xibanic loaf in the pantry.”
He left the room.
Ehrich leaned back in his chair. “So now that Ba Tian is gone what happens to his army?”
Ning Shu answered, “They are soldiers. Trained to follow orders.”
Amina added, “And if Kifo is in league with your father, I suspect he will have orders for them.”
The red-skinned girl nodded. “It will only be a matter of time before my father finds a portal back here. We’ve delayed his plans, but we have not stopped the war.”
Silence filled the room as the weight of the truth settled on the trio.
Amina straightened up. “Ning Shu, you said the soldiers will follow orders, right?”
She nodded.
“If Ba Tian and Kifo aren’t there, who would they follow?”
“The one who bears the symbol of the House of Qi,” Ning Shu said, holding up her jade tael.
Amina asked, “And other than your father and Kifo, who knows that you have defected?”
“No one. My father wouldn’t be able to stand the shame of his own daughter turning against him. It would make him look weak.”
Ehrich cracked a smile. “Amina, you’re talking about a magic act. With Ba Tian missing, the rightful heir would take his place and lead the army, and that’s Ning Shu. By the time Ba Tian comes back, we’ll have control of his war machines.”
“Where does the magic come in?” Ning Shu asked.
“We have to make Kifo disappear,” Ehrich said.
Smiles broke out across the table. They were united in cause and mission. Mr. Serenity returned to the room empty handed.
“Apologies. I thought I had Xibanic, but I couldn’t find anything.”
“That’s okay,” Ehrich said. “What about the covered dish?”
Amina lunged and grabbed the dish. “I don’t think I can stand any more of your comments about my cooking.”
Ehrich pleaded, “Let’s just take a look.”
“Yes, maybe you lucked out on this one,” Mr. Serenity said, chortling.
Ning Shu admonished him. “We’ve mocked her enough. Amina, if we promise not to tease, will you show us what you’ve made?”
“Do you swear?” Amina asked, fixing her gaze at Mr. Serenity.
“Buttoning my lip. Nothing comes out, nothing goes in. Sorry, last one.”
Amina picked up one end of the tea towel. “I made this for you, Ehrich,” she said as she lifted the towel off to reveal a pie with a golden brown crust.
Ehrich beamed. “Apple?”
She nodded.
“How did you learn how to bake an apple pie?” he asked.
“I had to ask around Purgatory until I found someone who worked for a baker above ground. He gave me the ingredients and instructions. I hope the pie is right.”
“Only one way to find out,” Ning Shu proclaimed, grabbing a knife and cutting pieces for everyone.
“You didn’t have to do this,” Ehrich told Amina.
She smiled. “Everyone needs a little something from home.”
“Well, thank you,” he said, taking a bite of the pastry. It was a surprisingly big-hearted but completely inedible piece of apple pie.
“Well?” Amina asked. “What do you think?”
Ehrich smiled as his new friends looked at him expectantly. “Tastes like home.”
Text copyright © 2013 Marty Chan
Published in Canada by Fitzhenry & Whiteside,
195 Allstate Parkway, Markham, Ontario L3R 4T8
Published in the United States in 2013 by Fitzhenry & Whiteside,
311 Washington Street, Brighton, Massachusetts 02135
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced
in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher,
except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews and articles.
All inquiries should be addressed to Fitzhenry & Whiteside Limited,
195 Allstate Parkway, Markham, Ontario L3R 4T8.
www.fitzhenry.c
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Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Chan, Marty, author
The Ehrich Weisz chronicles : demon gate / Marty Chan.
eISBN 978-1-55455-873-5, 978-1-55455-306-8 (pbk.)
I. Title.
PS8555.H39244E47 2013 jC813’.54 C2013-906404-4
Publisher Cataloging-in-Publication Data (U.S.)
The Ehrich Weisz Chronicles: Demon Gate
eISBN 978-1-55455-873-5, 978-1-55455-306-8 (Paperback)
Data available on file
Fitzhenry & Whiteside acknowledges with thanks the
Canada Council for the Arts, and the Ontario Arts Council
for their support of our publishing program. We acknowledge
the financial support of the Government of Canada through the
Canada Book Fund (CBF) for our publishing activities.
Cover design by Tanya Montini
Text design by Daniel Choi
Cover image courtesy of Shutterstock | Cover art courtesy of Suzanne Del Rizzo
