The Firebird's Vengeance

by Sarah Zettel

  Now came the moment of vulnerability. She had to turn her back on them, and kneel down, and push the lantern into the drain. The smell of old blood and old waste was hideous, but it was preferable to the scent of smoke that was growing stronger by the heartbeat. Now they could shove Tsan Nu aside. Now they could ruin all.

  But small hands grasped her heels and Tsan Nu’s familiar voice said, “I am ready.”

  Mae Shan crawled forward, edging the lantern along the tunnel of dank stone. Damp seeped through her clothes at the knees and elbows. Something cold dripped onto the top of her head, ran down her scalp, and then down the back of her neck, making her shiver. More droplets pattered against her back and calves. After the heat and terrible light, the cold and dark were a relief at first. Soon, though, the narrow tunnel became oppressive. Mae Shan knew where the drain ended, but she did not know what came between here and the midden. Were there more grates? Had the conflagration overhead collapsed the foundations along the way? The shuffling and moans of her followers echoed off the baked clay and filled Mae Shan’s ears. Summoning all the discipline she could muster, she shut the small, desperate sounds off from her mind. She kept crawling, inching the flickering lantern along ahead of her and trying not to start at the shadows.

  They crawled for what felt like hours. Mae Shan’s elbows and knees seemed bruised past endurance. Each breath Tsan Nu took was a whimper and one of the other children had begun to cry, softly but insistently. At last, Mae Shan looked up and saw the grey circlet that was the mouth of the pipe, and the dawn outside.

  “I see it!” shouted one of the men before Mae Shan could open her mouth. “Goddess of Mercy, I see the end!”

  Prayers and weeping bounced loudly off the pipe’s curving sides and Mae Shan winced. A moment later, she berated herself. There was no enemy waiting for her. Did she think the Phoenix would hear their escape and come for them?

  Am I sure it won’t? Oh, Goddess of Mercy, do not abandon us here. At least cast your eye on the children. The children can’t have offended.

  Faint daylight filtered through the pipe’s mouth. Mae Shan crawled out to its rough, stone lip and took a moment to blow out the lantern. Then, squinting against the grey dawn, she lowered herself into the waist-deep canal, turned, and held out her arms for Tsan Nu.

  The child permitted herself to be carried to the bank and stood on her feet. There were no boats or barges on this little side channel of the main canal, but there should have been. Likewise, the one bridge Mae Shan could see was empty of pedestrians. So were the streets. Even though it was just dawn, laborers and vendors should have been about their business. The wind was hot and the air was thick with ash and the reek of smoke and worse things. Reluctantly, Mae Shan turned around.

  T’ien, the city that held the Heart of the World, was a city of walls. They loomed on all sides, defining neighborhoods, market and business quarters, sheltering the streets and allowing soldiers free passage unencumbered by the traffic of carts and pedestrians. From here, Mae Shan could not see the Heart of the World. There was only a black cloud of smoke and ash rising into the brightening sky. The fire must still be burning, for the cloud’s belly glowed bright orange. Sparks and burning debris fluttered on the wind, spreading out to land where they would, to start new fires in the gardens and take down the wood and earth walls of the houses where they alighted. Mae Shan swallowed. The Phoenix’s work was not yet done.

  “Madame soldier,” said a soft voice at her elbow. Slowly, Mae Shan looked down. One of the women who had followed her was beside her. Her night clothes were soaked to the shoulder and water ran in rivulets from the ends of her unbound hair. She coughed from the ash and smoke, and her eyes were wide with fear. “Madame soldier, what do we do now?”

  Mae Shan’s gaze turned involuntarily back to the cloud of ruin spreading out across the city. A shiver that had nothing to do with cold ran down her spine.

  I don’t know. May the Heavens help us all. I don’t know.

  But she could not say any such thing. She was the representative of the imperial house here, however deep in ashes that house now stood. She had to know.

  Where stillness is not possible, order must be primary. The voice of Mae Shan’s training master echoed in her mind. Before she had been assigned to duty as a personal bodyguard, she had been taught as a soldier of the Heart, which included instruction on how to deal with civilian disarray.

  “We must clear the streets,” she said firmly. She looked around her, noting the markings on the closest walls and the lay of the buildings. Fortunately, there was daylight enough for her to make out what she needed. “We are in the Street of the Hospitable. That” — she pointed to the nearby cross street — “is the Street of Shining Morning.” Thorough knowledge of the city’s byways was required for all the Heart’s soldiers. “You who have friends or relatives within the city bounds must go to them as quickly as possible. Others must take shelter in the public houses. The nearest is east down the Street of Shining Morning. Tell them you are under orders, and wait for the official directives, which will be made shortly.” So I hope. “In the meantime, make sure all vessels are filled with water and wet down the walls and roofs of the houses.”

  “Yes, madame soldier,” they murmured. “Thank you, madame.” In twos and threes they moved away, huddling close to each other as if for warmth, despite the burning wind. They did not run, but walked weaving paths as if dazed or drunk. Mae Shan spared a prayer for them, although she did not know a single name, and hoped they would find safety.

  Deep in her heart, she prayed for herself as well.

  Tsan Nu had hoped when they emerged that the air would be fresh after the stink of the sewers, but it was not. The red dawn was filled with ash and hot smoke and it grated on the inside of her throat and nostrils as she tried to breathe.

  Mae Shan was telling the others what they should do. Tsan Nu, however, knew that Mae Shan would take care of her, so she did not pay close attention. Instead, she looked up at the clouds of smoke from the Heart of the World, shivering as her nightdress hardened in stiff folds against her body from the hot, ashen wind.

  As she had thought, the devils were rising. The cloud of smoke and bright embers that rolled endlessly into the brightening sky was beginning to separate out. The wisps and streamers took on fresh shapes and colors — an emerald, clawed hand clutching a poleax here, a pair of glaring yellow eyes there, a bright red mouth in another place. All the devils the Nine Elders had held in check for three thousand years were free now and they would soon be looking for plunder and ruin.

  “Come, mistress,” said Mae Shan. “Hold my sleeve. We must hurry.”

  Tsan Nu grasped the short sleeve of Mae Shan’s nightshirt and made herself hurry along as best she could, taking three steps for every one of the tall woman’s strides. Mae Shan would watch the way. Tsan Nu watched the walls. She was vaguely aware of people rushing past, some with their arms and wheelbarrows full of possessions and weeping children. Some carried buckets on yokes, running to the wells and fountains for water to protect their homes. She squinted between weaving torsos, and up past bowed heads and frightened faces to try to see the wards drawn in red and blue on the pale walls.

  The blessing posts at the corners still stood, that was good. People bowed to them, weeping, that was not good. No god or ancestor would hear them there. Mae Shan would not slow down so Tsan Nu could explain that to anyone. These were only places for guardian spells. They needed to go find the gods in their temples. The smoke was getting thicker. Her hair dried against her scalp in tight coils that itched. She coughed and Mae Shan held out a handkerchief and told her to press it over her her mouth. She did, and that helped some, although tears still streamed from her stinging eyes, making it hard to decipher the runes as they ran by.

  Overhead, the devils continued their work. The little ones swarmed over the larger, helping join together severed limbs to create whole creatures with skins of scarlet, night black, blazing yellow, or brilliant gr
een. Their white fangs gnashed together and they rolled their eyes as they looked down on the ruin that was the Heart of the World. The little demons danced around them, tiny whirlwinds of color raising their pikes, or their taloned hands to rake at the smoke as if seeking to claw Heaven apart.

  Tsan Nu shivered and stumbled over an uneven cobble. Mae Shan jerked her arm up a little to keep her from falling. While she tried to find her stride again, Tsan Nu looked around for a street sign, to try to see where they were. Mae Shan hurried them around another corner. The smoke seemed thicker here. Tsan Nu craned her neck as they hurried past the blessing post.

  The Imperial Way, she managed to read before smoke and distance obscured the characters. Her throat seized shut. Mae Shan was circling them back toward the Heart of the World.

  “No!” Tsan Nu shouted, digging in her heels. “We can’t!”

  The biggest of the red devils in the sky was almost fully formed now. Lesser demons and devils were running to it, bringing a finger here, and a bit of horn or whisker there so it could complete itself. At last, a whole host of little demons with paws and faces like tigers charged up to it, bearing on their shoulders a great, curved sword in an elaborate golden scabbard. The chief devil, now complete, bared all its fangs in an evil grin and drew the sword, swinging the blade over its head with the force of a whirlwind, spinning the smoke around it into fantastic shapes. She saw at once what it was doing. It was spreading out the embers of the Phoenix’s fire over T’ien. That fire would destroy houses, but it would also crumble the walls, leaving the demons free paths to descend upon the city’s inhabitants, and on those who fled, like Mae Shan, and her.

  “We must go back, mistress.” Strain tightened Mae Shan’s voice. “If any of my compatriots are still alive, that is where they will be, and they will know where the survivors are to be taken. The Temple of Glorious Heaven may still stand …”

  “No!” cried Tsan Nu again. She stabbed her finger up at the sky. “Don’t you see?” No. Of course she didn’t. Mae Shan didn’t have the right kind of eyes. “The devils are out there!” she shouted. “They’re free and they’ll be able to come get us where the walls have fallen!”

  Mae Shan squinted up at the smoke-filled sky. The lesser devils and demons were forming up ranks behind the great one, a surging riot of color, claw, and blade. Black and red banners lifted up to mark their companies.

  “I see nothing but smoke, mistress,” said Mae Shan slowly.

  “I know.” Tsan Nu tried to think past her desperation. Why did nobody see? Why didn’t anybody listen? “Please, Mae Shan, listen to me. The Nine Elders kept all the demons walled up and quiet, and now they’re dead and the walls are broken. They’re out, and they’re as angry as the Phoenix. We can’t go back to the Heart! We have to stay between the walls or they’ll find us!”

  She could see what Mae Shan was thinking. Mae Shan wanted to join the other soldiers, because that was what she was supposed to do. Maybe she even wanted to get away from Tsan Nu like Min Lao and Si Yin. What would she do if Mae Shan wouldn’t listen, like the Nine Elders wouldn’t listen? Could she run away through the streets? She clutched her shoes. As long as she had them, she had Father’s amulet, but it would take time and safety to make the working. Could she find a temple where the priest or a sorcerer could see what was happening and help hide her until she could reach Father? Could she run fast enough to get away from Mae Shan? When she’d run away from her maids and tutors it was always Mae Shan who caught her and marched her back.

  Mae Shan took in their bearings with her quick eyes. “There’s a garrison in the Street of Seven Generations Under One Roof,” she said. “We will be safe there, and they may have news of what’s happened.”

  “We know what happened,” Tsan Nu pointed out as Mae Shan started off down the street.

  Mae Shan did not answer that. Instead, she said, “Watch the walls, mistress. If we are in danger, you must let me know at once.”

  “Yes, Mae Shan.”

  Mae Shan frowned and picked their direction. Tsan Nu risked a glance up. The Chief Devil was exhorting his followers. They were all of them waving their banners and fans to send the smoke and embers pouring out across the city. More spots of orange glowed against the bellies of the clouds. More fires already? The Chief Devil threw back his head to laugh, and Tsan Nu couldn’t stand to watch anymore. Instead she looked at the walls. In this street, at least, the words of blessing were still whole, as were the stones. They should be safe, for a while, anyway. The demons and their devils could not come down here while the walls were whole. While the walls were whole, the spells of protection woven with stone, mortar, paint, and hidden carving would hold and no devil could walk the streets. She remembered again how the walls fell as flames consumed the Heart of the World. She thought about Yi Qin and the fake amulet she’d said would be the other girl’s good luck. Tears stung her eyes and Tsan Nu bit her tongue, as Master Liaozhai had told her to do when frightened. “You cannot show the face of fear to the devils,” he said. “This will make them grow even more ferocious.”

  But the Nine Elders were dead, and the protective walls were crumbling. Yi Qin’s ghost would surely haunt her for what she’d done, and she’d deserve it. How could she not show the face of fear?

  But before long she couldn’t pay attention to anything except the pain in her lungs and the way the hot wind lapped at her back. Tears filled her eyes so she could not see the walls properly. She stubbed her toes painfully against another cobble and stumbled again. This time, Mae Shan scooped Tsan Nu into her arms.

  “There, mistress,” she said in her deep, steady voice. “We’re there.”

  Mae Shan pointed toward a blockhouse that stood at the juncture of four streets, the walls of the streets making up the walls of the garrison. It was a solid, square, unornamented building with slits for windows and a watchtower rising from its center.

  “Without a single man standing watch,” muttered Mae Shan.

  Shifting Tsan Nu to the crook of one arm, Mae Shan picked up the baton for the iron bell and struck it once. The single tolling echoed loudly in the empty street. Tsan Nu winced and clutched Mae Shan’s jacket, even though she knew loud noises were effective for keeping devils at bay. People should be out in the streets with firecrackers and pots and pans. She should tell someone, but there was no one left to tell.

  Eventually, she saw the brief glimmer of an eye pressed to the door’s watch slit. That glimpse was followed by the shuffle and scrape of a bar being pushed aside. The door opened on well-oiled hinges to reveal a gangly boy in hastily donned armor. Tsan Nu saw her guard’s mouth twitch disapprovingly.

  The boy pulled together a self-important air. “The curfew has sounded, mistress. If you do not clear the streets at once I will be forced to fine your family.”

  Mae Shan did not roll her eyes, although Tsan Nu could see she wanted to.

  “Stand down, Private,” said Mae Shan in the voice Tsan Nu thought of as her most soldierly. “I am Lieutenant Mae Shan Jinn and a Soldier of the Heart.” She held up her left hand to display the topaz and gold ring that was the sigil of her service.

  The boy gawped at the ring. “But you’re … you’re …”

  “A guard of the women’s palace and very much out of uniform.” Mae Shan barged past the boy, setting Tsan Nu down as soon as they were inside. Two other boys sitting beside the clay stove scrambled to their feet. The blockhouse itself showed signs of its occupants’ hasty departure; bowls and cups waited on the table and the vague scent of cabbage hung in the air. An empty wine jar had fallen on its side. A helmet had dropped from its hook beside the door and lay on the floor like an abandoned turtle. All three of the boys looked guilty and Tsan Nu wondered if they had been discussing whether or not they should run away and where they should go if they did.

  “It’s no good running away,” Tsan Nu said, although the smoke had made her throat sore. “You need to stay between the walls or the devils will come.”

  T
he boy soldiers gaped at her. Before Tsan Nu could explain, Mae Shan squeezed her arm, a warning to keep quiet.

  “What are your names?” Mae Shan asked the boys.

  “Private Trainee Airic Bei,” said the gangly boy who had opened the door and threatened to fine her.

  “Private Trainee Chen Hsuan,” said the stocky boy with wisps of hair trailing from his poorly braided queue.

  “Private Trainee Kyun Biao,” said the last boy who stood nearest the stove and had a huge mole on his right cheek.

  “Where is the rest of the garrison, Trainee Airic?” Mae Shan asked, mustering a brisk tone, but her disgust shone plain on her face. “Where are the men who left three boys on their own in the middle of an emergency?”

  Airic remembered the deference due to rank, even when rank was half-dressed and female. He pulled his shoulders back. “They’ve gone to help keep order at the Temple of Mercy, ma’am.”

  Of course. Curfew or no, the temples would be besieged with terrified petitioners, the temples of Szu Yi, Goddess of Mercy, more than any. Heaven itself only knew what the priests were saying about what should be done. Not all of them had the right kind of eyes either.

  “Well, we won’t be seeing them for a while,” Mae Shan muttered. Then she raised her voice.

  “Very well. Trainee Chen, the watch should not be neglected. You will take your turn. Trainee Kyun, this room is a mess. It will be cleaned at once. Trainee Airic.” She faced the boy who had threatened her with fining. “You will show me a private room where I may wait with my charge, then you will get some rest before relieving Trainee Chen on watch.”

  Dazed by her sudden listing of orders, the boys did nothing but stare at her for a long moment. Then, however, they did as they had been trained to do and obeyed. Kyun began piling bowls and cups together. Chen vanished through the room’s inner door, probably to grab a spear or other weapon and mount the tower stairs. Airic turned smartly, leading Mae Shan and Tsan Nu through a second door into what Tsan Nu guessed were the barracks. There were rows of cots with lumpy mattresses and rough blankets, and two other doors. One led to a spartan room that had a real bed, and a rug on the floor and a few banked coals in the small stove. More importantly, it had a shuttered window through which the street might be observed.