Strong Mystery: Murder, Mystery and Magic Books 1-3 (Steampunk Magica)

by Raven Bond

  “I do not know that he is not,” Lee Shen returned. “Such a meeting is uncanny in itself, I feel it in my bones.”

  Jinhao failed to reply, suddenly feeling the crawling tingle up her neck that she felt before a premonition. Lee Shen looked at her, noticing her shiver.

  “You feel it too,” he observed.

  “Perhaps,” Jinhao said diffidently. She had no desire to explain to him her birthright. Lee Shen nodded emphatically.

  “Damn right,” he said forcefully. “Mark my words, uncanny. Anyway, the Trader wishes to be off in the morning, as do I. Best get some sleep.”

  “Shall I post a guard at his door?” she asked.

  “No need,” Lee Shen rolled his eyes. “I shall sleep in his room on the floor. So much for a real bed tonight.”

  Jinhao allowed herself a small smile.

  “Better you than I,” she turned towards the door. “I had best see to the others in the stable.” Lee Shen grunted in agreement.

  ~ ~ ~

  Jinhao was just unrolling her sleeping blankets on the rooftop when she spotted trouble. While the trail boss had given her the preferred spot in the stable loft, she had learned that it caused much less resentment if she was generous in such small matters with the other guards. Besides, she preferred to sleep in a place that was hard for an opponent to reach, yet gave her a quick escape should she need it.

  Her Adept trained eyes saw the shadowy figures stealing across the main house’s rooftop. She paused thoughtfully, watching them. She should give the alarm. Stealthy figures sneaking across rooftops were up to no good. Once again though, she felt the tingly fingers of her intuition across her neck.

  Picking up her sword tack with a sigh, she gathered her Qi and leaped across the distance from the stable rooftop to the main house, landing feather-light on the slates. Keeping to the shadows herself, she spied the dark figures creep forward and silently enter a window. She counted three of them and frowned. That was too many for common thievery or killing, as one was usually enough if they were at all competent. These figures moved as if they were indeed very competent.

  She was certain from her earlier reckoning that the window did not belong to her employer. That should have been the end of her obligation in the matter. She should raise the house to deal with them by shouting the alarm. Instead she followed her intuition, drew her short swords and padded forward. A muffled cry and the flare of light from the window in question caused her to speed up, diving through the window like a dart towards its target.

  Jinhao came up in a roll inside the room, blinking at the sudden illumination. A ball of light floated in the middle of the room throwing strange shadows against the walls. She slashed out by instinct as she came to her feet. One of the shadowy figures from outside crumpled, eerily silent as it fell.

  One of the others, covered head to foot in close black coverings, turned towards her, drawing dual swords as they crept towards her. Jinhao spared a quick glance to see the Westerner she had helped out before struggling with the third assassin. Then she had no more time. Their fellow closed in on her.

  They exchanged a testing pass with their blades. Jinhao was surprised. Whoever they were they had Adept training. No one else could match her speed and precision without it. Her surprise came from not being able to sense his Qi. From his movements, she was almost certain it was a man. She should have been able to do sense his Qi or energy. They circled each other, still in the same eerie silence as before. Not even the meeting of their blades produced any sound. It must be some form of Quizi sorcery she decided.

  She could tell her opponent was also surprised at her abilities. She wondered who they were, and if she knew them. It was impossible for her to tell with the head covering, but whoever it was should recognize her. There were not that many Adepts in the hall. If they did recognize her, they gave no indication of it. Instead Jinhao almost lost her head to a quick combination move from the monkey form. One blade sliced the air where her neck had been the moment before.

  Her opponent’s miss served like a shock of cold water might, clearing her mind of idle chatter. Gathering her Qi, Jinhao moved, blades a blur in the closing moves of the crane form. Her strike landed solidly. Her opponent’s head rolled free, severed cleanly by the sharp Adept-forged blades. She turned from the kill towards the remaining assassin, snapping her swords down to clear them of blood. She paused as she saw the Westerner thrust out with his cane towards the assassin’s chest. A gout of flame sprouted from the assassin’s back where the cane touched.

  As the assassin fell, Jinhao could hear the twin blades fall to the wooden floor. Whatever the strange sorcery that had kept the deadly fight silent, it seemed to have died with him. The Westerner looked up at her with the glowing cane tip pointed towards her. He stood, she recognized, in some kind of prepared guard pose, similar to a stance she would take before engaging a foe.

  Jinhao, to her chagrin, giggled. She supposed that given the circumstances she should be impressed by the figure he cut. After all, with the sorcerous light overhead, together with the smell of human death that began to fill the room, it made for impressive surroundings. However, the Westerner was wearing some absurd white robe that flapped around his knees and made him look quite ridiculous. He cocked an eyebrow at her.

  “Well,” he said, lowering his cane, “either you are brave enough to laugh when death looks you in the face or you are no part of whoever they were.” He gestured at the dead bodies. “In any event, I like a brave person. So, are you friend or foe?”

  Owen Strong, she remembered his name, and such a strange name it was too. She forbore from giggling again. Really, her tendency to giggle at inappropriate moments was her bane. It was simply that others didn’t see the humor that she did in life. Instead she sheathed her swords across her back, looking at him squarely.

  “I am not a foe,” Jinhao said clearly in English. “I am not certain I am a friend, but I am not a foe.” She knelt and pulled the face coverings free of the one she had beheaded. She let out a sigh. She did not recognize him, although that might mean nothing. There were whispers of disaffected recruits who had failed to complete their training. She supposed this was one such. The Westerner, Owen Strong she reminded herself, came to kneel beside her.

  “You reacted then as if you expected to know him,” he remarked. Jinhao stood abruptly.

  “You do not know anything about me,” she said shortly.

  “True,” he said rising more slowly. “In fact, I do not even remember your name from earlier. And do you?” Jinhao frowned in confusion. Was he asking her if she remembered her own name?

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Do you know him?” he asked patiently, leaning on his cane. “And also, what is your name?”

  The frown lifted from her face as she nodded in understanding.

  “No, I do not know him,” she said. She tossed her head. “You may call me Jinhao.”

  He bowed.

  “Well, Jinhao,” he said, “it seems I owe you again for help.” She waved his comment away.

  “I needed the exercise,” she said. “And what made the silence around them?”

  “Ah,” he raised a finger. “That I may have an answer for.” He knelt again by the man he had been fighting and felt around the corpse’s chest. He gave an exclamation, gingerly holding out a piece of chain. At the end of it was a melted bit that might have been a medal at one point before his fire had struck the man.

  “I suspect that this was the culprit.” He frowned as he examined it. “It was made by a powerful Sorcerer too. It is too damaged to discover who it was though by its resonance alone.” Jinhao nodded.

  “So this is a Western magic thing that is in the possession of expensive Han assassins,” she said darkly. “Do you have such persons come after you often?”

  He grinned at her ruefully as he stood up.

  “Not really,” he said. “In fact, this is the first time.” He looked down at the dead man contemplatively. �
��If I did not know better, I would think this Uncle Stephen’s handiwork.”

  He shook his head at her questioning regard. “Oh, he isn’t really an uncle, that’s just what we called him.” He stopped whatever he was about to say and looked attentively at the wall as if seeing something there invisible to anyone but himself.

  “Hmm…” he said sharply. “Did you bring a guest?” Jinhao frowned, trying to see what he meant. All she could see was the wall and the open window she had come through.

  “I do not know what you mean,” she replied. Owen Strong cocked his head to one side as if listening to something. He made an arcane pass with his cane. A line of red light no thicker than a thread came from out of the window to touch her on the head.

  “Yes…” he said absently. “Definitely a sending, definitely not European, and just as definitely aimed at you.” He looked at her quizzically. “Have you run afoul of a Sorcerer? I do not even know if the Han have Sorcerers? Do you?”

  Jinhao’s eyes narrowed in thought. It must be the slimy court Sorcerer, Xu, who was a pet of the Empress. She had no idea that her rejection of his amorous advances would lead to his sending some evil magic after her though. If he had sent a Court Demon, it was most serious.

  “Come, come,” Strong said impatiently. “You clearly know something. Out with it. I cannot help you if you will not share what you know!”

  “Yes, Han do,” she said hesitantly, “Very rare. The Imperial Court employs one such. His name is Xu. He will have command of the Imperial Demons. They are very dangerous.” The man, Owen Strong, rubbed his hands together smiling. Surely he could not understand the danger they were in!

  “Demon, eh?” he nodded briskly towards the window. “Well, my wards should keep it out.” As if to underscore his statement, a very brief flash of light came from the window. “Well, at least for a while,” he amended.

  Jinhao thought that she could faintly hear the snarling of some beast like thing. She shivered despite herself.

  No steel nor Adept powers could stand against the claws of a Court Demon. The power to summon such things was reserved for use only by the Throne alone. Or, she thought hotly, the corrupt Sorcerer of a corrupt Empress bent on a shameless revenge for an imagined slight of the heart. The Westerner, Strong, looked at her again.

  “See here,” he said earnestly. “Do you care about this Xu at all?”

  “No!” she replied fiercely. “I loathe him! It is because I do not care for him that he has sent such a thing I am sure!”

  Strong nodded briskly.

  “Right then.” He looked around the room in the glow of light cast by the globe of mage light overhead. He rummaged in a pack beside the bed. With a cry of triumph, he waved a pair of writing brushes over his head. He thrust one of them into Jinhao’s hand.

  “Here is what we do,” Strong said to her. The flash of light and almost subliminal growl came again. Strong looked in the direction of the window.

  “Hungry little bastard. Where was I?” He held up a brush, gesturing emphatically.

  “Ah yes! Here is what we do. Take your brush and dip it into some of that blood oozing everywhere. Draw a circle with it that is about so big.” He vaguely gestured at the floor of the room. Jinhao looked at the brush with some distaste.

  “That seems disrespectful,” she said. Strong had already begun drawing the circle on the floor. He looked up at her with an arched eyebrow.

  “Is a Demon sent by this Xu likely to be respectful?” he asked mildly.

  “No.” she agreed reluctantly. She knelt to begin the macabre task. Bright flashes and a louder audible growling from the window saw her finish her task, with her half of the circle meeting the half drawn by Strong. Owen hopped around her to draw strange symbols against the edge of the circle.

  “There,” he said with a satisfied air. “Now stand here,” he pointed with his cane at a spot farthest from the window. She promptly moved to stand where he directed. Strong moved to stand near the window, brush in one hand, and cane in the other.

  “Should we not be within the circle?” she asked. All the pictures she had seen of Western Sorcerers showed them standing within a circle like the one they had drawn on the floor. Owen spared her a glance over his shoulder.

  “No, we are exactly where we are supposed to be,” he said. He rolled his shoulders as if preparing to lift a heavy weight. “This is a different type of circle. I intend to lower my wards and invite it in. No matter what you may see or hear, stay where you are, and do not cross the circle no matter what.”

  Jinhao opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. What was she to do? This was a type of fighting that she was unfamiliar with. Despite his strange British ways, he seemed to know what he was doing. She drew her swords, despite knowing they would do little except to provide her with something to clasp with her hands. She had seen the aftermath of a Demon attack before. Still, if this Owen Strong was wrong, she would at least go down fighting.

  The ending appeared, at first, to be almost anti-climactic. Strong, still in his ridiculous nightgown, raised his arms, chanting in a strange language Jinhao did not recognize. The flashes of light and the growling stopped suddenly. Strong hopped to one side and with a quick swoosh of his brush closed the last arc of the circle. He then came around the circle to stand near her.

  “Now watch,” he said breathlessly. “And remember what I said, do not cross the circle.”

  Jinhao watched the empty space enclosed by the blood circle. A tall shape gradually formed in it, scaled and crocodile-snouted, with sharp horns and far too many teeth. A wave of sulfur-tinged stink accompanied its appearance. To her horror, the thing had no eyes, only blank flesh where they should reside above the snout. The thing seemed to snuffle around blindly until it reached the edge of the circle where it was met by another flash of light. The monster shrank back as if wounded. Owen straightened beside her, his voice booming at the towering thing.

  “You are the servant of Xu the Court Sorcerer!” The thing turned with surprising speed to regard Owen with its sightless eyes. The crocodile snout opened and words flowed from within, in a melodious tone of voice.

  “Xu has commanded me to rend the flesh of one that I have scented in this place,” it said. “I am the servant of no human!”

  “Be that as it may,” Strong replied. “Still you do his bidding.” The mountain of scaled fangs snapped its snout at this.

  “I must do as Xu asked,” it said in that same beautiful voice. “If I do not succeed in the task, Xu will cause me more torment.”

  “You cannot succeed at the task, for I have imprisoned you,” Strong pointed out. “I could simply leave you here until the sun comes up. The rays of the sun will cause you much torment.”

  “This is so,” it acknowledged. “Know that should I escape this prison I shall rend you for the pleasure of it alone.”

  “I do not doubt that you may try,” Strong said pointedly. “However, I have another proposal.” The thing seemed to sink back on unseen haunches.

  “What is your proposal, human?” the Demon asked. A forked tongue lolled from the reptilian snout.

  “I will allow you to return from whence you came, provided that you give oath never to seek harm to myself, the one Xu sent you to rend, or any other being of this existence.”

  “I cannot swear such an oath as you propose, human. Xu will summon me again from my abode to rend more of your kind.”

  “What if I give you the means to rend Xu and then you must return to your realm with peace between us evermore?” Owen asked. The thing regarded Owen for what seemed to Jinhao like a long time.

  “You would do such a thing?” it asked. “Why?” Owen shrugged.

  “Xu is no friend of mine, and clearly an enemy” he said. The Demon nodded its snout vigorously.

  “I will do as you propose, human,” it said. Jinhao thought she detected a note of bloodthirsty glee in the beautiful voice.

  “And your oath that you will neither harm me or any
other, except Xu, on this plane of existence, nor cause any to come to harm.”

  “Very well,” the thing seemed to dip its snout in resignation. “I do so vow.” The Western Sorcerer regarded the Demon as if testing the truth of its words. Finally, he nodded as if to himself, raising his cane.

  “Then I shall send you back to the one who has summoned you,” he announced. “Remember your oath!”

  He pointed the cane at the monstrous Demon, directing Magia while speaking in that strange throat-tearing language that he had used earlier. The mountainous form of scales and fangs faded slowly from sight. When it was gone, Strong staggered slightly. Jinhao made to catch him only to have him throw up a palm to stop her.

  “No, I am fine,” he croaked. “Doing a Demon-turning like that takes it out of you is all.”

  “I thought that you would kill it,” Jinhao said.

  Strong laughed at her.

  “What on earth for? That Demon had never done anything to either of us. This way, it destroys your lovesick, demented Sorcerer and goes home. And without ever being able to hurt another human. I would call that a victory. I do hope you meant it about not liking this Xu, as he’s likely Demon bait at this point.”

  Jinhao thought of the slimy Court Sorcerer and all the transgressions that he was known to have committed. She shook her head solemnly.

  “No,” she said. “Nor do I suspect that any other shall mourn his passing.”

  Strong nodded and slapped his hands together.

  “Well then, all’s well that ends well,” he looked around the room, taking in the dead corpses and the circle of blood. “I suppose that I shall have to speak to the landlord about another room to sleep in, as well as pay a cleaning fee on this one, despite the enormous amount I’ve already given him.”

  Jinhao looked at him with surprise.

  “You knew that you paid him too much…” she asked.

  “Of course,” Strong replied. “Sometimes it is simply easier to appear as the stupid Westerner. Horned One knows I can afford it!”