by Liz Williams
“I dislike dogs,” the badger said, and disappeared into the darkness without further comment.
The dogmen swarmed around them as they came up to the gate, drifting and changing from their dog-form to half-human, and back again. But it was clear that they recognized something of the maiden’s nature, for they were curiously respectful: keeping their distance and bobbing up and down in the travesty of a bow. Their respect did not extend to Chen or the demon. Zhu Irzh cuffed away a nose that was becoming over-familiar with his crotch, and shouted to the maiden, “Can’t you control them?”
“We will go inside,” the maiden said firmly, and swept through the gate with the pack in her wake.
They were sitting in what amounted to state, in a long room filled with an untidy muddle of furniture. This, it had been explained to them, was the pack leader’s parlor. The maiden had been taken into another room, leaving Chen and Zhu Irzh to cool their heels with a pot of tea that tasted like wet straw.
“I hope she’ll be all right,” the demon said.
“I’m sure she can look after herself,” Chen replied. “She is a goddess, after all.”
“Yes, but her body isn’t.”
“Her body is still that of a Celestial and these creatures know better than to touch one of those. They don’t want to bring the wrath of Heaven down onto the Night Harbor, after all. Kuan Yin may not have jurisdiction here, but everyone knows that it’s a delicate balance.”
At that point, the maiden reappeared in the doorway, assuaging Zhu Irzh’s fears.
“They know a little of this woman,” she said. “They say that she came through the village and was transformed, but then she left—ran into the mountains and has not been seen since. It seems our journey here has been pointless. We should leave.”
“No, wait a moment,” Chen said, but the maiden winked at him, an extraordinary effect to Zhu Irzh’s mind, given her deific origins.
“Come on,” the demon said, rising. “Let’s get out of here.”
The dogs watched them go with smug self-satisfaction. The pack leader went as far as to express the hope that Zhu Irzh had enjoyed his visit.
“Greatly,” the demon lied. He was sorely tempted to add, “Though I’m really more of a cat person,” but managed to restrain himself.
As soon as they left the gates of the village and turned the corner of the road that led back to the port, the badger shuffled out of the shadows.
“Well?” Chen said.
“There is a trail.”
“Of the dogwoman, of Deveth?”
“Perhaps. It is hard to say. But this you should know,” the badger said. “There is another immortal here.”
“Yes, the one whom we left on the road,” the maiden replied. “The goddess—I—has sent someone to fetch the poor lost soul.”
Zhu Irzh repressed a snort as the badger went on. “No, not that one. I know its scent, and your own. This is another.”
The maiden became very still. Zhu Irzh, recognizing the goddess’ statue mode, waited.
“Another?” the maiden asked, in a small, cold voice. “Are you sure?”
“I am rarely mistaken,” the badger said.
“Is it male, or female?”
“It is male, although this was not obvious to me at first. There is someone with him. A human, and not a soul, either. A living person.”
“Goddess,” Chen said. “You have to tell us what is going on.”
“I cannot. At least, not here. You are right, you need to know. But first we have to find these people.” She turned to the badger. “Can you lead us to them?”
“I believe so. But I do not think they escaped. They were taken by the dog-men. The scent of them is all around.”
“Very well,” the maiden said. “Then lead on.”
39
Robin had no idea where they had been taken. At some point during the previous night, she had been roughly roused from sleep, dragged from the hovel, and bound: a gag placed across her mouth, her wrists secured behind her back and her legs shackled. Then she had been led out into the compound and hoisted onto a cart. Mhara, to her relief and dismay, was already there, similarly constrained. They could look at one another, but not speak: the gag was an effective one. The cart rumbled off, jolting and bouncing over the rough ground. She could not see what might be pulling it, but once she looked to the side of the road and saw Deveth, in her dog-form, trotting along beside. Deveth looked at her and gave a vulpine grin, then vanished from sight. Robin worked steadily at the bonds, but with no result. They were made of thick hemp rope, and they would not budge.
Although it was dark, she could tell that they were climbing. The air, however, did not grow any fresher: it smelled as though they were moving through a cellar, musty and fungal, with an undertone of decay. Her hands felt gritty, covered in dust, and there was a faint wind blowing which covered her face in the dust, too. Soon she found it more comfortable to close her eyes, though she tried to keep them open in the off-chance that she might be able to glimpse their destination or their route. Eventually the cart slowed and she was lifted down.
The dogmen were growling and snapping at one another again: it was a moment before Robin realized that they were actually communicating. They pulled and tugged her into the narrow mouth of a cave, then released a lever. An iron grille rattled down, sealing her and Mhara behind it. Deveth peered through the bars.
“You’ll be kept here. Don’t worry, they’re not leaving you to rot. Someone will bring you food and water tomorrow; until then, the gags stay on. I suggest you try to sleep.”
Robin produced a series of strangled protests. Deveth’s grin widened.
“That won’t do you much good. I don’t have a lot of say in this, you know. It wasn’t my idea.” Somehow, Robin was certain she was lying. She kicked at the bars, but Deveth was already bounding away down the mountainside. Robin watched her go, consumed by a flurry of emotions: rage, despair, frustration. Mhara nudged her. She looked up and his eyes were full of understanding and compassion. She leaned against him, looking out over the dark mountain to the lights of what must be the Night Harbor port. They were dim and fuzzy, like lanterns seen through rain, and very far away. She sank down to sit with her back against the wall and fell into an exhausted sleep.
The bars rattled her awake. Something was reaching in through the grille, a long, bare arm with claws that raked down her shin and brought fire in their wake. Robin screamed through the gag and scrambled away, waking Mhara in the process. She looked out onto a mouth filled with teeth, a narrow, bald head. Mhara and Robin shuffled back as far as they could, but the cave came to an abrupt end. They were trapped, and now the thing was questing about, its blind head raised as if testing the air. It made a small noise of approbation, then took hold of the lever. Mhara pushed himself in front of Robin and an undignified shackled scuffle broke out as each sought to protect the other. The grille shot up, the thing bounded into the cave and lashed out at Mhara. Robin hurled herself at it, caught her foot on a rocky outcrop and fell heavily to the floor. The thing, in turn, fell over her and sprawled across the cave. Then something lightning-quick and growling had entered the fray. Robin, trying to rise, glimpsed a long, narrow head and eyes like scraps of night. It was a badger—but whatever was a badger doing here? Then she heard shouts and a tall snarling form in a black coat seized the bald thing and banged its head repeatedly against the wall. A shorter man was there, then, accompanied by a girl. Together, moving with calm efficiency, they released Robin and Mhara from their bonds and tore away Robin’s gag.
“Thank you!” Robin whispered. It was all she could manage, for her throat was raw from lack of water.
“I’m glad we found you in time,” the man said. Robin looked into a round, pleasant, unremarkable face.
“You’re human,” she said. The relief was overwhelming; she sagged in his grasp.
“Detective Inspector Chen. I’m with the city’s police force. This—” he pointed to the tall perso
n, who had finished his assault on the thing and was now securing its hands with a pair of handcuffs “—is my partner, Detective Zhu Irzh. He isn’t human, as you can probably see, but don’t worry about that.”
“My name is Robin Yuan. And who are you?” Robin asked the girl. She had never seen anyone so delicately beautiful: the girl made Robin, who had always considered herself to be a slight person, feel like an ox in comparison. And what lovely perfume she was wearing: it filled the cave, canceling the odors of decomposition and dust.
“I am a friend,” the girl said with a curious firmness. Robin would have pressed the issue, but something about the girl’s demeanor stopped her in her tracks. Though the girl looked so young, there was an impression of great age about her. She and Mhara were staring at one another.
“You know each other,” Robin said, dismayed and suddenly jealous. Of course Mhara would have had friends in Heaven. And how could she ever think that she could compete with that?
“Yes, I believe we do,” Mhara said, but he was not smiling. The girl said, with an odd diffidence, “I have come to bring you back.”
“I know.”
“Who are you?” Chen’s colleague asked and Robin moved a little further away. He was so obviously a demon.
“My name is Mhara.”
“You’re a Celestial, aren’t you? It’s as plain as the nose on your face. The badger said he’d picked up a Celestial’s scent.”
“If it wasn’t for the badger, we would never have found you,” the girl said. The perfume intensified. “Creature of Earth, I owe you a debt.”
“It is my work,” the badger said, evidently somewhat offended. “I serve my master.”
“What passes for dawn in these parts is not far away,” Chen said, glancing toward the port, where the sky was indeed beginning to glow gray. “I suggest we try to make it back down the mountain before dogtown discovers your absence. I don’t want to take on the whole village.”
There was no disagreement. Zhu Irzh, muttering, hoisted Robin’s unconscious assailant over his shoulder and they set off down the mountain, following the badger.
“What happened to you, back there in the village?” Mhara asked Robin quietly, as they made their way down the banks of scree.
“Not much. They kept me prisoner. I had a talk with one of the women. Deveth came to see me.” She did not want to worry him with the attempted rape.
“And I also. She taunted me. I suppose it is her right. She said that they would have fed me to her, at the end, while the village watched: her recompense for her own murder. I told her that this would surely send her spirit on to Hell and she merely laughed, said that she would make her way in Hell as she had in the world so far.” Mhara looked contemplative.
“But she could not actually have slain you, could she? You’re a Celestial.”
“My spirit would have lived on in her, had she eaten me. A prisoner, within her.” Mhara shivered. “I can think of few worse fates.”
“And that … thing.” Robin nodded toward the creature slung over the demon’s shoulder. “What is that?”
“It has the sense of Heaven,” Mhara said.
“It doesn’t look very Heavenly to me!”
“Nonetheless … I think someone may have sent it after me, Robin.”
“To hurt you?”
“To bring me back. And I think it has become another of Jhai’s experiments.”
“Jhai turned a Celestial being into that monster?”
“It is no worse than what I became,” Mhara said. He was not looking at her, there was no sense of blame, and yet the guilt flooded back all over again, hot and fresh. Robin said no more, but fixed her gaze on the distant port and tried not to think about what might be to come.
By the time they reached the outskirts of the port, it was much lighter. To Robin’s relief, they had met no more horrors on the journey, but she kept looking over her shoulder all the same. The dogmen must surely have discovered their absence by now. She touched Chen on the shoulder.
“What now? Are you going to take me back to Earth?”
“I am not sure what’s happening,” Chen admitted. “I have a—suspect to find, but the person in charge is this young lady.”
Strangely, Robin was not surprised. “I see.” She felt herself grow colder. The girl would want to take Mhara back to Heaven, and probably Robin would be dispatched to Earth, to what remained of her normal life. And at the very least of it, unemployment, without references. “Who’s your suspect?” she asked, to distract herself from this unwelcome prospect.
“A murder victim. A woman named Deveth Sardai. I need to question her about her death.”
Robin found herself thinking furiously and hard. She had told Chen her name, back there in the cave, and if he had been assigned to the murder case then he would surely know all about her. She could not tell him that she knew very well who had murdered Deveth and risk him arresting Mhara. She was determined not to see Mhara face trial—but perhaps the human authorities wouldn’t try him, Celestial being that he was. Yet Tserai ought to be brought to justice … Guiltily, she became aware that Chen was watching her. His face was expressionless. Mhara nudged her.
“Robin. I will deal with this.”
“I can’t let you—”
“Robin.” His hand closed warningly around her arm and Robin fell silent.
TA CH’U:
THE TAMING POWER OF
THE GREAT
40
Zhu Irzh had never thought that he might be happy to see Kuan Yin’s boat again, but it was not until they were on board that he finally felt able to relax, despite the irritations of the Heavenly vessel. His shoulders ached from having to lug the transformed Celestial all the way down the mountainside, but now the being had been confined in the lower reaches of the boat. Kuan Yin had departed from her maiden, who was now resting, exhausted, in her own cabin; it must be tiring, Zhu Irzh considered, to be possessed, especially by a goddess. He had the feeling that they were probably high maintenance. The young woman, Robin, was also resting, and her strange Celestial companion had been closeted with Kuan Yin for more than an hour, while Chen and Zhu Irzh were once more served tea by another of the goddess’ handmaidens. Zhu Irzh was obliged to admit that the surroundings were nicer, and the quality of the tea higher, than those of Bad Dog Village. He gazed around at the pearly lacquered walls, inlaid with scenes of Heavenly life, with only mild distaste. Chen leaned forward and tapped him on the knee.
“So. Robin Yuan. What does that name mean to you?”
“Sardai’s girlfriend?”
“Exactly. Yet she said nothing when I mentioned Deveth’s name, and we still have to find Deveth and question her. Now that the goddess’ business has been more or less accomplished, we need to think about our own.”
“Deveth was killed by something, not necessarily someone. But the investigation didn’t clear Robin. She could be implicated. And she’s traveling in the company of another immortal. What if he’s the killer?”
“Robin works for your girlfriend.”
“She’s not exactly my—oh, all right. Robin’s in it up to her eyes, if you ask me. All we have to do is find out how.”
Chen appeared about to speak, but then glanced around him, startled. On the table, the tea bowls rattled a little and then were still. “Hang on. We’re moving.”
Zhu Irzh followed him on deck, at a run. The ship had indeed upped anchor. The lights of the Night Harbor’s port had already fallen behind to a hazy line along the shore and the boat was moving out past a narrow breakwater with a squat lighthouse at its end. Ahead, lay the immense void of the Sea of Night. At that moment, they passed the Harbor arm and into the Sea itself. Zhu Irzh, looking over the side in dismay, caught sight of distant stars, deep below the water.
“If Kuan Yin thinks—” Chen, about to utter blasphemy, fell silent and headed back to the row of cabins with the demon at his heels. He raised a hand to the goddess’ door, then let it fall. Zhu Irzh
, however, had decided to abandon any attempt at Celestial decorum. He pounded on the door.
“Madam! We’re moving!”
There was the sound of footsteps and a moment later, Robin Yuan came up behind them. Her face was startled. “We’re sailing!”
“I’d noticed,” the demon said.
“Where are we heading? Heaven?”
“I suppose that’s the idea.” Zhu Irzh was strongly tempted to spit. “But not me. We’re going to turn around and head back to the Harbor. Where I’ll be getting off.” He gave the door to the goddess’ cabin another blow, but it remained firmly shut. “Open up!”
Chen plucked at his sleeve. “Zhu Irzh, stop it. You can’t talk to her like that. She’s a goddess.”
“Yes, a goddess who’s in the process of kidnapping me. If you let them get away with things, Chen, it never stops. Why do you think Hell got created in the first place? Something has to limit Celestial arrogance.”
“Look, theological speculation is all well and good, but we’re on the goddess’ own boat, with no way off it unless she decides to throw us over the side.”
“There might be a lifeboat.”
“On a Celestial vessel? Why would they need one? Let’s go back to our own cabin. And Miss Yuan, could you come with us? I want to talk to you.” Chen had a light in his eye that Zhu Irzh did not see very often, but with which even he was disinclined to argue. He trailed after Chen and then poured more tea once they were back inside the cabin. Pity the goddess did not appear to have anything stronger, but what could you expect of Heaven?
“Now,” Chen said, sitting down opposite Robin. “I know you work for Jhai Tserai. I know they’ve been trying to develop a drug that changes the nature of Celestial beings. I strongly suspect that one of those beings murdered your girlfriend, Deveth Sardai, and that she in turn was not exactly innocent of such machinations herself. You’re going to tell me what you know.”
And Robin Yuan, pale-faced and twisting her hands in her lap, did so.
“And I haven’t told anyone this, either,” she concluded, “but Mhara made a prophecy. He saw the end of the city.”
