by Liz Williams
It was, Robin thought, as though the goddess had a very heavy footfall. Every step she took caused the earth to crack and tremble. A little earlier, Robin had watched in appalled fascination as the tower of the Eregeng Trade House crashed down into the street, sending up a billow of blond dust that still hung over the city, and filtered the sunlight into a prism of filthy color. When Robin had been a child, New York had been attacked, and this reminded her horribly of those scenes. Terrorism from Heaven: Who would ever have thought such a thing?
“Mhara—what can we do?”
“We have to find her. We have to stop her.”
And so they left the temple to its attendant cats and made their way down into the city. At first, Robin tried to get a cab. She still had a few coins in her pocket, but then she realized it was hopeless. The city was hopelessly blocked, by earthquake, by people fleeing from it to the hills, by partygoers who, amazingly, were starting to make merry for the Day of the Dead. Robin supposed that they might have nothing else to lose.
As they walked, Robin tried to talk to Mhara, remarking on the passing scenes of devastation, but after the third monosyllabic reply, she became silent.
“I’m sorry,” Mhara said after a while. “I’ve been thinking. And what I think is this: the only one who can stop Senditreya is me. Heaven has thrown her out, washed their hands of the world. Only a god has the power to stop her, and I’m the only god who is here.”
“What about Kuan Yin?”
“Kuan Yin defies the current order as much as she can, but she is still bound by Heaven’s mandate.”
“And you aren’t?”
“Oh,” Mhara said. “I’ve gone so far already, it doesn’t matter what I do. Nothing can prevent me from becoming Emperor: you inherit, you don’t get elected.”
“Then we’d better find Senditreya,” Robin said with a sinking heart. In this world, Mhara seemed such a frail being: He’d let Jhai Tserai imprison him, so how could he stand up to an enraged and vengeful deity? As far as she understood things, only the kuei had the power to do that, within Heaven itself. And they were not in Heaven now. Mhara fell silent, and they walked on.
As they neared the heart of the city, Mhara suddenly stopped. He leaned against a wall, his face ashen, and when Robin asked him what was the matter, he did not reply, but only shook his head. After a few moments, he said, “It’s all right. I’ll be all right.”
“Mhara? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. I felt—” There was something in his face that could almost have been fear. He said, “Let’s move on.”
After another hour or so, Robin realized that they were heading toward the temple of Kuan Yin. She mentioned this.
“I know. Senditreya will not be far away, Robin. She’s in the city at the moment, but I don’t know where. She blames Kuan Yin for her present plight.”
“That’s outrageous. If she hadn’t started bargaining with Hell—”
“She is a goddess, Robin, and an old one who no longer enjoys the power she was once used to. And she was also human once, too. She was a girl, a dowser who mapped the meridians of this region and was elevated to godhood. It’s different for those who are elevated. Once they taste the power, they never want to go back. Over a long period of time, one’s sense of entitlement grows. I’ve seen it happen. Whereas the ancient gods know when their time has come, and fade with grace from the Wheel. I am certain that Senditreya thinks that she is absolutely in the right, and that the city is hers to control as she sees fit.”
“That’s madness.”
“Of course,” Mhara said, and they walked on.
52
Zhu Irzh thrust the dowser to one side and dodged around the chariot. The goddess was carving a character into the palm of her hand, releasing a stream of golden-red blood. She raised the hand and sent a thunderbolt flashing toward Jhai’s vehicle. The cab caught the bolt broadside and blew up with a great boiling rush of fire, almost knocking the demon off his feet. Zhu Irzh heard himself cry out but even as he did so he caught sight of Jhai Tserai. She was on the other side of the shattered spire of the Trade House, hustling a middle-aged woman to safety. Colonel Ei sent a shower of machine-gun fire in the direction of Senditreya, but the bullets turned to moths, which fluttered, dazed, up into the sunlight.
“Get back!” Ei barked, firing a round at the demon’s feet. It was then that Zhu Irzh realized something: Ei thought that he and the goddess were in league. Given her recent dealings with Hell, this was perhaps understandable, but there was no time for explanations. Behind him, the demon could hear Chen starting to chant something. Gods alone knew what Chen was trying to achieve, but whatever it was, Zhu Irzh had confidence in him and he should be allowed to proceed without distractions. Zhu Irzh spun to face the colonel. He kicked upward at the gun, missed, and caught Ei on the forearm. The gun swept upward and fired into the air, and the tremor came again.
Zhu Irzh turned to see Chen sending a firebolt of his own from a bleeding palm. It struck the goddess between the shoulder blades and took her by surprise. With a scream of rage, she pitched forward over the rim of the chariot and simply disappeared, as if melting into the earth itself. Zhu Irzh stared stupidly at the place where she had fallen, but there was no trace of her passing. The earth, however, shuddered beneath his feet as though a train were passing under it.
Ei lost her balance and turned wildly on Chen, but the detective was already running in the direction of Jhai Tserai. The demon followed.
“Stop!” Ei cried. Zhu Irzh heard the burst of the gun, shockingly loud above the creaking buildings, and something hot and fast raked him in the side and ricocheted from a tilting lintel.
“Down the alley,” Chen panted.
They bolted down the alleyway, running between the maze of shacks and chop porches, knocking people out of their path. Everyone had disregarded the standard earthquake instructions and rushed out into the roadway. The alley was filled with people, clutching their possessions to them and shouting. To the right, the roof of a shack had caved in and a body lay unmoving beneath the wreckage. Zhu Irzh had a single image of a foot, clad in a slipper, quite still. The air was full of choking dust and a peculiar acrid smell.
“Hell,” said Chen, wheezing. “Lost sight of her.”
Many people were on their knees, racked with nausea and coughing. Zhu Irzh came face to face with a woman holding a birdcage, her face distorted by fear. Her distress outweighed any reservations she might have had. She clutched the fleeing demon around the waist and buried her face in his shoulder. Fire shot through his bleeding side.
“Where’s Jhai?” Zhu Irzh shouted, trying to disengage her. “Where the hell did Senditreya go?” Moments later, it occurred to him that he might have answered his own question. “Let go of me, madam!” At the top of the street, Ei was nowhere to be seen. The tremors were coming more rhythmically now, wave after wave, and it was impossible to stand. Zhu Irzh and his confidant were thrown apart. The demon grabbed Chen by the arm and dragged him through the shaking street. They had gone no more than a few paces when they were thrown against a doorway, and glancing back up the hill Zhu Irzh caught sight of Ei, pursuing as best she could.
“In here,” Chen said. He pulled Zhu Irzh through the door and abruptly the noise and confusion outside were cut off as though someone had thrown a switch. Tentatively, Zhu Irzh touched his side. His fingers came back wet and bloody.
“How badly are you hurt?” Chen demanded. “If Ei comes through here, I’ll stop her. Tell me what state you’re in.”
Pulling aside his coat, Zhu Irzh examined his side. The bullet had scored a long shallow gouge in the flesh. He was bleeding all over the place, and it stung, but though he nerved himself to prod the wound, it did not seem deep.
“I think I’m all right. What should I do? Bind it up or something?”
“Anything to stop it bleeding. I’m not going to rip up my shirt, by the way, if that’s what you’re thinking,” the detective added wryly. He van
ished into the room and Zhu Irzh, stuffing his own ripped silk shirt against the wound, stumbled after him. He had thought that they were in an ordinary shack, but now he saw that the room went back a long way. It was unlit, and had no windows, and the walls were painted a dark, dull red, which kept out the light. There seemed to be no furniture, apart from a long bar structure along one side of the room and at the end of the room, there was a door. They went through, and found themselves in a long, winding corridor. From this central artery, doors led off along either side. It was quiet and very still. The floor was steady beneath their feet. Softly Zhu Irzh closed the door through which they had come. Taking a few steps down the corridor, he opened one of the doors to the left and stood stock still, looking through. Chen, catching up with him, peered over his shoulder.
The small room was lined with curtains and the only furniture was a divan, rather baroque and covered with fat, velvet cushions. There was no one there, but someone laughed, all the same, and a spike of flame shot forth, singing the demon’s hair.
Zhu Irzh and Chen stumbled back. The demon was trying to work out the route that they had taken. He remembered the cluster of buildings around Shaopeng station, the screaming neon face welcoming customers inside. They had come round Shaopeng, up Battery Road and onto Peipei Street, then come down the hill on foot. He remembered the man outside the doorway, doubled over and retching, and saw from Chen’s face that the detective had recalled the same thing.
“We’re in a demon lounge,” Chen said. “Again.” A door to Chen’s left opened a crack and an eye looked out, small and orange. Chen stopped. The door closed. From somewhere came the sound of running feet. Around the corner came a short, stout woman with an imposing hairdo, clad in a pink kimono. She pointed an outraged finger at Chen.
“You!” she shouted. “Spying on my girls!”
“They seem well able to take care of themselves, madam,” the detective replied, with a glance at the demon’s burned hair.
“That isn’t the point!”
“We came through the back door,” Zhu Irzh started to explain. He stepped forward, out of the shadows, and the woman’s jaw dropped as she saw him.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize we had such august company,” she said.
“We were expecting a room,” the demon said frostily, rising to the occasion. Chen shot him an appalled glance, then subsided.
“I’m terribly sorry,” the woman said again, deflated. Indicating a door on the right, she added, “You can have this one.”
Entering, Chen and Zhu Irzh found themselves in a room much like the demon’s own on Lower Murray Street, draped in a dark and somber green. There was a similar overstuffed divan, and a cupboard. Chen shut the door behind them.
“What are we going to do?” Zhu Irzh asked.
“You tell me. I think it might be prudent to wait here for a while and then make our way to the precinct. Why isn’t this place affected by the quake?” he asked.
“Because it isn’t properly on Earth?”
Chen was frowning. There was a flicker of movement in the dim corner of the room, making Zhu Irzh jump, but then he saw that it was only a mirror, half-concealed by the drapes. The room seemed to have become darker. The surface of the mirror was glossy, absorbing light, and it was like looking down a well. Zhu Irzh watched them both in the mirror: the pale, golden-eyed demon and the round-faced detective, side by side. Smoke seemed to drift across the surface of the mirror, though the room was clear, and in the mirror, Zhu Irzh smiled. Chen turned to his friend, and Zhu Irzh looked back at him.
“Zhu Irzh?” Chen whispered. In the mirror, the demon smiled into his eyes. Rising, Zhu Irzh prowled round the head of the divan, though in the mirror, he was still seated. The room was much darker now, all the light leaching away and the only illumination coming from the lamp in the mirror. In the mirror, the demon’s eyes were lambent in the reflected light.
“Zhu Irzh?” Chen asked uncertainly. The words made little sense. The air in the stuffy room crackled in anticipation. Very slowly, Chen stood up. Zhu Irzh watched, frowning. He knew this human creature, somehow, but his thoughts were muddled and jumbled. The human edged around the side of the room. Zhu Irzh watched him, interested. Unhurriedly, he straightened up and came round the end of the divan. The human stopped dead. He froze, holding his breath and keeping rigid. The demon found his gaze wandering. He looked vaguely about him. His spine tensed, and he stretched slightly, a movement that rippled up his back to his shoulders. The fingers of one hand flexed. He could hear the prey breathing out, very shallowly. Zhu Irzh’s gaze passed over him without recognition. Someone knocked at the door. The prey jerked and Zhu Irzh was across the room and lashing out at him. Wildly, the prey ducked and the demon’s claws grazed his cheek. The prey threw himself on the floor and rolled toward the divan. Zhu Irzh hissed and turned on him, but the prey was already drawn up under the couch. The demon straightened up and walked toward the door. He watched the prey from the corner of his eye. The creature had found something underneath the divan: a bundle of material. Zhu Irzh smelled the pungent odor of blood.
The prey pulled the soggy bundle of material free and padded it together. Then, flicking it across the room, he dived for the door, grabbing at the round handle and wrenching it open. Or would have done, if it hadn’t been locked. The demon’s hands were around the waist of the prey, plucking him from the door and then he was tossed into a corner of the room. He landed sprawling against the edge of the couch. The demon bent down and the prey threw his arm across his eyes.
Zhu Irzh blinked. His vision hazed, but his mind was suddenly quite clear. He looked down at Chen.
“What are you rolling around on the floor for?”
Chen sat up, then rose from the floor and shot backward out of reach. “Because you attacked me, that’s why.” His voice was shaking.
“What?”
“Zhu Irzh, if you’re going to be prone to these episodes, I think when all this is over, we’d better take you down to the cells for your own protection.” Chen passed a quivering hand over his face and sat down heavily.
“I attacked you?” Zhu Irzh, appalled, realized that he had absolutely no recollection of the last five minutes. There was another knock at the door.
“What is it?” Zhu Irzh shouted irascibly.
“Is everything all right?” a honeyed voice murmured.
“Go away!”
Silence.
“We can’t stay here,” Chen said. “But the door’s locked.”
“What, from the outside?”
Discreetly, they rattled the handle, but the door was tight.
“Chen,” Zhu Irzh whispered. “What is behind the drapes?”
Cautiously, they investigated, but there was just paneling, nothing more. The mirror was bolted to the wall.
“Very well,” Zhu Irzh said. He strode to the door, paused, then kicked it neatly and sharply so that the lock splintered. Chen followed him down the hallway. The demon could hear a distant disturbance: the sound of voices. After a moment, a young woman in an ochre wrap appeared. She had a geisha’s artificial smile upon a painted rosebud mouth. Above the smile, her eyes were shiny and black. Her hands were buried in the wide sleeves of the wrap. Zhu Irzh gave her what he hoped was an impassive stare.
“You wish to go? May I show you out?” she asked. She had a little, breathy voice.
“Thank you.”
She stood aside and let them go through a narrow doorway. Zhu Irzh brushed against the hem of her wrap as he went through the door, and winced. She seemed extremely hot. As they came out into an atrium she took a lantern down from the wall; a pretty thing decorated with peonies. Demurely, with eyes downcast, she led them through.
“Is this the door to Shaopeng?” Chen asked her.
What’s left of it, Zhu Irzh thought.
“It is.”
“You go first,” Chen said. The demon felt a light, hot hand fall on his shoulder.
“Okay,” he said.
“I’m going, Chen. No need to push.”
“I didn’t.”
Zhu Irzh looked back; the geisha stood, still smiling prettily, several feet distant. He took a deep breath and stepped through the door. Outside, Shaopeng Street seemed unchanged, but the day had worn on. When they had gone into the lounge, it had been morning. Now, the strip of visible sky was an evening rose and gold, filmed by dust, and the lights were coming on. The street was full of people, some wandering apparently bereft, but the majority was dressed in their best for the celebrations. The demon took a deep breath of humid air. Passers-by looked at him askance and steered around him. Above him swung the neon sign of the demon lounge. Well, thought Zhu Irzh, and then his heart contracted as if he’d been punched. Chen was not with him.
Zhu Irzh went straight back through the door, and collided with Chen, coming out. Beyond the detective’s shoulder, he had a brief confused glimpse of somewhere entirely different: a vast plain, with a bright strip of river crossing it and a sky on fire.
Zhu Irzh grabbed Chen’s arm and dragged him down the street, pulling him through the door of the nearest bar. It was packed to the gills, but they were lucky: a couple was leaving, a departure accelerated when they caught sight of the demon. Chen and Zhu Irzh were able to slide into a curtained booth. Beneath the edge of the curtain a hand appeared with a tray. Chen scrawled a drinks order on the paper and put it on the tray with the money. The bar was badly lit. Zhu Irzh rubbed his eyes with his hands, again and again. Fingers locked around his wrist.
“Don’t. You’ll make them sore,” Chen said.
“Okay, okay,” Zhu Irzh said, surprised at this sudden paternal consideration. The sake arrived, a half-bottle with tea glasses.
“We’ve run out of proper ones,” an unseen person said.
“I don’t care,” Chen said. He filled the little three-inch glass carefully to its brim and handed it to the demon, who knocked it back.
