Tong Lashing

by Peter David

  As we traveled, my mind was racing ahead of us. I kept toying with the notion of breaking off, trying to escape into the night. But to what end? To return to the Imperior? Perhaps even be rounded up by soldiers who might have awakened by this point from the drugged tea? That certainly seemed a less-than-intelligent strategy.

  Yet look at the alternative. I was riding hell-bent-for-leather to keep up with a mysterious, vicious, lethal woman who was leading me to others who were probably just like her. I was willingly being led to the very people who were responsible for the death of the very fellow whose death I was out to avenge. The odds were sensational that they would endeavor to annihilate me the moment I set foot in their lair, wherever that was, take the tachi sword, and be done.

  Why did they want the sword? I still had no idea.

  However, one thing kept tumbling around in my mind, prompted by something that the late Go Nogo had said:

  “If I wanted to kill you, you would be dead.”

  The fact was that these Anaïs Ninjas seemed to come and go as they pleased. The shadows were their second homes. They wafted through the air, as easy to capture as a passing breeze. This one had the Imperior at her mercy. The Imperior, reputed to be their greatest enemy and opponent. But she did not dispatch him. And all that time that I was residing in the palace, how likely was it that the Anaïs Ninjas could not possibly have made their way in under cover of darkness, kill me, and take the sword for themselves?

  They didn’t just want the sword for some reason. They wanted the sword and me for some reason. I couldn’t fathom why. It did, however, embolden me.

  Once upon a time, I would never have embarked upon such a foolish avenue of endeavor for fear of my life. But, as noted, my experiences in Wuin had hardened me. I did not actively seek out death, but paralyzing dread of it no longer ruled my actions. I was willing to take a chance, to play along with the Forked Tong, to see who was in charge and what they wanted.

  Besides, it wasn’t as if the other side in this power struggle was any great delight to work with. The Imperior had tried to have me kill myself. That hardly engendered depths of loyalty.

  But I was not about to forget they’d slain my teacher. Someone was going to pay for that. And if it meant playing along, outwitting the women in charge, playing them against each other while seeking out weaknesses I could exploit, well… I was fully confident that I had the mental tools to engage in such a battle of wits and ultimately triumph.

  Such were the dangers of hubris.

  It was some hours later that we departed the main road and headed off down a side path. We had gone only a few feet, however, when the Anaïs Ninja called a halt. As I reined up, she vaulted off her horse, went back to the road, pulled some brush from a nearby bush, and wiped away any trace on the dirt road that we had veered off. She slapped her sleek black horse on its rump, and the animal obediently charged back off onto the main road, vanishing moments later into the darkness. The reason why was obvious: to lead away any possible pursuers. The road was fairly well traveled. It would take even the most eagle-eyed of trackers some work to notice that the number of tracks they were following had gone from two to one.

  She walked down the dirt road toward me, and I couldn’t help but think she’d just created more work for herself. Then I looked beyond her and realized she was walking so lightly, she was leaving no tracks in the dirt. I didn’t know how such a thing was possible, unless she was spectral. At that point I wasn’t prepared to dismiss any notion out of hand.

  Just as she’d leaped onto horseback with facility before, she vaulted this time onto the back of mine. Instantly she insinuated her body against me.

  “Let’s stay professional, shall we?” I insisted.

  “Absolutely,” she replied. And yet I noticed, as we continued on our way that apparently the only thing she could hold on to to maintain her balance was my bum.

  The side road angled downward for a time, and I guided the horse through carefully, keeping an eye out for stray roots or logs overgrown by ivy and weeds. The entire business was becoming increasingly creepy for me. I felt animal eyes upon me from all directions, things moving through the forest. I heard a brief crack of a branch overhead, thought I saw something winged and menacing, and then it was gone. My forest-trained senses were running riot, although part of that might well have been fueled by my agitated state.

  “Where are we going?” I said, trying not to sound nervous.

  “There,” she said, and pointed.

  At first I couldn’t see where she was indicating, but then I squinted and was able to make it out. There was what appeared to be some sort of temple or shrine ahead of us. A small building, overgrown and covered with weeds and vines. I reined up and dismounted, as the Anaïs Ninja lightly vaulted to the ground behind us.

  “This had better not be a trap,” I warned her.

  Even in the darkness, I could see the grim amusement in her eyes. “Or else—?”

  Naturally I had no fallback. But I simply looked intense, nodded, and said, “Yes.”

  That appeared to confuse her slightly, for which I was glad. My certainty that I was doing the right thing was starting to waver a bit, but it was too late to back out.

  I waited a few moments for my eyes to adjust, and then I made my way into the temple. As soon as I was within, I saw there were candles burning just ahead. So someone was waiting for us.

  This is it. You’re not getting out of this, you idiot. You’ve stuck your head into the noose and they’re going to snap it tight around your neck. Enjoy dancing in the air.

  But I didn’t believe it. As reliable as my inner voice usually was, there was just no feeling of… of completion. If I were to die here, now, there was too much left unanswered, too many questions hanging about. None of it made any sense.

  Then again, life wasn’t about making sense. Life was about existing for as long as you could until some thing or things brought you down, and there was no requirement for closure or an answer to all life’s mysteries. In fact, the odds were that when you died, you’d die in ignorance at some level no matter what. It was hardly a comforting train of thought to engage in.

  The shadows were long from the candles, and then they began to move.

  I couldn’t make out a lot in the darkness, but that much I could see. More of the Anaïs Ninjas, stepping out from the inky blackness, their eyes glittering. I heard them breathing heavily, and some of them were absently running their hands across their breasts.

  This was one wild group of shadow warriors. They seemed as likely to embark upon an orgy as kill you. Although considering the overheated sentiments the ones I had encountered had been spouting up until now, I wasn’t sure which would be the preferable fate to suffer.

  (All right, that’s obviously not true. But damn, it sounded good, didn’t it?)

  The one who had led me there stepped forward, placed her right fist into her left palm in front of her chest, and then mashed them against her breasts three times. The others promptly returned what was obviously their form of greeting.

  And then, from beyond the candles, I heard a musical voice, filled with amusement and even vague interest. “So… this is he. The renowned Po.”

  “And you would be…?”

  A woman stepped from the shadows, although to call her a woman would be to understate it.

  She was, quite simply, the most magnificent creature I’d ever encountered.

  The Anaïs Ninja once again performed that bizarre little ritual of breast pushing, and the gorgeous woman who had taken center stage in this show of force and strangeness returned the gesture.

  As for me, I had no idea how long I stood there, staring at her. Time seemed to freeze. No, not just freeze. To become utterly irrelevant. I could have remained there all day just gazing at her. The Anaïs Ninja had stepped forward and was speaking softly to this perfect creature, who was listening and nodding, glancing in my direction every so often as she took in the information. When she was do
ne, the Anaïs Ninja stepped back and the woman straightened up, staring at me, giving not the slightest hint of what she was thinking.

  Her fragile Chinpanese features gave her the look of a porcelain doll. Her face was pure white, her eyebrows and eyes delicately underlined and slightly exaggerated, adding to the exotic and erotic look of her. She was the most elaborately costumed individual I’d yet encountered. Her outermost garment was a wide-sleeved jacket, reaching to the waist, with a pattern of bird medallions brocaded in greens and yellows.

  Attached to the waist of the jacket’s back was a long, pleated train of sheer, white silk, decorated with yet another dragon design. This one actually looked surprisingly like Mordant. Beneath the jacket, she wore a purple kimono of what also seemed silk. It was abnormally large, the large skirt swirling out around her feet, since she was wearing more kimonos beneath.

  Her hair was elaborately done up in an elaborate coiffure, and attached to her forehead were lacquered, gold-sprinkled combs over-laid with a gold lacquered chrysanthemum crest.

  And her eyes… I could swim in her eyes. Drown in them, die in them, and go to a watery grave happier than I’d ever been in my entire miserable existence. She was as nothing I’d ever seen or could ever hope to see again.

  All I could think of at that instant was what Mitsu had said to me about instantly falling in love. At looking into someone’s eyes and seeing a reflection not only of yourself, but the life the two of you had spent together in some previous incarnation.

  Madness. Insanity. I, Apropos the Cynic, Apropos the Realist, Apropos Who Knew Better Than Anyone Else. To even open myself up to the possibility of such an experience was to admit that there were far greater possibilities to life than I had ever dared imagine.

  Romantics were fools. They were mold on bread, mushrooms upon trees. They grew upon the harsh reality of life and softened it and made it weak. They viewed the world through a wet prism of feebleness that bordered on the pathetic. I had always known this for a fact. To fall in love to any degree is to needlessly expose yourself to inevitable betrayal and falsehood and, ultimately, the object of that love not possibly being everything that you wanted them or needed them to be.

  I knew all this. I knew it as surely as I knew my own name.

  And yet, at that moment, I did not care. Seeing her there illuminated by the candles, it was as if light was being brought for the first time to the wretched and tortured thing I called my daily existence.

  She was beautiful. She was soulful. And best of all…

  She was evil.

  Well, of course. Naturally. That had to be clear, wasn’t it? She was evil. She was connected to this group of thieves and criminals and murderers. She was quite likely the leader, or one of the key figures, considering the deference they showed her. Perhaps she was even this mysterious “Ho” I’d heard tell of.

  What did that mean to me?

  No chance of being let down. No chance of betrayal. No chance of her turning out to be something other than she was.

  If I did follow the call of my heart, I was going into it with my eyes wide open. Dazzled by her beauty, but wide open. Every woman that I had ever become romantically involved with had not only turned out to be something other than what I’d expected, but had wound up betraying my trust in the process. Here was a woman, though, whom I knew I could never trust. Ever.

  Most romantics believe that true, great love must be built upon a foundation of trust. This is patently untrue. True love is not built on trust. True love is built on knowledge. Trust is simply what you substitute for lack of knowledge, and then you hope for the best. But with this woman, with this goddess in a mortal world—and believe me, I know something of goddesses in mortal worlds—I knew that betrayal was not only a likelihood, but nigh unto a certainty. It removed all doubt. I would never have to worry if she would betray me; only how.

  It was liberating. With the knowledge that she would betray me came the awareness that I could likewise betray her at some point when it suited my needs. All was fair, as the saying went. Love and war, gloriously intertwined.

  Was any of this passing through her mind? I couldn’t know for sure. She appeared to regard me with open curiosity. She arched a single eyebrow which, thanks to her makeup, was laced with a subtext that was practically erotic.

  “I hear tell,” she said, “that you occasionally have been known to speak.”

  I found my voice. To my surprise, it was huskier than it usually was. “I am… Apropos. That is my full name, actually.”

  “Apropos.” Her tongue seemed to glide over each letter. “Ap-propos.” She said it several times, each time slightly different in her pronunciation. “A most unusual name.”

  “And to whom do I have the… honor… of speaking?” I asked. My left leg was trembling slightly and I steadied it. Since that was my good leg, I certainly didn’t want it going out from under me. Falling flat on my face was not the best way to make a good first impression.

  “I,” she said slowly, “am Wang Ho. Veruh Wang Ho. Leader of the Skang Kei family. Founding member of the Forked Tong. I am who your Imperior has been searching for, for quite some time.”

  “He’s hardly my Imperior,” I said. “I’m just a visitor here.”

  “And yet, for a visitor, you have made quite an impression and have found yourself in the midst of some very troubled circumstances.”

  I shrugged, trying to sound casual in her presence. “Call it a knack.”

  “Oh, I call it far more than that. I call it… most interesting.” She was standing, but perfectly still, like a statue. Only her small movements, such as reaching up and thoughtfully touching her chin with an outstretched finger, convinced me that she was actually flesh and blood. “So it is my understanding that you wish to join the Forked Tong. Why should we permit that?’

  “The question could easily be turned around,” I replied. I couldn’t let my overwhelming attraction to her shake my resolve or unman me. I sensed that this was a woman who respected only strength. To display weakness would be fatal. “Why should I want to join? I have grievances against your organization.”

  “Do you.”

  “You killed my teacher. You killed my teacher, Ali.”

  “Ali. Yes.” She nodded thoughtfully. “The previous owner of that sword,” and she inclined her head toward the sword dangling from my hip. “He imparted knowledge and wisdom to you, did he?”

  “What my teacher taught me remains between he and I,” I said. “Just as the unbalanced scales for his death remain between you and I.”

  “I see. And what would you have, Apropos?” she asked with a faintly mocking smile. “Revenge? Revenge upon the sisters who killed him? Can you pick out which ones did it?” and she gestured sweepingly around the room.

  “Perhaps I could just avenge myself upon you.”

  “You could. However, be aware that I did not order the attack upon Ali. I do not direct every move the sisters make. In this instance, sisters were doing it for themselves. They have their own plans, their own priorities.”

  “So you do not condone what happened?”

  “I did not say that.” She laughed. She had a lustrous-yet-light laugh, like morning bells calling vespers. It was difficult for me to believe I was admiring the laugh of someone who was chuckling over the death of my teacher, and yet, so it was. “For reasons you do not yet fully comprehend, what happened to Ali was no tragedy.”

  “If I do not fully comprehend them, then perhaps it would be best for you to explain them to me.”

  She regarded me thoughtfully for a moment, and then stepped down toward me. It was only at that point I realized she was standing upon a slightly raised platform. She descended four steps so that she was almost at eye level with me; she remained taller than I, but not by much. “I would explain,” she said, “to one who is part of the Forked Tong. Are you joining us?”

  “I have already expressed my interest.” It was getting difficult for me to remain focused. Since she
was closer, I was able to detect the aroma of some sort of scent she was wearing. It smelled like honeysuckle and lilacs, and was nearly enough to make me light-headed. The most amazing thing of all was, I wasn’t certain whether it was some sort of fragrance she added after a bath, or whether it was her own natural body scent.

  “To join the Forked Tong requires far more than an expression of interest,” she told me. “It requires a show of dedication.”

  “Dedication? To an organization whose representatives attacked me at the fish market?”

  She shrugged slightly. “A mere test.”

  “Of what? Of me? Or of this?” and my hand went to the hilt of the tachi sword.

  I wasn’t sure, but it seemed to me the Anaïs Ninjas suddenly tensed, as if expecting trouble. Trouble from me? Or trouble from the sword itself? Pieces were falling into place in my mind.

  “Our motivations will remain a closed book to you for now, Apropos,” she told me. “Consider, though: The fact that we have not yet killed you should be enough to indicate that there is more to the Forked Tong than you suspect.”

  “Perhaps. Or perhaps it’s simply an indication that you feel you can’t kill me.”

  “Oh, we can,” she assured me.

  I took a step toward her. “Oh, can you?”

  And she moved toward me in response. “Yes. We can.”

  My entire body was quivering. I had never wanted a woman so much before. And I could see it in her dark brown eyes: There was feeling for me there as well. She would never admit to it, of that I was sure. But it was there. We were having a powerful effect on each other.

  With a superhuman exercise of willpower, I stepped back. “You know what I want,” I managed to say. “Information. A balancing of the scales. Tell me what you want.”

  “Proof of your interest in the Forked Tong.”

  “The Imperior wants me dead and I am an outsider wherever else I go. What more proof would you require?”

  “That is simply the nature of your personal predicament. That is not proof.”

  “What would you consider proof, then?”

  “The princess.”