The Demon and the City (23 page)

The butcher looked at him out of reddened eyes.

"Oh, it's you. What do you want?"

"I need your services." Paravang and the butcher regarded one another for a moment with mutual disdain.

"You'd better come in the back, then," the butcher said at last.

The explanation took less time than Paravang had feared. The butcher, Wo Ti, did not bother to ask why Paravang needed the money. Perhaps he'd already heard about the issue of the revoked license: news traveled fast in certain quarters. When Paravang told him that it was essential to conjure forth the spirit of his dead mother, Wo Ti merely grunted and informed him that the time was highly auspicious, given the proximity of the Day of the Dead, but the price would be high. Paravang haggled, and beat the butcher down from outrageous to simply extortionate. He spent the rest of the afternoon in the pawn shop, persuading the broker that a vase really was Tang dynasty and not a cheap knockoff (an episode of some frustration as here, for once, Paravang found himself telling the truth), then returned to the butcher's in the evening with the money.

"I can't summon her here and now," the butcher said. A black cockerel, which Paravang had not noticed that morning, sat huddled in a little cage on the chopping block. "The tides between the worlds aren't right; I'll have to wait till midnight. Go to your temple and wait. I'll send her to you then."

"Can't I wait here?" Paravang said. Goddess knew, he had little interest in witnessing sorcery, but he wanted to make sure that the butcher didn't rip him off.

"No, I don't allow clients to watch except under exceptional circumstances. Don't worry, I won't cheat you. We do have a professional code of ethics, you know."

So did the Feng Shui Practitioners' Guild, but it didn't stop markups and obfuscation, thought Paravang. With reluctance, he agreed to return to Senditreya's temple and wait until midnight.

Over the course of the night, Paravang became increasingly certain that the butcher had indeed cheated him. The temple filled briefly for the evening services, then emptied again. The room grew cold and dark. Even the little votive lamps on the altar seemed to cast no real light. Paravang's chrysanthemums wilted as if touched by frost, even though he had taken care to set them in enough water. Midnight came and went and there was no sign of any approaching spirits. Paravang began to debate whether or not to just go home. The prospect of his own warm bed was exceptionally alluring, and as he started thinking about it, he fell asleep.

Later, he jerked awake as if prodded. Since the temple possessed no windows, he could not see the approaching dawn, but he knew that the sun must be coming up by the sudden activity in the main courtyard. Someone was whistling a jaunty tune, irritating if you have been awake all night, on your knees and frightened. Paravang could hardly move his head from its bowed position. His neck had become painfully stiff in the night, and all his joints ached. Thus he did not look round when he heard footsteps behind him, and a rustle of stiff silk indicating that someone had knelt beside him. It was only when he felt a hand on his shoulder that he turned and found himself staring at a middle-aged woman, dressed in clothes that were fashionable twenty years ago. She was beaming at him, and after a belated moment he recognized his mother.

"God, it's really you," he whispered.

His mother's lips moved, but no sound emerged. She looked about her, gazing up at the shadowy form of the goddess. He remembered now that she had always approved of Senditreya—thought she was a wholesome, next-door kind of deity—and doubtless it was mutual. She was sentimental about religion. She thought it was nice. Paravang gaped at her. His mother had been in her mid-sixties when she had died; the process had evidently knocked a decade or so from her. Her hair was lacquered into a helmet, and she was wearing her familiar dark red jacket. She did not look much like a ghost to her astounded son, until he realized that he was unable to see beyond her eyes: they were flat and without reflection, like the eyes of a mask.

"I'm so glad you're here," Mrs Roche said, reproachfully. "I've been trying to phone your father for
days,
and he wouldn't pick it up, but I know he was there. And you haven't been answering your telephone either, dear."

"I was—I was working."

"Well, never mind, because you're here now. And whoever was that man? I was having ever such a nice read of my magazine and suddenly I found myself in a butcher's shop."

"I'm sorry, Mother. It must have been very distressing for you. But I wanted to talk to you, you see, because I have some wonderful news. I want to get married."

"Oh," his mother said. There was a short, chilly pause.

"Aren't you pleased? I thought it was what you always wanted!"

"It is, dear, of course, but it's just that this has come at a rather awkward time." She rearranged her skirts more comfortably about her. "I wanted to talk to you, Paravang, because I've got someone I want you to meet."

"Oh?" He could have sworn that his mother and the goddess exchanged a complicit little smile.

"Just listen to me, Paravang, and hear what I've got to tell you . . ."

How can you deny your dead mother? Paravang knelt stiffly on the matting and heard her out, with a growing sense of horror. As one trap began to close, he felt, so another opened beneath his unwary feet. But as she talked on, he began to consider that her idea might have a use, for once. He listened carefully.

Chen leaped down from the carriage and pulled the maiden out of the way. The viperous ex-immortal bounded past her on long, thin legs, swerved, and turned back.

"Zhu Irzh!" Chen shouted. "Get the carriage moving!"

Zhu Irzh obligingly cracked the whip over the backs of the kylins as the ex-immortal raced back. The kylins bellowed with fright and charged forward. Zhu Irzh glanced back to see Chen and the Kuan Yin avatar hauling themselves into the moving carriage. Then the ex-immortal was sprinting alongside, the long tongue flickering out, trying to reach into the carriage itself. One of the kylins shot a glance over its shoulder and screamed with fright. Both beasts changed their shape, transforming themselves into lumbering, over-muscled men who dropped out of the harness and raced, snuffling, into the darkness. The coach skidded on the road, striking sparks.

Zhu Irzh took a deep breath, reached down behind him, grabbed hold of the tongue, which resembled a handful of needles, and pulled. Unfortunately, the tongue tugged as well and Zhu Irzh flew off the carriage and landed in the road with the ex-immortal on top of him. Cursing, he lashed out at it but the stabbing tongue was reaching for his eyes. He twisted from side to side, trying to shake it off. The terrible blind head was moving closer.

If it "kills" me,
the demon thought,
then I shall find myself back in Hell
. And what a hassle that would be, not to mention, in all probability, painful. The head flung itself back, the tongue uncoiled—and then the ex-immortal was dragged off Zhu Irzh. He could hear the badger growling. Zhu Irzh lay panting on the ground, and then Chen hauled him to his feet. The maiden, with swift, calm efficiency, was binding the ex-immortal's hands behind its back with its own tongue. The spines seemed not to inconvenience her at all; her hands glowed with a faint, repelling light.

"Thanks," Zhu Irzh said to the maiden.

"You're welcome. I am deeply relieved that we have found him. I did not want to go back without him, though of course the other one, Deveth Sardai, has to take precedence."

Chen frowned. "Why so?"

"I shall give him a sedative," the maiden said as though Chen had not spoken, "and I suppose we shall have to leave him here. My primary self will send someone to fetch him, since the kylins have run away. And now we must head on to the village. I am not sure how long the light will last."

The ex-immortal slumped in her grasp and she arranged him neatly by the roadside. "There we are. Follow me."

Zhu Irzh could think of nothing to say and it seemed that Chen was in a similar state. In a silence both startled and ruminative, they pursued the marching avatar up the hillside.

It became evident that they were approaching Bad Dog Village by the increased amount of filth along the roadside. Gnawed bones littered the dusty earth, along with piles of shit and scraps of material. Zhu Irzh wrinkled his nose. The badger gave an earthy, choking cough.

"Why do you think it's
necessary,
Chen, for souls to pass through here?" Zhu Irzh asked.

"I think it's a test," Chen said. "Like the razor bridge."

"But why should souls be tested?" the demon asked. These theological speculations were new and disturbing. "Haven't they already passed through the test of death? And if they're judged on the events of their lives, then what difference does it make if they pass or fail?"

"Bad Dog Village is a part of that judgement," the goddess' avatar said over her shoulder. "Some souls hang in the balance, and cannot go on to either Heaven or Hell. They must remain here, until a judgement is made."

"What if a judgement isn't made?"

"Then here they stay."

"That doesn't seem very fair," Zhu Irzh said, blinking.

"A remarkable statement, coming from a demon," Chen said without rancor.

"Yes, I know, but—someone should do something about it."

He saw the goddess smile behind her hand, and it annoyed him. What, he wasn't allowed to point out the obvious simply because of his origins? Perhaps it was time to own up to this conscience of his, Zhu Irzh thought. It gave him enough trouble; maybe he should start acting on it . . .

"There's the village," Chen said, pointing ahead.

It didn't look like much of a place to the demon, but he was becoming accustomed to the impermanent appearance of the Night Harbor. A sudden howling suggested that the inhabitants had become aware of their presence.

"So what's the plan?" Zhu Irzh asked. "We just go in and ask for Deveth? What if they refuse to tell us?"

"They will not refuse me," the maiden said.

The demon took a deep breath. "All right. I'll take your word for it."

"You'd best be elsewhere," Chen said to the badger. "See what you can find."

"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 dogmen. The scent of them is all around."

"Very well," the maiden said. "Then lead on."

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.