The Demon and the City (26 page)

"Thank the goddess for that," Zhu Irzh remarked with some irony. They watched as the line grew stronger and brighter, but then the ship gave another great plunge and sent everyone staggering.

"Hold on!" Chen cried. Robin could see through the porthole that something was rising up from the surface of the Sea of Night. It looked like a huge spined porcupine, with a mass of waving tentacles and a billowing sail that spanned out behind it into a web of light.

"What," Robin heard the demon say, with the kind of calmness that heralds screaming panic, "is that?"

Robin did not know. The thing made her sick to look at it. It was utterly wrong. The light was a visceral red, an intestinal shade, and moments later it came down to cover the boat. The cabin was cast into a crimson gloom and filled with a smell like old fish. One of the maidens began to gag, delicately, in the manner of a cat about to be sick.

"Please don't," Zhu Irzh said, eyeing her. Then everything went black.

"It's dragging us down!" Chen cried.

"But what is it?" That was the demon, the panic more evident than ever. "I didn't think anything could live in the Sea of Night."

"It is something from between the stars," a maiden gasped. "The churning of the Sea of Night has brought it up."

"So if it drags us with it, this boat will end up in space?"

"Yes."

"I have to see what's happening," Zhu Irzh said, and over Chen and Robin's protests, he threw open the door. A red fold of translucent flesh billowed up like a canopy, showing a field of stars. Robin had never seen anything so bright. Next moment, the air was ripped from her lungs as whatever atmospheric shield that had been protecting the ship was torn away. The teacups that had been rolling around on the floor floated upward. So did Zhu Irzh. Robin caught hold of the doorframe, clasped the demon by his ankles, and hauled him back, but her chest felt as though it was about to burst. Just before her vision went completely dark, however, she saw something like a huge hook flash across the star field. The boat shuddered and shook. Robin passed out.

She woke to brightness. Her chest was still sore, but the air felt fresh and clean, with a faint smell of the sea in summer. Robin sat up and found that she was lying on the deck with one of the maidens kneeling by her side. The boat, with a glittering tow-rope attaching it to a much larger craft made of pearl and silver, rested a little distance from the shore. Robin looked out onto a mass of flowering trees and artfully ragged cliffs. In the other direction, only a dark line at the horizon's edge betrayed the existence of the Sea of Night, now far behind.

"Yes," the maiden said, smiling. "This is Heaven, the Celestial Shores. Welcome."

"God, I need a cigarette," Zhu Irzh said, coming out of a cabin.

The maiden looked scandalized. "This is Heaven! You can't smoke here!"

The demon gave her a disgusted glance. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

The atmosphere in the room was growing colder by the minute. Paravang stared hopelessly across the table at his bride-to-be, whose expression was warring between complacent and unhappy. Complacent, because she had finally found a husband, and unhappy, because of the amount of the dowry on which Paravang had insisted.

"It is a lot of money," she muttered. Her fleshy face still bore faint traces of the illness that had carried her off: some kind of psoriatic epidemic, or so Paravang understood. Her skin had a curiously mottled appearance, reminiscent of a stormy sky.

"Well, that may be, but I'm afraid I can't get married without it. There's a price on my head, you see."

"Yes, I understand that." The woman, Mahibel Wing, appeared remarkably unfazed by the news that her intended was a target of the Assassins' Guild, which said much for the kind of men she must have been dating in Hell. She sighed. "If that is what you insist upon, then I suppose that is what I will have to pay."

"And the circumstances of the marriage," Paravang said. "As I understand it, the wedding will take place here and you will then return to Hell."

"Yes, to await your arrival in due course. You do understand, do you not, that this contract means that you will not be able to enter Heaven upon the event of your death?"

"I'm aware of that. It's a sacrifice I'm prepared to make." Paravang managed a saccharine smile. He did not add that the chances of entering Heaven were, in any case, somewhat remote: he had not lived a good enough life for that, despite the necessary offerings to Senditreya. You had to believe in the essential goodness of your fellow man and that, for Paravang, had proved to be the sticking point.

"In that case," Mahibel said shyly, "we need to set a date."

"As soon as possible would be good," Paravang said, adding, "otherwise I'll be joining you in Hell rather sooner than expected, in which case I'm afraid the wedding will be off."

"Suits me," Mahibel said with a terrifying attempt at being jaunty. "I will return now—I can't stay long here. I'll call you."

"I'll look forward to it," Paravang said, thinking that an attempt at gallantry wouldn't go amiss. She whirled out of the room in a silent column of dust, leaving Paravang to sit at the table and stare at his hands. The summoning contract that the butcher had drawn up for her had obviously been much less extensive than that arranged with his mother, for the latter was still very much present. He could hear her now, humming tunelessly in the next room as she did the vacuuming. Paravang rose from the table, slipped past the door of the lounge and into the bathroom, where he locked himself in. Apart from sleep, it was the only privacy he'd managed to obtain over the last forty-eight hours. Did she never stop talking? Who did she talk to in Hell, or were there battalions of middle-aged, gossiping dead ladies who all entertained one another? It was almost worth making a final effort to get into Heaven, Paravang thought, but somehow he didn't think that things would be much different there.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, somewhat horrified. He looked so much older . . .his unshaven cheeks sunken and hollow, his hair stringy. He was certainly a fitting bridegroom for poor Mahibel, if looks were anything to go by. And the coldness she had brought with her was still there, sipping gently at his will to live. Was that the idea, perhaps? Get him into her clutches and then debilitate him so that he ended up in Hell several years too early? Just like a woman, Paravang thought bitterly. It struck him that if this were the case, then he might as well just give up and succumb to the Assassins' Guild. After all, they could only kill him as well, and they'd probably be a lot more efficient about it.

As he had expected, Zhu Irzh was not getting on well with Heaven. They had now been taken ashore and led up a pretty cliff path through fields of blossoming trees and into a pavilion. Here, someone so august had been waiting that Zhu Irzh had been unable to look at him and was obliged to stumble outside. It was quite some time before the dazzle had faded from his eyes and, when it did, he looked up to see Chen standing beside him. The badger was at his feet.

"You too, eh?" the demon said.

"It didn't affect me as badly, but yes, the sight of the Jade Emperor is a bit much, I agree." The badger grunted, as if in agreement. "How are you feeling now?" Chen added.

"Weak. This place is sapping me. I can't even think about sex."

Chen looked a little pained, but said that he had expected as much.

"After all, you're a creature of Hell. It's only reasonable that you should react badly on the Celestial plane. Badger doesn't like it either."

"I wish to return to Earth," the badger muttered.

"What's happening back in the tent?"

"Not a lot. Joyful reunions between father and son. Robin's gone to sit outside, but I don't think there'll be any serious difficulty there. She seems to feel pretty badly about the whole thing, but she didn't know what she was doing and she did free him, after all. The goddess wants to speak with me later, I don't know what about."

"So where do things go from here, Chen? Does Heaven take over and sort things out?"

"I don't know. I suppose so. But Senditreya's fled, of course."

"Where to?"

"Either Earth or Hell. There aren't many places for a renegade goddess to go. But what's worse is that the meridian disruption is continuing. And it's affecting the city. I really would prefer to go back and make sure that Inari's all right, at least. Time passes oddly in the Night Harbor—she might be back from Hawaii by now."

"Even Earth's better than this," the demon remarked, gloomily kicking at a tuft of pleasantly scented grass.

"But possibly not for long." Chen looked up. The goddess was approaching through the trees.

"Chen. I need to speak to you. To both of you." She glanced at the badger. "And you, creature of Earth."

Zhu Irzh, the badger and Chen followed her into a grove of flowering plum. As they entered the grove, Zhu Irzh glanced up and saw that a kind of night had fallen: there were blazing stars visible through the white blossoms, visible in a burning azure sky. When he stepped back out of the grove, it was day once more. Kuan Yin was regarding him with an impatient tolerance.

"When you've finished, young man . . ."

"Sorry."

"There is a problem," the goddess said. She sounded curiously hesitant, as if unused to sharing her difficulties with mortals. Let alone Hellkind, Zhu Irzh thought. "Now that the son of the Jade Emperor has returned, the Emperor has announced His intention to sever links with the other worlds."

"What?" Chen was staring at her, aghast. "That would surely mean that not another human soul can enter Heaven."

"I know."

There goes Chen's pension,
the demon thought. Well, it would be nice to have Chen down in Hell in due course, and be able to repay some hospitality, though Zhu Irzh admitted that his colleague might not feel the same way. Chen and Inari should both stay at the Irzh mansion: avoiding Chen's horrible in-laws. With a slight effort, Zhu Irzh directed his attention back to the matter at hand.

"The Emperor feels that things have gone on long enough. We have tried to educate the human world, and we have tried to keep Hell at bay, but it is now the Emperor's view that humanity has been given its chance to learn, and has failed. With this latest plot, to suborn Heaven itself, it is His view that we should withdraw. He will be announcing His intention to other Celestial planes, of course: they may feel differently. If one were to become Christian or Hindu, matters might be entirely other."

Chen was watching the goddess closely. "And how do you feel about this? You don't like it, do you?"

"My feelings on the matter are irrelevant," the goddess said, and Zhu Irzh did not think he imagined the note of sadness in her voice. "I must do as the Emperor commands. But before Heaven can withdraw, there is something that remains to be done."

"Finding Senditreya?"

"Indeed. The goddess is too powerful to be allowed to remain on Earth, or in Hell. We saw that on the Sea of Night. The Emperor, moreover, feels that we have a certain responsibility in that respect. He has therefore asked me to send you back to Earth to track her down, and meanwhile He will arrange for the
kuei
to be sent, when she is found. He does not want to send the
kuei
right away; it will be too disruptive for the people. But I think her temple will be destroyed here."

"Good," said Zhu Irzh, before Chen could answer. "When are we going?"

"Now," the goddess said, and snapped her fingers.

"Wait a minute!" Chen said, but it was too late. The trees around them thrashed as if a gale had suddenly blown in. Stars and plum blossoms alike began to fall, whirling downward, and engulfing Chen and the demon in a pale tempest. Zhu Irzh began to cough and his vision dimmed. For a split second, before his eyes filled with bloody tears, he saw the whole of Heaven laid out beneath like a pastel tapestry: its plains, its mountains, its temples and cities. Its complexity and depth overwhelmed him. He staggered against Chen. Then they were over the Sea of Night and his sight went dark.

When it cleared again, they were standing in the courtyard of Kuan Yin's temple, not far from Shaopeng. The badger gave a sneezing snort, which managed to sound almost happy. Zhu Irzh suppressed an inclination to pat the badger on the head, took a lungful of diesel-laden air and reached for his cigarettes.

"It's
great
to be back."

And at that point, the earth cracked under his feet.

Jhai was halfway out of the city when the first quake hit. The limousine in which she and Opal were traveling was flung sideways across the road, slamming into a lamppost. Jai and her mother were hurled forward, but the seatbelts held them in. Jhai detached the belt, wrenched open the door and leaped from the car. She ran around to the driver's side, where a dazed Colonel Ei was also getting out.

"What the hell—!"

A gaping chasm had opened up along the length of the street. It was not very deep, but cars and a tram had half-fallen into it and now rested at a variety of angles, with people scrambling from them.

"It's a quake," Ei shouted unnecessarily.

"I can see that!" Jhai looked behind her. The chasm extended up the road, zigzagging unevenly across it. No chance of driving anywhere now: they would have to continue on foot. And the airport was a good twenty miles outside town. Once they'd got beyond the quake damage, she would have to find a taxi.

"Jhai?" Opal came to stand beside her daughter, her face creased with fright. "What's going on?"

Jhai could not help feeling that all this earth-heaving wrath was somehow directed at her. Was this Heaven's attempt to strike her down? It seemed uncharacteristically unsubtle. If that were the case, then the best thing to do was to take advantage of the confusion around her and make as quick an exit from the city as possible, before anyone noticed she was gone. At the airport, a private plane to Kerala was waiting. If they could only get there—she would not think about the possibility of damage at the airport itself.