Kiai! & Mistress of Death

by Piers Anthony

  But this fast action had been noisy. Necessarily so; you can't reason with an animal, or gesture it to silence as you might a man. Now the demons would be alert. I had to find a hiding place, fast. I ran across the court, trying to get as far away from the fallen dogs as possible. The demons would come there first. I made it to the edge of the garden, where a lighted corridor led away.

  As I entered that passage, my body tripped an electronic eyebeam. An alarm sounded. My second mistake, compounding my problems. I was just not cut out to be a sleuth. But I ran on.

  Suddenly there was a hissing. Gas jetted from vents in the ceiling, flooding the hall. I tried to hold my breath, but the stuff tingled on my skin, numbing it. It was some kind of nerve poison that could act through the skin. Not Kill-13, fortunately.

  Then the floor was coming up at me. I never even felt it strike. I didn't think I was unconscious long, for they were just tying me as I pulled out of it. I was still too weak to resist, but I tensed my muscles as the rope tightened about my wrists and ankles, so that there would be some slack when I relaxed. I didn't know what they planned to do with me, but at least I was alive. They left me, bound hand and foot on the floor. I struggled to free myself, but there was not enough slack. And soon they returned.

  "Set our guest on a chair," a voice said. They picked me up and put me on a chair, my bound wrists falling behind the backrest. It was comfortable enough.

  The demon who faced me was Eurasian, half-Chinese, half-European by the look of him, and about fifty years old. His skin was faintly yellowish. He was stocky, not too tall, and bald. He wore rimless glasses that did not conceal the color of his eyes, the deepest orange I had yet seen. He wore rings on his fingers, and a gold chain about his muscular neck holding a black jade figure of Kali: her eyes were red rubies. Overall, he was dressed in a blue velvet kimono, embroidered with gold cloth. And simple sandals on his callused feet.

  I knew this was Kan-Sen, the master of the demon empire.

  "Mr. Striker, you have caused me much mischief," he said.

  "You started it," I replied shortly.

  He shrugged, not deigning to argue technicalities with a prisoner. The motion showed the power of his body; this was one finely conditioned man. "It seems we were betrayed. No straight should have been able to locate this place, unless someone within the organization helped him. The lapse is not fatal, despite the loss of our production site, as I have reserves of approximately a billion dollars worth of Kill-Thirteen. This will tide us over until a new supply farm is in operation. But obviously we must verify the source of the leak and deal with it, before proceeding."

  So they thought someone had simply told me about all their locations. Small credit given for my difficult research. But let them go on a search for the mythical traitor.

  "It will be easiest for all parties concerned if you simply tell us how you located our ship, our farm, and our capital," Kan-Sen said.

  Uh-oh. Ilunga, the black mistress, had told me of the ship, and given me the hint about Honduras. She was the one Kan-Sen wanted.

  Naturally I was not about to tell him.

  "Bring the girl," Kan-Sen snapped. "First douse him; he smells." A demon dumped a bucket of cold water over my head. No harm done, as I was naked and the room was warm. But it did remind me of my state. A naked man is psychologically vulnerable.

  They brought Chiyako, and I felt more vulnerable yet. She was dressed in a slit black skirt, and a straightjacket. Her hair was mussed, but she did not appear to have been mistreated. And she had a gag on her mouth. No, not exactly a gag, a bit, like that of a horse, to prevent her from biting. No doubt she had given the demons quite a bad time.

  "Understand, Striker, that you will not be released," Kan-Sen said. "You are too dangerous. But we have no real quarrel with your fiancée. Tell us what we want to know, and she will go free."

  Oh, God! They were offering to exchange Chiyako for Ilunga, and how could I refuse? The demons had dealt roughly but honestly with me before; I could probably trust them in this.

  But if I made that deal, the demons would be able to recoup with the certainty that no one would betray them again. All my efforts would have been for nothing.

  I did not hold any particular brief for Ilunga; I regarded us about even now. The black mistress had hurt me and helped me, and understood me in her fashion; I had done the same for her. Certainly I would never sacrifice Chiyako to protect Ilunga. Yet if that protection meant sowing the seed of destruction in the demon empire after I was dead...

  "Your alternatives are three," Kan-Sen said. "First, you can refuse to cooperate entirely. In that case, the girl dies." Here he gave Chiyako a little shake, to make his meaning quite plain, "And you will be subject to torture until we gain the information. Second, you can assist us in this matter. Then she will be freed, and you will die cleanly. Third, you can agree to join us as a demon. Then your girl will remain, taking the drug also."

  "Yo!" Chiyako cried around the bit. The thing prevented her from getting her tongue up to form N.

  "And the two of you will work as a team for us, rebuilding what you have destroyed."

  "For the whole two years the drug lets us live!" I said sourly. "Not so! You can live twenty years at least, if you take care of yourself. Simply a matter of resting thoroughly between sniffs, not taking more than the minimum drug, eating well so that the bodily resources are not depleted. Vitamin A supplements to protect the eyes; magnesium, testosterone, and so on. It is not an arduous program, and the drug has substantial rewards to offer. Particularly when your supply is assured."

  I looked at Chiyako, and knew that I could not sacrifice her, though the world came to an end. But anything I did would be useless, unless she agreed. What use to save my life and hers, if she walked out of my life forever? As well she might.

  "She must decide," I said.

  Kan-Sen removed Chiyako's bit. I saw the sores at the corners of her mouth where it had chafed, and I felt a mindless rage I dared not show. "You can see that we have neither drugged her nor harmed her in any way," he said. "We have only restrained her and held her for your benefit, though we scarcely expected you to come here." Then, to Chiyako: "Speak, fair woman. You have heard the bargain."

  She spoke in Chinese. It sounded like "Tunia macarinambo."

  "In English," Kan-Sen said. His voice was even, but obviously he had exerted some willpower. He was half-Chinese, and must have understood the words, and it must have been a doozy of an insult.

  "Kill us both," Chiyako said.

  Kan-Sen gestured sadly. "Now that would profit us nothing. Surely you understand that my approach is positive. I want you with us, not wasted in death."

  She made no further answer. Her eyes were fixed on mine, but I could not read what was in them. I had the eerie feeling that whatever came to pass, she would prove to be stronger than I, despite her seeming frailty.

  "Perhaps you do not properly appreciate the consequence of that choice," Kan-Sen continued after a moment. "Your deaths will not be pleasant ones. In the interest of fairness, I shall make a small demonstration."

  Suspecting what was coming, I threw myself off the chair, straining to snap my bonds. But the demon guards were ready for me. Two of them hoisted me up and held me in place on the chair, while a third brought out a small device. It was a board with a steel loop on top, tightened by a screw on the side. There were straps to fasten something to the board.

  "This is a thumbscrew," Kan-Sen said. "When the pain is sufficient, you will scream. Shall we see how strong your willpower is?"

  They applied the device to my left thumb, behind my back. I

  felt the straps being fastened to hold my hand in place. Then they tightened the screw. The band constricted.

  I tried to hold out, but the pain became appalling. I had never known that so much agony could come from so small a portion of the body. The sensation became worse and worse, lancing up my arm and through my skull. My thumb felt as if it were about to burst. It
seemed as though blood were squirting out, bone splintering. Something snapped, and I thought it was the bone. The sensation was intolerable.

  I could not help myself. I screamed.

  Immediately it stopped. The demons removed the thumbscrew, allowing me to catch my breath. Slowly the pain diminished. "Do you really want to die under such duress?" Kan-Sen asked me solicitously.

  "A thumbscrew won't kill him," Chiyako said. She was tough, all right; if this little demonstration had been intended to make her weaken, it had failed miserably.

  "We have other instruments," Kan-Sen said. "In fact I rather pride myself on my collection. It has become a hobby of mine, you see, since demons feel very little pain. At what stage does pain return, as the fit wears off? I have made a study, but I shall not bore you with the details. I assure you it is possible to die, and very slowly."

  "I'll take your word," I said. The fact is, I do not much like pain. He spoke with a certain scientific detachment that assured me that he had no need to bluff or bluster.

  "More important," Kan-Sen continued, "do you really want to watch her die similarly?"

  "Her!" I cried involuntarily. I had not appreciated that she, too, would be tortured. But of course she would. And while I was forced to watch; that was SOP.

  "I might point out that such measures would be largely ineffective against demons, while the fit is on," Kan-Sen said. "This is often a disadvantage, as we wound ourselves unnecessarily and take unreasonable risks, but it does represent a fine immunity to such persuasions. Naturally there will be Kill-Thirteen available for each of you during the interrogation; if you wish to eliminate the pain by taking a voluntary sniff, we certainly shall not deny you."

  Chiyako said something more in Chinese. He merely looked at her. "Such pretty little thumbs."

  I tried to speak, but the very crowding of obscenities choked "I shall leave you two alone for a while, to discuss the matter," Kan-Sen said. "Perhaps you will reconsider. It is not an ungenerous offer I have made."

  He and his demons departed, closing the door behind them. I noticed the latch as it closed, because it was a latch, not a knob. A projecting bit of metal. I was sure someone would be standing behind it, listening to our conversation, but I didn't care. It was enough for the moment just to be with her. Even bound as she was, and as I was.

  "Do not surrender," Chiyako said. "There is another way."

  "I love you," I said. "I could never stand to see you tortured."

  "They killed my father," she said. "I could never join them, or assist them in any way."

  "I arranged to have an elder speak for me, to ask for your hand in marriage."

  She paused, and I saw a sparkle in her eyes. Was it joy, or grief? "It would have been arranged," she said. "My father told me." She leaned over with some difficulty, restrained by the tight straitjacket, and kissed me on the mouth.

  "I can't join them, and I can't let you be tortured," I said. "I'll have to tell them who their traitor is."

  "But they will rebuild!" she exclaimed. "It will be as before! Worse, for they have grandiose plans."

  "I think I know who their man is," I said. "They'll eliminate him anyway, and rebuild anyway. It is all they can do. They just want confirmation." It wasn't even a man they wanted, but I hoped to sow further doubt in the minds of the eavesdroppers, until the moment I told them directly. If some chance to escape occurred before then...

  "You will not have to see me tortured," she said.

  "Then you agree?" I hardly believed this, though I had already decided.

  "I love you, Jason," she said, standing back. Then her leg came up in a sudden, beautiful roundhouse kick, aimed for my head. Instinctively I threw myself aside. Her foot smacked into my ear, a glancing blow that still sent me reeling with a ringing in my skull. I crashed to the floor, but she was over me, her shoulders swinging forward for balance, her foot lifting for a head stomp. I could not help admiring the flash of her calf and inner thigh as that foot came down to crush my skull. I remembered the first time I had seen that leg, during the fight with demons outside Kobi's dojo. Meanwhile my reflexes carried on. I squirmed aside, and rolled into her other leg, bringing her down on top of me. Then the room was filled with demons. They hauled her off me. "Oh, Jason!" Chiyako cried with sorrow and exasperation. "You spoiled it!"

  I could only stare at her from the floor. Had she gone crazy? Kan-Sen was there. "A very nice move," he said. "Extremely pretty! She tried to kill you, so you could neither talk nor watch her die. Fortunately you resisted."

  I had not realized. Chiyako had figured it out, a way out of the impasse. She had tried to tell me, and must have thought I understood and I had voided it.

  I would never have another chance at so lovely a demise: to be kicked to death by my fiancée's beautiful limbs.

  "Do not tell them!" Chiyako cried as the demons bore her away. She did not know that it was another woman, the black mistress, that she was protecting.

  "I think you need a bit more time to consider," Kan-Sen said. "A spirited girl like that—she is worth saving, isn't she? You would not want to die, knowing what would be the consequence to her. Therefore you protected yourself, knowing that such misery is so easily avoided. I congratulate you."

  I sat silent, too discouraged to reply. He was, quite possibly, right. How could I know my own motives?

  He threw a robe over my shoulders and left with his demon entourage. At least I was not naked anymore. But now I had new food for thought. Surely he had overheard our conversation, and already knew that I was ready to talk. Why hadn't he simply demanded the information on the spot, perhaps threatening Chiyako directly?

  Because he didn't really want it? Was his threat to Chiyako a bluff? His real intent might be to convert me, or both of us, and all the rest was mere window dressing. He had been remarkably tolerant of our resistance.

  If he converted us, we would tell him the identity of his traitor anyway, and help him greatly in his effort to restore and expand the demon empire. He would make every effort to change our minds, and avoid killing either of us as long as possible. My counter-betrayal of Ilunga would merely symbolize my conversion. If I went that far, why not farther? Stage by stage, he would guide me into the fold.

  I saw all this, and was appalled by it, but the threat to Chiyako was forcing me to consider the alternatives most seriously. How would the demons use her, before she died?

  The door opened. This time Ilunga was with the demons. I suppressed a start of surprise. "Do you know this man?" Kan-Sen asked her, indicating me.

  "I recognize him. I raided his dojo." She seemed to be at ease, a good actress.

  "We hope to convert him to our cause," Kan-Sen said. "We might even bargain with him, to spare the traitor in our midst, if only he joined us. Perhaps you should talk to him."

  "I would rather kill him," she said.

  "An interesting observation. Were you aware that his fiancée, Chiyako, just made the attempt?"

  Ilunga looked at me, surprised. "She tried to kill him? She loves him!"

  Kan-Sen nodded. "She loves him. An intriguing parallel, is it not?"

  "No parallel at all!" Ilunga snapped.

  No parallel? Kan-Sen was entirely too smart!

  "A woman in love will do anything for her man," Kan-Sen said. "She might even provide him with forbidden information at great peril to herself. Perhaps the Chinese girl did that."

  "Perhaps," Ilunga agreed. We all knew that it was not the Chinese girl he really meant.

  Now Kan-Sen had made me yet another subtle offer: Ilunga. He had suggested that she loved me—and she had been unable to deny it. He understood her motive better than I had. Why else had she helped me, knowing the terrible consequences she faced? Not for power; she could have had that with far more certainty by killing me. She could have sent me into an ambush.

  "I rather think you might persuade him," Kan-Sen said to her. "To encourage you, I shall hold your quota of the drug, pending your success."
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br />   There it was: the steel beneath the velvet. The one way to torture a demon was to take him off Kill-13. And Kan-Sen would even suspend vengeance on Ilunga, in exchange for my conversion. He was pulling out all the stops, and giving her a powerful motive to cooperate.

  Too quick a revelation would have spoiled his larger design. He wanted it to happen in the right manner. That way he would have three good demons—Ilunga, Chiyako and me—instead of three corpses. And we all would know who called the tune. In fact, Kan-Sen was something of an artist. I had to admire his style.

  Ilunga made a snort of disgust and walked out. She was not going to play the game of attempting to kill me, knowing now that was futile. And any dialogue we might have would only give her away.

  Kan-Sen let her go. He had made his point. "She will return, I think, to reason with you," he said to me, as though we were two generals planning strategy. "In due course. Meanwhile, we shall keep your fiancée safe."

  Yes, he would play one girl off against the other, magnifying the potential jealousies he had so aptly brought out. And play me against both.

  He was just too clever; his plan was too well orchestrated. Sooner or later one of the three of us would break, and that would put further pressure on the others. Already I was doubtful about the wisdom of holding out, if my conversion saved Chiyako. I was left alone once more.

  Dammit, if this went on much longer, I would capitulate. The girls were tough, both of them; neither would yield. I was the weak point. I had to get free, to fight. Action was my way, not silent sweating.

  I worked my way off the chair again, lay on the floor, and forced my wrists down over my feet. The contortion was extremely difficult, impossible for most people, but I had had many years of training, and I was desperate. The robe got in my way and I heaved it off. I got my feet through at last, and now my hands were in front of me.