The Anzu's Egg 2

by J F Mehentee

  I trust the little monk, she said. But I’m not taking chances. If things go pear-shaped, take Cubchick and run for the door behind you.

  When she put it like that, I wasn’t sure if being open with Utsmani was the right thing to do.

  ‘Is there a problem?’ the governor said. ‘You both look preoccupied.’

  Biyu nodded once, and so I told Utsmani about this morning’s encounter with the demoness and why we were here.

  Utsmani lifted his napkin from his lap and placed it next to his plate. He stared at his daughter as if to share an unspoken word. Damini straightened. Lunch was over.

  ‘There are two reasons for wanting the sceptre,’ Utsmani said. ‘To use it to unseal a hellmouth, or to destroy it. Mr Tarigan speaks highly of you both. While the demoness sent you here for the first reason, I believe you will do the right thing and destroy it.’

  I sucked in my cheeks to stop myself smiling. Toojan’s guidance, our being here, began to make sense.

  ‘How do we destroy the sceptre?’ I said, aware that to do that would incur the demoness’s wrath.

  Utsmani faced Damini who reached behind and pulled out a rod. She handed the rod to her father, who reached across and offered it to Biyu. I recalled the yakshini’s staffs shrinking to a similar size and the rods being inserted into what must be a back scabbard.

  ‘That is one of the many daughters of the Divine Monkey’s staff. If a task required it, Anjaneya could make copies of himself and his staff. One such daughter staff, a more powerful one, was lost.’

  Biyu passed the staff to me. It felt as dense as ironwood, and its polished surface was stained red. Silver tipped both ends. Symbols I didn’t recognise covered the metal’s surface.

  ‘The second test,’ Utsmani continued, ‘is for you to locate the lost daughter.’

  Biyu sat forward.

  ‘How is finding a lost staff related to the sceptre?’ she said.

  Damini answered.

  ‘Because Anjaneya said that the lost daughter will provide a means of permanently sealing the hellmouth on Arlanga.’

  She reached across the table for the staff, and I returned it.

  ‘Have you tried looking for the lost daughter yourselves?’ Biyu said.

  Utsmani shrugged.

  ‘Why would we? Anjaneya hid the staff for a purpose that doesn’t directly involve Anganera and its people. It’s not for us to find.’

  Now that we freely conversed, I felt more at liberty to look in Damini’s direction. Her shoulder-length, dark chocolate-coloured hair complimented her caramel complexion, and except for her tattoos, her skin was flawless. From her broad shoulders and toned arms, she worked out and likely knew how to use the staff hidden beneath her summer dress.

  Hey! Biyu said. Stop staring.

  I felt my face redden.

  ‘Did Anjaneya say how the missing daughter would help seal the hellmouth?’ I said, addressing the governor.

  Utsmani frowned.

  ‘There’s nothing written, I’m afraid. And we haven’t researched this subject. While Anjaneya received the sceptre from an Arlangan monk, it isn’t something he wanted his followers to involve themselves with. We’re only the sceptre’s caretakers.’

  Biyu faced me.

  ‘We should return to Bagh-e-Khuda. If there’s no information on Anganera, we might find some clues about the missing daughter in the University library.’

  ‘If I may suggest,’ Utsmani interrupted, ‘I can charter an airship for your swift return to the capital. Time is of the essence. Am I right?’

  8

  On the return flight to Bagh-e-Khuda and in the taxi, I got the feeling our situation had gone from bad to worse.

  Biyu and I both agreed we shouldn’t trust the demoness. But neither of us could make up our minds about the Utsmanis. Was Damini’s claim that the missing daughter staff would permanently seal the hellmouth true? Or, if we found the staff, was there something in it for the Utsmanis? Damini already had one. How had she come by it, and why had the Ministry allowed her to keep the relic?

  While we’d waited for a taxi, Biyu had said, ‘Even if they’re telling the truth, we find the missing staff and close the hellmouth forever, what are we going to do about the demoness?’

  As we drew up to the practice, I hadn’t yet answered her question. I didn’t believe that if we completed all our tasks, a solution to the problem of the demoness would present itself.

  It was around three in the afternoon. We still had over two days before the demoness visited us again. Hopefully, we’d have figured out what to do by then, even if it involved asking Tarigan for Shani protection.

  ‘The door’s open,’ Biyu said, interrupting my sullenness.

  I handed the exact meter amount to the driver and exited the taxi before he counted it.

  We both hurried through the afternoon drizzle. The doorframe was intact and yet the door hung ajar.

  ‘I locked it,’ I said. ‘I swear I did.’

  Biyu squeezed my shoulder.

  ‘Shh!’

  From the other side of the door I heard light footsteps descend the stairs from the living area. Qi energised my tattoos. I pressed a hand to the door, ready to burst in and surprise the intruder.

  ‘Sanjay,’ came a voice from behind it, ‘is that you?’

  Biyu shoved past me.

  ‘Dad?’

  I sighed and followed her in.

  Mr Lee stood in reception. He wore his usual padded jacket and loose trousers, both of which had once been black and had turned shiny grey through use. He rubbed his chin; its bristles matched his crew cut.

  ‘I’m sorry, kids. You’ve been burgled.’

  Biyu handed me the holdall and sidled past her father.

  ‘Oh thank, Khuda,’ she said, staring at the space that was the hidden trapdoor to the vault. ‘They didn’t find it.’

  It was Mr Lee’s idea to lock the practice door—someone had countered the wards and picked the locks—assess the extent of the break-in and then have some ginger tea to calm our nerves.

  The trolley and the couch in the examination room both lay on their sides. The intruder had scattered the contents of a living room bookcase onto the floor, and it was the same with the kitchen cupboards. What little we had in the fridge they’d spilled on the floorboards. They had pulled out all the drawers in the bedroom and emptied their contents into a heap beside our upturned bed. Worse was the pharmacy, with all its cupboards and drawers riffled through.

  I was the first to sit at the table while Mr Lee poured the tea.

  ‘The fritting perverts,’ Biyu said, joining me. ‘They’ve been through my underwear. What did Leyakians hope to find among a woman’s bra and panties?’

  Mr Lee brought over two cups. He placed one before Biyu and gave me the other. Seated with his own cup before him, he raised both eyebrows.

  ‘Leyakians?’ he said. ‘Care to explain?’

  And so Biyu did, starting with Rahmat’s arrival and ending with our return from Anganera.

  Mr Lee listened without interrupting.

  ‘Hell, you two are knee-deep in a barrel of shit,’ he said, when Biyu had finished. He squeezed his daughter’s hand. ‘This isn’t good. You two have got yourselves into tight corners before, but this has to be the tightest.’

  Mr Lee stared at Biyu. A thin sheen of sweat coated his forehead. I needed some way to break the tension. So, I pointed at the holdall.

  ‘Do you want to see the anzu?’

  Biyu hefted the anzu out of the bag. Cubchick yawned, something it had been doing a lot today. Were anzus nocturnal?

  ‘Shit on a stick,’ Mr Lee said. ‘Have you ever seen such a weird-looking creature?’ He held out his hands. ‘Can I hold it?’

  Biyu got up and placed it in his lap. The anzu cast her a forlorn look. It sniffed Mr Lee’s belly.

  ‘I must stink, little fella,’ he said. ‘I’ve just returned from a week of sleeping in the open. Can you smell outdoor fires and temple incens
e, or an old fart with a weak bladder?’

  The anzu gazed up at him with eyes half closed. It settled down on all fours with a forlorn expression. Cubchick closed its eyes and settled back to sleep.

  ‘Dad,’ Biyu said, holding her cup with both hands. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Mr Lee palmed his forehead.

  ‘Getting scatty in my dotage. A Mr Tarigan—he’s the Shani guy you told me about—called the retirement community and said there’d been a break-in at the practice, and I was to come right over. He told me they’d caught the bastard who’d turned this place upside down. There’s no need to tell the police. The Shani will pay for any damages.’

  The news wasn’t heartening. Most likely searching for an anzu’s egg, a stranger had walked into our home, had stuck their nose into our personal possessions and had left behind a mess. It would take hours to clean up everything.

  ‘I’ll start clearing up,’ I said, desperate to restore order to the practice first and then the living area. ‘Biyu, why don’t you start researching Anjaneya’s staff.’

  Biyu’s shoulders relaxed. She nodded, her mouth ajar.

  ‘What do we do with this dopey little fella?’ Mr Lee said.

  The blanket Biyu had fetched for Cubchick was still under the table. I pointed at it.

  ‘Leave him down there,’ I said.

  The anzu made a sound halfway between a squeak and a growl, a protest at being woken. It stood among the blanket’s folds, sniffed them, licked the end of its nose and settled down to sleep.

  ‘I don’t want to touch anyone’s underwear,’ Mr Lee said, wrinkling his nose. ‘I’ll start work on the pharmacy.’

  Ninety minutes into the clean-up, Biyu shouted from the vault.

  I’ve found something.

  I rehung a shirt and then strode out of the bedroom. At the foot of the stairs, I called down to Mr Lee. Three heads would be better than two, and I knew he enjoyed getting involved in our adventuring as he called it. I waited until he joined me.

  Down in the vault, Biyu sat jotting notes while referring to the pages of a book in front of her. Mr Lee sat facing the laboratory. He pointed at the sceptre resting on the bench.

  ‘So that’s the reproduction the demoness made with her blood and nail.’

  I nodded. Biyu looked up from her notes.

  ‘There wasn’t much about Anganera and its Divine Monkey, Anjaneya. The Anganerans follow an oral tradition, and they don’t document their history. If anything’s been written, we’ll find it in academic papers.

  ‘We know Anjaneya made copies of his staff—daughters the Utsmanis called them. The original staff absorbed its daughter after it had fulfilled its use. What the governor and his daughter didn’t tell us is that a copy of a staff could make its own daughter. While all staffs can change size and weight, each division halves their power.’

  I held up a hand for clarification.

  ‘So, the granddaughter of the original staff has a quarter of its power, and a daughter has half?’

  Biyu nodded.

  I thought about Damini Utsmani and the staff she carried. Just how many daughter staffs had the Anjaneya left behind, and what had he created them for?

  ‘The staff we’re supposed to find,’ I said, ‘is it the daughter of the original or a later copy?’

  Biyu leaned into her chair and folded her arms.

  ‘We have to visit the University library. Collecting oral histories is perfect fodder for research grants. With the Leyakians infiltrating the islands, there’s a rush to document as much as we can, in case we lose it. There’s bound to be a couple of papers on Anjaneya, his adventures and his prophecies.’ She stood. ‘I should get going. The library closes in two hours.’

  Someone had ransacked our home, and I wanted everything back to the way it was. After our last visit to the University, however, I wouldn’t let Biyu go on her own.

  A laboratory stool fell onto its side. Its wooden seat bounced once against the floor and landed with a muted thud.

  ‘What’s the little fella doing?’ Mr Lee said.

  The anzu stood on the laboratory bench and licked the length of the sceptre. Aware we were watching it, Cubchick looked up, its snout stained red.

  Biyu was the first out of her seat.

  ‘What are you doing, Cubchick?’ she said, holding the anzu by its shoulders.

  I picked up the sceptre, its surface no longer solid but rubbery. Cubchick emitted a nasal growl.

  ‘It’s attracted to magic,’ I said, recalling Toojan’s explanation. ‘There’s still some left in this.’ Blood covered my fingers. ‘It looks like the magic is thinning. The sceptre’s falling apart. We should lock it in a stasis box.’

  Biyu handed Cubchick to her father. The anzu struggled for a moment and gave a snort of dejection. Mr Lee’s brow crimped.

  ‘He’s heavier,’ I said. ‘Isn’t he?’

  Mr Lee continued to frown.

  ‘He feeds off magic. It accelerates his growth.’ I realised my error. ‘I should have shut him in the bedroom before coming downstairs.’

  Biyu returned to the bench with a warded box. I placed the sceptre inside it and left her to close the box and activate the wards. I washed my hands in the laboratory’s sink.

  ‘Can you put the sceptre in the safe,’ Biyu said. ‘I need to get going.’

  I scrubbed harder and faster.

  ‘I’m coming with you.’ Before she could protest, I added, ‘We’re probably being watched. It’s too dangerous for you to go in there on your own.’

  ‘He’s right, you know,’ Mr Lee said. He watched the anzu as it licked the blood from its fur. ‘I’ll keep an eye on this little fella and finish cleaning up the pharmacy.’

  My hands dry, I bowed my thanks to Mr Lee.

  ‘If any Leyakians return, lock yourself in the vault and protect the anzu,’ I said. ‘The Shani are watching the practice. They won’t blow their cover unless they think you’re in danger. The library closes at six. We won’t be gone for more than two hours.’

  Mr Lee gave me a sharp nod.

  ‘Will do, Sanjay,’ he said. Mr Lee grabbed my wrist. His eyes tunnelled into me. ‘Be careful,’ he said. ‘And the two of you come back safely.’

  I mustered all the bravado I could.

  ‘We will,’ I said, and then I hurried after Biyu.

  9

  All the way to the University library, I experienced an itch I couldn’t scratch. It had started while we waited in the rain for a taxi. Back then, I’d scoured the street and the surrounding buildings for faces with strange epicanthic folds and monotone suits. I did the same in the taxi. I checked the side mirrors and looked over my shoulder for a black car tailing us.

  Biyu elbowed me.

  Relax will you, she said. You’re making me twitchy.

  I rubbed the gap between my ribs. My wife had excellent aim. The pain, however, dampened my concern.

  Sorry. I can’t rid myself of the feeling we’re being followed.

  Biyu pressed her head against the seat’s backrest. She sighed.

  The bastards broke into the practice, our home. I want to buy a large bottle of bleach, scrub everything and wash our clothes at least ten times. I hope they’re following us, because if I run into one of them—

  For a few seconds she forgot to shield her mind from me. I recalled images of the cave in Kazera and the remains of the Leyakians she’d unleashed her dragonfire upon. The memory sickened her.

  I experienced her fury at Pak, her former supervisor clutching the faux egg and sprinting for the cave’s exit.

  Biyu shook her head. The shutters slammed down.

  After what had happened during our last encounter at the University, I said, I doubt the Leyakians will try anything stupid.

  My words of reassurance were as effective as trying to plug a bullet wound with a cotton bud. We drove the rest of the way in silence.

  The library’s reading room, three hundred square feet of pink marble floor, whitewa
shed walls and arched windows, intimidated me. Above us, glass chandeliers hung from the exposed teak rafters. An ornate three-foot-high panel of the same wood separated the stacks from the twenty reading tables. Each table could accommodate ten readers.

  I sat facing the panel and its carvings of goldfish and waterlilies. Biyu consulted a librarian and followed him into the stacks.

  The itch hounded me. I shrugged off my raincoat, stood up and walked along the wide gaps between the two columns of tables. Every ten steps, I studied my tattoos to see if they’d absorbed energy from anyone wearing chameleon cloth.

  About to start a second circuit of the reading room, I began to doubt my approach. Perhaps I had to touch the cloth before my tattoos lit up. The panel’s swing doors squeaked open. I looked up. Another reader had returned from the stacks. I glimpsed a faun-coloured blur above me and between the tops of the stacks.

  I squinted and then opened my eyes as wide as I could to scan the tops of the bookshelves.

  Hey, idiot. Why are you standing in the middle of the room making faces?

  Biyu approached with a single binder. Two strips of paper poked out from it.

  I thought I saw something, I said.

  I joined her at the table with her pencil case on it and my raincoat draped over the back of a chair.

  Thanks for watching my stuff, Sanjay.

  It’s a pencil case—who’ll steal that?

  She pointed at my seat.

  Sit down and stop doing that weird thing with your eyes. It’s bad enough people staring at me. I don’t need you looking like you’re having a stroke.

  She opened her mouth as she sat down. Despite her annoyance, she seemed happy.

  You’ve found something?

  She nodded and opened the binder to the first bookmark. A collection of journals published as magazines filled the binder. She had discovered two papers among different issues.

  There isn’t much, she said, but what there is has potential. She ran the top of her pen down a two-column article. There’s this one about Anjaneya wanting to transport his army from one island to conquer another. Lacking sufficient boats to carry his warriors, Anjaneya—so the legend goes—created a daughter of his staff and flung it into the air. When it landed, it bridged the two islands and was wide enough to allow his army to cross. At the end of the war, the staff shrank, returning to the size of a rod, and sank to the ocean’s bottom. The staff’s still there, waiting to be discovered.