Foreign Devils

by John Hornor Jacobs

  Sun Huáng spends his mornings with us on deck, as well. A young girl travels with him and a larger, lumbering man – quite powerful-looking and heavily scarred across his knuckles, on his neck and face. He presents a most forbidding aspect.

  I discovered the girl’s name almost accidentally. They had breakfasted near Carnelia and me until Sun Huáng stood silently and walked a little ways from where Secundus and Tenebrae (whose relationship might have suffered a blow at the discovery of the latter’s position with Tamberlaine, but the blow had not sundered them) first wrestled, shirtless in the sun and later, panting and heaving, began sparring with short wooden sticks. Secundus was good with the ‘sword’ – practising the standard Ruman legionnaire gladuis training moves which involved a great amount of stabbing and chopping, but it soon became obvious that while Secundus was proficient, Tenebrae was adept.

  Sun Huáng moved a little ways down from where Secundus and Tenebrae clacked and clattered with the wooden gladii and began a slow, methodical movement, stretching his body. First he raised his hands above his head and then performed an action that seemed almost like drawing a bow on each side, but much slower than any archer would. Then the old man moved his hands in a way that seemed like he was brushing something aside and continued to make many more slow, graceful movements, some crouching, some extending. The nearby Praetorians sniggered, and Tenebrae and Secundus had stopped to watch – which was understandable, since this was the first instance that Sun Huáng had done anything worth observing.

  I turned to face the girl and hulking man who sat watching Sun Huáng.

  ‘I am curious,’ I said, speaking to both of them. ‘What is he doing?’

  The girl, who was maybe thirteen or fourteen and just coming into her womanhood, said in a totally normal Ruman accent, ‘Grandfather is performing the Eight Silken Movements.’

  ‘Grandfather? You are Sun Huáng’s granddaughter?’

  She gave a short nod to acknowledge it.

  ‘I am Livia Cornelius and this is my sister Carnelia and maid-servant Lupina,’ I said. I gestured to indicate Secundus and Tenebrae. ‘The sweaty boys out there are my brother Secundus and Gauis Tenebrae, a Praetorian.’

  The girl said, ‘I am aware of these things but I thank you for expressing them. I am Min.’

  ‘And your companion?’ I asked, indicating the scarred man sitting quietly near her.

  ‘He has no name.’

  ‘No name?’

  ‘None that we know of. He has no tongue with which to tell us.’

  That took me aback. I must admit here that I know very little of Kithai and its people, and I only had only begun to dig into the books I’d bought in Rume about that far land since our journey had begun.

  There was an awkward silence. Finally, I said, ‘What are the Eight Silken Movements?’

  Min frowned, slightly, and then stood and came to sit at our table. She offered her hand to Carnelia, who took it, and then to me. She had a dry, firm grip with rough palms. She sat down without asking.

  ‘The Eight Silken Movements, or the Baduanjin, are a series of martial exercises that keep the body strong and fluid,’ she said, looking from Carnelia to me. She ignored Lupina totally. ‘The Eight Silken Movements were created thousands of years ago by the Incorruptible Master Zhongli Quan.’

  Secundus and Tenebrae, seeing Min sitting with us, retrieved towels and trotted over, wiping at their shimmering torsos and laughing.

  ‘Why, hello!’ my brother said. ‘I’m Secundus Cornelius and this fine lad is Gaius Tenebrae.’ He pulled out a chair and sat in the sort of relaxed, languorous way that only sweaty men can have.

  ‘Lad?’ Tenebrae asked. ‘You’ll pay for that.’

  Min extended her hand, which both men took in turns. ‘I am Min,’ she said, simply.

  ‘Min is Sun Huáng’s grand-daughter,’ Carnelia said, her voice bright. My love, we’d been cramming sweets and meats in her since Ia Terminalia and limiting her wine and the hard edges of her bones had begun to soften some. Curiously, the hard edges of her temperament had smoothed as well and recently her company had been a great pleasure. It is possible that her frivolity and crankiness had always been in response to an unacknowledged hunger.

  ‘What’s your grandfather doing, if I may ask?’ Tenebrae said. ‘It looks very … elegant.’

  Min patiently explained the movements again, surprised that she’d become surrounded by Rumans suddenly. Turning to me, she said, ‘The Eight Silken Movements would be very good for you, Madame Livia. Many women, heavy with child, turn to them to maintain their strength.’

  ‘I will consider that, Min,’ said I. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It is a martial training?’ Tenebrae asked, leaning back into his chair. Shirtless, he was an impressive spectacle of a man – well muscled and yet still slim and lithe. ‘Ia damn us all, it’s hot here,’ he said, moving his chair some to get out of the sun.

  ‘Yes,’ Min said. ‘Many of Kithai’s greatest warriors, like my grandfather, perform the Eight Silken Movements when they can do nothing else.’

  ‘Your grandfather? A great warrior?’ Tenebrae did not laugh at her but his disbelief was evident in his tone. He towelled off his chest and stared at the old man appraisingly.

  ‘At home, he is known as The Sword of Jiang.’

  ‘A swordsman?’

  ‘No.’

  Tenebrae said, ‘You misunderstand me, possibly. I ask: your grandfather is a renowned swordsman?’

  Min looked at Tenebrae with a level stare. ‘I understood you quite well, Mr Tenebrae. My grandfather is called The Sword of Jiang.’

  ‘Maybe I misunderstand, then,’ Tenebrae said, brow furrowed. ‘Does that mean your grandfather is a swordsman?’

  ‘He is a great warrior, sir. If that means using a sword, then he will use a sword.’

  ‘Do you think he would be interested in a little sparring?’ Tenebrae asked, sitting up.

  ‘I think that would be a very bad idea,’ Min said.

  ‘Why?’ Secundus asked, interested now.

  ‘He does not like Rumans and would make a lesson of you.’

  That last sentiment hung in the air for a while. Tenebrae poured himself a glass of water from the ceramic pitcher and gulped it down in a trice.

  Secundus said, ‘Come, Gaius. There is still more armatura to be done. We haven’t worked the spear and shield yet.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Min said, before they could rise. ‘I am curious as to something. You Rumans have … as you call it … Hellfire. Guns and pistols and cannons.’ She inclined her head to indicate the forward cannon at the front of the Malphas. ‘Yet you continue to exercise with sword and spear. Why?’

  Tenebrae said, ‘The gun is a relatively new thing to us, and Rume was founded on the haft of a spear and the hilt of a sword. Thousands of years have not changed that.’

  ‘Hounds bay,’ Secundus said. ‘Gulls dive. We cannot deny our natures. A Ruman’s hand is born for a weapon.’

  ‘And,’ Carnelia added, ‘Hellfire is expensive. Becoming proficient in it is for patricians and wealthy equites and does nothing for the waistline,’ she said.

  Min sat taking it all in, as immovable as a rock buffeted by waves. ‘I think we are not so different,’ she said and stood, bowing. The large nameless man rose and joined her and she disappeared inside the ship to the Kithai Embassy’s cabins.

  ‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that,’ Secundus said, then put his hand on Tenebrae’s shoulder. ‘Shall we?’

  Captain Juvenus invited us to dinner that night in the Captain’s Mess and we accepted, graciously. A warm summer squall sprang up and filled the air with falling raindrops, each one as warm as bathwater.

  It was hot inside the ship, too – the Malphas’ daemons which gave power to the dynamos and heated our meals and rooms could do nothing to cool us in these hotter climes. The Captain’s dining room did have steam-driven rotating ceiling fans that stirred the air, yet the air itself was so warm and moist that
it did very little to cool us. A sodden informality had descended upon us like a malaise – men did not wear the jackets of their suits and often abstained from ties, and the women – there were only four of us on board; myself, Carnelia, Lupina, and Min – eschewed the heavier confections, those with flounces and any extra fripperies, settling for simple cotton peasant dresses with enough undergarments to satisfy the needs of modesty. I dare say Tenebrae and Secundus would strut about shirtless if convention would allow them.

  After we had taken our seats and Juvenus invoked Ia in a short and simple prayer, Secundus said, ‘I have bad news from my father, Gaius Cornelius.’

  Carnelia looked alarmed and Tenebrae stilled and looked at us all at the table. Whatever this news was, he was already privy to it.

  ‘The Medieran Ambassador in Passasuego was murdered, along with all his family and retainers.’

  An involuntary gasp came from me. ‘Passasuego? Do you think—?’

  Secundus nodded his head. ‘Father – and Tamberlaine’s – agent says that Beleth was involved and that Fisk and Dveng Ilys were in pursuit.’

  I exhaled. My worse fear had been averted, but the news was still terrible.

  ‘They have established a blockade in the Bay of Mageras and are mobilizing their fleets. We are to be on alert.’

  Juvenus and Tricomalee, the Malphas’ engineer, gave short glances to Sun Huáng, who raised an eyebrow in response. ‘Kithai is not hasty when declaring war, gentlemen,’ he said, simply.

  We discussed the ramifications of this news for a while and waited for the first course to be served: a hearty fish soup with crusty bread and crunchy fried sardines on greens.

  ‘Min tells us that you are a great swordsman, Ambassador Huáng,’ Tenebrae said, taking a sip of his wine.

  Sun Huáng looked at Tenebrae in a still, blank manner. There was no emotional content to his gaze; he simply took in the strapping young Praetorian with a frank assessment.

  ‘I am known as The Sword of Jiang,’ he said in a thick Tchinee accent.

  Tenebrae smiled. ‘Is that a position of honour? For instance, I am the first sword – or Primus Gladius – of the Praetorians,’ he said, folding his napkin in his lap. ‘I won that through trial and competition.’

  Sun Huáng said, ‘They began to call me the Sword of Jiang when I was a young man.’ He offered no more.

  ‘We were quite curious about your exercises this morning,’ Secundus added. ‘The Eight Silken Movements. Your granddaughter Min told us of them.’

  Sun Huáng did not respond except to dip his spoon into his soup.

  ‘I say, old chap,’ Tenebrae said, ‘I’d quite fancy some sparring in the morning. Secundus here, while quite promising, isn’t really up to my level. Neither are the other Praetorians. Do you fancy a go?’

  The white-haired older man sipped his soup and gave the slightest shake of his head.

  ‘I do not want to become a nuisance, sir, but might I ask why?’

  ‘I have seen you train. I am not inclined,’ Sun Huáng responded.

  The blush that spread across Tenebrae’s face was like wine spilled on a white table cloth. It was almost frightening to behold the way it suffused his whole face. Secundus, looking at his closest friend, became alarmed and placed a restraining hand on Tenebrae’s arm.

  He said nothing, but snorted then, a sound full of contempt. There was a brittle pride to him I’d seen before in accomplished men. Having won through contest and adversity, his position was tenuous and ever vulnerable to assault or insult. Or so he felt.

  Sun Huáng looked at him curiously, wiping his mouth with a napkin. In the daemonlight of the Captain’s mess, his hair seemed almost luminous and his eyes black. Around the table, Captain Juvenus and his first mate, Engineer Tricomalee, and his assistant, all watched on, spoons stopped in their movements.

  ‘I am on the deck every morning.’

  ‘Yes,’ Tenebrae said. ‘We have seen you.’ The sneer on his features twisted Tenebrae’s good looks into a rather petulant aspect.

  Carnelia said, ‘Mister Tenebrae, might I remind you – since you are a representative of Tamberlaine himself – to remember your manners. Mr Huáng is the ambassador to Rume.’

  Tenebrae blanched, and glanced at her, surprised to be admonished by Carnelia. Which is possibly why he did not take it any further. He fell silent after giving Sun Huáng a polite nod of his head, though his face remained red.

  The dinner was rather stilted after that and no amount of wine or soup could rescue the pall that hung over the Captain’s table.

  Sun Huáng was the first to rise to leave. He bowed to Captain Juvenus and said simply, ‘Thank you for your hospitality, Captain,’ inclined his head to the rest of us and left the mess alone.

  Secundus threw his napkin on the table and said, ‘Well, I’m knackered, though I do think I’ll take a smoke on the deck, if it’s not too wet. Coming, Tenebrae?’

  When Tenebrae stood, Min said, ‘Excuse me, Mister Tenebrae. I do not think it a good idea – as I have said – but I thought you should know something.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘When my grandfather told you where he would be, it was …’ She paused, thinking. ‘You might call it an invitation, though it wasn’t that. By telling you where he would be, and when, he was allowing you a formal advantage should you wish to engage him.’

  ‘Engage?’

  ‘You would call it sparring I think, though in Kithai it has far more seriousness than that. Maybe a better way to phrase it would be …’ She bit her lip. ‘A non-lethal duel? Yes. That would be more correct.’

  ‘Why didn’t he bloody say that, then?’ Tenebrae asked, somewhat ungraciously.

  ‘Because he is master.’

  ‘A master?’

  ‘It is said in Jiang that it takes one hundred days to learn to use a sword. It takes a thousand days to master it. My grandfather has spent many thousands of days studying the arts of war and violence. To direct aggression at him is a serious thing and he must be mindful of the welfare of those foolish enough to issue challenge. He cannot issue any challenge himself.’

  Tenebrae looked puzzled at this. ‘So, I’m just to attack him? Even when he does not carry a sword?’

  Min gave a small smile. ‘He is master. The only sword he will require is the one you bring,’ she said. Standing, she bowed and excused herself from the room.

  ‘Strange people, the Tchinee,’ Secundus said.

  Carnelia laughed. ‘They do know how to make an exit,’ she said, and popped a bit of buttered bread in her mouth and began to chew.

  SEVENTEEN

  1 Kalends of Sextilius, Eleventh Hour, 2638 Annum Ex Rume Immortalis, Near the Aethiopicum Shore, Bay of Aribicum

  It ended almost before it began.

  The next morning the air was cooler, with less moisture in it, and Carnelia and I had adjourned to the deck (without Lupina, who claimed a small intestinal discomfort) to take our breakfast. We had come to the Æthiopicum shore steaming south, south-east toward the Rubrum Horn and beyond past the Persicum Sea into generally unknown waters. Æthiopicum slides by us now sedately on our port, a small, ever-shifting tan line on the horizon. Seagulls wheeled in the heavens, occasionally scattered by the ferocious dog-sized raptors the sailors referred to as Cænavia-birds. Terrifying and reputedly fiercely territorial, they did not harry the Malphas in any way but Tenebrae placed some of his Praetorians on guard with carbines just in case.

  Captain Juvenus had warned us that these waters were filled with pirates – Æthiopicum is the hub of the slave trade in this part of the world, feeding Rume and Mediera’s insatiable need for slaves – but during the day they posed no danger, due to the Malphas’ four Hellfire cannons. At night, they could prove troublesome if they had a vessel that could match the Malphas’ speed, which was unlikely. It would have to be daemon-driven and it was unlikely that anyone on this coast could afford an engineer, and doubly doubtful any fully trained member of the collegium would deign to
sully herself with brigands and lawless men.

  Carnelia carried a copy of Vintus’ The Teats of Fortuna and was reading the more salacious bits of it to me with great mirth when we were joined by Min, shadowed by the hulking tongueless man and her grandfather, Sun Huáng. We welcomed them to our table but Sun Huáng, who had apparently breakfasted before coming up on deck, bowed graciously and immediately moved into the Eight Silken Movements on the smooth wooden deck. His movements, as always, were lithe and graceful yet there seemed to me an underlying ferocious strength to the man’s form.

  Min was blushing furiously as Carnelia read a long verse about a foolish noblewoman who is tricked into becoming a pathicus by a wily young soldier when Tenebrae appeared. He carried two wooden gladii, the kind Praetorians and legionnaires use to train.

  Stepping into the sun where Sun Huáng performed the Eight Silken Movements, Tenebrae hailed the older man.

  ‘Mister Huáng! Your granddaughter was kind enough to explain things to me last night,’ he said, holding up the wooden sword.

  Huáng slowly emerged from the movement he currently performed – one hand stretching above his head as if holding up the vault of sky, and the other as if tamping down an unruly basket of laundry – and came to a standing rest, his hands hanging loosely in front. He said nothing. He only looked at Tenebrae.

  ‘I think a good spar will do us good, and mend any damage done by my hasty words last night,’ Tenebrae said, and tossed the wooden sword into the air toward Huáng, softly, so that he might catch it. The older man neatly side-stepped the thrown sword in a movement that seemed so casual it was hard to register. The weapon hit the deck and clattered until it came to rest on a gunwale. Huáng resumed his resting stance. There was no expression on his face, no indication of his mood or temperament.