Dragon by the Bay

by Garnett Elliott

  Carson leapt up. Nine Serpents Hsien stood in the hallway, his open palm extended. Faint traceries of scarlet pulsed between his fingers, then extinguished.

  He grinned.

  The last thing Carson remembered was the feral gleam of those teeth. And the flat of a sabre blade, slapping against his temple.

  CHAPTER SIX

  First the back of the head, now the side. His poor brain hadn't had time to recover between blows.

  While the sword blade had been descending, he'd imagined police finding his body in some dark Chinatown alley, or floating face up in the bay, picked at by seagulls. What he woke to wasn't much better.

  Shackles held him fast against a rough stone wall. Manny lolled in heavy chains alongside, not quite conscious. They were at the bottom of a pit, with torchlight guttering somewhere above. And they were not alone.

  Chained corpses hung from the walls, some relatively fresh and some skeletons, the latter showing signs of having their flesh gnawed off. Dead center rested a pedestal of polished onyx, with the statuette of a large white bird perched atop. The decoration seemed jarringly out of place, but Carson put it down to Eastern aesthetics.

  He'd read enough penny dreadfuls to know what would happen next. Somewhere along the pit a secret door would open, admitting a horde of poisonous vermin—scorpions probably, or king cobras. The more recent corpses chained alongside confirmed his suspicions. They were swollen, their flesh blackened in places where venom had done its deadly work, and lips were drawn taut over teeth, heads thrown back, to show the process had been excruciating. A smell like rotten grapes seeped from their wounds.

  "Manny," he called out. "Manny, wake up."

  Links rattled as the smaller man came to. "Nine Serpents … ambush …"

  "We're in the bottom of a pit."

  Manny's eyelids fluttered open. He blinked at the corpses, registering no surprise. But his face drained of all color when he saw the statuette.

  "What's the matter?"

  "Quiet. You'll wake the bird."

  "But it's just—"

  The 'statue' cocked its head sideways. A third eye, red like a drop of fresh blood, winked open above the other two.

  "Don't move," Manny whispered. "Zhen birds eat only the heads of vipers. Their feathers are so poisonous the slightest brush would kill you before your heart could beat twice."

  Carson steeled himself. With a rustle, the bird spread its wings, proudly displaying said venomous pinions. It came strutting over.

  Manny's voice was calm. "Carson, I advise you to accept your fate with honor. Though our deaths will be appallingly painful, at a level beyond comprehension to the Western mind, we die in service to your friend, Constance, and ennoble our family names with our sacrifice."

  "I didn't even like the bitch!"

  The Zhen gave an excited caw. Carson could only stare at the ruby eye as a wing reached out, stretching for his bared ankle …

  Thunder boomed from above.

  The Zhen became a cloud of white feathers. When they settled, the bird's shredded carcass lay across the stone floor.

  Carson looked up. A veiled woman poked her head over the rim of the pit. She pointed a double-barreled shotgun at Carson. "Say that part again about not liking the bitch."

  "Constance!"

  The gun didn't waver. "You heard me."

  "Darling, I was overcome with fright, is all," Carson said, putting honey in his voice. "We came here to rescue you, after Pearl told us you went off on a tear."

  The gun sagged. "That so?"

  "I swear, sweetheart. Soon as I found out you were headed for the House of Blue Lanterns I went charging off like a knight from olden times. Nothing was going to stop me."

  "Well, I did hear your coolie friend say you were going to die for my benefit." The gun drooped further. "So I suppose there's some truth to it. Hold on …"

  A rope ladder dropped down, and Constance came climbing after it. She'd disguised herself as some Eastern hoyden, complete with slippers, silk robe, and an elaborate hairdo pinned up with pearl-tipped needles. Carson could see her crooked nose through the veil.

  "Don't touch the bird," Manny warned, as she threaded her way over. "Or any of the feathers. They're lethal poison, even in death."

  She followed his instructions, circling around the Zhen's carcass. Carson saw her suppress a gag, but she otherwise put up with the sights and smells of the pit like an old soldier.

  "Tell me you found some keys," he said.

  "No such luck. And you're welcome, by the way, for my graciously saving your hides."

  "I'm indebted to you, madam," Manny said.

  Carson smirked. "That's a pretty accurate choice of words."

  "Hush, you. Now how in hell am I supposed to get those chains off? I don't suppose I could blast them."

  "Don't try it," Carson said. "I can still move my hands. Give me one of those hairpins."

  She placed a needle in the fingers of his right hand. By crooking his wrist, he was able to work the point into the manacle's lock. "Suppose you tell me," he said, feeling for the lever mechanism, "how you found us. I'd figured we'd gotten so turned around in this damn place we'd never see sunlight again."

  "Oh, it wasn't that hard. I snuck into the brothel entrance off Clay Street. Even the mayor knows about that one. Thought I was making progress looking for Anna, until this tattooed Chinaman showed up."

  "Nine Serpents Hsien," Manny said.

  "If you say so. Anyway, he was on the hunt, so I made myself scarce. Never knew there were so many damn tunnels down here. At one point I saw the tattooed man and his accomplices dragging you two. So I followed at a distance, and here I am."

  "How'd you hide a scattergun in that dress?"

  "Trade secret."

  The lock made a faint click. Carson yanked the manacle open and started on the left. It was much easier going, with his hand fully free. "Do you think anyone heard your shot?"

  "Nah. This room's closed off tighter'n a fortress. Remind me to hide my jewelry box, by the way."

  "Give me another pin." He'd already finished with the left manacle and was starting in on his ankle. The outdated locks must've been around since the Revolutionary War. Once he'd freed himself he set to work on Manny. It didn't take long.

  "Constance, I'd like you to meet Liang Man."

  She declined Manny's offer to shake hands with a polite nod. Carson figured her knowledge of Chinese people went as far as houseboys and prostitutes.

  They climbed out of the pit into a round room hung with torches. The single door was fashioned from a piece of boilerplate. It looked as sound-proofed as Constance had predicted.

  "What's beyond here?" Carson said. "And please don't tell me a maze of black bricks."

  "Just a hallway. After a couple turns it opens out onto the grotto."

  "Better give me your gun, then." His derringer and knife were long gone.

  "Nothing doing. All you've managed to do is get caught."

  He shrugged to Manny. A yank, and the steel door creaked open. They crept out into a corridor of bare stone. Constance led them through a gauntlet more complicated than she'd described, but they eventually reached an embankment off the blue-lit cavern. No flute played this time. The little pleasure-islands lined with gauze were dim, suggesting business had wound down. A punt bobbed on the dark water some four feet from where they stood.

  "You reckon we can find an exit with that?" Carson asked, reaching for a nearby push-pole.

  Constance spat. "Exit? Who said anything about an exit? We haven't found Anna, yet."

  "Woman, so far I've been whacked on the head and almost poisoned by a three-eyed bird. I've had enough of this place."

  "And I didn't go to all this goddamn trouble just to cut and run. Not without my racehorse."

  "We don't even know she's here."

  Manny cleared his throat. "Quiet, please. Neither escape nor rescue will be possible if an alarm is raised."

  Carson whispered: "How about
we look for her on the way out?"

  "I ain't making no promises," Constance whispered back. But she got into the punt.

  Carson pushed off. The water was only a couple feet deep. He poled out towards the nearest pavilion, hoping to get their cursory search over with. Being underground so long was whittling at what nerves he had left.

  "I didn't get a look at this one before," Constance whispered. "See how there's no walkways connecting to it?"

  Carson had to pole around the little island before he found a place to secure the punt. Despite his attempts to be quiet, the pole's sloshing seemed to echo through the cavern. They stole across a bamboo dock and slipped their heads through an opening in the blue gauze.

  Lamps suspended on chains burned low, illuminating a ring of couches. Three figures reclined there, apparently asleep. Though her back was to them, one of the slender forms had a head of golden curls.

  Constance let out a yelp. "Anna," she called, unable to restrain herself.

  The other two women shot to their feet. Lithe Chinese beauties, one wearing a tunic of pale yellow, the other pale green. Green Tunic snatched something from her waist and made a fanning motion. Carson shoved Constance flat. A trio of glimmering darts ripped through the gauze inches above his head.

  Manny charged. Carson followed with far less gusto, wishing he had a weapon. While Yellow Tunic aimed a kick at Manny's chest, Green Tunic let out a war-cry that would've shamed an Indian brave. With a sneer, she drew a wavy-bladed knife and slashed at Carson. He danced to one side, but the late Mr. Perine's coat suffered another indignity as the blade tore it from hem to collar. Green Tunic prepared to run him through.

  Manny's knotted sash came snaking in from the left. Fabric snapped out and struck Green Tunic's knife-hand, somehow tracing a red line along her knuckles. She dropped the dagger. "Step aside."

  Constance pushed past him, her shotgun leveled. But she hesitated when she realized there was no way to fire without spraying pellets over everyone, including the blonde still lying on the couch.

  Carson snatched up a teakwood stool. Swung low. Green Tunic leapt over it, only to have a shotgun butt slam into the side of her head when she landed. Constance grunted with the effort. Green Tunic struck the floor, senseless.

  Carson turned in time to see Manny block a fusillade of kicks. Yellow Tunic spun and whipped her head around. A star-shaped blade gleamed at the end of her long braid, whistling for Manny's throat. He caught the rope of hair. Yanked. Yellow Tunic pitched forward, to be met with the heel of his open palm. Down she went, too.

  "Anna," Constance said, putting a hand on the blonde's shoulder. "I've come to take you out of here. I don't know if they've drugged you on opium or—"

  The woman turned over on the couch. Despite the color of her hair, she had the almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones of an Asian.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Carson had never seen a more beautiful woman. Judging from his companion's slack-jawed expression, neither had Manny. There was something otherworldly about her appearance. It made all the high-leaping wonders he'd glimpsed so far mundane by comparison. She wore a silk tunic of deep blue, with a brocade of intertwining dragons so intricate it threatened to trap the eye.

  "What's your name, sweetheart?" Carson heard himself saying.

  She answered with a voice soft as rain on water. But it was not a language he understood.

  "Do you know what she just said?" he asked Manny.

  "I could swear it was a dialect of Mandarin."

  Constance peeked out through the gauze. "Hate to bother you boys, but there's a boatload of hatchet-men poling this way."

  "We're taking her with us," Carson and Manny said at the same time.

  They hurried out of the pavilion and onto the punt, Carson dragging the mystery-woman by her wrist. She seemed neither eager to stay or accompany. Twenty feet away a second punt crowded with Green Turbans was gliding close. A man in the gunwales kneeled and aimed what looked like a crossbow with a box on top.

  "Down," Manny said.

  They ducked. The punt provided scant cover for the flurry of darts whirring overhead.

  Carson grabbed the pole. "If we stay pinned, I can't push us away."

  Manny nodded. The boat rocked as he stood to full height and presented himself as a target. The crossbowman obliged, working a lever atop his weapon with frantic speed. More darts shot out. Manny's agile hands batted them aside, save the last, which he snatched from the air, reversed, and hurled back. The bolt took the crossbowman through the throat. He gurgled and splashed over the punt's side.

  "Tian forgive me," Manny said.

  Carson poled like a madman. He managed to widen the gap between punts, largely because their pursuers were too loaded down. An embankment appeared to the left; he began to make for it, but a half-dozen Green Turbans came spilling out over the grounds. One gamely winged a hatchet at them. It splashed into the water a short distance from the punt.

  "That way," urged Constance. She was pointing towards a low-mouthed tunnel.

  They had to duck again to fit through. A current caught them, rushed the punt around a corner into darkness.

  "Where the hell does this go?" Carson said. The little boat seemed to be picking up speed.

  "Could be an inlet from the bay."

  "More like an outlet. If it narrows any further we'll get stuck."

  Two minutes later that's exactly what happened. The punt bobbed up against something and halted. The sudden loss of motion made Carson sick. He tried poling them loose, but the craft refused to go any further.

  Soft light suffused from above. They'd moored on a stretch of rock and sand. In the dimness, Carson could make out the shape of a ladder, leading up to a yellow-limned square. A trapdoor? Maybe they'd found an old smuggler's tunnel. Behind came the ever-increasing sounds of splashing and cursing.

  "Out," Carson said, leaping over the punt's side. He groped for the ladder and clambered up the rungs. At the top, his shoulder met resistance. He steadied himself, heaved. Shouts in Taishanese as a weight went sliding off above him, and he burst into a small hovel, cots against the walls, a knot of old men clustered around a tiny bamboo cage. Two praying mantises were fighting inside.

  "Sorry, sorry," Carson said, pushing through. He could see a narrow door ahead. There were sharp cries and grasping hands. Constance came boiling up through the trapdoor with shotgun at the ready.

  "The first of you yellows lays a finger on me, and you'll all get it," she said.

  The men parted. Manny followed Constance out, before stooping to help the golden-haired woman. Her appearance drew gasps.

  Carson shouldered the door. It opened onto a dark alley. 'Dark' being relative; far-off street lamps and starlight filtered through the fog, in contrast to the suffocating blackness he'd endured underground.

  "This way. Hurry."

  * * *

  They slipped down streets and between buildings, following Manny's expert guidance. The fog helped conceal them. When they reached the apothecary shop on Clay, Manny beat at the door for several tense minutes, until the shriveled old man appeared with lamp in hand.

  "We need your help, great grand-uncle," Manny said.

  Wei started to say something sharp, but his eyes fell on the blonde. Widened. He took a step back and motioned with the lamp. "Inside."

  "Xue's after us," Manny explained, after Wei had bolted the door behind them.

  "I would imagine so, with the company you're keeping." The old man bowed deep to the blonde woman, his joints audibly popping. She gave a slight nod in return.

  "Who is she?"

  "We need to hide, first. I have chambers even Twin Fury doesn't know about."

  He reached beneath the counter and pulled something. An entire section of rear wall slid back. Tin paneling lined a large storeroom beyond, stacked with crates, jars, vases, and boxes.

  "In you go," Wei said.

  He joined them a moment later, after retrieving a silk bundle from the
shop. A tug on a wrought iron lever slid the wall back into place.

  "Carson," Constance whispered, glancing at their surroundings with a curled lip, "we're not actually going to stay here, are we?"

  "I don't advise going outside now," Wei said.

  Carson yawned. "You heard him. The streets aren't safe. Pearl and the other girls can manage without you for a while."

  Constance consented with a black look, settling down on a crate.

  "There are bedrolls in here somewhere," Wei said. "Manny, fetch the kettle and get a fire going in the stove."

  "Yes, uncle. What do you have there?"

  Wei unwrapped the bundle. "My finest tea. 'Silver Needles.' It's not every day I entertain royalty."

  * * *

  Carson slept fitfully, due in part to Constance's snoring. She'd curled up on a bedroll beside him. At some point he woke to the sound of violent crashes going on in the shop, just beyond the sliding wall. He jerked to his feet and looked around for the shotgun.

  "Relax," came Wei's voice. He sat at a makeshift crate table, a pipe in one hand and a teapot between him and the golden-haired woman. They'd been chatting idly even as the noise outside intensified. "It's just some Green Turbans enacting petty revenge. They'll never find us here."

  "They're destroying your shop."

  "Nothing that can't be replaced. Besides, there's far more at stake. Go back to sleep."

  But he couldn't. Neither could Manny, who'd also startled awake at the noise.

  "You can understand her?" Carson said, after taking a sip of Silver Needles tea.

  Wei nodded. "She speaks ancient Mandarin, a particular dialect that's been dead for centuries. But yes, I can follow most of it."

  "Who is she?" Manny said.

  "No one less than the First Daughter of the Earth Dragon, taken from his palace beneath the bay. Her name is Yin Mei Shen."

  Carson folded his arms. "I'm supposed to believe that?"

  "What you choose to believe is irrelevant, Mr. Lowe. My concern now is the fate of this city. Well, Chinatown, anyway. Xue's decision to kidnap her, at this particular time, will soon mean catastrophe when the dragon wakes. An earthquake to match her father's wrath."