The Shifu Cloth (The Chronicles of Eirie 4)

by Prue Batten

  ‘He will not hear you. None of them will. They shall sleep for as long as I have reason for them to do so.’ She fixed compelling eyes upon him and fear lapped at his belly. ‘Nico, I am as interested in your safety and your future as I was in Finnian’s and his brothers. They had a sore life and their line was…’ she stopped. ‘Ah, but it is the here and now that matters. In a moment Nicholas, I want you to wake Mr. Poli. You and he must walk to the island across the moonbridge. It will be a dangerous journey and I will tell you that you must remain alert. There will be those who would drag you from your purpose. If they succeed you will never find what it is you seek.’ The woman of stars and moons brushed his hand and he felt the ripples in his stomach flatten and dissipate. ‘I can understand your mindspeak, Nicholas. What do you say?’

  ‘Why can I not take Phelim and Gallivant?’

  ‘It is decreed that only the mortal should accompany you.’

  ‘Who decrees? Why?’

  ‘It is the way of it. It is felt that he may be your best helpmeet.’

  ‘Lady...’ he sucked in a breath of realisation. ‘I know you. You are Phelim’s Moonlady, my mother’s Ladymoon. But you speak as if you are a mouthpiece. Who do you speak for? I must know. It’s mine and Isabella’s lives that you play with.’

  ‘No one plays with your life or Isabella’s. What happened to you happened because of a curse and it’s about that curse that you must learn and you can only do that if you speak to your father and to do that you must cross.’ She gestured with an elegant white hand to the rippled reflection of the moon across the water. ‘But Nicholas, I notice you worry about yours and your sister’s lives and yet you do not have a care for the life of your helpmeet.’

  ‘Then if his life is under threat, I would prefer to leave him where he is, I can go alone. He is only a mortal.’

  ‘How arrogant of you.’ She tapped his hand quite sharply. ‘He is fully mortal, you are only half a mortal. Have a care that you don’t denigrate him for being what you are not. As to going alone, Fate says otherwise and you can never ever gainsay Fate.’

  Nicholas shook his head, feeling he had lost an argument very succinctly.

  ‘Fate is your master?’

  ‘As it is yours, but Nicholas we waste time with semantics. Wake your friend immediately. Time has become your enemy. Not just tonight but tomorrow and the day after. It is not just Isabella who is at risk now, but Adelina so you must leave now and be back from the isle before dawn. If you are not, you will never return and two more lives may end. Heark to me.’

  The truth of this journey, both now and after, raised the hairs on Nico’s neck.

  ‘How shall I communicate with Poli? I can’t speak. How shall he know of danger?’

  ‘That is for you to work out, Nicholas.’

  She stood with a delicate rustle of her rich skirts, a fragrance of magnolia drifting on the air.

  ‘What if I choose not to go?’

  ‘If you decide to do that after all that has happened this last year, you are a fool and a coward. Do you not want the answers to many things? They lie over there.’ Again she gestured. ‘Remember what I said,’ she began to move away, fading as she entered the mists hovering on the lake’s edge. ‘If you have not returned before dawn, you will never return.’

  Her voice finally dropped away from him in a whisper and he wondered why he should take some vanishing spirit’s word.

  *

  He bent over Poli, examining the sleeper. For a man of thirty odd, he had a young face, few lines despite the shipboard life. What struck Nicholas were the laughter lines that stretched from nose to mouth, indicating humour. He had a high intelligent forehead that spoke of many things. Perhaps the fellow would be interested in everything, in everybody. Maybe he would have knowledge of much and a broadminded outlook on all. His eyebrows lay in a straight line and Nicholas remembered that when his eyes were opened, there had been a glint; as if at times there were fun and joy to be had for the taking.

  Maybe that’s what really annoyed and frustrated Nicholas – that this man could even have fun let alone think there was fun to be had.

  Are we your amusement? Is that why you tagged along?

  But no, he had been invited. He was courteous enough not to have come otherwise. Nicholas had seen courtesy employed as Poli bowed over Adelina’s hand and when he passed her a tray of delectables as they sipped wine on introduction. It came naturally to the man and he would be liked for it. His mouth was slightly open and Nico could hear Isabella as surely as if she stood beside him.

  ‘I like his lips, Nico, very kissable. He’s an attractive man.’

  Damn you.

  He shook Poli’s shoulder and the fellow sat up with a jerk, his hand slipping quickly under his coat. His eyes focused and he breathed out.

  ‘Nicholas. Do you want a knife in your gut? Don’t creep up like that.’

  He spoke in a croak which would surely have woken their fellow campers, but there was not a stir. Inevitably, the Moonlady’s prediction had been right.

  How do I tell him what we must do? I hate this.

  Nico picked up a twig and began to write in the sand on the shore, beckoning Poli with a fierce finger to follow his words.

  Come. Must cross moonbridge.

  ‘Moonbridge?’

  Poli scrubbed a hand across his blonde head and glanced at the sleepers.

  Can’t hear. Mesmered. Reflection of moon, must cross.

  Poli’s eyebrows shot up.

  ‘Hold up. Mesmered? You mesmered them?’

  Nico shook his head.

  Not me. Haven’t time, must go.

  ‘Nicholas, with respect, you have shown me nothing but distaste since we met. Even anger. This could just be a ploy to be rid of me.’

  Nicholas stamped his foot and threw the stick in the fire, turning and walking away with his hands on his hips, breathing hard.

  See Moonlady, how can this work?

  But there was no sound beyond the slightest wash of the waters on the shore and night birds hooting in the copse. He shook his head and walked back to Poli who had resumed his position by the fire and was staring at Gallivant and Phelim. Nicholas bent and picked up another twig and smoothed away the words he had already written and began again.

  Trust me.

  Poli snorted.

  Please.

  The word traced in the dust.

  Poli patted his pockets as if checking for essentials.

  ‘I never could resist someone when I am asked so nicely. Even less could I resist a mystery. I shall trust you Nico, because you are the son of someone to whom I owe the world and an oyster. Don’t let me down.’

  As they stepped toward the sliver of silver that danced away from them, Poli pulled back on his arm.

  ‘Tell me honestly. Did you mesmer your stepfather and the Hob?’

  Nico shook his head.

  ‘Right then. So we have been in the presence of Others. Malevolent?

  Nico shook his head.

  ‘One more thing. Are we in danger?’

  Nico nodded and turned away as a knife came out and was palmed from one hand to the other. Poli’s voice drifted after him as if he spoke to himself.

  ‘And we are to cross a reflection as if it is a real construction of wood or stone and I am to believe that it will support us until we reach the Afterworld.’ He gave a dry laugh. ‘Tuh, I must be bosky!’

  But Nico could hear him following close behind as they reached the edge of the lake. He lifted his foot and brought it down, testing the ivory reflection that lapped at the shore. Beneath, he felt resistance; as surely as if he walked onto a paved way and he took a step, his arms outstretched as if he should sink to his knees in the cold liquid of the lake. But no…he was on a causeway as rigid as those that crossed the rivers, fens and lakes of his world.

  ‘Aine help us,’ drifted from behind and he looked back to see Poli had taken two steps onto the moonbridge and so he lost no time in increasing the dista
nce further.

  And further again.

  Ten, fifteen paces and he stopped and looked about.

  The moonbridge stretched a damascened distance far ahead. To the side, the lake lay darkly dangerous and Nico preferred not to think of what swam beneath. He heard Poli suck in a breath and an oath followed and looking down he spied a face; white, deathly, swooping beneath the bridge, and then another and another with bodies as pallid as the dead must surely be.

  Wyrms. Water wyrms and as dangerous a creature as any.

  He hastened forward, hoping Poli would follow in swift pursuit. A mist closed around them, a dank ivory miasma that cut them off completely from any reality and he felt Poli’s fingers on his coat.

  ‘Have you a weapon?’

  Nico nodded and wondered how to convey that it mattered little to an Other if they had weapons, that a sword or a dagger could do nothing unless it were eldritch or made of silver. He had seen Poli’s ugly little stiletto and it certainly wasn’t made of silver.

  The faces of the wyrms drifted around them and the welkin wind moaned a little louder, reminding Nico of omens of ill.

  ‘It’s not the Caointeach, is it?’

  Nico shook his head as they hurried on, ever wishing for the gift of speech.

  No, the Caointeach is a crucifying wail that cuts through to the soul, heralding a death. This welkin wind just plagues with the knowledge that glamour is all about and that you Poli, are but a baby whose life is in my hands. But you don’t know this and yet you trust me regardless.

  He had no time to ponder because the wind had split the reflection into twin pieces and the mist wandered over the two directions, baffling the observer. Nico stood at the junction, begging Aine to take the wind away, turning to check the pale faces.

  But they had vanished from beneath and the water was as intimidating as before – a solid black swathe filled with deathly uncertainty. As he made his decision which path to follow, he heard the faintest sound, a sliding arpeggio of harp notes, a gentle sound amongst the unknown ugliness beneath.

  He turned to beckon Poli on…

  But he had disappeared.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Isabella

  They resembled a row of silk-draped statues, standing straight and quiet – Master Koi, Madame Koi and Isabella. The household of women stood behind them, clad in new indigo robes with the emblem of the First House embroidered on the left breast – a white carp on aqua.

  Faraway outside the First House gate, Belle heard a voice – at first faint as it passed through each section of the city announcing the approach of the imperial progress. Beside her, Madame stirred on her elegantly slipper-clad feet and fired off a salvo to Lucia behind. Belle guessed it was something to do with food, because at that moment the breeze blew and a fragrance of spices and garlic and frying crispy beef danced under their noses and Madame gave a satisfied little nod.

  Isabella had been told that the whole of Han stood to attention on this day, the day of the Lantern Festival, and as the Voice entered their midst and announced the Family, they would drop to their knees and perform an obeisance with their heads tucked into the dust on the ground.

  Like grovelling dogs. Have they ever actually seen the Imperial Presence, or just a rear view as it passes into the distance?

  In the beginning, there had only been that far off sound and Belle had been distracted by Madame’s actions, but as the Voice drew closer, Belle’s heartbeat drummed in her chest. This then was the start of her plan, this was the beginning of the end and every fibre of her being stretched taut with the knowledge that the day had come.

  Finally the Voice echoed from the top of the street and she heard the shuffle of many feet and the shifting of many bodies as onlookers kowtowed. When the Voice was outside the gate, Master Koi nodded and the gatekeepers lifted the bars to peel the doors back, dropping to their knees and resting their foreheads on the smooth square paving stones.

  The Master started to move, his thick silk robe crackling as he knelt, Madame Koi also, her robe whispering. She reached her fingers to Belle’s arm and jerked hard and Belle folded quickly to the ground, her aqua robe sighing in creases about her, the household collapsing behind like a stack of mahjong tiles.

  The litter carriers stopped in a line in front of Master Koi and by turning her head slightly, Belle could see feet stepping down – a man’s peacock blue slippers, a woman’s emerald, and another man’s plain black. Belle’s eyes opened wide. On the toe of each of the black slippers, a magnificent beetle had been worked in gold and emerald thread.

  Oh Mama, you would love what I see.

  Voices spoke quietly and she caught a glimpse of the Master moving to stand and she badly wanted to lift her head. Her knees ached and an ant bit her finger, a sting that caused an intake of breath. Madame Koi stood and flicked her foot at Belle, her toe catching an elbow and she guessed she too must stand.

  Carefully she raised herself, modestly slipping her hands into the welted cuffs of her robe as Master Koi spoke to the older of the two men, a very old man indeed, whose white hair was twisted into a slick bun at the nape of his neck. His robe was black, but the heads of peacock dragons wound around from the back and met in an explosion of sea colours on either side of the centre closing. That this was the Emperor was obvious as the sun caught on the gold thread work in the dragon scales, lavish and copiously applied. There was something of the air of the coquette about Madame Koi as the old man spoke to her and she replied with a polite comment and indicated Belle with a crisp flick of her ivory fan.

  Oh yes, Madame, I know what you conceal inside that fan, I know there is a stiletto long enough to reach a man’s heart. Such a dainty thing that fan, just like you.

  The Emperor called behind and a slender, effeminate man stepped forward. Consumptive and pale with thick spectacles, he moved directly in front of Belle and held out his palm. She stared at the slim hand for an indecent amount of time, her mind blank, and when the hand gave a determined little shake, she realised she must place her own in his.

  The damp fingers closed around her own and he spoke to Master Koi in the language of Pymm.

  ‘Thank you, Master Koi. Your gift does supreme credit to the First House.’

  Supreme credit, Master Koi! Do you feel joy at having rendered up my womb in such a way?

  The Emperor broke in, speaking Han, a long speech, and Belle wished the Son would release her hand as his perspiring palm glued itself to her own and she wanted to wipe her hand clean. At one point she lifted her eyes and met inscrutable dark brown ones gazing back, enlarged by the thickness of the glass in his spectacles.

  He must be at least thirty. I’m not going to do this.

  But then a little voice spoke in her ear, the whisper of Kitsune.

  But if you are not going to do this, Isabella, how shall you escape?

  She couldn’t help sighing and was surprised that the young man’s eyes showed a vestige of commiseration. Master Koi bowed as the Emperor’s speech finished, motioning in the direction of the garden pavilion where refreshment had been laid. Belle wished for Lucia’s tart badinage and for her to translate all that went on about her, but a tug from the wet palm pulled her forward and the Son’s voice whispered.

  ‘They speak interminable platitudes to each other designed to inflate egos and make everyone feel special on this lovely Lantern Festival day, but you and I know it’s not like that at all, don’t we?’

  Isabella turned her head sharply to look at this odd man, but his palm dragged her on as if to say, ‘It will keep for later,’ and so she fixed her gaze on Madame Koi’s back as she preceded them all on the arm of the Emperor through the leafy trees and flowering azaleas and camellias.

  Belle congratulated herself on the beauty of Madame, the woman daintily kicking a fold of her robe aside as they walked down the winding path. Sumptuous white peonies with embroidered leaves almost jumped off the silk plaquet and cuffs and a little inro bobbed from the woman’s wrist. Bel
le had slicked back Madame Koi’s gleaming hair into a vertical pleat, a silk peony tucked into the fold.

  With the lightest artistry, she had painted Madame’s face, smoothing tinted face-cream scented with gardenia and dusting fingers stained peach over the edges of the sharp cheekbones, more strongly on the thinning lips. She had lined the eyes delicately with Madame’s kohl stick and smudged the line, making them appear subdued and smoky and she had brushed the lashes with dark oil to thicken them.

  Madame Koi carried herself with the knowledge that she was indeed beautiful, aware that the Emperor’s aged eye frequently slipped sideways. Belle knew that for an older woman, such homage was the stuff of life.

  ‘She likes the attention of the Emperor, my father.’

  ‘She likes the attention of everyone.’

  Belle spoke without thinking and could have bitten her tongue but when she turned aghast to the Son, he had a faint tilt to his lips.

  ‘Perhaps you and I shall get on after all,’ was all he said.

  I doubt it. For a start, I would not lie with you if my life depended on it. And as my life most assuredly does seem to depend on it, I won’t be here long enough.

  They seated themselves on piles of silk cushions in the pavilion overlooking the Koi lake. Pristine water rippled as fish darted from under the shelter of sedge. Willows overhung the watery swathe, undulating in the light breeze, and caged birds in the trees added their sweet song to the air. All around was tranquil sight and sound, the small bells that were a mark of Master Koi’s garden chiming in a delicate arpeggio.

  ‘The First House has the look of an entirely prosperous house.’ The Son looked around with an interested eye.

  ‘Master Koi is a shrewd businessman. And he has an enviable factotum who trades outside the Han for him.’ I must find him before I leave. ‘If I may say, Excellence, your knowledge of the Pymm tongue is remarkable.’