Strong Mystery: Murder, Mystery and Magic Books 1-3 (Steampunk Magica)

by Raven Bond

“By getting up, centering and calling fire again,” he said shortly. Mary groaned.

  “Oh, please not!” she protested. “I don’t think I can stand.”

  “Yes you can,” Owen said implacably. “You had better at any rate. Who is the master, you or the fire?” Mary shuffled to her feet, a look of stubborn determination on her face.

  “I am,” she said in a steely voice.

  “Good for you,” Owen approved. “Now show me,” he said challengingly.

  He kept her at drill until both of them were covered in sweat and exhausted. Giving her a series of exercises to practice, with the extorted promise to work with them daily, he finally bid her go to her own bed. He watched her as the double doors closed behind her.

  She was a first rate student, he thought. Her talent deserved better, she deserved better, than his clumsy hands. Owen shook his head again at the strangeness of fortune. If Mr. Victor had not surprised him with that Earth blast, he wouldn’t be here now aiding Mary.

  That he had only gotten to her before her talent caused tragedy, he was certain. He sighed. Now he must remain until he was satisfied that she was in control. Then there was the matter of the settling with Mr. Victor and his grotesque lackey. Still, he missed Jinhao and wondered how she was fairing with her sister.

  Chapter 8

  Jinhao paused on the rooftop above the illegal gambling den, watching until the activity died away in the hours just before dawn. After her talk with the fisherman, she had gone back towards Owen’s house intent on talking to the man who seemed to be watching it. Unfortunately, the dapper little man seemed skilled in avoiding any place where she could successfully ambush him.

  After changing places with his giant partner in surveillance, he started walking, forgoing the cabs at the end of the hill. He kept to the main streets, avoiding being close enough to buildings to enable her to drop down on him from above. She could not risk an open fight with him. To do so invited the intervention of the city’s constabulary, who may see her as an Imperial Adept, and a very illegal one at that. The Adepts were men and women who were able to perform feats of outstanding martial prowess; they were exclusively under exclusive orders from the Han throne. Jinhao was, to put it charitably, absent without leave from the Imperial city and likely there was an arrest immediately notice out on her.

  While Grandfather would never allow her to be transported north in chains, she preferred to depend upon herself to deal with the problems of life. She had listened to Grandfather before, and all of her current troubles with the Throne came from that. She was reminded of the old saying, ‘never make an agreement with a dragon, for they are subtle and have no thought to the years’.

  She agreed with Grandfather that there needed to be an alliance between British and Han but she preferred her own way of reaching that goal, a way that did not involve waiting for centuries. One reason was that she did not think the Han Empire could wait centuries. She had seen the effects of the unlicensed traders selling their opium, the fat mandarins squeezing their farmers to produce more tea on more land for the foreign trade, while the farmer’s children went hungry. No, the Han people needed a hero, and what better hero to have than an English sorcerer-lord who would help them regardless of caste or color. She frowned. That is, she amended in her thoughts, if the fool hasn’t gone and gotten himself killed.

  She watched in frustration the back of the shifty foreigner who could answer her questions, a sentiment that turned into puzzlement as he entered a place that was known to her as a low-rent gambling dive. What attraction could such a place possibly have to a rich foreigner? A girl? Perhaps he simply liked to feel he was slumming? No matter, she decided, he was now somewhere she could corner him.

  Swinging across the narrow gap separating the two roofs, Jinhao paused long enough to pull black gauze over her face. She lowered herself down the outside of the den, and through an open window. She floated down the hallway, her feet making no noise on the old floorboards, following the echoes of a familiar voice. Jinhao paused at the corner of the hallway, as the voice came closer.

  When the first bodyguard came around the corner, she dropped him with a blow to the throat, quickly stepping around the corner. She saw a little rat-faced man dressed in shabby silks that attempted to mimic a mandarin’s robes. His eyes grew wide and he gestured frantically to the two guards behind him.

  “Put down your swords, you fools,” he hissed in Cantonese so thick you could pour it with a spoon. “Do you want her to kill me as well as your stupid asses?” The little man bowed almost to the floor. “Mighty lady! How may poor Wing serve you?”

  “Where is the Englishman with the cane?” Jinhao demanded in the same language.

  “Mighty Lady, I am not sure who you mean,” the rat-faced Wing protested with shifty-eyes.

  “Do not try my patience Wing,” Jinhao drew one of her swords. “There is no profit for you here—only pain.”

  “Ahh, the Englishman,” Wing exclaimed. “He sought another way out of the building and took it.” He pointed at one of the guards. “Take her to the back entrance”.

  “You had best be true with me Wing,” Jinhao turned to follow the guard down a flight of stairs. She stopped and turned back. “Wing,” she called out. “Spread the word that none are to give that man aid of any kind upon pain of my displeasure.”

  “It shall be as you say, Mighty Lady,” Wing replied with a shaky bow.

  When they had gone, the remaining guard, who was an old companion of Wing and could be so familiar, looked at Wing in puzzlement.

  “Why did you give the Quizi to her, Master? He gave us only pure profit. You called her by the title of Mighty Lady. Who is she?”

  “Who is she?” Wang echoed the words tonelessly. “She is a shadow who was before your time. I was but a young man when last she appeared to my old mentor. I have prayed that the day of her return would never come. Take my counsel and forget everything that has happened here tonight. Who is she?” Wang repeated. “She has no name, except one . . . she is the Claw of Lohan.”

  Chapter 9

  Jinhao followed the silent bodyguard down the stairs. They quickly passed an open doorway from which the heavy scents of opium and tobacco billowed, followed by the desperate clack of Mah-Jong tiles. Going down yet another flight of stairs, the still unspeaking guard opened a hidden door in the cellar. He wordlessly pointed.

  “Where does this come out,” she asked, looking at the dim passage-way with skepticism.

  “Not far,” her guide could speak after all, she thought. “Two streets over. The hidden doorway opens out into an alley.”

  She nodded in acknowledgment. Drawing one sword she began to carefully make her way down the corridor. Fortunately it was dimly light by small crystal chunks of Mage light that has been affixed to the ceiling at intervals. Coming to a stairway that went up, she sheathed her sword to free her hands, and began to climb up them. The door latch took only a moment to work. Jinhao found herself standing in an alleyway. A wall of fire suddenly roared towards her from the right. Only her Qi powered reflexes saved her. Dropping flat, she felt the heat pass over her.

  Springing up again, she threw a handful of iron spikes towards the figure standing with an upraised cane at the mouth of the alley. She followed that by running up the side of the building towards the sorcerer, drawing her blades as she ran. A vortex of wind came whirling down the canyon of the alley, tossing her spikes harmlessly about while knocking her violently back down to the ground.

  Crouching there in surprise Jinhao considered the man she had been following with narrowed eyes. He was at least as powerful as Owen in combat sorceries, she judged. She gripped the hilts of her swords tighter, readying her next move.

  “I have no quarrel with you woman,” he cried out. “I only need to be sure that I killed your boyfriend, the Englishman. There is no profit in us tangling. Let me get my proof and leave. There is nothing you can do for him now.”

  She was about to give him her answer to that wi
th the edges of her blades when the police whistle sounded behind him in the street. It was quickly answered by others, and a deep male voice sounded to his attackers left.

  “Here now, sir! There is to be no unlicensed Magia workings in this neighborhood!”

  Snarling, the Sorcerer pointed his cane towards the voice. A thin jet of flame shot from its tip, followed by a cry of pain. Turning back towards Jinhao, he spat out, “Keep away from me!” He spun off down the street at a run, the whistles growing louder as the policeman’s body was discovered by a fellow officer.

  Jinhao took to the shadows, quickly climbing up the side of the alleyway to the rooftops. It would not do for her to be found near the burnt corpse. Besides, there was Owen’s murderer to follow. After a time of casting about, she had to admit that she had lost his trail. All the police milling about like angry bees did not help. Dejected, she followed the rooftop highway back to the mouth of the alley, where a small crowd had gathered. Even at this time of night, the misfortune of others was a strong attractor.

  From her vantage point overhead, she watched as a police van pulled up, discharging a small knot of officious looking men in suits. The fat one must be the police Sorcerer that Owen had told her about, another with a doctor’s bag must be a coroner. After a few minutes, the two of them began some sorcery over the body, while a tired looking man with a notebook and pencil began talking to everyone.

  Jinhao knew that the two men were not only preserving the body, but making sure that it could not be re-animated by a Sorcerer of ill-intent. She had never really understood the British taboo against death until Owen had explained to her that a powerful enough Sorcerer could re-animate the corpse of your dearest one and send it as a raving beast to attack. She shuddered at the thought.

  The tired man with the notebook must be a detective she decided, even though he bore no resemblance to Inspector Gregg, Owen’s ally among the police. Should she seek out Gregg to help her find Owen’s murderer she wondered? No, the Sorcerer that had ambushed her had not been sure himself that he had killed Owen, which meant her duty was still to find Owen if he was alive. But how? As she absently scanned the growing crowd, a slow smile came to her when she saw the inevitable street urchins. It must be a sign from the Gods. Very well, she would call on Him, the one who the street urchins treated with reverence. Quickly, Jinhao removed her sword harness, pulling out her night cloak.

  The girl startled when the shadowy figure made the Dragon sign to her for their place against the corner. Glancing around to be sure that no one was watching her, the little girl slid over towards the figure. When the shadows resolved into a woman in a cloak, she was doubly surprised. Jinhao smiled at her surprise, holding out the small message tube.

  “This must reach Him tonight,” Jinhao whispered, “Can you do this?”

  The girl nodded wordlessly. Being a member of the Eyes meant not only extra food and the occasional coin to make life bearable; it also meant total obedience to whoever gave her the sign. While she had received the sign from a few strange people, there was something intimidating about this woman that required silence, as well as obedience.

  “Good,” Jinhao said. A silver coin appeared outstretched between her fingers. The girl made the coin vanish and scampered off down the street. Jinhao watching her as she went.

  The Eyes were the inspiration of the former intelligence chief of Lohan, Dragon ruler of Hong Kong. Though the man was now dead, the urchins still served as the wily old Dragons’ eyes and ears throughout the city as they were able to go most anywhere and report on what they had seen. They also made superb couriers who no one would suspect of carrying vital messages.

  Jinhao sighed. Whether she wished to or not she would have to deal with Grandfather if she wished to know if Owen was still alive and if so, to find out where he was.

  Chapter 10

  Jinhao picked her way carefully over the vegetation that threated to cover the trail completely. Built to the Dragon Lohan’s express design and covering what was formerly Cantonment Hill, Dragon Park as the place was known, was a two mile spot of green in the center of the city. It not only served as one of the Dragon’s favorite mediation places, it did double-duty as a place where unofficial meetings could take place. Lohan’s house at the top of the hill held too many prying eyes for Jinhao’s peace of mind.

  She had not gone back to the house that she had shared with Owen Strong that night, but stayed in one of the small safe places she had made for herself years ago throughout the city. When the fall of darkness came again, she knew that Grandfather would be waiting for her.

  ~ ~ ~

  Pausing at the end of the trail she looked thoughtfully at the clearing lit with mage lights in paper lanterns.

  The Old Dragon sat on one of the stone benches in his human guise. She had to admit he was imposing in his chosen form. He wore the seeming of a hale but older man, with magnificent white mustaches that came to sharply groomed points near his chest. He was dressed in layers of green and gold silk that shimmered in the light.

  “You may come out Granddaughter. We are quite alone,” he announced without looking at her.

  “Thank you for meeting with me Grandfather,” Jinhao replied, stepping into the clearing. She refused to be surprised. He was trying already to push her off balance with his tricks of perception, but she would not be moved.

  “Thank you for your message, Granddaughter. It is always a joy to hear from one’s children. One of the few joys of old age. Please sit.” Lohan pointed to the place on the ground where some servant had set a large cushion. Jinhao walked towards the cushion, stopping to stand above it. If she sat, Lohan would be higher than her thus dominating the conversation.

  “I thank you Grandfather,’ she replied with a bow, remaining standing. “I trust that you are in good health and good fortune.”

  “Bah,” the dragon waved a hand as if shooing away flies. “The British Governor and the Imperial Satrap are at each other’s throats again, but that is hardly new. I could wish for the old days when I could safely send their severed heads back to the thrones they claimed to serve, but those days are gone. Now it would only lead to a messy war.”

  “But you are not here to talk about that,” he said. His eyes narrowed as looked up at her. “You are as stubborn as your sister and will give me a crooked neck standing like that you know. Why are you here?”

  “Forgive me Grandfather, but I have pulled a muscle and must not sit on the ground,” Jinhao replied regretfully. It was not true, and she knew that he knew it was not, but politeness counted almost as much as truth with the Han.

  “As to why I am here, I come as a humble supplicant. I fear that my companion, Owen Strong, has run afoul of evil.” She proceeded to tell him the circumstances of Owen’s mysterious disappearance and the foreign Sorcerer in the alley.

  The old man listened gravely then shook his head, “And what would you have of me? You have placed yourself on a strange path with this worthless Britisher.”

  Jinhao straightened her back.

  “The people of Hong Kong need a champion, Grandfather. One who will not care about their wealth or status, one who will walk into the darkness for them. You have spent too long upon that hilltop of yours. When was the last time you even came within touching distance of one of the street classes?”

  “And you believe that this man Strong is that person?” Jinhao could see the red flames dance in the old man’s eyes, and feared that she had gone too far. Still she knew it would be worse if she backed down now.

  “Yes,” she said baldly. “The age where the people’s heroes are semi-divine has come to an end. I believe what will unite the British and Han people of this city is a hero that both people can see themselves in. And this will bring the two closer together as you have worked for all these years.”

  “Hrumph,” the old man made a dismissive sound. “I remain unconvinced. Again Granddaughter I ask, what would you have me do about your situation?”

  “I know th
at you can sense every emanation of what the British call Magia throughout the city. I am sure that Owen Strong gives forth a powerful emanation. I simply wish to know if he is alive and where he may be.”

  “You know not what you ask,” the old man replied. “You should be able to do this small thing yourself if you would quit being so stubborn.”

  “I thank you, Grandfather,” she bowed shortly to him, “but I am not ready for such a commitment.”

  “Hrumph,” the old man said again. He squeezed his eyes closed. Jinhao waited patiently and quietly. Finally he opened his eyes again. “Your Sorcerer is alive and in the dockside area.”

  She let out a breath that she did not know she was holding in. He was alive, she thought in relief.

  “Where is he,” she asked. “The dockside area is quite a large place. Can you not be more specific?”

  “No, I cannot,” he snapped at her. She saw the flames in his eyes again. After a moment, they vanished as the old man shrugged in his robes. “Perhaps I can tell more upon meditation, should I choose to waste my time,” he allowed.

  “That would be a great aid to me,” she replied sincerely. She bowed more deeply to him.

  “Have you considered that this Britisher may simply not wish you to find him?” The dragon asked pointedly.

  “I have,” Jinhao replied stiffly. “I have reason to believe that is not the case.”

  “There is no harm in caring for a mortal,” he said, squinting at her is if he could divine the truth of her replies. “I found caring for your Grandmother most satisfying.”

  “It is not like that with Owen Strong,” she said swiftly. “I simply believe that he is the man we most wish to encourage. It would be a waste of my time for him to die now.” She turned her head to one side regarding him. “You have never spoken of Grandmother before.”

  “Nor shall I now,” he replied briskly. “You now owe me a debt. Do you acknowledge it freely?”