I did, just as he spoke. The faint notes of a flute coming from somewhere further up the tunnel. The sound became clearer the more we walked. “Is that a bawu?”
“I believe so,” he said.
There was no need to ask again, since by the time we had progressed a little farther I could even identify the song—”Spring Flowers on the Mountain.” I often played that one myself in whatever free time I had left after training, slaying devils, or looking after my father. I had my own bawu that I usually carried in a silk bag on my back along with my sword. I had to admit, however, that whoever was playing now put my poor skills to shame.
“Father, I see light ahead.”
While the tunnel we had been walking in for what seemed like hours carried its own dim illumination, what I saw now was much brighter, and the lovely soft notes from the flute sounded much clearer. I paused to extinguish the torch.
“She’s waiting for us, I think. Be on your guard, Daughter.”
“Always, Father.”
We emerged into a cavern, or rather what could more precisely described as a lair, because it was unlike any natural cave I had ever known. It was at least two bowshots across in either direction, with mostly smooth walls and floor, save for a deep circular depression high on the far wall and what appeared to be an old stalagmite in the center of the floor, carefully carved and hollowed to accommodate a spring coming up from beneath it. The water gently poured over its sides and down into a circular moat that fed into a stone trough carrying it away to a fissure on the right hand side of the chamber, likely the source of the mountain stream. At equal distances from the fountain but nearer to the walls there were six bronze braziers holding glowing embers, which together made the light we had seen and the warmth we felt. I still heard the flute, but there was no sign of the devil.
“Where is she?” I asked.
“Oh, here, I think,” Father said. “My peachwood sword will reveal her if she comes near, but at the moment she clearly chooses to be invisible.”
The echoes in the chamber made it difficult to determine her location from the direction of the sound. “I don’t like this.”
Father scratched his beard. “Neither do I. Yet this is the situation we are in. Even so....” He scratched his beard again. “I sense something.”
“The snake-devil?”
“No. Something older, fainter... something I can only describe as an echo of a shout, only the shout is long gone. Let’s have a look around.”
“Fine, but we stay together.”
We passed by the stalagmite fountain, and as it had been a long walk, I could not resist dipping a handful of water. I sniffed it carefully for any taint, found nothing, and drank it down. It was of the purest, sweetest water I had ever tasted. I would have encouraged Father to try it, but he was already a few paces ahead, and I hurried to catch up.
“Daughter, look at this.”
Father stood by a low stone slab, perfectly square and at least twenty paces across. Taking up the entire slab was the skeleton of a gigantic serpent, perfectly coiled. As we looked at it, amazed, the song on the flute changed from “Spring Flowers on the Mountain” to “Snow Falls on the Heart,” a song of longing and loss.
She appeared then, standing in the round depression high on the wall, the bawu across her lips. I had thought the circle might be another of her access tunnels, but closer now I could clearly see the solid stone behind her. The last note hung for a moment in the air and she lowered the flute.
“Mistress Devil,” Father said very formally. “I think it is time we spoke with one another again. Or have we been chasing a ghost all this time?”
“Shall we test that supposition?” she asked.
In an instant the bamboo flute in her hand transformed into a sword, the six braziers’ embers flared into flames so bright I was nearly blinded. The devil descended from the circle like a hawk stooping on its prey. Father was mumbling a charm of some sort, but I was mostly concerned with blocking the devil’s sword, which I never seemed to touch yet still, time and again, somehow kept from touching me. A wind swirled around us, and the devil’s long hair flew around her face like a nest of snakes. I saw a chance and lunged, but in that moment she simply was not there. Another moment and the fire from the braziers had died down and the snake-devil was again back high on the stone wall, flute in hand, as if nothing at all had happened.
I turned to my father. “An illusion?”
“Young Mistress, check your right sleeve,” the devil said.
I did. There was a very clean cut a finger’s length from the end that ran from the bottom of my sleeve until just below my arm. A little more and I might have lost the arm.
“I am no ghost,” she said.
Father’s only reaction to the cut on my sleeve was to nod and grunt. “I concede your reality and your skills, and admit it was wrong of me to goad you, as I knew a ghost was not possible. However, I would ask you to do us the courtesy of not underestimating us.”
“I do. As for that one,” she said, pointing her flute at the skeleton, “That was Jianhong. He was the original owner of this place. He was a very powerful snake-devil. As I was—relatively—young and foolish, I challenged him, as is our custom.”
“Then you must be even stronger, as this was the result,” Father said, indicating the skeleton.
She smiled. “On the contrary—he could have swatted me like a fly, if he had so chosen. Yet he not only let me live, he allowed me to share his home. It took me some time to understand why.”
I scowled at my ruined sleeve. “You mean he was not overwhelmed by your charm?”
Her smile didn’t flicker. “Nothing of the sort. Powerful as he was, he was also very old, and he was dying.”
Father nodded. “Ah, I think I’m beginning to understand.”
I looked from one to the other. “I admit that I do not understand. What has this to do with our current situation?”
“Daughter, it is a devil’s greatest ambition to become immortal, and despite his presumed power, Jianhong had failed to achieve this. So when he died... well, that was the end of him.”
“He wanted to be remembered,” the snake-devil said. “This I promised to do and have done. It was not immortality, but it was something. I realize to ones such as yourselves it is a small thing, but if I am dead at the end of today’s... business, shall we say, you might do him the courtesy of remembering his name.”
Father, looking more solemn than was usually his wont, agreed. “Done. Yet that is not all, is it? And before we go any farther, I am Pan Bao and this is my somewhat-filial daughter, Jing. May we know your name?”
The snake-devil descended from her perch high on the cave wall, moving in a rather winding pattern like a snake swimming through water. I held my sword at the ready, but Father had not moved. He was clearly waiting for an answer.
“I am called Mei Li,” she said as she gracefully touched down, “and I have a proposal. You have seen a bit of my skill, and I have seen a bit of yours. Your own power, Sir, you kept in check as I believe you realized my intent. As for your esteemed daughter, she came very close to wounding me. Frankly, I am no more certain of the outcome of a true contest than you are.”
I had to interrupt. “Father, is what she said true?!”
“Not entirely, Jing. I did put up a barrier. It would have been difficult for her to seriously harm you. And yes, I could have mistaken her intent, but then I have lived as long as I have by being right more often than not. Now please pay attention—the adults are speaking.”
Please clarify what would strike you as serious, Father? A lost limb? An eye, perhaps?
I slipped into sullen silence as I waited for the urge to throttle him to pass, which it always did. Eventually. I did love and respect my father, but I couldn’t resist wishing that he did not make it so hard to remember this sometimes. If that was an un-filial thought, so be it.
My father spoke first. “What is your proposal, Mei Li?”
“I merely wish to ask a small favor of you. If you will agree to it, I will submit myself to your will. Slay me if you wish; I will not resist.”
“And what is this favor?”
Mei Li looked uncomfortable. “That is the one part of my proposal that may cause some difficulty—until you agree, I cannot tell you.”
That was the end of my silence. “You mean we must agree to your terms and not know what they are? That’s absurd!”
“Not completely,” Mei Li said, calm as a statue. “You know my terms. What you do not know is the condition. I can only tell you that what I mean to ask will not cause harm to you or any other person.”
Father glared at me then replied to Mei Li. “Absurd or not, your proposal is interesting. Tell me—what if I agree to your terms but I am unable to fulfill them?”
“You are a scholar, Sir, I know this. As with any contract—it is simply an understanding between us, and I will agree to let it remain in force until the terms are fulfilled. But it is not any legal interpretation I will rely upon—only your word that you will fulfill my request if and when it is in your power.”
“And the alternative?”
Mei Li looked solemn. “Then I’m afraid we must fight to the death here and now,” she said. “I await your answer.”
Father was silent for several moments, and when he spoke again I could not believe what I was hearing. “I agree to your terms, Mei Li, provided you are willing to swear by the Ten Kings of Hell to fulfill your end and that your request will not cause harm to ourselves or any other person. In essence I, too, am asking for your word.”
She didn’t even hesitate. “By the Ten Kings of Hell, I swear that all I have said is true.”
“Then I agree and swear by the Tao to honor our bargain. Is this sufficient?”
“It is,” Mei Li said.
“And this ‘favor’ you wish of us?”
“I want you to send me to Hell,” she said.
I took my sword. “Easily done—”
I had taken no more than a step when Father grabbed my wrist. “Stop, Jing, and put your sword away. It’s over.”
I pulled away. “Honored Father, what do you mean ‘over’?” I asked through gritted teeth. “She just said she wants to die!”
He sighed. “No, she said she wants us to send her to Hell. Well, we can’t, or weren’t you listening?”
“She also said that her request would not bring harm to any other person,” I pointed out.
“Nor does it,” Mei Ling said. “I am not a person. I am a snake-devil... which is rather the point.”
I stopped then but only to stare at the both of them. “Would either of you care to enlighten me?”
Mei Li frowned. “Is she always this angry?”
“Quite often. When her mother named her Jing—’gentle’—she was perhaps being optimistic,” Father said. “Daughter, when a person dies—a human person—no matter their merit, they go first to Hell to atone for their life’s sins before being reincarnated, correct?”
“So I have been told.”
“It does not work that way for devils,” Mei Li said. “Either we achieve immortality and eventual deification, or we die and go to nothing. A person goes to Hell and then on to a new life. A devil does not.”
“But... Hell is full of devils!”
“The ones who live there or have duties under the command of one of the kings. Not one such as I. But then I heard the story of Madame White Snake, a snake-devil who lives as a human for many years until she becomes one.”
I shook my head. “Or dies or is sealed away for eternity or... well, there are many other versions. Besides, it’s just a story!”
Mei Li just looked at me. “Young Mistress, empires have risen and fallen on the backs of stories. Lives changed, ruined, exalted! The course of human history turns on the stories people tell themselves about what they are or want to be. If all this is true, why do you suppose that a story does not have the power to change what I am? When I saw Jianhong die and vanish from all that is, I saw my future! Then the two of you appeared and I thought, perhaps, there was an alternative.”
“Change is a basic tenet of the Way,” Father acknowledged. “But there is more to this—I did and do agree to your request, though I cannot as yet fulfill it. Even so, you must hold up your end of the bargain until I do.”
“True,” Mei Li said. “I am at your command.”
“First, a new diet—no people. You will eat what we eat. Second and most obvious, you will need to maintain the appearance of the human you wish to become and live as one while you travel with us—”
“She’s coming with us?” I asked.
“Can you think of another way to fulfill our bargain?” Father asked. “Honestly, Daughter, you are not stupid, though sometimes your anger makes you appear so. It is now our responsibility to teach Mei Li how to be a human. No matter how long it takes.”
“Perhaps your Honored Father will grant you the privilege of killing me when the time comes,” Mei Li said. “Until then I will try not to be a burden.”
I sighed. “With all due respect, Honored Father, I think you’re forgetting something—we took the provincial governor’s gold on the promise that we would slay the snake-dev—I mean Mei Li.”
My father scratched his beard. “I will keep my agreement with the governor, eventually, though I do see your point. He will not take kindly to our returning without immediate proof.”
Mei Li smiled again. “Honored Sir and Young Mistress, if I may—I think I have an answer to our dilemma.”
* * *
In the end, Father took the skull of a snake-devil rather than an intact head to present to the provincial governor, explaining that he had stripped and bleached it so as to avoid offending the governor’s delicate sensibilities. He was even able to give the devil’s name. Later I was told that the skull was mounted as a trophy in the governor’s council chambers, identified with a plaque that read so:
“The Great Snake-Devil Jianhong, slain by order of Governor Sun Fu.”
That part was Mei Li’s idea, as suggested to the governor by way of my father. When he left to carry the skull to the governor’s mansion, he told Mei Li to “please instruct my sullen daughter on the proper way to play a bawu.”
That part didn’t sting quite as much as perhaps he intended. I had recognized Mei Li’s superior skill with the instrument from the start and was quite willing to learn all she could teach me. When the lessons paused, she looked thoughtful.
“You do have a natural talent; the problem is mostly that you do not get enough practice. Alone in my lair, I had plenty of time. You have overcome much to become as good as you are.”
“That is kind of you to say,” I said, because it was.
Mei Li brightened. “Is it? Lovely. I was worried about kindness, as I’m not sure I understand the concept. Devils have little use for it.”
I almost smiled then. “Nor do all humans. No matter. At some point this evening we will need to prepare for Father’s return.”
“Prepare? What do you mean? Forgive me, but there is much I do not yet understand.”
I considered. “Well, first we’ll need to heat some water for a bath so we can get him cleaned up and in bed. We’ll also feed him if he’s able to eat, but at the very least we must make him drink some clear water or else he’ll be worse in the morning.”
She frowned. “Worse from what?”
“Plum wine and the effects of over-indulging. It will be late and he will be drunk when he returns, or I do not know my father.”
“Humans are strange creatures,” Mei Li said. “Such behavior cannot be good for him, plus what of our bargain if he kills himself this way before I learn to be human?”
“As his daughter it is my job... well, now our job, I suppose, to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“I will gladly help, but if we are both subject to his will, how do we dissuade him?”
I smiled then, and for the first time in a
while, I was not angry at all.
“Mei Li, I thank you for the lessons. Now, however, it is my turn, and I think there is yet a thing or two you can learn from me.”
Copyright © 2017 Richard Parks
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Richard Parks is an ex-pat Southerner now living in central New York state with his wife and a couple of grumpy cats. He is the author of the Yamada Monogatari series, just concluded with Yamada Monogatari: The Emperor in Shadow from Prime Books. In addition to appearances in several Best of the Year anthologies, he has been a finalist for both the World Fantasy Award and the Mythopoeic Fantasy Award for Adult Literature.
Read more Beneath Ceaseless Skies
WHATEVER KNIGHT COMES
by Ryan Row
Some summers, you like to watch the firefly comets through your huge window in the east tower. The scribbled yellow, blue, and red lights crisscross the sky in an obscure dance. A tangle of light and form that you sometimes find very alluring, and that sometimes reminds you of master swordplay. Wild strokes of light, turns and swirls and loops cutting right through the fabric of the hot summer stars. The night sky, it has always seemed to you, is a big fête. Sometimes, you can’t stand to watch, and you push the heavy wardrobe with the broken mirror inside it in front of the window and leave it there for days, months, years.
Sometimes you have a maiden in the west tower. The maidens smell like good soil, like rose, like sunlight, like ice. They wear dresses of tissue paper, of spider’s silk, of common wool or dirty cotton, of gray wolf skin. Sometimes they are naked and ashamed, and you throw your black cloak over their shoulders with a practiced flourish, and they mistake it for kindness instead of compulsion. Sometimes they are naked and don’t care. You have seen white moonlight on every shade of bare skin and it always looks, to you, like a much more gentle lover’s touch. They stand before you as if daring you. Daring you to take off your armor, but your armor never comes off. To touch them, but you will never touch them. To love them. You will always love them. Every one of them, even though you also hate them. You throw your cloak over them anyway. It weighs at least thirty pounds, and this is as close as you can ever come to hurting them.
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