Precious Dragon

by Liz Williams

  Miss Qi turned an arctic face in her direction. Reflecting on it, Chen did not think that her froideur was completely due to recent events: Jhai had, after all, been crucially involved in a plot to help Hell overcome Heaven not so long ago. One could hardly blame Miss Qi for not holding Jhai in very high regard.

  “A curious aspect for a courtesan,” Miss Qi said, “that of a tigress.”

  Jhai shrugged. “What can I tell you? Keralans must like stroppy, fierce women.”

  “But is there anything you could do?” Chen persisted.

  “I don’t know,” Jhai said slowly. “I can certainly try. The Minister is a lot more powerful than I am. She’s a lot older, for a start.”

  “What if she was distracted?” Chen said. “If you could influence the guards …”

  Zhu Irzh looked up in alarm. “What do you mean, ‘distracted’?”

  Chen grinned. “I gather that you are reasonably appealing to the ladies.”

  “Hang on,” Zhu Irzh said. “I’m not coming on to Su Yi.”

  “You might not have to. She might come on to you.” This was not entirely out of the blue; Chen did not think that he had been mistaken in noticing a slightly speculative glint within the inhuman gaze of the Minister of Lust.

  “Well, one thing’s for certain,” Underling No said gloomily. “We have to do something. Because either they’ll kill us after the orgy, or we’ll wish they had.”

  34

  Mrs Pa woke to find that it was morning: not dawn, but full into the day with the sun burning through the blinds of the room in the temple annexe and the smell of jasmine drifting through the air like a scented sea.

  “Here,” Inari’s voice said. “I’ve brought you some tea.”

  Mrs Pa struggled into wakefulness; she felt as though she’d been asleep for years.

  “Precious Dragon—?”

  “Precious Dragon woke not long ago and now he’s sitting outside with Mhara and Robin. He’s quite safe.”

  “Nothing came in the night?” Mrs Pa questioned.

  “Nothing came,” Inari reassured her. But in that, Mrs Pa soon discovered, Inari had, unbeknowingly, lied.

  They might not have noticed the footprint if Precious Dragon hadn’t spotted a bird in the bushes and gone over to look at it. His exclamation of surprise brought Inari and Robin running, and caused Mhara to turn his head and walk slowly over.

  “What is it?” Inari breathed. The footprint was at least eight feet long, a spined, spiked ridge: if it had not been imprinted so clearly in the soft earth around the temple, Mrs Pa might have taken it for erosion.

  “It is a kuei,” Mhara said, crouching down by the footprint and holding out a hand. His face was very grave.

  “But how can that be?” Mrs Pa asked, bewildered. “I thought you said they’d taken human size, like the ones we saw.”

  Mhara’s blue gaze came up to meet her own. “I thought they had.”

  “But if this great big thing was outside, why didn’t we hear it? Why didn’t it attack us?”

  Mhara raised a hand and gestured towards the outer limits of the bushes. Mrs Pa blinked. A blue glow was visible, the colour of a summer sea or an azure sky, perhaps a hundred yards around the perimeter of the temple, just inside the clawed end of the footprint.

  “I put this place under heavy wards last night, the strongest that I know,” Mhara said. “I’ve also sent a message to my cousin Kuan Yin and asked for her protection. She is held back in much that she tries to do these days, but I believe she has done something, for we were not touched as we slept. I don’t think that the thing that made this footprint was any larger than the kuei that you saw, but it is a message: that they are powerful and they are on their way. We need to get to Sulai-Ba, therefore.”

  “I will do my best,” Mrs Pa said. The idea of another long walk made her heart sink. “But I’m afraid that I’ll slow you down.”

  Mhara smiled. “You’ll be travelling in a lot more comfort than you did yesterday, Mrs Pa. I’ve sent for a car.”

  “Goodness me,” Mrs Pa said faintly, when the car arrived.

  Mhara had the grace to look embarrassed. “It’s not the sort of thing I’d normally choose to travel in,” he said, as they stood in front of the gleaming white and silver limousine. It was at least twenty foot in length. “I’m afraid it’s the kind of official vehicle that Heaven thinks I should have, as the son of the Emperor.”

  “What sort of car do you think you should have?” Mrs Pa asked.

  “Something small that runs on ecological fuel. Or a bicycle. My Heavenly clan is living in the past, you see. They’re much too grand.”

  “Perhaps you should ask for a bicycle.”

  “I did. They sent me this thing.”

  “Oh dear,” Mrs Pa said, but secretly she was rather impressed by the big car. At least they could get everyone in it, although Robin stayed behind to look after the temple in Mhara’s absence. Mrs Pa worried about that, but then again, Robin couldn’t actually be killed and that was encouraging. Neither could Inari, who was also staying, at Mhara’s insistence. She had wanted to come, but the Emperor’s son said that no, it would be better if they went alone to Sulai-Ba, because the kuei were more likely to follow them there. But even though Inari could not be slain, she could be sent back to Hell, and Mrs Pa worried about that, too.

  Precious Dragon sat with Mrs Pa, in the second row of seats in the limousine. The back rows stretched behind them, fading into dimness. The limo seemed much longer from the inside than it did even from without and the rows of seats made Mrs Pa uneasy, as though she might look back and see something suddenly sitting there.

  Then Mhara joined her in a flurry of indigo garments.

  “Who is driving?” Mrs Pa wondered aloud. But as she spoke, a shadowy form appeared in the driver’s seat and a beautiful face looked calmly back at them. Mrs Pa couldn’t tell whether it was a man or a woman, nor how old it was. It had pale golden eyes and white hair, but its face was unlined. Of course, it must be from Heaven, and things were different there. Mrs Pa felt a sharp pang, a sensation familiar to her in the years after Mai’s death. This is where Mai should have been, not Hell. The thought of everything that had been denied to her daughter made her heartsick. You cannot let yourself be bitter, she thought. Look what has come of that old mistake, and she turned her gaze to her grandson instead. The pearl made a small bulge in his cheek.

  “Are you all right, Grandma?” Precious Dragon asked, with that penetrating gaze, and she lied as she answered, “Why yes, I’m fine.”

  Doors closing, said the limo. The driver put a gloved hand on the wheel and they glided out into the suburbs towards the city centre. This was much better than walking. Mrs Pa was even able to enjoy the view of the passing shops; normally, she did not have the time to look, but as the limo sped towards Sulai-Ba down long tree-lined boulevards she marvelled at the chic designer clothes in artful boutiques, the well-dressed people sitting at pavement cafés over long, cool drinks. That was the sort of life that her employers enjoyed: it must be nice, she thought. But none of them had a grandson as marvellous as Precious Dragon, and none of them was riding in a limousine with the son of the Emperor of Heaven. The life of an elderly cleaner was not without incident, after all.

  They passed the Opera, looking far more splendid than Mrs Pa remembered it, and then the beautiful designer homes in the district just beyond Sulai-Ba, finally drawing to a halt in a neat little street in front of a small park. Hibiscus blossoms blazed red in a hedge and jasmine spilled down onto the sidewalk.

  “We’ll have to walk from here,” Mhara said. “There isn’t room for the car around Sulai-Ba itself. Can you manage, Mrs Pa?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Mrs Pa said. Inari helped her out of the car, just as the Celestial chauffeur melted away.

  The street was really quite run down, and several of the houses were boarded up and derelict. Litter was strewn about the sidewalk. The lawns of the little park were yellow and dusty in the he
at; the jasmine shrivelled and wilting. Only the hibiscus still blazed redly in the hedge.

  “That,” Mhara said quietly, following her gaze, “Is another reason why I’m not keen on using the car.”

  He led them through the little park. Mrs Pa sighed. It had been such a wonderful city, and yet it had all been illusion. She’d once heard that the Buddha had made a similar journey when he was still a human prince, that his father had made sure that he saw only the most beautiful things along the way, sweeping the beggars aside. Then the Buddha had realised how things really were and renounced all his wealth. It seemed Mhara had the same kind of views and she respected him all the more for that. She could see now why he’d been so keen on a bicycle.

  “We’re not far from Sulai-Ba,” Mhara said, clearly wanting to reassure Mrs Pa. But her blisters had healed over night, and the walk was not nearly as painful as it had been on the previous day, even though she was still stiff. Besides, she could see the ruined temple now above the heat-bleached trees, the shattered roof rising in a dark arc over the city. She reached out and took Precious Dragon by the hand, not knowing what else they might find inside the vaults of Sulai-Ba.

  35

  Pin thought that he was never going to stop falling. He twisted and turned in the air until it was almost relaxing, travelling down through the dimly glimpsed layers of Hell like someone in an elevator, passing different floors. He saw lands that were nothing but windswept iron plains, lands that were all fire, with volcanoes spurting sparks the size of stars. A million hands reached out, beseeching, but it was too late: Pin had passed.

  Below him, Mai also fell, downward like a leaf with her skirt billowing out around her. Occasionally, she waved. Pin thought that she was trying to keep his spirits up.

  And above them, the kuei also fell. It was far enough behind that Pin could see the entire serpentine-centipede shape of its length, the thousand legs like metal pilings and the huge curving jaws at its head. Its visible eye rolled frantically in crimson panic and it roared, so loudly that Pin was soon deafened and could hear nothing at all. After a while, he noticed that the kuei looked smaller, diminished, but he thought that this must just mean that it had slowed down and was further away.

  Down and down. And finally Pin realised that there was a limit to Hell after all and it was coming up fast. Unlike some of the levels they had passed, this was a bright land, a sandy expanse. Pin caught sight of ragged yellow mountains and then a canyon. He hit the sand at maximum velocity, was splattered out across a mile or so. This was painless, but bewildering, with only a tiny scrap of consciousness remaining and then there was an even more confused period during which he reassembled. Mai was struggling up between the rocks a short distance away. There was no sign of the kuei at all.

  “Pin,” Mai shouted. Her voice sounded reedy and distorted. “Are you all right?”

  Pin fought back hysterical laughter. “What do you mean, ‘all right’? I’ve just fallen into the depths of Hell and exploded.”

  “Well,” Mai said shakily, coming across. She did not walk, but moved with an odd gliding motion, her feet not quite touching the ground. “You look much the same as you did upstairs, if that’s any comfort.”

  “So do you,” said Pin. He looked around. This place seemed more like Earth than the city above; the sky a brassy gold, the yellow mountains and thick sticky earth. Like somewhere in the depths of China, perhaps. Pin had the sense of great age. “What happened to the kuei?” he asked.

  Mai shook her head. “I don’t know. Didn’t you think it was getting smaller as we fell? It looked like it to me.”

  “Me too,” said Pin, “But I thought it might just be slowing down.”

  Mai looked dubious. “I don’t know. Perhaps you’re right. Maybe it got stuck on one of the levels above us. I hope so.”

  “I hope so too,” Pin said, shuddering. The memory of that centi­pedal shape twisting and writhing through the skies of Hell was one that he’d far rather forget. But even worse was the dawning understanding of what had happened to them. “Mai, what are we going to do? Look at this place. There’s nothing here. Do you know where we are?”

  Mai’s face was contorted with dismay. “I think I do know, Pin. This is the bottom of Hell. It’s where everything else came from—this is the distant past, not just another level, and it’s where the rest of Hell came from—where it grew out of. As for nothing being here, I’m afraid that the legends disagree with that. It’s where the first demons came from too.” She ran a hand through her dishevelled hair. “There’s one thing, though—in every level, including this one, there’s a place where you can move between the levels themselves. We can go back up.”

  “Even given what’s waiting for us?”

  Mai sighed. “I don’t know what else to do, Pin. The kuei are after us and they’ll find us eventually. We can either stay here or try to run. I’d rather run.”

  “Then I’ll come with you,” Pin said.

  There was no plant life in this part of Hell, just pools of oozing yellow mud that occasionally emitted a sulphurous geyser, and the endless, stony earth. Pin had never seen a bleaker place. They trudged on towards the mountains, which seemed to grow no closer no matter how much they walked. There were some benefits, however: Pin did not feel hungry, and neither did his feet hurt—like Mai’s, they did not seem to want to touch the ground.

  Gradually, the brassy sky darkened and an ominous night fell over the canyon.

  “I think we should stop,” Mai said uneasily.

  “Are you tired?” Pin asked. He did not feel that he would sleep; it was as though the descent had sent him into even more of a state of limbo than he had been previously.

  “No, I’m not,” Mai replied, “But I have the feeling that there might be things that come out during the night that we haven’t seen during the day.”

  “Even if they do,” Pin said in despair, “We can’t fight them off. We’ve got no weapons.” The hungry water ghosts had been bad enough and that was in the upper level of Hell. He told himself that Mai might be wrong, that they’d seen nothing so far and that really did mean that nothing was there, but he could not believe in his own reassurances.

  “We’ll just have to hope that they won’t bother with us,” Mai said, but as she spoke a blood curdling yell came from the rocks above them.

  “What was that?” Pin whispered.

  “Oh Pin,” said Mai, “Let’s just hide.”

  They found a crack between two large boulders and crouched inside it. It did not afford much protection but any was better than none. The yell came again and something large bounded down the canyon wall and past the boulders. The sky was dark now, but a dim yellow glow came from the rocks of the canyon and when Mai wonderingly held out her hand, Pin saw that it, too, was glowing. He looked down and found that he was lit up like a beacon.

  “It’s like radiation,” Mai exclaimed.

  So was the thing that had gone past them. It was larger than a human, though it moved upright and wore a flapping cloak, and it had a narrow, pointed head. It was sleek and quick, moving with lizard speed against the rocks.

  “Do you think it’s seen us?” Pin hissed.

  “I hope not.”

  But Mai was wrong. Next moment, the thing turned. It leaped up the canyon, covering six feet or more with each spring, until it was crouching at the entrance to the crack, directly in front of Pin. Its eyes were like boiling yellow fire. Mai and Pin both screamed. The demon’s jaws snapped open and it spat. A sticky web shot out, enveloping both Pin and Mai in its folds. The thing seized a handful of its web and, without any discernible effort, threw the web with Pin and Mai in it over its shoulder and strode off.

  36

  The guards let him keep his original clothes, which was a substantial relief to Chen when he discovered what Zhu Irzh had been given to wear. The demon, who had been led out of the cell half an hour previously along with Jhai, returned in what Chen assumed to be standard male harem attire. He was bare
chested, with a satin cape attached around the neck and a pair of billowing silk trousers. He also wore an expression of extreme distaste.

  “This is so cheesy.”

  Chen thought of making a snide remark and decided against it, purely on the grounds of kindness. “Yes, it is,” he said.

  “I don’t see why I have to wear this, and you don’t.”

  “I suspect that Underling No, Miss Qi and myself are required to appear in our actual roles,” Chen said. “My humiliation will probably have more of an impact if I’m in my working gear.”

  “You’re right,” Miss Qi said. “That’s what they expected of me, when it was my turn.”

  Silently, Chen berated himself for behaving like a coward. He’d pretended to himself that he was being sensitive, but in fact, he just could not bear to learn of what had befallen Miss Qi. But now, with Jhai still absent, he felt that he had no choice but to ask.

  “Miss Qi, I am so sorry to ask and I understand that you must have had a harrowing time and loss of face. But what exactly happened to you?”

  “I was not raped,” Miss Qi said and at this Chen released a breath he did not know he had been holding. “I was taken into a—they called it a party but you were right, it was an orgy. I thought it would be horrible, decadent and disgusting. But at first everything seemed very civilised. The Minister and her demons sat around drinking tea and talking. About the weather, things like that. All of them were female and that made me feel a little more comfortable. They invited me to sit down and I did so. Then one of the demons handed me a cup of tea. I thought it might be poisoned, but they were all looking at me and I thought that if I refused to drink it, they might force it on me and that would be worse: at least if I drank it myself I still had some kind of control, if that makes sense.” Her voice was stilted and hoarse, hinting at either an iron will-power, or impending breakdown.

  “Perfectly,” said Underling No. “It’s what I myself would have done.”