Tong Lashing

by Peter David

  “I see.” He held his cup delicately and took another sip. “And how do you propose to destroy this Forked Tong and the Anaïs Ninjas?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I need more information about them.” My eyes narrowed thoughtfully as I stared at Mitsu. “You seem a knowledgeable sort.”

  “Do I?” His voice was neutral.

  “What can you tell me?”

  “That if you meddle with organizations such as those whose names you are so unwisely bandying about, you will die.”

  Trying my best to sound nonchalant, I replied, “Sooner or later, I’ll die anyway. So what difference does it make?”

  “All the difference in the world if you desire sooner to become later.”

  “Trouble.”

  Once again it was Mordant who had spoken from concealment. But his tone had changed. There was tension in both it and his body. I could tell because suddenly his talons were digging into the flesh of my back. I gasped in pain and growled, “Ease up on the claws, if you don’t mind.” I felt a slight lessening. “What ‘trouble’? What are you talking about?”

  “Not sure. I just smell it. Let’s go.”

  “This is ridic—”

  “Let’s go!” There was a definite hiss in his voice, and I could feel the claws pricking at my skin once more.

  Having been given sufficient incentive, I used my staff to hoist myself to my feet. Mitsu, impressively, went directly from cross-legged to standing in a bit of muscle control that I could only envy. As we quickly gathered our meager belongings, I glanced around the eatery in search of what looked like a plausible menace. Nothing presented itself.

  Quickly we made our way out into the streets. How in the world Mordant could possibly smell trouble, I hadn’t a clue. All I could smell was fish.

  “There,” Mitsu suddenly said. He didn’t point, obviously not wanting to draw attention, but I followed the young man’s glance and saw what he was indicating.

  I recognized them instantly.

  Not them specifically, but their mode of dress, the colors they wore, which was identical to that of the three thugs who had ridden into the small village of Hosbiyu with the intention of causing problems… right before Chinpan Ali had caused them more problems than they could ever have imagined. There were two of them, and they were not taking their eyes off us as we made our way through the market.

  We wove our way through the crowd, trying to get to the horse, and then I stopped so abruptly that Mitsu bumped into me. “We have a problem,” I said.

  Two more of them were directly between us and the horse.

  It seemed as if the people in the crowd sensed that these men meant trouble, and tried to get out of their way as quickly as they could.

  “You know them?” asked Mitsu.

  “They work for the Skang Kei crime family,” I told him.

  “Well, if you’re interested in finding out about the Forked Tong, they would certainly be the ones who tell you what you wish to know.”

  “They’re with the Forked Tong as well?”

  “You don’t seem to understand,” said Mitsu. “Everyone of criminal intent in this city is part of the Forked Tong. Why do you think the Imperior despises them so? Because they’re organized. Enemies who are splintered are far more easily handled than enemies who are united.”

  “Words of wisdom. I shall carry them with me for many years, provided we manage to survive the next few minutes.”

  “Why are they coming after you?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “For all I know, they’re coming after you.”

  “Me? What did I ever do to the Skang Kei family?”

  “Since I really don’t have any clue as to who you are, I’d have no way of answering that, would I. For all I know, you raped and murdered a favored daughter.” Even as I spoke, I glanced around desperately to see if there was a way out. “Come,” I said, and headed off to the left.

  They were coming from that direction as well. I turned and saw that a fourth possible means of retreat had also been cut off.

  “What’s happening?” demanded Mordant from hiding.

  “We have a problem,” I said again.

  The advancing men, as if by unspoken cue, suddenly unsheathed their swords.

  “We have a major problem,” I amended.

  “Do you need me to intercede?”

  “No, I need you to grow about twenty feet in length and be able to blast fire out your mouth.”

  “I’ll work on it,” said Mordant from beneath my cloak.

  The crowd was melting away around us, and I suddenly felt extremely vulnerable as a space cleared in every direction. No one wanted to interfere or get involved. On one level, I couldn’t blame them. Had I been in the crowd and perceived that someone else was being pursued by a group of criminal strongmen, I would have gotten myself so far out of the way that I’d have wound up in a different county. However, as the targeted individual, I felt more inclined to curse the cravenness of the throng.

  “Gentlemen!” I called out. “May I be of some assistance?”

  They came in quickly, their swords swinging. I didn’t know where to look first. I was totally paralyzed, no clue what to do.

  Mitsu, on the other hand, did not hesitate. He leaped forward, angling his body as he went, and slid between the legs of the foremost of the attackers. He brought his legs up fast and slammed them into the crotch of his opponent. The man gasped, doubling over, losing his grip on his sword as he did so. Mitsu arched his back and snapped up to his feet, plucking the sword out of the air as it fell. He whipped it back and forth with amazing speed, judging its heft, and instantly deflected the thrust of the next attacker.

  And then he was gone.

  Just like that. He darted between two of the attackers and vanished from the scene, leaving me on my own.

  I had to give him credit. I hadn’t expected actions quite that craven. It was almost worthy of me. If I weren’t seized with the desire to cut Mitsu into shreds at that moment, I’d actually have admired him for his self-centeredness.

  Whatever vain hope I had that perhaps these bullies were after Mitsu evaporated because none of them went after him. Instead their full attention was still focused upon me.

  I backed up and suddenly found myself up against a wall. There was a muffled grunt from Mordant, and I muttered, “Any time now would be useful.”

  Mordant erupted from beneath my cloak with a warning screech, and the men froze where they were. Their eyes widened, their faces turning ashen, and Mordant angled toward them. They swept at him with their swords, but Mordant danced between the flashing blades with dazzling agility, and then there were glorious screams as his claws raked across their faces.

  Suddenly I felt a tug at my hip. I turned just in time to get an elbow in the face, and saw that one of the behemoths had gotten close enough to try and yank the bird’s-head sword from its scabbard. Apparently it wasn’t coming out easily, and the pull was sufficient to get my attention. Unfortunately my attention in turn had gotten me the aforementioned elbow.

  I sagged against the wall even as I snapped out the blade at the end of my staff and swung it. He wasn’t expecting it, and the blade cut across his chest, glancing off the rib cage, leaving a trail of torn cloth and blood in its wake. He staggered, cursing, and I gripped the tachi sword and yanked. It came free of the scabbard, and my attacker’s eyes widened as he stepped back, bringing his own blade to bear but not looking as if he was happy to do so.

  It was the first time I’d wielded the blade in combat. I continued to be amazed by the lack of weight. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought I was holding nothing at all. I brought the sword back, prepared to defend myself as best I could.

  “I know you’re with the Skang Kei family,” I snapped out, hoping to stall for time until something other than a very likely death presented itself. “But what the hell do you want?”

  “We operate under the orders of the great Ho,” said the thug, with what soun
ded like a touch of pride. “The Ho gives us orders, and we obey. It is not for you to ask, or for us to explain ourselves to you. It is for you to lay down your life without question.”

  “Oh really. Well, if you think I’m just going to roll over at the say-so of some Skang Kei Ho, you can just forget it.”

  Obviously that wasn’t the thing to say to placate them. They came in fast, watching the sword warily.

  Which was why, naturally, I used my walking staff.

  Whipping the sword to one side, I lunged to my left, my strong side, and used the staff as a cudgel to bat the nearest sword out of the way. For about a second, I was in the clear. There was no way, with my lack of footspeed, that I’d be able to get away, but I could even the odds in terms of balance.

  My lunge had taken me right next to a stand filled with some sort of fish. Dozens of small, gray, scaled bodies lying in a massive pile. With a quick thrust, I overturned the stand, and the fish spilled out everywhere onto the ground.

  The Skang Kei musclemen were barreling toward me far too quickly to stop. They hit the fish, their feet going out from under them, and with outraged shouts they skidded to the ground.

  I slammed the walking staff into the ground and hopped forward, keeping my right leg tucked under and relying on my left foot and the staff for balance. With my free hand I brought the sword around, about to start slicing them up while demanding answers.

  And that was when I heard lusty bellows of “One side!” and “Make way!”

  Just like that, the men of the Skang Kei family were gone. They bolted in all directions, leaving me standing there with my sword in my hand and a bewildered expression on my face.

  I gaped as I saw what were clearly several burly warriors shoving Mitsu forward. They were wearing long, sweeping black robes—the type that I had learned were called “kimonos”—of far finer cloth than the rough-hewn material sported by the others. The black was accentuated by inner lines of white against the V neck. Each warrior wore an additional garment atop the kimono, gray with straps across the chest and shoulder pieces that flared out, making the shoulders seem even wider than they were. The garments were belted at the middle, and would have looked like skirts in the lower half save they were split at the legs.

  Mitsu was struggling mightily in their grasp, but this was a very different cut of opponent from what we’d been facing before. You could see it in their eyes. They were strong, well trained, and likely capable of handling anything thrown their way. And “anything” certainly included a young man, no matter how much resistance he was putting up.

  “In the name of the Imperior,” shouted one of them, “surrender! Surrender immediately! Surrender completely! Surr—”

  “Yes, I get it, there’s a degree of surrendering involved. We surrender. Don’t we,” I said pointedly to Mitsu, conveying that I was somewhat irked over the desertion.

  One of them strode forward, kicking the fish to one side to get them out of his way, and shoved my hood back to get a better look at me. There was a collective gasp, from him and all the onlookers, that gave me a sense of what it must be like for lepers. All I needed was to have little bells to jingle to announce my presence and I’d be all set.

  “What are you?” he demanded. “What are you that speaks with such an odd accent and has such abnormal features?”

  “Abnormal features?” I frowned, feigning uncertainty of what he was talking about. I reached up, touched my face, and gasped.

  “Oh… gods!” I cried out. “What has happened to me?! What perverse enchantment?! My face! My beautiful face! Not as beautiful as yours, of course,” I assured him, “but fair to look upon nonetheless! What dark magic has inflicted itself upon me? It must have been… him!”

  “Him?” He clearly didn’t know what I was talking about.

  “That man who claimed to be a magic user! Who said he would put a curse upon me because he misliked the way I looked at his daughter! I never touched her, I swear! You have to believe me!” I pawed at him and he shoved me back. Indeed, if I had been a leper, he couldn’t have been more repulsed. “I must… I must go and find him immediately! Thank you for drawing this horrific matter to my attention!”

  I turned and started to bolt, and then one of his meaty hands clamped upon my shoulder, immobilizing me. “Problem, Officer?” I inquired.

  “You have been brawling! In the streets!”

  “Now, what gives you that idea?” I asked.

  “Witnesses. And this,” and he pointed to blood spattered upon my shirt.

  I looked down at it. “I cut myself,” I said.

  “I see no cut.”

  “It happened days ago.”

  “This blood,” he said, “is fresh.”

  “I’m a slow bleeder.”

  He didn’t seem impressed. I couldn’t blame him. As lies went, it wasn’t one of my better ones.

  “All right,” I said abruptly. “Do you want the truth?” It wasn’t my normal style, but I figured I didn’t have much to lose. “The truth is, we were attacked by members of the Skang Kei family. I don’t know why.”

  “Who does?” demanded the soldier.

  “Ho does,” I told him.

  “Your accent remains strange,” he rumbled. “I’m asking you, who knows why you were attacked.”

  “And I am telling you, Ho knows why.”

  “Who knows why?”

  “Ho.”

  “Who?”

  “No, Ho.”

  “Who who?”

  “Ho is who.”

  “Who is who?”

  “No, Ho is who.”

  He swung a gloved fist and knocked me flat. In retrospect, all things considered, I suppose I couldn’t blame him. My lousy luck that in Chinpanese the word for “who” was the same as in my language.

  I lay on the ground, the sword still in my hand but nearly forgotten as I tried to stop the world from spinning. Then I yelped as a heavy pressure settled on my right forearm, immobilizing the hand holding the sword.

  “Did you not know there was an edict from the Imperior that there is to be no public brawling!” he demanded.

  “No, I didn’t,” I said with a grunt, “but thank you so much for bringing it to my attention. The problem is, it wasn’t my fault! We were the ones attacked!”

  “Then you should have let yourselves be killed rather than disobey the edict!”

  Remember earlier how I spoke of the unassailability of someone who possesses both ignorance and arrogance? Such was the situation I was now faced with. I couldn’t think of any response to the kind of thinking that encouraged being slaughtered instead of fighting back just to accommodate a rule I didn’t know existed, made by a man I’d never met.

  “Sorry” was all I could think of to say.

  “Do you know what the penalty is for disobeying an edict of the Imperior?”

  “A severe scolding?”

  “Death!”

  “Clearly,” I said desperately, “you haven’t considered the full ramifications of a severe scolding. The mental scarring it can leave is far more damaging to—”

  He appeared unimpressed. Instead he gestured for Mitsu to be brought forward. Protesting, the young man was shoved in my direction and tumbled to the street next to me, the man standing on my arm giving way to make room for him. “Thanks for the support,” I muttered.

  “You would have done the same,” Mitsu snapped.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “You deny it?”

  “No,” I said, seeing no point to lying given the situation. “I’m just saying you don’t know it.”

  The soldiers converged, each of them with his sword out. The blades glistened in the sun. I gripped the tachi sword, knowing there was no place to go. My mind raced, trying to come up with anything, some brilliant lie, that would buy us some time. The emissary-from-the-foreign-land routine would probably be a dead end, literally, if Mitsu’s earlier comments were true, but it might be worth a try. Mitsu, for his part, was look
ing wildly right and left. As deft as he was with his hands and feet, there was no place for him to go that two or three sword blades wouldn’t come at him from several different directions. He was fast, but he wasn’t superhuman.

  And at that moment, I heard Mordant’s voice cry out. Naturally, since no one else was expecting an animal to speak, no one knew that he was the source of it. It came from above. He was doubtless perched upon a roof, keeping out of sight. And what he called out was:

  “Don’t kill her, you fools! She’s the princess!”

  The huge soldiers froze in position, looking around for both the origin of the voice and also the alleged princess. Then the one who was gripping Mitsu firmly and painfully by the elbow looked down at him as if seeing him for the first time, and let out a cry of alarm. He released Mitsu’s arm as if it were on fire and immediately prostrated himself upon the ground. “Highness!” he cried out.

  The others promptly followed suit, and Mitsu, with an annoyed snarl, reached up and released his hair from the topknot. The black hair cascaded down to shoulder length, long and luxurious, and suddenly there was no doubt at all that this was a female and, from the arrogant look to her, a royal one at that.

  In a heartbeat, everyone in the fish market was on the ground, except for me; I was gaping at her.

  The soldier who had been manhandling her cried out, with his face practically flat against the ground, “Divinity, in failing to recognize you and treating you in such a fashion, I have disgraced my good offices, my family, and my ancestors going back five generations.”

  “Yes. You have. You should kill yourself immediately,” said Mitsu.

  In a heartbeat, the soldier pulled out a small dagger, jammed it into his stomach, and ripped it up and then to the side.

  “I was joking,” Mitsu told him, looking profoundly annoyed.

  “My mistake,” grunted the soldier before he keeled over. He lay there in a rapidly spreading pool of his own blood.

  “Divinity,” said another, even larger soldier, who was on the ground along with the others, keeping his eyes fixedly down. “We are under the strictest orders imaginable. Your absence from the palace has been of great concern to your godly father, and he has commanded us that if we are to come upon you, we are to return you to the palace immediately, whether it is what you desire or not.”