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Sixteen

Tsin Tsi, First Lord of Banking, lifted the skirts of his heavy robe to climb the verandah steps; no wonder he was hot, he thought. He sank onto the verandah seat with a sigh and, taking up a bone fan, beat the steaming air energetically. This produced a minimal effect, but then the phone rang and the First Lord of Banking put down the fan and picked up the receiver.

"Good afternoon."

"This is Taigun. You asked me to report when I had concrete information."

The First Lord of Banking leaned forward, fixing his rapacious gaze on the photograph that lay upon his desk.

"You have something?"

"I believe so. I've been making enquiries port-side. There are rumors, My Lord. Of the ghost-trade. And also of a new and remarkable drug, which is still in the alchemical stages of its making."

The First Lord of Banking frowned. "What sort of drug?"

"A drug that gives dreams."

With a snort, the First Lord of Banking said, "They all do that."

"Not dreams of Heaven, My Lord. Not dreams of everything that is forbidden to us, from which we are eternally barred. Not dreams that are real. This drug—or so the rumors say—can take a person to Paradise."

The First Lord of Banking drummed his lacquered talons idly on the polished bone of the table and said, "How much faith do you place in such rumors, Taigun?"

"I have met one who claims to have experienced it."

Softly, the First Lord of Banking said, "And what if he lies?"

"I do not think he does. I can be very persuasive, Lord. That is why you hired me."

"True. Very well. This needs reflection. I have been handed a broken puzzle, Taigun, and I need to work out how to mend it. . . Who is producing this drug? Do you know?"

"I do not. But rumor also says that it is someone who is very highly placed, who can command immense resources and take much to which we are not entitled. Including the souls of the virtuous."

"Innocent souls? To make a drug? An ambitious plan, and one that would require alchemy of the highest order. We are talking about metaphysical transformation, Taigun. And that requires the mandate of the Imperial Court."

There was a short, tense silence before Taigun said, "Is there any news from the world of the living?"

"None yet." The First Lord of Banking frowned again. "I have had no word from Seneschal Zhu, yet he has now been gone for some time. Zhu Irzh is young, and easily distracted. I think a reminder of his responsibilities might be in order."

"Shall I see to it?"

"No. I'll handle it myself."

Something was causing the back of his neck to prickle and itch. Turning, the First Lord of Banking saw his First Wife glaring at him with a gaze like molten brass. Guiltily, he remembered promising her that he'd go to the opera with her that night. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. The frown intensified. With a sinking heart, the First Lord of Banking realized that First Wife was already dressed to go out. She was wearing a loud red paneled gown, embroidered with opium poppies, and her hair was arranged on a lattice of gilded wire. Her doe eyes, angry now, were artfully outlined with kohl. Silently, she mouthed, "Hurry up!"

The First Lord of Banking covered the mouth of the receiver for a moment. "I'll be quick," he said placatingly.

"The performance starts in an hour!"

"Call me when you have more to tell me," the First Lord of Banking said hastily into the receiver, and hung up. "There!" he remarked in triumph to the glowering Lady Tsi.

"About time," First Wife replied, sour as a pickled plum.

The First Lord of Banking was not looking forward to the opera, a lot of wailing and hooting if you asked his opinion, but he supposed it was important to attend, show support for the arts and all that. He let his wife lead him to the dressing room and fuss about his clothes, keeping up a running commentary as she did so:

". . . .can't see why you insist on wearing that dreadful old hat. . ."

"Only around the house!" the First Lord of Banking protested. He clapped one hand to the ancient, beloved skullcap. First Wife muttered something dark that he did not hear, and he submitted to her ministrations. At last, clad in a dignified brocade robe, he made his way downstairs to be transported to the opera. Outside the comparative coolness of the house, a wall of warmth hit them. First Wife smiled. She liked the heat. The First Lord of Banking sighed.

Hell's version of the Pellucid Island Opera House was crowded. The First Lord of Banking and his wife made their way slowly through the throng, greeting other eminent citizens of the underworld. A person clad in a long, formal robe of human skin, the tiny veins like delicate traces of embroidery, turned to greet the First Lord.

"Lord. . ." He managed to make Tsin Tsi's title sound like the last word in irony. The First Lord of Banking looked into the round, puffed face, like a soft mass of dough, and smiled in return.

"Minister. What a surprise."

The Minister's eyes were like drops of blood in the surrounding flesh, and quite without expression. The First Lord of Banking continued, "So how are things in Epidemics these days? I hear great things about this new form of bird flu. But I see they've found a remedy for that autoimmune disease of yours. Bad luck, eh? Still, you had a good run for your money with that one."

"It is the way of things," the Minister of Epidemics said, in a voice that sounded like oil bubbling up in his throat. "Each illness has its season." He reached up to brush a few flakes of skin fastidiously from the collar of his robe, which was lined with fine, blonde fur. The First Lord of Banking wondered enviously where the Minister had managed to obtain the skin of a European, but doubtless he could afford such expensive fashions. Tsin Tsi remembered his American carp and rose a little in his own estimation.

"You seem to be producing more and more diseases. I'm surprised Heaven does not act."

The Minister of Epidemics gave a soft snort. "It's in Heaven's interest not to interfere. Otherwise the world would be wholly overrun. Humans breed, you know. Like vermin." He shuddered, and his fleshy mouth pursed in disapproval. "Our services are valuable ones. Although the Ministry of War doesn't do so badly, I suppose. Yet I like to think we're more reliable on a long-term basis."

"And I suppose your activities do provide the Celestials with a multitude of innocent souls," the First Lord of Banking mused. The Minister of Epidemics stared at him, unblinkingly, for a moment, and to his eternal shame the First Lord found his own unnatural flesh crawling beneath the demon lord's regard. The Minister of Epidemics said softly, "You'd do well not to challenge me, Tsin Tsi. I know you have your own area of influence, but I do not think you want to discover the true length of my arm." He spoke indifferently, as though commenting on nothing more important than the weather, and then he turned his back on the First Lord of Banking and strode away.

"What was all that about?" First Wife asked, bewildered, and the First Lord replied, equally baffled, "I have no idea."

 

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