Zhu Irzh thrust the dowser to one side and dodged around the chariot. The goddess was carving a character into the palm of her hand, releasing a stream of golden-red blood. She raised the hand and sent a thunderbolt flashing toward Jhai's vehicle. The cab caught the bolt broadside and blew up with a great boiling rush of fire, almost knocking the demon off his feet. Zhu Irzh heard himself cry out but even as he did so he caught sight of Jhai Tserai. She was on the other side of the shattered spire of the Trade House, hustling a middle-aged woman to safety. Colonel Ei sent a shower of machine-gun fire in the direction of Senditreya, but the bullets turned to moths, which fluttered, dazed, up into the sunlight.
"Get back!" Ei barked, firing a round at the demon's feet. It was then that Zhu Irzh realized something: Ei thought that he and the goddess were in league. Given her recent dealings with Hell, this was perhaps understandable, but there was no time for explanations. Behind him, the demon could hear Chen starting to chant something. Gods alone knew what Chen was trying to achieve, but whatever it was, Zhu Irzh had confidence in him and he should be allowed to proceed without distractions. Zhu Irzh spun to face the colonel. He kicked upward at the gun, missed, and caught Ei on the forearm. The gun swept upward and fired into the air, and the tremor came again.
Zhu Irzh turned to see Chen sending a firebolt of his own from a bleeding palm. It struck the goddess between the shoulder blades and took her by surprise. With a scream of rage, she pitched forward over the rim of the chariot and simply disappeared, as if melting into the earth itself. Zhu Irzh stared stupidly at the place where she had fallen, but there was no trace of her passing. The earth, however, shuddered beneath his feet as though a train were passing under it.
Ei lost her balance and turned wildly on Chen, but the detective was already running in the direction of Jhai Tserai. The demon followed.
"Stop!" Ei cried. Zhu Irzh heard the burst of the gun, shockingly loud above the creaking buildings, and something hot and fast raked him in the side and ricocheted from a tilting lintel.
"Down the alley," Chen panted.
They bolted down the alleyway, running between the maze of shacks and chop porches, knocking people out of their path. Everyone had disregarded the standard earthquake instructions and rushed out into the roadway. The alley was filled with people, clutching their possessions to them and shouting. To the right, the roof of a shack had caved in and a body lay unmoving beneath the wreckage. Zhu Irzh had a single image of a foot, clad in a slipper, quite still. The air was full of choking dust and a peculiar acrid smell.
"Hell," said Chen, wheezing. "Lost sight of her."
Many people were on their knees, racked with nausea and coughing. Zhu Irzh came face to face with a woman holding a birdcage, her face distorted by fear. Her distress outweighed any reservations she might have had. She clutched the fleeing demon around the waist and buried her face in his shoulder. Fire shot through his bleeding side.
"Where's Jhai?" Zhu Irzh shouted, trying to disengage her. "Where the hell did Senditreya go?" Moments later, it occurred to him that he might have answered his own question. "Let go of me, madam!" At the top of the street, Ei was nowhere to be seen. The tremors were coming more rhythmically now, wave after wave, and it was impossible to stand. Zhu Irzh and his confidant were thrown apart. The demon grabbed Chen by the arm and dragged him through the shaking street. They had gone no more than a few paces when they were thrown against a doorway, and glancing back up the hill Zhu Irzh caught sight of Ei, pursuing as best she could.
"In here," Chen said. He pulled Zhu Irzh through the door and abruptly the noise and confusion outside were cut off as though someone had thrown a switch. Tentatively, Zhu Irzh touched his side. His fingers came back wet and bloody.
"How badly are you hurt?" Chen demanded. "If Ei comes through here, I'll stop her. Tell me what state you're in."
Pulling aside his coat, Zhu Irzh examined his side. The bullet had scored a long shallow gouge in the flesh. He was bleeding all over the place, and it stung, but though he nerved himself to prod the wound, it did not seem deep.
"I think I'm all right. What should I do? Bind it up or something?"
"Anything to stop it bleeding. I'm not going to rip up my shirt, by the way, if that's what you're thinking," the detective added wryly. He vanished into the room and Zhu Irzh, stuffing his own ripped silk shirt against the wound, stumbled after him. He had thought that they were in an ordinary shack, but now he saw that the room went back a long way. It was unlit, and had no windows, and the walls were painted a dark, dull red, which kept out the light. There seemed to be no furniture, apart from a long bar structure along one side of the room and at the end of the room, there was a door. They went through, and found themselves in a long, winding corridor. From this central artery, doors led off along either side. It was quiet and very still. The floor was steady beneath their feet. Softly Zhu Irzh closed the door through which they had come. Taking a few steps down the corridor, he opened one of the doors to the left and stood stock still, looking through. Chen, catching up with him, peered over his shoulder.
The small room was lined with curtains and the only furniture was a divan, rather baroque and covered with fat, velvet cushions. There was no one there, but someone laughed, all the same, and a spike of flame shot forth, singing the demon's hair.
Zhu Irzh and Chen stumbled back. The demon was trying to work out the route that they had taken. He remembered the cluster of buildings around Shaopeng station, the screaming neon face welcoming customers inside. They had come round Shaopeng, up Battery Road and onto Peipei Street, then come down the hill on foot. He remembered the man outside the doorway, doubled over and retching, and saw from Chen's face that the detective had recalled the same thing.
"We're in a demon lounge," Chen said. "Again." A door to Chen's left opened a crack and an eye looked out, small and orange. Chen stopped. The door closed. From somewhere came the sound of running feet. Around the corner came a short, stout woman with an imposing hairdo, clad in a pink kimono. She pointed an outraged finger at Chen.
"You!" she shouted. "Spying on my girls!"
"They seem well able to take care of themselves, madam," the detective replied, with a glance at the demon's burned hair.
"That isn't the point!"
"We came through the back door," Zhu Irzh started to explain. He stepped forward, out of the shadows, and the woman's jaw dropped as she saw him.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't realize we had such august company," she said.
"We were expecting a room," the demon said frostily, rising to the occasion. Chen shot him an appalled glance, then subsided.
"I'm terribly sorry," the woman said again, deflated. Indicating a door on the right, she added, "You can have this one."
Entering, Chen and Zhu Irzh found themselves in a room much like the demon's own on Lower Murray Street, draped in a dark and somber green. There was a similar overstuffed divan, and a cupboard. Chen shut the door behind them.
"What are we going to do?" Zhu Irzh asked.
"You tell me. I think it might be prudent to wait here for a while and then make our way to the precinct. Why isn't this place affected by the quake?" he asked.
"Because it isn't properly on Earth?"
Chen was frowning. There was a flicker of movement in the dim corner of the room, making Zhu Irzh jump, but then he saw that it was only a mirror, half-concealed by the drapes. The room seemed to have become darker. The surface of the mirror was glossy, absorbing light, and it was like looking down a well. Zhu Irzh watched them both in the mirror: the pale, golden-eyed demon and the round-faced detective, side by side. Smoke seemed to drift across the surface of the mirror, though the room was clear, and in the mirror, Zhu Irzh smiled. Chen turned to his friend, and Zhu Irzh looked back at him.
"Zhu Irzh?" Chen whispered. In the mirror, the demon smiled into his eyes. Rising, Zhu Irzh prowled round the head of the divan, though in the mirror, he was still seated. The room was much darker now, all the light leaching away and the only illumination coming from the lamp in the mirror. In the mirror, the demon's eyes were lambent in the reflected light.
"Zhu Irzh?" Chen asked uncertainly. The words made little sense. The air in the stuffy room crackled in anticipation. Very slowly, Chen stood up. Zhu Irzh watched, frowning. He knew this human creature, somehow, but his thoughts were muddled and jumbled. The human edged around the side of the room. Zhu Irzh watched him, interested. Unhurriedly, he straightened up and came round the end of the divan. The human stopped dead. He froze, holding his breath and keeping rigid. The demon found his gaze wandering. He looked vaguely about him. His spine tensed, and he stretched slightly, a movement that rippled up his back to his shoulders. The fingers of one hand flexed. He could hear the prey breathing out, very shallowly. Zhu Irzh's gaze passed over him without recognition. Someone knocked at the door. The prey jerked and Zhu Irzh was across the room and lashing out at him. Wildly, the prey ducked and the demon's claws grazed his cheek. The prey threw himself on the floor and rolled toward the divan. Zhu Irzh hissed and turned on him, but the prey was already drawn up under the couch. The demon straightened up and walked toward the door. He watched the prey from the corner of his eye. The creature had found something underneath the divan: a bundle of material. Zhu Irzh smelled the pungent odor of blood.
The prey pulled the soggy bundle of material free and padded it together. Then, flicking it across the room, he dived for the door, grabbing at the round handle and wrenching it open. Or would have done, if it hadn't been locked. The demon's hands were around the waist of the prey, plucking him from the door and then he was tossed into a corner of the room. He landed sprawling against the edge of the couch. The demon bent down and the prey threw his arm across his eyes.
Zhu Irzh blinked. His vision hazed, but his mind was suddenly quite clear. He looked down at Chen.
"What are you rolling around on the floor for?"
Chen sat up, then rose from the floor and shot backward out of reach. "Because you attacked me, that's why." His voice was shaking.
"What?"
"Zhu Irzh, if you're going to be prone to these episodes, I think when all this is over, we'd better take you down to the cells for your own protection." Chen passed a quivering hand over his face and sat down heavily.
"I attacked you?" Zhu Irzh, appalled, realized that he had absolutely no recollection of the last five minutes. There was another knock at the door.
"What is it?" Zhu Irzh shouted irascibly.
"Is everything all right?" a honeyed voice murmured.
"Go away!"
Silence.
"We can't stay here," Chen said. "But the door's locked."
"What, from the outside?"
Discreetly, they rattled the handle, but the door was tight.
"Chen," Zhu Irzh whispered. "What is behind the drapes?"
Cautiously, they investigated, but there was just paneling, nothing more. The mirror was bolted to the wall.
"Very well," Zhu Irzh said. He strode to the door, paused, then kicked it neatly and sharply so that the lock splintered. Chen followed him down the hallway. The demon could hear a distant disturbance: the sound of voices. After a moment, a young woman in an ochre wrap appeared. She had a geisha's artificial smile upon a painted rosebud mouth. Above the smile, her eyes were shiny and black. Her hands were buried in the wide sleeves of the wrap. Zhu Irzh gave her what he hoped was an impassive stare.
"You wish to go? May I show you out?" she asked. She had a little, breathy voice.
"Thank you."
She stood aside and let them go through a narrow doorway. Zhu Irzh brushed against the hem of her wrap as he went through the door, and winced. She seemed extremely hot. As they came out into an atrium she took a lantern down from the wall; a pretty thing decorated with peonies. Demurely, with eyes downcast, she led them through.
"Is this the door to Shaopeng?" Chen asked her.
What's left of it, Zhu Irzh thought.
"It is."
"You go first," Chen said. The demon felt a light, hot hand fall on his shoulder.
"Okay," he said. "I'm going, Chen. No need to push."
"I didn't."
Zhu Irzh looked back; the geisha stood, still smiling prettily, several feet distant. He took a deep breath and stepped through the door. Outside, Shaopeng Street seemed unchanged, but the day had worn on. When they had gone into the lounge, it had been morning. Now, the strip of visible sky was an evening rose and gold, filmed by dust, and the lights were coming on. The street was full of people, some wandering apparently bereft, but the majority was dressed in their best for the celebrations. The demon took a deep breath of humid air. Passers-by looked at him askance and steered around him. Above him swung the neon sign of the demon lounge. Well, thought Zhu Irzh, and then his heart contracted as if he'd been punched. Chen was not with him.
Zhu Irzh went straight back through the door, and collided with Chen, coming out. Beyond the detective's shoulder, he had a brief confused glimpse of somewhere entirely different: a vast plain, with a bright strip of river crossing it and a sky on fire.
Zhu Irzh grabbed Chen's arm and dragged him down the street, pulling him through the door of the nearest bar. It was packed to the gills, but they were lucky: a couple was leaving, a departure accelerated when they caught sight of the demon. Chen and Zhu Irzh were able to slide into a curtained booth. Beneath the edge of the curtain a hand appeared with a tray. Chen scrawled a drinks order on the paper and put it on the tray with the money. The bar was badly lit. Zhu Irzh rubbed his eyes with his hands, again and again. Fingers locked around his wrist.
"Don't. You'll make them sore," Chen said.
"Okay, okay," Zhu Irzh said, surprised at this sudden paternal consideration. The sake arrived, a half-bottle with tea glasses.
"We've run out of proper ones," an unseen person said.
"I don't care," Chen said. He filled the little three-inch glass carefully to its brim and handed it to the demon, who knocked it back.
Chen said, "Well?"
"I'm really sorry," the demon muttered. He looked away, as if seeking an answer. "What I told you was true. One minute I was all right. Then you were on the floor and I was leaning over you. I don't remember a thing."
"Or don't want to," Chen said neutrally. The demon looked at him for a long moment.
"Is that what you think of me?"
"Zhu Irzh, you nearly killed me. I'm wondering if this memory loss isn't a conveniently selective amnesia. It might be paranoid, but I suddenly find myself in a paranoid mood. Someone who didn't know you as well as I think I do could conjecture that it's a useful excuse for doing whatever you please and passing it off as something you can't help. Whatever Senditreya's virus may have to do with it."
"Would it help if I said that I've wondered that myself on the way here?" Deliberately, he poured more of the sake into each glass. "With the dowser—but it's not like me, Chen. I'm fundamentally too lazy to go around attacking people. You know that. It has to be the virus, but—" Zhu Irzh paused for a moment. "What if it's permanent? This is worrying me, Chen. I don't like zoning out like that. And there was no warning. What if I start to change my appearance, like that Celestial?" He gave a fastidious shudder.
"I don't know." Chen was studiedly calm. "Wait here. I'm going to try to call Ma."
While Chen was elsewhere, Zhu Irzh listened to the conversations around him and realized that he had quite forgotten the date, what with all the fuss. It was the Festival of the Dead.
The first night of the festival had apparently got well under way, in spite of the earthquake. Indeed, the morning's tremors might even have added to the holiday atmosphere; everyone, it seemed, had a story to tell, their own narrow escape from death. The news networks were functioning, and the demon listened along with everyone else. Most of the reports centered on the collapse of the Eregeng Trade House: there was an extensive item on the actual damage, which was considerable, muffled in a sandwich of human-interest stories and geomantic speculation. So far, the death toll was running at three hundred and twenty, and rising every hour. The governor was featured, pleading for calm, and ignored at least by the five thousand or so who had already fled the city for the surrounding hills of Wuan Chih. The airport had been set off-limits. There was some scorn in the bar for those who had taken flight. This was, to a certain extent, justified.
A number of those who had gone were members of the Ereday cult, Zhu Irzh learned. They were claiming it as a personal victory for the judgement that would come. They believed Earth to be in its last days, and the doomsday date had crept forward as the years went by and the world continued to orbit in relative peace. It must have been galling to belong to the cult, Zhu Irzh thought, every time the latest prophecy proved false. You would wonder what you paid your tithes for, and he supposed that it accounted for the decline in membership. Perhaps the number of converts would rise now, after the gratifyingly dramatic events of the morning.
The inhabitants of the bar clearly felt flight to be a spineless option. The mood of bravado in the face of considerable odds grew as the news stories progressed. Someone began to sing, loudly and tunelessly. Another twitched the curtain of the booth aside with a jocular remark. He encountered the demon's icy stare and hastily retreated.
Chen slid back into his seat. "No sign of Ma. He's not answering his cellphone. I've no idea where the badger is either."
"Hell, I'd forgotten about the badger." Zhu Irzh had no great love for the creature, but it certainly came in useful on occasion.
"The precinct's in chaos—part of it has collapsed, and the systems are all down. I think we should go," Chen muttered.
"I agree, but where to?"
"There's going to be another quake, according to Captain Sung. He's been in touch with whoever it is who monitors these things. Shaopeng's close to the epicenter. It'll come later tonight."
"Shouldn't we warn people?"
"That's what the dowsers are supposed to do. The governor's office has issued a series of bulletins." Chen glanced around at the throng. "Looks like this lot has decided to ignore them."
"Do we know what happened to Senditreya?"
"I have absolutely no idea whatsoever. I threw a spell at her, but it wouldn't have killed her—I just hoped to slow her down a bit. She might be in exile, which I think means that her powers are waning, but she's still a goddess and that means that she has abilities which are way beyond anything I could do to her. I don't know why she didn't fight back. I suspect she went somewhere to recoup her resources. Chen was silent for a moment. Eventually he said, "We have to do something, Zhu Irzh. I have a charge more or less laid upon me from Kuan Yin, and I have a duty to protect the people of this city."
"Listen to them, Chen. They have the chance to leave the city, go into the hills. Yet they won't. They know that wasn't the major quake, that there's a good chance of more to come. They stay because they are hoping for a reprieve, or they don't believe it will happen, or because they're afraid of leaving their homes to the looters."
"So you don't think giving a warning will do any good?"
"Maybe, but probably not."
"I'm going to get hold of Kuan Yin again," Chen said. "If I can." His face was filled with dismay; he seemed more ill at ease than Zhu Irzh had ever seen him.
"Sure, suits me. Though she didn't give you much of an option when it came to sticking around. I don't see why Heaven should abdicate responsibility now for the mess it's made."
They forced their way to the door, through the wide-eyed revelers, and then they were out onto what remained of Shaopeng. It was close to midnight now, but the street was still crowded. The air was filled with the burst of firecrackers, stars exploding over the shattered stump of the Eregeng Trade House.
The city government, in a rare moment of public spiritedness the day before, had strung lanterns the length of Shaopeng Street. The red globes bobbed in the little breeze and struck sparks from the uppermost downtown rails. "Look at that," Chen said, momentarily arrested. "Those are going to catch fire before long. This is typical of this government, no thought—"
Zhu Irzh caught Chen's elbow and drew him back under an awning.
"Not the only ones." He pointed. A troop carrier rumbled ponderously into view, causing an outraged frenzy among the traffic. It rolled forward on its eight fat caterpillar wheels, dipping whenever it crossed the downtown tracks and ignoring the guidance lines. People leaned out and shouted as it veered in front of cars without warning. The driver appeared not to care. On the rear-mounted gun attachment, a gaudy fringe of charms twisted and bounced with the movement of the carrier. Someone had hung a beaming demon at the tip of the automatic, with elastic arms attached to lobster claws, which waved gaily as the carrier rolled unevenly along.
"Is he drunk?" Chen wondered. This was a reasonable surmise. People were having to swerve out of the way of the carrier, which was picking up speed. It canted up onto the curb, rocked for a moment and then took the corner with care, vanishing in the direction of Battery Road.
"I think we should go," Zhu Irzh murmured in Chen's ear. A passer-by turned to the detective and demanded, "Did you see that?"
"I think it's an absolute disgrace," Chen said emphatically. There were nods and mutters of agreement.
"Was he looking for Senditreya, do you think? Has the city government been told what's happening in that quarter? Or was he just out on the town?" Zhu Irzh asked.
"God only knows. I spoke to Sung about it, but he said that the governor was refusing to listen to him."
"This is making me nervous. It's too crowded. We should get off the main street."
The back streets were as crowded as Shaopeng, but even under the brilliant fireworks it was still too dark for anyone to see them properly. Chen and the demon picked their way through the revelers, who sang and whirled through the midnight streets. A woman in a leopard mask, her black hair cascading down her back, seized the detective and danced him round. Patiently, Chen took her by the waist and waltzed her into another man's arms. They were not so far from the harbor after all, Zhu Irzh realized. He could see the cranes rising above the buildings, tipped and tilted by the quake like so many birds' necks, and suddenly they were out into Hangsu Square, where there was a cluster of restaurants before the rough part of Ghenret began. The square was heaving with people, many sitting out at tables, and the place was bright with colored lights and lanterns, strung between the eaves. There was a hectic burst of merriment from a group in the crowd. Someone was singing, a throaty, knowing voice.
Chen and Zhu Irzh made their way through the square toward Kuan Yin's temple. Here, the streets were quieter and some of the properties looked deserted. There were fewer revelers, but when they reached the temple, they found that it had been opened again and was full of people. The faithful had come in their hour of need, hoping that the goddess would indeed hear their cries of suffering, and be merciful. As soon as Zhu Irzh stepped through the temple gate, he became aware of the aura of peace that filled the temple. It made him sneeze and itch. Chen, clearly amused, said, "We won't be here long. You can wait outside if you'd prefer."
"Certainly not," the demon replied, his pride stung. "I believe I can cope with an allergy to Heaven, having been permitted to go there so recently."
He followed Chen into the main chamber of the temple and saw that the statue was no longer there. Chen halted, in indecision.
"She's gone."
"She is out in the world," a voice said. "Doing her work."
And Mhara, crown prince of Heaven, stepped from behind the empty plinth.
It had been a very long evening. All the chophouses and restaurants along both sides of Shaopeng were still open, filled with people who were celebrating their survival of the festival with an early breakfast or a late supper, assuming they were not too drunk to eat. Those with their heads on the table or sprawled across the floor were a common sight; waiters, continually sweeping, cleaned around them. The pavements and the roadway were littered with firecracker debris: a midnight tram crushed several live crackers that lay across its rails and they shot howling into the gutter. All the lanterns had come adrift and lay in sad, red tatters across the width of the street, and the pavements were covered with broken glass from the tower windows and the remnants of the mirror war. Those of Western ancestry thought uneasily of seven years' bad luck. A drunk was veering down the middle of the road, the light of sake bright in his eyes, echoing snatches of the poet Han Li Tseng, and declaiming them as his own.
"I'm a genius!" he bawled. "A genius at last!"
A small group of office workers, dressed in the vestiges of their party best, surveyed him indulgently. Flowers trailed from their hair, and the women wore waisted corsets and slashed skirts over high-heeled boots. Their elaborate coiffures were rather the worse for wear now, straggling down over their shoulders, and one woman's dress was ripped from hem to shoulder. They laughed behind their hands, politely. One girl was too far gone to stand, and swayed against her companion, knocking him off balance. They were service personnel, the public face of the corporations, greeters and courtesans.
As they passed, the doors of the demon lounges slid open. The partygoers stopped to look, bewildered. Out of the nearest lounge came a dancing figure dressed in a kimono the color of flames. She carried a lantern, which she tossed into the gutter after a glance at the sky. She bestowed a glittering smile on the staring office workers and struck a theatrical attitude with one clawed hand against her oval brow. A long, barbed tongue licked her cupid's bow lips.
"Nearly time now!" she sang. She turned to the little group of revelers and strode swiftly down the steps. Her eyes, the golden green of a lizard's, swiveled from side to side in impossible rotation. She giggled. The man holding the swaying, drunken girl stepped back hastily as she approached, abandoning his companion. The demon caught her before she could fall and shot him a glance of mock reproach.
"How could you?" she asked. "The poor little thing!" She bent her head and whispered in the girl's ear. The girl laughed, then moaned and tried to push the insistent face away. The long, painted nails sank through her upper arm. The demon nuzzled at her ear. There was a noise reminiscent of someone drinking something thick through a straw. The girl sagged limply back into the demon's arms and she lowered the body gently to the pavement, arranging it neatly, her head to one side, as if playing with a doll. When the body was laid out, the hands neatly folded across the chest, she turned to the office workers, who still stood in front of her, too confused to run. The tip of the demon's tongue licked something delicately from her pouting lower lip. Beneath her, the girl's face seemed sunken, like a deflated balloon. The creature leaned back her head and gave a ringing cry. She sprang up, and bounded toward the office workers, seizing the girl's companion and waltzing him round.
"Fun!" she roared. Blood trickled from his ears. He tried to free his hands, to beat at his head, but she laughed madly and whirled him away down the street, swinging him like a rag doll. The remaining workers, stunned, took to their heels and scattered in all directions.