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TWENTY-SEVEN

"Murdering the Celestial Emperor?" Chen said. "That's ambitious."

Inari, still very pale, sat twisting her hands together on the couch in the main cabin of the houseboat. There was no question that Chen did not believe her, but he wondered whether this shaman-between-worlds had simply been lying. It seemed an odd, elaborate deception, however. He did not like, at all, the thought that his wife could be spirited so easily away; that this individual had some kind of hold on her. He intended to give No Ro Shi a call very soon: the demon-hunter seemed to have a grip on this sort of thing.

"Have you ever heard of this person? Lord Lady Seijin?"

Chen shook his head. "No, but that doesn't mean anything. The depths of my personal ignorance are as yet unplumbed—there's so much out there, Inari. I'm hoping No Ro Shi might be able to shed some light on the subject."

"Are you going to speak to him?" Inari said. Evidently their thoughts had been running along similar lines. Chen looked at the clock. It was now just after 2:00 A.M.

"I'll call him now, leave a message on his answerphone."

But he was in luck. The demon-hunter was up.

"Citizen Chen?"

"We've got a further problem," Chen said. "I'm reluctant to discuss it on the phone. I don't want to disturb you, but—"

"I work best at night," No Ro Shi told him. "Give me twenty minutes."

"I have heard of this person," the demon-hunter said, a little later. He folded his long body into an armchair, looking as though he entertained ideological objections to personal comfort. "A very old individual, almost legendary. Born in the time of Genghis, and rode with the hordes. A murderer, a barbarian, who changed with the times and yet remained the same."

"This 'Lord Lady' business . . ." Chen began.

"A walker between worlds. Seijin is both male and female, born of a demon father and a Celestial mother, or perhaps the other way around. But, whichever the case, born on Earth and thus able to move between all worlds at will."

"And now resides in a place called between."

"I don't know a great deal about between," No Ro Shi said. "I have always thought that it was itself a myth. It is supposed to be the birthplace of possibilities, falling as it does between the cracks in the worlds."

"If the shaman was telling the truth," Inari said, timidly, "I've been there. And it didn't feel like anywhere else I've ever been."

No Ro Shi regarded her with something approaching kindness. "It must have been alarming."

"What are we going to do?" Inari said. "Warn Mhara?"

"As soon as possible," Chen said. "In fact, if you have a vehicle with you, No Ro Shi, I suggest we go to the temple as soon as we can. It's the best way to get in touch. I don't have any other method at the moment, although that was due to change." He had the sense that things were once more moving too quickly, time sweeping him along in its tide. Not a comfortable sensation.

They all went. Chen wanted Mhara to hear Inari's story in her own words, and he was highly reluctant to leave her on her own after what had been happening. He had the suspicion that this was somehow all connected: Zhu Irzh's disappearance and that of the badger, this tale of assassinating Mhara. But there was no instinct accompanying it: no gut feeling. He was not sure how much store to place in that.

Though it might be close to dawn, the streets were still filled with people along the central area of the city, spilling out of the clubs and demon lounges and bars. Many of the lounges had been newly legalized, under revised trade agreements with Hell; how things had changed, Chen mused, as No Ro Shi's four-by-four spun past the glaring neon signs. Next thing he knew, there would be blood emporiums opening up alongside the delicatessens. Hard to ignore Hell these days; difficult to maintain a rationalist agnosticism, but there were still plenty of folk who managed it, unable to see the visitants from other realms. Chen was not sure whether this would be a comfort or otherwise. On the one hand, you'd miss a great many disturbing things; on the other, it must appear as though the rest of the world had taken leave of its senses. But then, the Chinese were used to that.

Chen's reverie was disrupted as No Ro Shi swore and the vehicle veered sharply to the left.

"What the—"

"Hostile on the far side of the road," the demon-hunter snapped. Chen turned in his seat and saw a cloudy presence. At first, he thought it was a swirl of mist, but it was solidifying. Then, abruptly, it was gone. No Ro Shi slammed on the brakes, pitching Chen forward in his seat.

"Sorry!"

Something was standing in front of the car, a swathe of fog. As the vehicle skidded, then stopped, Chen looked into the heart of the mist and saw a tall, slender figure. It held a blood-red sword in both hands, not ready to swing, but balanced across them as if presenting the sword to a student. Dark hair fell back from a high brow. Its eyes were golden, like a demon's, and it was smiling. Impossible to tell whether the tranquil face belonged to a man or a woman. It raised the sword, a clear salute, and smiled. Then the mist was torn away, as though a sea wind had blown across the street and dispelled it, taking the figure with it.

"I think," Chen said to the gaping No Ro Shi, "that we might have met Lord Lady Seijin."

It was almost dawn when they reached the little temple of the Emperor of Heaven, a white glow to the east signaling the rise of the sun. Chen felt he would be glad when the night was over; gods knew that enough things had befallen him in broad daylight, but it was easier to think, somehow. Nighttime was the ghost time, the time of the spirit world, not meant for those who walked in the light. Or who tried to, anyway. A relief to step out under the lightening sky, a greater one to walk up to the temple door and have it swing open to welcome you into a calm, lamplit space.

"I heard the car," Robin said.

Mhara was not there: from necessity, he was resident in Heaven for most of the time these days. If Robin was lonely, she did not say so, and Chen would never cause her to lose face by asking such a personal question. "I don't sleep much," she said. "Being dead seems to have cured me of being tired, anyway." She looked at No Ro Shi and smiled. "I've seen your picture in the papers."

No Ro Shi bowed. "You know my convictions. I honor you nonetheless."

"Thanks," Robin said. "I don't imagine it's easy, being a communist in the face of everything that's been going on. Doesn't really make it easy for the State, does it? Having the supernatural continually interfering."

The demon-hunter returned her smile with a thin grimace of his own. "I manage. At least you are on the side of goodness."

"Well, I try."

Inari had gone to kneel in front of the little shrine, reaching out to light one of the small candles.

"You don't have to do that, Inari," Robin told her. "Mhara's a friend."

Inari said, "That's why I'm lighting the candle."

"Been rather a rough night," Chen said, and explained why.

"Ah," Robin said, after his concise account had ended. "That would explain that."

"I'm sorry?"

"Someone tried to kill Mhara this afternoon." She raised a hand and the walls of the room glowed with a faint blue light, a mesh extending from floor to ceiling. "Just checking. After today, I made sure we were as secure as possible."

"Then we were too late," Inari said in a small voice. She looked stricken. She felt, Chen knew, responsible, no matter how irrational this might be.

"I said 'tried,' not 'succeeded,' " Robin said. "Besides, I'm not even sure if he can be killed. Maybe the attempt was of something else entirely—some kind of binding, for instance."

Chen frowned. "I don't know what the parameters are here. If he's killed, wouldn't he just end up back in Heaven?"

"His father was disenspirited," Robin reminded him. "Thrown off the Wheel of Life and Death. It is possible."

"What happened?" Chen asked.

"He was at the lake and a woman threw a hairpin at him."

Chen's eyebrows rose. "That doesn't sound all that serious an attempt, to be honest."

"I know," Robin replied. "She didn't succeed in hitting him, either. I don't know what would have happened if she had."

"He's sure it was a woman, is he?"

"I don't know," Robin said. "From what you've just told me, this Seijin can pass as either. It seems to fit."

"And you haven't noticed anything strange here?"

"No. The only person who's come to the temple in the last day or so was a supplicant, just a street person, to pray."

"There was nothing strange about her?"

"Not that I could tell. She prayed, lit a candle, then she went away." Robin's head snapped toward the door. "Hang on."

"What is it?"

Robin smiled. "It's Mhara." A moment later the Celestial Emperor, wearing linen trousers and a loose jacket, stepped through the door into the main hall. He carried something small wrapped in silk.

"Hello," he said to Chen and the others. He did not seem surprised; Chen did not yet know the extent of Mhara's abilities. Was the Emperor omniscient? No time like the present; he asked as much.

"It's selective omniscience," Mhara said. "I can—if I choose—know more or less everything that happens in Heaven and a lot of what occurs on Earth, although that's more opaque. Events in Hell come in snatches—otherwise my father might have succeeded in his attempt to conquer it."

"And between?" Inari asked. Mhara's face became somber.

"I can't see between at all."

"Hmm," Chen said. "It seems that between can see you. Inari?"

And once again she told her story.

"It could easily have been Seijin," Mhara said, when she had finished. "I thought it was a woman, but I didn't get a very close look at her." He held out his hand and the silk fell away, revealing a long, slender pin. "This was the weapon."

Chen leaned forward and studied the object. It was an ordinary old-fashioned hairpin, made out of silver, the kind that women used to skewer an elaborate hair-do. Without even touching it, however, he could tell that the tip had been sharpened to a razor-fine point; the silk had a tiny slit in it, where the point had gone through the wrapping.

But despite its conventional appearance, the hairpin reeked of magic: a nebulous grayness surrounded it, blurring its edges against the silk whenever Chen looked at it from the corners of his eyes.

"Yes," Mhara said, softly. "It's enchanted, and I don't recognize the spell. It's very old. That's all I can say."

"If the Emperor of Heaven does not know it," Chen said, "then a humble police inspector doesn't have much of a chance."

But Inari said, "Bonerattle might know."

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Framed

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Contents

TWENTY-SEVEN

"Murdering the Celestial Emperor?" Chen said. "That's ambitious."

Inari, still very pale, sat twisting her hands together on the couch in the main cabin of the houseboat. There was no question that Chen did not believe her, but he wondered whether this shaman-between-worlds had simply been lying. It seemed an odd, elaborate deception, however. He did not like, at all, the thought that his wife could be spirited so easily away; that this individual had some kind of hold on her. He intended to give No Ro Shi a call very soon: the demon-hunter seemed to have a grip on this sort of thing.

"Have you ever heard of this person? Lord Lady Seijin?"

Chen shook his head. "No, but that doesn't mean anything. The depths of my personal ignorance are as yet unplumbed—there's so much out there, Inari. I'm hoping No Ro Shi might be able to shed some light on the subject."

"Are you going to speak to him?" Inari said. Evidently their thoughts had been running along similar lines. Chen looked at the clock. It was now just after 2:00 A.M.

"I'll call him now, leave a message on his answerphone."

But he was in luck. The demon-hunter was up.

"Citizen Chen?"

"We've got a further problem," Chen said. "I'm reluctant to discuss it on the phone. I don't want to disturb you, but—"

"I work best at night," No Ro Shi told him. "Give me twenty minutes."

"I have heard of this person," the demon-hunter said, a little later. He folded his long body into an armchair, looking as though he entertained ideological objections to personal comfort. "A very old individual, almost legendary. Born in the time of Genghis, and rode with the hordes. A murderer, a barbarian, who changed with the times and yet remained the same."

"This 'Lord Lady' business . . ." Chen began.

"A walker between worlds. Seijin is both male and female, born of a demon father and a Celestial mother, or perhaps the other way around. But, whichever the case, born on Earth and thus able to move between all worlds at will."

"And now resides in a place called between."

"I don't know a great deal about between," No Ro Shi said. "I have always thought that it was itself a myth. It is supposed to be the birthplace of possibilities, falling as it does between the cracks in the worlds."

"If the shaman was telling the truth," Inari said, timidly, "I've been there. And it didn't feel like anywhere else I've ever been."

No Ro Shi regarded her with something approaching kindness. "It must have been alarming."

"What are we going to do?" Inari said. "Warn Mhara?"

"As soon as possible," Chen said. "In fact, if you have a vehicle with you, No Ro Shi, I suggest we go to the temple as soon as we can. It's the best way to get in touch. I don't have any other method at the moment, although that was due to change." He had the sense that things were once more moving too quickly, time sweeping him along in its tide. Not a comfortable sensation.

They all went. Chen wanted Mhara to hear Inari's story in her own words, and he was highly reluctant to leave her on her own after what had been happening. He had the suspicion that this was somehow all connected: Zhu Irzh's disappearance and that of the badger, this tale of assassinating Mhara. But there was no instinct accompanying it: no gut feeling. He was not sure how much store to place in that.

Though it might be close to dawn, the streets were still filled with people along the central area of the city, spilling out of the clubs and demon lounges and bars. Many of the lounges had been newly legalized, under revised trade agreements with Hell; how things had changed, Chen mused, as No Ro Shi's four-by-four spun past the glaring neon signs. Next thing he knew, there would be blood emporiums opening up alongside the delicatessens. Hard to ignore Hell these days; difficult to maintain a rationalist agnosticism, but there were still plenty of folk who managed it, unable to see the visitants from other realms. Chen was not sure whether this would be a comfort or otherwise. On the one hand, you'd miss a great many disturbing things; on the other, it must appear as though the rest of the world had taken leave of its senses. But then, the Chinese were used to that.

Chen's reverie was disrupted as No Ro Shi swore and the vehicle veered sharply to the left.

"What the—"

"Hostile on the far side of the road," the demon-hunter snapped. Chen turned in his seat and saw a cloudy presence. At first, he thought it was a swirl of mist, but it was solidifying. Then, abruptly, it was gone. No Ro Shi slammed on the brakes, pitching Chen forward in his seat.

"Sorry!"

Something was standing in front of the car, a swathe of fog. As the vehicle skidded, then stopped, Chen looked into the heart of the mist and saw a tall, slender figure. It held a blood-red sword in both hands, not ready to swing, but balanced across them as if presenting the sword to a student. Dark hair fell back from a high brow. Its eyes were golden, like a demon's, and it was smiling. Impossible to tell whether the tranquil face belonged to a man or a woman. It raised the sword, a clear salute, and smiled. Then the mist was torn away, as though a sea wind had blown across the street and dispelled it, taking the figure with it.

"I think," Chen said to the gaping No Ro Shi, "that we might have met Lord Lady Seijin."

It was almost dawn when they reached the little temple of the Emperor of Heaven, a white glow to the east signaling the rise of the sun. Chen felt he would be glad when the night was over; gods knew that enough things had befallen him in broad daylight, but it was easier to think, somehow. Nighttime was the ghost time, the time of the spirit world, not meant for those who walked in the light. Or who tried to, anyway. A relief to step out under the lightening sky, a greater one to walk up to the temple door and have it swing open to welcome you into a calm, lamplit space.

"I heard the car," Robin said.

Mhara was not there: from necessity, he was resident in Heaven for most of the time these days. If Robin was lonely, she did not say so, and Chen would never cause her to lose face by asking such a personal question. "I don't sleep much," she said. "Being dead seems to have cured me of being tired, anyway." She looked at No Ro Shi and smiled. "I've seen your picture in the papers."

No Ro Shi bowed. "You know my convictions. I honor you nonetheless."

"Thanks," Robin said. "I don't imagine it's easy, being a communist in the face of everything that's been going on. Doesn't really make it easy for the State, does it? Having the supernatural continually interfering."

The demon-hunter returned her smile with a thin grimace of his own. "I manage. At least you are on the side of goodness."

"Well, I try."

Inari had gone to kneel in front of the little shrine, reaching out to light one of the small candles.

"You don't have to do that, Inari," Robin told her. "Mhara's a friend."

Inari said, "That's why I'm lighting the candle."

"Been rather a rough night," Chen said, and explained why.

"Ah," Robin said, after his concise account had ended. "That would explain that."

"I'm sorry?"

"Someone tried to kill Mhara this afternoon." She raised a hand and the walls of the room glowed with a faint blue light, a mesh extending from floor to ceiling. "Just checking. After today, I made sure we were as secure as possible."

"Then we were too late," Inari said in a small voice. She looked stricken. She felt, Chen knew, responsible, no matter how irrational this might be.

"I said 'tried,' not 'succeeded,' " Robin said. "Besides, I'm not even sure if he can be killed. Maybe the attempt was of something else entirely—some kind of binding, for instance."

Chen frowned. "I don't know what the parameters are here. If he's killed, wouldn't he just end up back in Heaven?"

"His father was disenspirited," Robin reminded him. "Thrown off the Wheel of Life and Death. It is possible."

"What happened?" Chen asked.

"He was at the lake and a woman threw a hairpin at him."

Chen's eyebrows rose. "That doesn't sound all that serious an attempt, to be honest."

"I know," Robin replied. "She didn't succeed in hitting him, either. I don't know what would have happened if she had."

"He's sure it was a woman, is he?"

"I don't know," Robin said. "From what you've just told me, this Seijin can pass as either. It seems to fit."

"And you haven't noticed anything strange here?"

"No. The only person who's come to the temple in the last day or so was a supplicant, just a street person, to pray."

"There was nothing strange about her?"

"Not that I could tell. She prayed, lit a candle, then she went away." Robin's head snapped toward the door. "Hang on."

"What is it?"

Robin smiled. "It's Mhara." A moment later the Celestial Emperor, wearing linen trousers and a loose jacket, stepped through the door into the main hall. He carried something small wrapped in silk.

"Hello," he said to Chen and the others. He did not seem surprised; Chen did not yet know the extent of Mhara's abilities. Was the Emperor omniscient? No time like the present; he asked as much.

"It's selective omniscience," Mhara said. "I can—if I choose—know more or less everything that happens in Heaven and a lot of what occurs on Earth, although that's more opaque. Events in Hell come in snatches—otherwise my father might have succeeded in his attempt to conquer it."

"And between?" Inari asked. Mhara's face became somber.

"I can't see between at all."

"Hmm," Chen said. "It seems that between can see you. Inari?"

And once again she told her story.

"It could easily have been Seijin," Mhara said, when she had finished. "I thought it was a woman, but I didn't get a very close look at her." He held out his hand and the silk fell away, revealing a long, slender pin. "This was the weapon."

Chen leaned forward and studied the object. It was an ordinary old-fashioned hairpin, made out of silver, the kind that women used to skewer an elaborate hair-do. Without even touching it, however, he could tell that the tip had been sharpened to a razor-fine point; the silk had a tiny slit in it, where the point had gone through the wrapping.

But despite its conventional appearance, the hairpin reeked of magic: a nebulous grayness surrounded it, blurring its edges against the silk whenever Chen looked at it from the corners of his eyes.

"Yes," Mhara said, softly. "It's enchanted, and I don't recognize the spell. It's very old. That's all I can say."

"If the Emperor of Heaven does not know it," Chen said, "then a humble police inspector doesn't have much of a chance."

But Inari said, "Bonerattle might know."

Back | Next
Framed