Foreign Devils (27 page)

‘Who are the Autumn Lords?’ Carnelia asked. ‘We have come halfway around the world to treat with them and we know so very little except that they rule this land. Can you tell us anything?’

Huáng lowered his head, thinking. ‘To understand the
qi
ū
ti
ā
n shén
, you must first understand the living force we call Qi. You cannot begin to apprehend the Autumn Lords without understanding this.’

‘
Chee
?’ Tenebrae asked. He held a cigar in his teeth, and puffed madly, making the cherry of it burn bright, a pulsing ember in the low light of the golden fog. The
Malphas
ploughed through the waters of the Oriens steadily, and the sound of the sea constantly hushed and lulled us in the background. The low lights of village fires on the shore passed slowly as we ran, this close to the shore, at half-speed.

‘Qi,’ Huáng said, slowly, correcting Tenebrae in the gentlest manner. Min has, I’m thankful to say, provided me with the Rumanized spelling of the Kithai words since their writing is as impenetrable as chickens scratching in the dust. ‘Is the living force – the
spirit
– that is within your body. But also in all living things and places. When you are ill, there are imbalances in the flow of Qi within you. When you fight, someone who has studied and trained his Qi, can …’ He looked at Min for a moment, as if simply by looking at the young woman it would help him find the word he searched for. She raised her eyebrows but said nothing. ‘Summon their own Qi and use it in the strike of a fist, a blow of a jian.’

One of the
Malphas
’ stewards walked by, bearing a tray with a crystal decanter of brandy and a few snifters. He offered one to Huáng, who accepted, graciously, though he only but touched the liquid to his lips and then held the snifter with both hands in front of him. With Huáng, I had noticed in our daily repetitions of the Eight Silken Movements, there was an immediacy to his conversation yet a detachment from it as well. Each sentence had echoes of other meanings – perhaps unspoken, perhaps untranslatable with his poor command of the Ruman tongue. There was a duality to his consideration. It was obvious he was deadly, having bested Tenebrae to such a degree that the arrogant Praetorian deferred to the man. Made a teacher of him. What must a person with such power feel? My hand knows the grip of a shotgun, a Hellfire pistol, and that is an awesome and terrifying power. But what of a man who is deadly without any sort of accoutrement save himself? How would that person look at the world, or his companions? Would he simply observe – organize us into assortments of flesh and tendons, conglomerates of bones and joints, sanguiducts and humours – and know that any one of us, he could kill with a touch? What a terrible thing to always see, instead of a welcome hand or the gentle curve of a neck, the vulnerabilities of the flesh. In that moment I found a great pity for the man. What a horror it would be to be known simply as a weapon, as he was: the Sword of Jiang.

He went on: ‘But the master of Qi can use this force to disrupt their opponent’s. The master can sense the weakness in the heavenly Qi raining down upon us at all times, and know his opponents’ weakness and where to strike.’

‘Grandfather,’ Min said, approaching him. ‘Have you eaten?’ Then she said something in the language of Kithai that no one here, save Huáng himself, could understand. The barest corner of his mouth turned down, almost imperceptibly.

‘Min, I speak now with these honoured Rumi,’ he said, using a rather outdated name for us. ‘Allow yourself time to think on the bounds of propriety and we shall speak later.’

Min looked at her grandfather – his features lined in overt traces on her face; the small, pointed nose, the intelligent eyes, the high brow and articulate lips – and I could detect an undercurrent of tension coming off the girl. She demurred, but I could tell it was a struggle for her.

At that moment one of the lascars on duty called out and we all turned to the shore. Juvenus chuckled; he knew this would happen, it seemed.

From the shore, multi-hued lights rose into the air to be caught on the wind and carried out into the sea. They were coloured in reds, blues, yellows and greens, floating. Flickering.

‘What are they?’ I asked.

‘Paper lanterns,’ Tricomalee said. The thin, pasty engineer had ventured out onto the deck of the
Malphas
once the sun had retreated over the horizon. ‘I was curious if they were infernal on our last voyage, so I made sure to capture one. Simply a hot-burning candle contained in a dyed-paper container. Quite clever, actually.’

‘They are the
zhuìlì.
They attract the attention of the Autumn Lords toward the heavens,’ Huáng said.

There was something odd about that. I am enough of a student of history to know that when a people want to draw the attention of their rulers
away
from the temporal realm instead of directing it toward it, something is amiss. But it was hard to put my finger on what, exactly, was wrong. Kithai – judging from Min and Huáng – is a culture so different from our own that possibly even their core beliefs and values are fundamentally other. And something about what little I’ve learned of the Tchinee culture from the Eight Silken Movements smacks of spirituality. Even the names are poetic – bordering on metaphysical. Separating Heaven and Earth. Two Hands Hold Up The Heavens. Drawing the Bow to Shoot the Sparrow. These are just a sample of the names Huáng has given the Silken Movements. They are delicate, graceful and slow. Yet they are martial as well. The movements themselves are much like a conversation with Huáng – more than one obvious thing is going on simultaneously.

‘Why would you want to draw the attention of your rulers toward heaven?’ I asked. Watching the passengers sip their brandies, I wished for a nice glass of wine but Lupina – ever solicitous of my, and Fiscelion’s, health – had prohibited all alcohol and I acceded to her commands. ‘And how does an understanding of Qi – which, honestly, puzzles me – lead to an understanding of your Autumn Lords?’

Huáng considered me. I stood with my hands on my stomach, feeling the life contain within. Huáng, mirroring me, held his snifter as though he were heavy with child.

‘They are … things of pure Qi,’ he said.

‘They have studied this … magic? It seems as though that would take a lifetime and not leave much time for the administration and rule of a land as large as Kithai.’

‘The August Ones attend to the …’ he paused, thinking. ‘The administration of our land. I am honoured to be counted among their number. The Autumn Lords, they do not concern themselves with the …’ Another pause as he searched his considerable memory for the correct word. Min hovered nearby, wringing her hands. I couldn’t understand her anxiety. Much like his movements, Huáng’s language tended toward the precise, despite his not so firm grasp of our vocabulary. He understood the grammar and structure quite well. ‘Chores of daily maintenance.’

‘It occurs to me that is the primary focus of rule. An attention on the matters of state. A focus on trade, the security of the nation. Not paper lanterns.’

Min stepped forward, standing by her grandfather. ‘Our culture is hard for Rumi to understand and so some things will make little sense to you. After all, your nation is young and ours was old when yours was being born.’

‘Rume has existed for almost three thousand years.’

‘But not quite,’ the girl said with a tight smile. ‘Grandfather, you really should eat.’

He held up one hand, the long fingers only slightly curved. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed.

‘The Autumn Lords are fierce, as you would expect from their …’ He said a word in the language of Tchinee. ‘Their mastery of Qi. They conquered our people thousands of years ago, in a time of great upheaval.’

‘So theirs is a military rule?’

He shook his head. ‘No. They are …’ Again he said a string of words I couldn’t understand. ‘When we arrive, you will be brought before them and will understand.’

‘I find it hard to contain my excitement,’ said I, earnestly.

‘Tell me, Master Huáng,’ Juvenus said, slurping at his brandy. ‘During our last trip to Jiang, our guide kept speaking of the illustrious Sun Wukong. Is he one of the August Ones?’

‘Sun Wukong?’ There was a moment – just the barest sliver of an instant – where I would swear Huáng was surprised. But he covered it well. ‘He is a legend. Nothing more.’

‘What were the guides saying, Captain?’ Secundus asked.

‘Oh, the usual. Wukong is a trickster king, a thief and a rake, a lover of men and women and father of orphans. They call him the Monkey King.’

Min said, ‘A myth. The poor make up stories to ease the burden of their situation.’

‘It was a passel of nonsense,’ Juvenus said, chortling. ‘But I rather liked his style.’

‘I would hear more of this Sun Wukong,’ said I. ‘What is the legend?’

‘A tale told to children,’ Min said. It was a subject she did not want to discuss. So, naturally, I wanted to discuss it.

Huáng, however, said, ‘Some say he is a god that walks among men, others a …’ He said a word to Min.

‘Capricious,’ she said in response.

‘A capricious being. He steals from the rich …’

Juvenus laughed and Tenebrae joined him. ‘… To give to the poor,’ Secundus said, grinning.

‘You have it, exactly,’ Huáng said, smiling too.

‘We have our own legends of the noble thief, Iulius of the People.’

‘Maybe our cultures aren’t so different,’ I said to Min.

Huáng said, ‘But he is not a god and not very nobility … noble. He is – was – simply a man who concerned himself with tearing at the …’ Another pause, thinking. ‘Order of our world.’

‘They said he lived in a graveyard, in a necropolis,’ Juvenus said around his cigar. ‘And served a dark master, a vorduluk.’

‘A drinker of blood?’ Carnelia said. She giggled. For a long while in her teens, she’d been quite fond of the hyper-sexual three sestertius thrillers, all depicting women ravished by handsome vorduluk.

‘Yes, that is the tale. The
Chiang-shih
and his nest of rats.’

‘Yet this Sun Wukong seemed quite beloved by those folk who spoke of him. Not some servant of a dark thing,’ Juvenus said.

‘He is a double person,’ Huáng said. ‘Two men within the same body. One man, he wishes to do good. The other man …’

He did not need to finish.

‘You sound as if this is a real person, a person of your acquaintance,’ said I.

Huáng remained still. He had the aspect of someone trying very hard not to allow himself to move. ‘I do not know this man who calls himself Sun Wukong.’

Silence then. There are those moments within social groups brought together out of necessity or circumstance rather than real friendship – moments of dislocation and awkwardness when the conversation dies. And it did.

The floating paper-lanterns hung prettily on the golden air, drifting out over the
Malphas,
and colouring the deck with their red, blue, yellow, green glows. A gong tolled somewhere on land, over and over, hollow and forlorn. The rising coloured globes stopped ascending and within a short while the Eous shore grew dark. Carnelia finished her brandy and accompanied me to our berth. I was tired and hungry again.

‘I don’t trust Min,’ I said, simply, after we had disrobed and were applying lotion – Carnelia to her legs, me to my stomach. ‘And I’m beginning to think she maneuvred Tenebrae into his duel with Huáng.’

‘Well that backfired, did it not?’ Carnelia chuckled. ‘She seems a little shite, sissy, and I did not appreciate her words on Rume one bit.’

‘Yet you are now a pupil of her grandfather,’ I said, teasing. But only a little. With sisters, all teasing is rooted in truth.

‘Lupina says that food and exercise are the key to putting on weight.’ She flexed her calf muscle. ‘See, I could rip a gladiator in half, should he come to my bed. I will be fit for any marriage Tata arranges.’

‘Carnelia!’

‘Oh, sissy. You’re pregnant. Surely, that didn’t happen spontaneously.’ She laughed. ‘You’re blushing! I shall mark this day in my journal.’

‘That’s enough.’

Later, that night, I lay in bed and my thoughts, as always, came back to you, my love. My thoughts always come back to you.

The next morning our on-deck exercises and training never began. We entered the mouth of a wide, muddy river teeming with boats of all kinds, flitting about on the surface of the water, bells clanging, lascars and fishermen shouting, as the
Malphas
steamed in through its gaping maw. Dredges hauled muck from the river’s bottom, keeping the main channel of the River Jiang clear so that larger ships, like the
Malphas
, with deeper draughts, could still have passage. Along the banks were countless, modest buildings nestled between small piers and wharves each with a stone base disappearing into the brown waters and the open passages of thousands of narrow canals disappearing away into the distance; beyond them, the scalloped backs of pavilions and towering pagodas looked like ebony bones in some natural philosopher’s study – rigid spines, vertebrae stacked one on top of the other. In the sky, paper kites with long, flowing tails swooped and dashed about over the city, like raptors hunting smaller birds. A pall of woodsmoke hung over it all, though here and there I saw the smoky columns of
daemon
-fired stacks. The Jiang citizenry clambered onto roofs and scaled walls to look at the
Malphas
, where it steamed past – I daresay very few Tchinee had seen the might of Rume expressed in so grand and fierce a vessel.

A whistle sounded and the
Malphas’
lascars scurried about the deck, dropping anchor with a deafening metallic clamour, while the thrumming engines were banked, quieting. Juvenus and Tricomalee came on deck, followed by Huáng and Min, and they all observed very closely a squat, blocky
daemon
-driven paddle barge looking very much like a turtle shell, pluming black smoke from two stacks. Elaborate detail was given to the exterior of the barge; it was gold and black lacquered, ornately carved with skeins of what appeared to be mosaic work on the hull and ringed in shining panels that appeared to open to reveal either guns or ballista, possibly, to snag renegade ships. A clutch of brightly robed men and women of Kithai stood on the deck-roost, all facing the
Malphas
. When it came alongside, one of the gentlemen of Kithai bellowed a series of phrases in the Kithai language, though the tone and air of command with which they were delivered made clear their meaning: ‘Prepare to be boarded.’