Foreign Devils (42 page)

Carnelia, Lupina, and I bathed in a cool sunken tile pool in a gazebo surround by bamboo and broad-leaved ferns, and then, once clothed again and feeling refreshed, joined the boys and Sun Huáng and Min (who did not bathe with us) for a light dinner. I helped myself to another glass of the wine and Carnelia and the boys got a little inebriated, pouring enough of the rice spirits down their gullets to make even the most hard-bit legionnaire dry and dispirited in the morning. On the bright side, drinking the rice wine did not make Carnelia’s teeth go roan. I retired to bed when they drunkenly decided to take up their armatura and practise in an outer gallery.

Quietly Lupina and I made our way back to our assigned rooms, passing through a bare but lovely gallery that looked out over the gardens.
Zhuìlì
filled the sky above the Winter Palace with their light, like low-hanging stars. On the grass below, surrounded by falling blossoms, stood a robed figure, very tall, wearing a Kithai button hat. He stood there, staring up into the sky, watching the coloured lanterns drift lazily on the eddies of wind. There was a strange bemused lull to the man – for it was a man – and I was reminded forcibly of the dreamlike states that the boy, Fantasma, fell into. At first I thought it was Sun Huáng, or possibly even Tsing, but the man’s arms were longer than both and he had a rangy, angular look to him.

‘Is that Huáng?’ Lupina asked before I could shush her. I do not know why, but in that instance, I felt disturbed by the unknown man’s presence and uneasy at the thought of him discovering us here, watching, from above.

The figure started, and shifted, bending his knees and extending his arms in almost a crouch. He craned his head around on a long, gimballed neck, searching.

I put my hand on Lupina’s arm and drew her back, away from the gallery’s balusters into the shadows, out of the light of the stars and the
zuhìlìs.
But the figure loped toward the building out of our sight, moving faster than I would have thought anyone could move. Pushing Lupina back, I dug under my dress and came up with the sawn-off; I thumbed back the hammers with a soft metallic
click
in the night air. We put our backs to the stone wall.

Down the gallery, a black-robed figure vaulted into the space there, casting a long shadow on the wall. His fingers were long, sharp, and flexing as if a large cat readying itself for a pounce. He moved fluidly into a crouch, softly and quickly moving down the gallery toward us, disappearing as he passed through columns’ shadows, and reappearing in the pale moonlight.

Lupina gripped my arm tightly, and I shrugged her away, readying myself.

As he neared us, I could hear a sniffing sound and with alarm realized he was smelling for us. A high keening sound issued from his long neck, like an infant that’s touched a red-hot stove. Twenty paces away, he stopped. Craned his head. Turned slowly to face me.

My love, at this time I thought of you, of our son. How I could be like you. I thought how you might act in this situation.

I stepped from the shadows and levelled my Hellfire at the man’s chest.

In the light, I could see him better. He was wasted, thin, black-eyed and mouth open, and his chin was mired in gore. Sharp teeth. He was very tall.

A
vaettir
, my love. An Ia-damned stretcher.

There is no churn to a stretcher’s features before they move, no twitch, no jerk, no change of expression. As you well know. They simply
change
states. Perfectly still. Moving. And so it did: leaping forward, hands out, bloody mouth open, and its robes whipping behind it. The sound of the sawn-off in the gallery echoed, booming, and its forward movement stopped.It flew backwards as if being jerked by a tether. The keening sound rose into a scream and I could smell the thing – incense, perfumes, an acrid hint of urine – blanketed now by the smell of brimstone. That old sinking sensation of releasing the
daemonic
filled me, yet I thumbed back the other hammer and raised the gun again.

The
vaettir
whipped and thrashed on the floor and then, screeching again, vaulted upright and flung itself out and away, over the balusters and into the air of the garden, the dark robes furling behind it like bat wings, ruffling. I raced to the rail, sighted down my barrel but it was moving too fast and I did not waste the shot.

In moments, Sun Huáng burst onto the gallery, moving like lightning toward where Lupina and I stood, Min fast on his heels. Tenebrae, Secundus, and Carnelia followed behind, swords bared. The guards followed after, trailed behind by the boy, Fantasma, blinking and looking lost.

‘What has happened here?’ he said, breathless. It was the most discomposed I’d ever seen the man.

I remained silent for a long time. Lupina looked at me closely, eyes narrowing. ‘A man. On the gallery, waiting in the dark. For a moment I thought it was—’

‘What?’ Huáng asked, face intense.

‘Nothing,’ I responded, shaking my head. Secundus and Tenebrae seemed very puzzled. ‘I fired once but he moved too fast and fled into the garden.’

Huáng went to the balusters and looked down. He deflated some, then, and put his free hand on his back and winced. ‘I will send guards into the garden to see where this intruder might have gone. Possibly it was a brigand or thief looking for a trinket to steal.’ He sagged and looked tired in the moonlight. The
zuhílí
were gone, scattered on the wind. All was quiet. ‘I am not too old for speed, but I am too old not to feel it afterward. Good evening.’ Min took his arm and escorted him back down the gallery.

When Huáng and Min were gone, I said to Secundus simply, ‘Stretchers.’

Of course there was argument and discussion, but by the end I had convinced them – with Lupina’s help – that what I’d seen was truly
vaettir
. Tenebrae speculated a long while on why the stretcher would be wearing clothes and a hat, since most of the ones we’ve witnessed in the west were clad in skins and the cast-offs of their victims. We came to no answers then, but agreed there was more to these creatures than we understood. For a long while, we discussed the possibility that it could have been a tall
daemon
-possessed man and, truly, I could not answer with any definitive proof it was not except I didn’t
feel
that was the right answer.

In the morning, they brought us back before Tsing Huáng, but this time we did not take tea in the rice-paper building. Descending from the brilliant sun-ripened world of the roof into the Winter Palace below felt like entering a crypt. The dragonback wall gate was open and we passed through into the other half of the great chamber. While I was rested and young Fiscelion quiescent within me – indeed, I felt quite buoyant and hale, my hands and feet swollen no longer – the events of the night before weighed on my mind as we made our way beyond the spiky partition. Again there was a hall within the hall, and this time the guards stopped us before entering and, with brusque hands, took our weapons – removing pistols,
jians
, and knives and placing them in an ante-chamber on a silk-lined table lit by guttering candlelight. They did not, however, take my sawn-off, which was strapped to my leg. Something regarding my condition prevented them from searching me, a sort of vestigial sense of propriety. The head guard, a weasel-faced man with sparse facial hair and a squint, looked at me closely, taking note of my stomach, and waved his men away.

The building beyond the dragonback wall was strange – stranger than any other we’d been in. Here there were artisans painting, and sculptors moving larger stone works with block and tackle. The building seemed more like a theatre than the hall of rulers – there was what we Rumans would consider an atrium, every inch of which was illuminated by lanterns and candles so that the oily smoke from them rose and pooled in a high open space ringed in lesser galleries. A great set of red double doors stood closed, with guards outside, and waiting in the atrium were numerous people that were not guards but seemed more likely to be performers, dressed in blousy, bright silks like acrobats might wear and accoutred with strange devices I could not discern the usage of.

We were led on silent feet up a set of lush carpeted stairs into a side room – Tenebrae and Secundus once more carrying the ash messenger’s box from Tamberlaine. The room was massive and golden and centred on a long table with a map of Kithai at the centre of it and brilliant with numerous
daemonlight
lamps and lanterns, casting a buttery-yellow glow that seemed different from Ruman engineers’
daemonlight
. The map was intricate and I guessed it would be worth thousands of sesterius to any man or woman of military mind back in Rume, but it was so detailed and large it was hard to take in all at once. It was a map for those who knew the land. Tsing Huáng greeted us through welcoming hand gestures and bade us sit and take our rest. Min, looking at her grandfather, took her seat next to Tsing to better translate his words for us, and Sun Huáng positioned himself on the other side while Tsing Huáng’s slaves and servants bowed and brought cushions.

Of the Ruman contingent, we sat together, first Secundus, then me, Carnelia, and Tenebrae. Lupina waited, standing, watching the room and Tsing Huáng’s guards with a frown. All nobles have servants and so Lupina was not remarked upon and had clutched Fantasma’s hand to keep him from toddling about, and for the moment the young man was calm and quite manageable. I examined the art in the room, various paintings of battles and farmlands, dragons and warriors, and a series of finely wrought ceramic busts set in alcoves in the room’s wall – each one a man resembling Tsing Huáng. Possibly his ancestors; most likely former August Ones That Speak for the Autumn Lords.

Tsing said through Min, ‘Now we are to the business of treaty.’ He snapped his fingers and one of his servants hustled forward with a scroll while others moved through the room, around the great map table, with drinks and light foods to break our fasts. Another servant brought a sheaf of parchment and an elegant brush and inkwell. Tsing Huáng handed the scroll to Min and said something in Tchinee.

Min looked to us. ‘Tsing Huáng asks that I read aloud his proposed terms of treaty and then you may discuss.’

Secundus and I indicated she should continue. She did, reading in a slow voice much of what had been discussed the day before.

Once she had finished reading Tsing Huáng’s terms, Tenebrae said to Secundus, ‘The Emperor has authorized me to accede to monetary demands. To an extent. These terms fall within those limits.’ He pursed his lips. ‘He will be more upset about the apology on display in Jiang than the money itself, though the money smarts.’

Secundus rubbed his chin, thinking. He turned to Tsing Huáng. ‘We need assurance you will not take up arms against Rume in the future, or assist its enemies by granting them resources or passage.’

Tsing spoke to Min and she said, ‘You mean the Medieran King, Diegal.’

‘Yes,’ Secundus said, simply. ‘We are here to procure a treaty so that the world doesn’t erupt into war.’

After Min had translated that, Tsing Huáng laughed. ‘It is doubtful there is much you can do to stop it. But treating with us now is a good beginning.’

‘We have noticed you have had some dealings with Mediera,’ I said, pointing at the guards stationed at the door, Hellfire rifles held loosely, pistols holstered, jians tucked into their belts. ‘Those are not Ruman make.’

‘Yes,’ Tsing said. ‘Until now, Rume has proven reticent to sell its munitions. Despite our long history of firegardening, we do not have the physical engineering capabilities that Rume or Mediera possess and so it remains an esoteric study, fit for the few initiated in its secrets.’

‘And that’s what it boils down to,’ I said. ‘We need assurances you will not assist Mediera and you want our technology and engineering.’

Tsing Huáng looked at me very closely as Min translated for him. When she finished, a tight smile touched his lips and he gave me the barest intimation of a nod.

‘The Hellfire and engineers, that is easily quantifiable. But for your part,’ I said, ‘and Kithai, what do we have other than your word you will not assist Mediera?’

Tsing laughed as Min translated. ‘Indeed! All treaty-making is based on trust.’

Tenebrae shifted in his seat and, from around his neck, removed a chain and key and tossed it in front of Secundus. It clattered to a stop, drawing all eyes. Tenebrae looked somewhat pale, and discomposed. ‘I think it is time to open it, Secundus.’

‘Why are you shaking, Tenebrae?’

Tenebrae, for his part, swallowed heavily and then gave a nervous laugh. ‘Secundus,’ he said, and there was the totality of their relation in his expression. As long as Tamberlaine’s box remained locked and the message unread, they were free to be friends and lovers. Tenebrae’s wrists remained unblooded, the Quotidians silent. Both he and Secundus could forget that Tamberlaine was his master and great father, as he was all of ours. But his sacred duty as a Praetorian was to safeguard the Emperor’s designs. Once the ash box yielded up its contents, those contents might not make Tenebrae and Secundus rejoice. Some ineffable puff of air locked tight inside the box, the air of Rume, might be anathema to their relationship.

Tenebrae is not a likeable man – he is a handsome man, and an aggressive one, and an able one – but I felt for a moment a great sadness for him. He looked at Secundus with such fear and self-loathing, the pain twisting across his face almost too much for me to bear.

Secundus placed his hand on the key, lifted it, and opened the box.

From inside, he removed a small piece of paper embossed with the Imperial signet, an eagle bearing a flaming sword in its claws.

Secundus read in a flat, emotionless voice, ‘From Tamberlaine, Emperor, Lord and Master, Best and Greatest, Ruler of Myriad Kingdoms, Wielder of the Secret of Emrys, Sacred God of the Latinum Hills – a Message to the Autumn Lords, Rulers of Far Tchinee, Kithai, Cathay, or Whatever Else You Wish to Call Yourselves.’

Min’s voice was low, translating Secundus’ words, an incessant drone filling the room as my brother spoke.