Foreign Devils (29 page)

After dinner, we walked the grounds again, this time to watch the release of the coloured paper
zhuìlì
into the sky. Here, in the Jade Yu, was where the wealthy and August Ones lived, and so the light display was very grandiose and quite lovely. In addition to the lanterns, there were some sort of combustible embers that rose into the air to explode like patterned flowers of fire.

‘I say,’ Tenebrae said, looking up as a loud boom swept through Huáng’s garden, his upturned face coloured pink and green by turns as the fire-flowers burst overhead, casting coloured light on all below. ‘Are those sparkly things
daemons
?’

Huáng shook his head. ‘They are made of
yanhuó,
smoke and fire. It is a compound known across Kithai. The … recipe the gods gave to our ancestors before the Autumn Lords came. The
yanhuó
, it is made from the shite of little lóng, charcoal, and other ingredients that occur throughout Kithai. It is a common thing,’ he shrugged, slightly, as if to indicate the
yanhuó
was worthless.

‘So this occurs every night?’ I asked Huáng, gesturing to the sky. It was hard to believe that this sort of event, so beautiful, would occur with such frequency.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Some nights the sky remains dark, if the Autumn Lords move in the city.’

‘Move?’

‘Moving. With the people.’

That was curious. ‘They take that much interest in the citizens of Jiang?’ I said. ‘I had assumed they were some sort of religious order, that almost all of their time was consumed in contemplation of the magical force you mentioned. This Qi.’

‘They are always concerned with Qi, always,’ he said. ‘I cannot …’ He shook his head, slowly. ‘I do not have the words. Our masters are not … happy.’ His face soured and I could tell now he regretted sending Min away, however rude and offensive she could be. ‘That is not right. They are fear.’

‘Fear? Do you mean fearsome?’

‘Yes? No? I think so.’

‘So, the Autumn Lords are fearsome. What do they do when they interact with the people of Jiang?’

‘They take those with the most Qi.’

‘How does one tell who has the most Qi?’

‘It is a simple matter if you can … direct yours.’

‘Where do they take them?’ I asked. The lack of answers regarding the Autumn Lords was beginning to chafe.

At that moment, a massive explosion of sparking golden flames showered overhead, crackling. Afterwards there was a flurry of chatter in the Tchinee language, and servants scurried up and beckoned us away. Huáng never answered me.

The next morning, after waking and a luxurious breakfast in our room, Huáng’s servants beckoned us to the garden where the August One Who Confronts the Foreign Devils was in the garden, moving through the Eight Silken Movements. Secundus and Tenebrae were already there – Tenebrae had found some excuse to remove his tunic and was showing off his chiselled physique – and we joined them happily. Afterwards, I walked the garden with Lupina in the morning light, admiring the lovely flora and fauna, thousands of unknown flowers and budding plants, trees which have no counterpart in Latinum or even Occidentalia. Carnelia and the boys clattered about with their bamboo sticks, working on their swordplay under Huáng’s watchful eye. In the afternoon we had a sumptuous meal of pork fried with peppers and vegetables and dipped into a sweet sauce, steamed rice, and more of the delectable rice pudding. The food here, while simple by Ruman standards, is flawless in its freshness and simplicity. Young Fiscelion grows happy and strong within me.

At night we dined again, lightly, and watched the
yanhuó
and
zhuìlì
rise into the sky, speechless. In addition to the coloured lanterns floating above the city, the horizon was streaked with rising pinpricks of fire that exploded with deafening booms and flashed with bright coloured lights.

This has been our daily routine since we have arrived and nothing has broken the reverie of this schedule. Carnelia looks healthier than I’ve ever seen her and comes to bed smiling and content, though sore. Huáng has presented her with a jian, a long absolutely plain sword with only the barest hint of a guard and a leather-wrapped sheath.

‘It’s rather plain, is it not?’ I said, looking at the sword as Carnelia held it and made some experimental thrusts in our bedroom.

Carnelia frowned. ‘It is perfect. Flawless.’ She struck a pose as if a scorpion and lashed out. I was half alarmed and half delighted. My sister has always been a wonderful mimic of human motion – when she was younger all she had to do was but witness a dance once to be able to reproduce it beyond my ability to recognize any flaw. ‘Huáng has taught me the movement needs to be simple, direct. Economy in everything.’

I laughed. ‘’Nelia, you are delightful.’

She frowned. ‘This is no joke for me, sissy.’

‘You said that about learning The Festus Progression.’

‘I was a silly little brat then,’ she said, her face tense. ‘I need you to understand this, sissy. This training …’ She chewed her lip slightly. ‘What I am learning now resonates on such a deep level in my soul that I am frightened at the intensity of it,’ she whispered finally. ‘Please do not belittle it.’

‘’Nelia, I …’

‘I know I have been an idiot. A frivolous spoiled child. But this … this is—’

‘Important for you,’ I said.

‘Yes.’

‘I respect that and am happy for you,’ I said and was surprised to see tears standing in her eyes. ‘So, tell me why this sword is so wonderful.’

She wiped her eyes and smiled again, excitement suffusing her face. ‘Look at it! Finest steel. Simple as a killing thought!’

‘It looks rather like a metal stick.’

‘It is intentionality made physical. Huáng says there is no sword, that the sword only exists in your mind and the metal you hold becomes filled with Qi and thus becomes a part of
you
.’ She went on for a long while, lecturing me, repeating and recounting the things she’d learned, all in a rush, and I must admit, because I was full of food and Fiscelion kicked, I did not retain much of it. Eventually she sheathed the weapon and came to embrace me before bed.

And so our days pass somewhat dreamily, waiting to be called before the Autumn Lords and this Tsing Huáng who speaks for them. I want the day to come swiftly, so that I might return to you all the sooner, but if we must wait, I cannot imagine a more pleasant place to do the waiting.

In our wonderful period of expectant languor, there has been only one incident of note that I should convey to you, my love. One evening, as we finished a lovely dinner of some sort of sea fish that neither Huáng nor his servants could convey the name of, a gong began to peal outside the manse and then was taken up across the rest of the city, a thousand gongs tolling in varied rhythms across the valley, over the Jiang River.

Huáng bid us finish our dinner and when we were finished, he stood. ‘Tonight, there will be no
zhuìlì.
I bid you to go to your rooms and be comfortable.’

‘No
zhuìlì
?’ Tenebrae said. ‘I’d grown quite fond of them. Wonderful way to cap an evening.’

‘No lights,’ Huáng answered. ‘Not tonight.’

‘You said the
zhuìlì
ritual is cancelled when the Autumn Lords move among the citizens, is that right?’

‘Yes,’ Huáng said. ‘And it is our custom to keep to our homes then. Good night,’ he said, and turning, he removed himself from the dining hall.

The servants beckoned us to come – their normally smiling and genial expressions absent, their movements hasty.

‘There’s something strange here,’ I said to Secundus, who held Tenebrae’s arm in his. While the boys were assigned separate rooms, they rarely slept apart, I noticed. ‘Keep an eye out this evening. Huáng said the Autumn Lords are moving through the populace and that puzzles me. I do not know what is happening, but I need your vigilance.’

‘Of course, sissy,’ Secundus said, letting loose Tenebrae’s arm and coming to embrace me. ‘We will watch.’

‘We have come to Far Tchinee and it is not so foreign as we thought. But I am not at ease. Be watchful. Be wary.’

His smile faded and he held me out at arm’s length, considering me. ‘I see that you are concerned.’ He took my hands in his and squeezed. ‘I will remain on guard, my dear,’ he said, and allowed his boyish smile back.

‘And I will as well, Livia,’ Tenebrae added.

‘She only needs me to watch out for her,’ Carnelia said. ‘Since I carry the
biao
.’

The boys groaned. Secundus said, ‘You’re never going to let us forget, are you?’

‘What’s this?’ I asked. ‘The
biao
?’

‘I have the stone,’ Carnelia said, pulling an object from beneath the neckline of her top. It was a river-rock, smooth and polished, fastened with a simple black leather cord. Of all the objects I’d seen in Huáng’s manse it was the simplest, if one did not count Carnelia’s
jian
.

‘What does it signify?’

Secundus groaned again. ‘She scored on us both while sparring. And Huáng awarded her the
biao
.’ He grimaced. ‘But she’ll have to give it back in the morning.’

‘Tomorrow’s another day!’ Tenebrae said. And then he laughed as well.

The servant girl escorting us, the one we’ve taken to calling Delia since she reminded Secundus of a cousin of ours who died very young, tugged my sleeves and said, ‘Aquí, maestra, aquí’ with a tense face and so our conversation ended and we retired to our rooms.

It was with some alarm that I noticed on this evening, when normally we’d be enjoying the coloured lights of the
zhuìlì
, Delia and the other servants shuttered the windows and all the doors. When they left, I heard an audible
click
as if some mechanical tumbler had fallen. Going to the door, I tried the latch and found it locked from outside.

‘Locked, sissy,’ I said to Carnelia. I normally try not to state the obvious but she wasn’t paying much attention to me.

My sister looked up from where she sat. She’d had a strenuous day, this day, scoring on the boys. She lounged in one of the blackwood chairs, her legs spread apart and her arms on the armrests.

She waved her hand. ‘’Pina, please tell me there’s some wine in here,’ she said.

‘We’re locked in, Carnelia!’ I said, trying to get some sort of response from her. Sometimes she could be just like my father.

She only shrugged as Lupina poured her a glass. ‘So?’

‘Why are we contained here? We’ve had full run of the grounds until tonight!’

‘I don’t know, sissy.’ She yawned. ‘And quite frankly, I’m buggered.’ She shifted her arm in its socket, wincing. Then she felt her breasts as if searching for an elusive pain. ‘He made us perform one hundred leverages from the ground today. My teats are unfortunate indeed,’ she said, making a joke on the title of
The Teats of Fortuna.

I raised my eyebrow at that but Carnelia was too busy drinking wine.

‘I can see it now,’ said I. ‘My sister becoming a great throbbing brute.’

She grinned and scratched at her crotch, theatrically. ‘I’ll show you throbbing, girl,’ she said in the thickest voice she could manage. Then she erupted into giggles. ‘Oh, sissy, I’m exhausted. We can find out in the morning.’

In a very short time, she was in bed asleep. Lupina watched me from the pallet of pillows (those not stuffed with herbs) she slept on at the foot of the bed. We had entreated her to join us in the great blackwood bed since we could all easily sleep there, splayed out as if crucified, and still not come a foot within reach of the other it was so large, but she balked.

Lupina instinctively knows when we need assistance and I do not know what I would do without her. She’s there whenever I have any of the cravings or intestinal discomforts that pregnancy visits upon women; she’s ready with cloth or drink or an arm whenever my body has needs requiring them. She rubs down Carnelia’s sore muscles at the end of each day and brushes my hair and manages my wardrobe. I have come to dearly love the dour little woman. There is more to love than enchantment and personality – loyalty and consistency become seated in the heart as well.

‘Wouldn’t be right, ma’am,’ Lupina said.

‘Nonsense,’ said I. ‘Don’t sleep there when you can be far more comfortable with us.’

‘No, ma’am. Comfort can dull you.’ She looked about the room. ‘All this is comfort. It sucks us in, it does. But these folk ain’t our kin or friends and all I hear from the servants is the beaner talk.’

‘Espan?’

She nodded. ‘Them Medierans been kicking in this stall before we got here,’ she said and I had to agree.

But on this night I told Lupina I was sleepless and needed some privacy. And so, against her natural inclination, she climbed into the big blackwood bed and went to sleep with Carnelia, while I paced our room, hands on stomach, wondering at this strange and unforeseen incarceration. A stillness fell upon the manse. No servant stirred, no wind brushed the eaves. I fancied I could hear the wicks of candles hissing, spitting. Against Lupina’s wishes, I helped myself to the dry, spicy white wine that the Tchinee favoured and ate some of the honeyed rice cakes that Delia, in her halting pidgin Espan, conveyed were good to swell children in their mother’s bellies. When I was sated (and growing uncomfortable with the food sharing space with young Fiscelion) I tried to pace again but my feet were swollen and achy. My hands felt as sausages.

Our physiognomy visits such indignity upon us when with child, my love. And it is all your fault. You have my love, you have all my affection, and you have my ire too, for you spurted this child into my belly. And it is a cracker of a beast, this boy. He swells my extremities and plays havoc with my appetites.

I was considering my fat sausage fingers and ankles when I heard something above. The room Carnelia, Lupina, and I share has a set of lacquered windowless double doors that resemble the Gallish ones that are so much in fashion now. Yet these are constructed of solid wood, with the exception of a small panel that would swing open if unbolted to provide an unobstructed view of the garden or, if in dire straits, anyone who might be trying to gain entry, unwarranted. The thumping sounded once more on the roof and ceased but I heard an excited explosion of song from the nightbirds that roosted in the drooping trees of Huáng’s garden. In my mind’s eye, I imagined a large lóng landing on the tiled roof above our heads and then lighting to try to make a meal of some of the lovely birds that made a home on the manse’s grounds.