I sat at the table next to Lily, the court administrator, my mind wandering as I scribbled notes on the pad in front of me. John was holding court in the Hall of Dark Justice in the Northern Heavens, and his dark Celestial Form was grim and forbidding as he sat behind his desk on the dais above us. Minor functionaries from various departments of the bureaucracy that ran the Northern Heavens were complaining about the war preparations and their impact on the budgets.
My head nodded with fatigue as I tried to concentrate on my notes; I had so many things on my to-do list. John was directing the mobilisation of troops in defence of the entire Celestial Plane; Er Lang was travelling the Heavens to ensure the troops were stationed correctly; the Wudang Masters were drilling the armies; and I was helping by handling the operations side.
The student Disciples weren’t usually called into battle, but general agreement was that the seniors could be needed as reinforcements for the Thirty-Six if things became as bad as predicted. That meant I needed to obtain steel for new weapons to be made, and many of the senior Disciples didn’t have armour so that had to be made as well. The forge was working flat out, but a priority schedule would ensure that they produced items according to need rather than in the order they were requisitioned. The steel we had stored behind the forge would run out within a couple of weeks. Supplies of food and water needed to be stockpiled in case the Earthly fell and there was a siege of the Heavens, and when refugees arrived in the Northern Heavens from the evacuation of Hell and the Earthly they would have to be catered for as well . . .
John’s deep voice stopped. The ensuing silence snapped me out of my reverie.
Emma, please go rest. You are not helping and it’s obvious that you’re fading.
I glanced up at him; his face was grim but his eyes were full of concern. I sighed, nodded, pushed my chair back and rose. I bowed and saluted him, he nodded formally in reply, and I went out.
I wandered through the Grand Court of the Northern Celestial Palace, winding my way between the soldiers as they stacked sleeping bags and tent canvas. Nobody had been evacuated into the Northern Heavens yet, but we had to be ready for them. A few soldiers saluted me, grinning, and I returned the courtesy; I’d taught them as juniors.
Someone fell into step beside me and I stopped to see what she wanted. It was one of the demon servants, in black pants and white shirt. She was shorter than me, round and plump with the full rosy cheeks of the mountain people of the West. She appeared in her early twenties, but her demon nature said she was about twelve years old.
‘The Dark Lord sent me to escort you,’ she said, bowing slightly and smiling with pleasure. ‘I am honoured.’
‘What’s your number?’ I said, touched by her enthusiasm.
‘I have taken a name, if it pleases Your Majesty. I am Smally.’
‘I’m not a Majesty, you can call me Emma,’ I said. I turned back towards the gatehouse between the administrative and residential parts of the palace. ‘Where’s Jade?’
She was silent as she walked next to me, her expression stiff with mortification. She didn’t know which Jade I was talking about.
‘The Jade Girl,’ I said, clarifying for her. ‘Princess Jade, Eighty-Second daughter of the Dragon King.’
‘I’m sorry, ma’am,’ Smally said. ‘I’m far too small to be speaking to someone as exalted as her. Someone as exalted as you, as well.’
‘I’m just an ordinary human. Do you know where the Golden Boy is?’
‘No, ma’am,’ she said. She dipped her head as she walked. ‘Perhaps the Dark Lord should have sent someone more senior to escort you. I am useless.’
‘You’re not useless, you can help me,’ I said.
We went through the gatehouse into the residential part of the palace, and the black walls gave way to shades of ochre and khaki, blending into the gardens. The demons had shovelled away the snow and the warm sun reflected off the walls. I sighed as I felt myself relax; the grass and trees were very soothing after the stark black majesty of the administrative section.
‘The Dark Lord suggested that I bring you tea and cookies, and has ordered me to ensure that you rest in the Ancient Dragon Tree Garden,’ the demon said. ‘He says that it is very important for you to eat . . . carbohydrates, I think it is called? Is that acceptable?’
‘I’m not an invalid,’ I said, mildly annoyed at his attitude. Then I took a deep breath; yes, I was.
‘I apologise, my Lady,’ Smally said, ducking her head with misery.
‘I’m not annoyed at you, little one,’ I said, patting her on the arm. ‘The Dark Lord is wrapping me in cotton wool and it chafes.’
‘How can cotton wool chafe? It is soft,’ she said, confused.
I chuckled as we turned right to walk through a moon gate flanked by sculpted pine trees. ‘What are your normal duties?’
‘I boil linen in the laundry.’
‘Could you be spared?’
‘I would have to ask my mistress.’
We arrived at the courtyard between the Emperor’s private residence and the Crown Prince’s residence. Martin and Leo were off somewhere together again, supervising the evacuation of one of the villages and the defence of the orphanage. Simone was in Tokyo, organising her entry into Tokyo University. The quiet settled through the trees and I relaxed further. I hadn’t realised I was so tense.
I sat on the stone bench beneath the famous Dragon Tree. It was believed this ancient tree had been present before the palace was built, and imaginative poets had seen the shape of a dragon in its convoluted trunk. The demons had set up a charcoal brazier next to the tree and its warmth spread through the courtyard. Smally knelt on the pavers next to the bench, head down and obviously deeply uncomfortable to be in the Emperor’s own residential area.
‘The demons in the Residence can give you tea and these magical biscuits that the Dark Lord wants to feed me,’ I said. I gestured towards the wood-framed door with its teak shutters carved with a Buddhist swastika motif. ‘Go in there, around the central courtyard, then left and into the kitchen. The head demon there is Thirty-Eight; she’ll look after you.’
Smally rose and bobbed her head. ‘I will return directly, ma’am.’ She took a deep breath, straightened, and strode through the door into the house.
Rest, love, John said. Please. For me. Don’t work, read a book or something. Relax. Whatever you need to do can wait a couple of hours and you need a break. We have to go to Hell later this afternoon.
I sighed and leaned back against the bench, wincing as my insides twinged with the movement. I should have healed by now. Another trip to Hell was all I needed.
Thirty-Eight came into the courtyard with Smally trailing behind her. Smally had brought cushions and fussed over me as she positioned them around me. She put a blanket on my lap, and Thirty-Eight placed a rosewood table in front of me with a steaming pot of tea and some tiny southeastern provincial biscuits, oval and one centimetre across with a star-shaped dollop of pastel-coloured icing on the top.
Thirty-Eight stood back and studied me, her hands in her sleeves. ‘Anything you need, ma’am, you send the little one.’
‘I need less fussing,’ I said.
Thirty-Eight ignored me and went back into the house.
Smally poured a cup of tea, then tucked the blanket around me. She stood back and nodded, then a swift expression of pain crossed her face. ‘I should go, I am probably needed back in the laundry.’
‘Would you rather stay?’
She brightened. ‘I would be honoured if you would permit me to stay and serve you. I promise to be quiet, ma’am, and I will pour the tea for you and make sure you are warm.’
‘I’d like that very much,’ I said. ‘The rest of the family are all over the place doing stuff and I’m stuck tagging along with His Royal Grumpiness until I’m a hundred per cent.’
Her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open, then she giggled behind her hand. ‘You really call him that?’
‘Among other things,’ I said, and crunched into a biscuit. ‘Can you read, Smally?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ she said, her expression full of pride.
‘Find my ereader on my bedside table?’ I said, pointing at the doorway. ‘In there, first on the right.’
‘In your bedroom?’ she said, breathless. ‘The Emperor’s own bedroom? Am I allowed?’
‘You are if I say you are. The ereader has a black slipcover with my name in silver on it and a ridiculous number of silly blue stars that Simone drew all over it with a puff pen,’ I said. ‘You can’t miss it.’
Smally nodded. ‘Yes, ma’am.’ She took a deep breath and marched into the house again.
I relaxed onto the cushions, enjoying the quiet. I smiled when Smally squealed. She’d found the mess. She was subdued when she returned, probably with disbelief. She handed me the ereader, poured me some more tea, checked my blanket, then knelt on the stones, head bowed.
I opened to the book I’d been reading, then changed my mind. I couldn’t sit and read with her quiet and unmoving on the ground like that. I changed to a different book that I hadn’t read yet, set it at the start, and held it out to Smally.
‘Can you find yourself a chair and read it to me?’ I said.
She nodded, and took the ereader from me. She looked at the screen, turning it in her hands.
‘Do this to go forward one page. This to go back,’ I said, showing her.
‘This is in English?’
‘Yes. Can you read it anyway? You should be able to, we’re on the Celestial Plane.’
‘I can.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe it. I’m reading in English to the Dark Lady.’
I picked up my teacup and threw a couple of biscuits into my mouth, then waved towards the house. ‘Go find yourself something to sit on; the stones are cold.’
She went back into the house and returned with a low stool, only about fifteen centimetres high. I opened my mouth to tell her to find something more comfortable, then gave up; I didn’t have the energy for that particular argument. She sat on the stool next to my feet, ready to read.
‘Skip the parts in italics, read from the beginning there,’ I said.
‘Yes, ma’am. God a was he said and Mahasamatman him called followers his . . .’ She stopped, confused.
‘English is read left to right,’ I said.
‘Oh, sorry, ma’am,’ she said, and proceeded to read it the right way around.
I settled back to listen, well aware that John had finally won the battle to appoint a personal demon maid for me. At least now he’d stop making terrible jokes about the state of the closet.
Two hours later, John hobbled through the moon gate into the garden. He was in human form and leaning on a walking stick. He stopped when he saw Smally reading to me, and smiled slightly. I nodded; he’d won. He inclined his head in acknowledgement. I looked down at the walking stick then up at him, and he looked me up and down as well. His hair was greying and his face was lined, making him appear sixty years old. We both smiled slightly; he appeared as old as I felt.
Smally was still reading, unaware of the silent communication that had passed between us. John edged further into the courtyard, his feet obviously bothering him, and Smally stopped and glanced up. Her eyes widened with horror and she shot to her feet, then fell to her knees and touched her forehead to the grass.
‘Wen sui, wen sui, wen wen sui,’ she said, her voice quivering. She was shaking.
‘Rise,’ John said. ‘What is your designation, little one?’
She lifted her torso but remained on her knees, hunched over with terror. ‘I am Two Hundred and Ninety-Seven, Celestial Highness.’
‘Her name’s Smally, John, and she’s perfect. Thank you for finding her. She’s wasted in the laundry.’
Smally shot a quick, delighted glance at me, then audibly gulped and turned back to carefully study the grass.
‘We have to be in Hell in half an hour,’ John said. ‘Something’s not right, Emma. I think you should suit up.’
Smally tittered, then choked.
‘You understand the reference?’ John asked her.
She fell over her knees again, desperate. ‘I apologise for laughing, Highness, it will not happen again.’
‘Don’t be afraid. He thinks you’re cute,’ I said.
‘Smally, Emma needs to put her armour on. Help her to do it up,’ John said. ‘I will sit here and wait. Have Thirty-Eight bring me fresh tea and some fruit.’
‘Come on, Smally,’ I said, pulling myself up from the bench. ‘The old man’s right, I could use your help with the buckles and the robe always goes wrong.’
Smally climbed to her feet and kept her head down as she escorted me to the doorway. She snuck a glance back as John lowered himself to sit on the bench, leaning heavily on the walking stick. He shooed her away with one hand and she flitted to join me.
In the bedroom, I pulled my jeans off and threw them on the bed. Smally turned away, embarrassed.
‘You have to help me, and you can’t help if you’re not looking,’ I said, sorting through my wardrobe to find my robe and black pants.
She turned back and I handed her the robe, then pulled the pants on.
‘Ma’am, your staff here are lax and should be reprimanded,’ Smally said as she helped me into the robe. ‘This untidiness is completely unacceptable for someone as senior as you.’
‘They’re not allowed to touch it,’ I said.
‘But your beautiful clothes . . .’ She stopped as she realised that I didn’t own anything that could be remotely considered beautiful. ‘Your clothes are crushed here.’
‘While I’m in Hell you can sort them out for me,’ I said. ‘But on one condition.’
‘Anything. I would love to be of assistance,’ she said.
‘You will have to know exactly where everything is the minute I need it. I like being able to grab stuff quickly. I don’t have time to waste messing around with my wardrobe.’
‘That will not be a problem, ma’am,’ she said, quietly delighted. ‘This will be sorted when you return from Hell and you will have no trouble finding anything.’ She glanced around. ‘Where is your armour?’
I gestured towards the wall next to the wardrobe doors. ‘Walk through there.’
She hesitated, unsure, and I took her by the hand and led her through the wall. John’s battledress and my black enamel armour sat on wooden dummies in the small room behind.
Smally turned back to where we’d come through the wall. ‘I would never have known that was there.’
‘That’s the idea,’ I said, lifting the armour off its stand. ‘Help me get this damn thing done up, will you? He won’t want to be late.’
‘He looks unwell, ma’am, is he all right? We rely on him,’ she said as she helped me into the armour.
‘Nobody is to know that he requires the walking stick,’ I said. ‘If you tell anyone he will be extremely upset. Nobody must know.’
‘I understand, ma’am, you can trust me.’
We would see. John was obviously testing her ability to stay quiet, but it would be a major concern if word went out about his feet.
‘Did you order him the tea and fruit?’ I said, and her eyes widened. I patted her on the arm. ‘Just tell Thirty-Eight and she’ll do it. Ask her to bring him some pain-killing medicine as well.’
She nodded, obviously communicating, then snapped back and studied my armour, her voice thick. ‘I’ve only been working for you for an hour and I’ve already ruined my chances of staying.’
‘No, you haven’t. You’ve been very useful already, and I’ll keep you around at least for the next week or so. Talk to Thirty-Eight about having quarters allocated here in the Residence.’
She lit up, her smile wide with joy that made me feel good as well.
‘I thought your armour appeared out of nowhere,’ she said, glancing back at John’s battledress.
‘I can’t do that. He can, but right now it’s easier for him to have some physical armour standing by so he can pull it to him.’
‘I never knew he could become weak like this,’ she said, her voice soft. ‘It’s very scary.’
‘I know.’
‘He thinks I’m cute?’ she said as she helped me with the buckles. She stopped for a moment. ‘If I was to work here, would part of my duties . . . I mean, it’s an honour, ma’am, I understand that it’s often part of the duties . . .’ She flushed and busied herself with the buckles. ‘I don’t mind, really, it’s an honour.’
It was a valid question to ask any traditional Empress; it was the Empress’s job to provide the Emperor with as many sexual partners as he required. Expressing any anger at what she’d suffered in Hell would probably make her shut down in self-defence so I deliberately kept my voice very even when I answered.
‘I understand what you’re asking, Smally, and no, that won’t happen here. Has it happened to you before?’
She shuddered, making herself busy to cover it. ‘I was a small demon in Hell, and I was noticed by one of the Princes.’ She nodded to herself, choosing her words carefully. ‘He singled me out for special attention and told me that I was honoured. I did feel honoured; I never thought I’d be pretty enough to gain anyone’s attention. But what he did . . .’ She took a deep breath. ‘I took a chance and escaped with my nest mates to join the Dark Lord. I never thought I’d make it, and here I am.’
‘Was this about ten or twelve years ago?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘I remember that.’ I smiled as she tightened the buckles. ‘A whole bunch of you turned up on our doorstep. We didn’t know what to do with you all.’
‘We worked hard to rebuild the beautiful Mountain,’ she said with pride. ‘The Dark Lord treated us with care, and we did our best to repay his kindness. When the rebuilding was complete, they even asked where we would like to be assigned! It was so different . . .’ Her voice trailed off.
‘Nothing that happened in Hell will ever happen here, Smally. We will protect all of you and treat you with respect.’
She visibly relaxed and let out a tiny sigh of relief. ‘Sometimes, ma’am, I stop and think: today, nobody will hurt me, nobody will do anything bad to me. I don’t have to be afraid.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘Sometimes I just stop and . . . relish the feeling of being happy. It’s something I thought I would never have.’
‘Since the Dark Lord came back, I feel the same way.’
‘You’ve been hurt too, ma’am?’ she said, wide-eyed.
‘Nothing compared to what you’ve suffered, but it’s wonderful to have the Dark Lord back after so many years alone.’ I raised my arms and swung them, and the armour didn’t pinch anywhere. ‘Good job. Can you put my hair up in the ebony spike for me?’
‘I can do your make-up, ma’am,’ she said, pleased, ‘and put ornaments in your hair.’
‘No make-up, no ornaments, just the spike.’
‘What, like a man?’ she said. ‘You should have a prettier hairstyle than that. Something more decorative. I would be delighted to put your hair into a feminine style, I have practised.’ She studied my hair. ‘Some gold ornaments and a comb would be much more suitable for someone of your rank.’
I tapped the breastplate. ‘I’m a warrior.’
‘But with no make-up, you’ll look like a man. They let you dress as a man?’ she said. ‘I didn’t realise—I mean, I know you wear armour and you’re a warrior, but dressed like this you look like a man.’
‘I’m not dressed as a man,’ I said. ‘I’m dressed as me. I’m not here to be decorative, I’m here to do a job. Come on.’ I walked back through the wall and sat at the dressing table. ‘Put it up and put the spike through it.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ she said. She shook her head as she pulled my hair up. ‘You are turning everything upside down. You make the world look so different. I feel like I don’t know anything any more.’
‘Then you’re probably ready to begin learning,’ I said.
I pulled my Doc Martens on, and Smally laced one while I laced the other. When we were done we went back out to the courtyard, where John was waiting for us with a sliced nashi pear and some grapes in front of him. We shared a nod and I went to him.
He stood with effort, leaning on the stick, and glanced over my shoulder at Smally. ‘Return to your duties.’
Smally’s voice was soft with disappointment. ‘At the laundry?’
‘No,’ John said.
I turned to her. ‘Smally, you were planning to clean out my closet. We’ll be a while so take your time.’
Smally lit up and bowed low with a huge grin. ‘My Lady.’ She spun and nearly skipped back into the house.
I turned back to John. ‘All set?’
‘Just arranging a private place to land.’ I waited for a moment, and then he nodded. ‘Fixed.’
He held his hand out to me and I took it. We stood, hands clasped, gazing into each other’s eyes, then the world spun and I blacked out.
I came around on a simple coconut-fibre mattress laid on the floor in a bare room. John was sitting cross-legged next to me, and nobody else was present. I sat up, then lowered my head as a moment of dizziness took me. I breathed deeply, aware of his concerned attention, then sat back up and shook out my shoulders.
‘How long was I out?’
‘Half an hour.’ He took his hair out, leaned forward, tied it into a topknot then tossed it back. ‘I was out for fifteen minutes.’
‘Are you okay?’
He nodded, his dark eyes full of restrained emotion. ‘You aren’t.’
‘I’ll get there.’
I leaned on the wall to pull myself upright, my insides protesting, then bent as another wave of dizziness made the room spin. I carefully levered myself to vertical, then waited for John. He did exactly the same thing, also stopping before he could be completely upright. He concentrated and grew to his mid-forties form wearing his black robe and armour, same as me.
Yanluo Wang, Lord of the Underworld, opened the door and poked his head around. ‘My Lord.’
‘We’re ready,’ John said.
Wang looked from John to me, his expression carefully controlled, then opened the door wider. ‘This way.’
When we arrived in his office, Wang leaned on the back of his big leather executive chair and put one hand out towards John. ‘Surely you can take True Form or come through the Courts? This must be driving you crazy.’
‘The damage is to the Serpent, and it’s infected,’ John said, grimacing with pain as he sat. ‘Even if the Turtle goes through the Courts the damage will still be there. We have to make a hard decision: give me antibiotics in the hope that they’ll transfer to the Serpent, or let me suffer and hope that I die of it.’ He corrected himself. ‘The Serpent dies of it.’
‘I understand your nature. What are the demons doing about it? Are they treating it?’
John leaned on the table and rubbed his eyes. ‘They hadn’t been in the holding pen in months. I was totally unprepared when they came in and chopped my tail off, and I haven’t seen them since. I sincerely wish my Serpent was a small enough Shen to die of starvation.’
Wang quickly went to the door of his office and poked his head out to talk to someone, then sat behind the desk. ‘Can you use donor energy to rebuild yourself?’
‘I would drain any donor,’ John said. ‘They would be gone.’
‘I used to wonder why the Ancients talked about the Jade Emperor’s multiple souls,’ I said.
‘The Celestial hasn’t done it in a very long time,’ Wang said. ‘It is very much a last resort, because it takes him a century of solitude and meditation to extricate the life force and release it again.’ He tapped the table. ‘Find a willing donor. Pay the price later.’
‘I don’t know how to extricate them,’ John said. ‘If I take them, they’re gone.’
‘This just gets better and better,’ Wang said grimly. ‘How many souls have you consumed in the past, Ah Wu? Surely the Jade Emperor taught you the technique when you did it?’
‘I have never done it,’ John said with fierce dignity.
‘Never? What about before you turned to the Celestial? I’ve heard the stories.’
John’s face was rigid with restraint. ‘That was not me. Here and now I am the Celestial Xuan Wu, and I have never drained anyone’s life force.’
‘But a couple of years ago you absorbed the Heavenly Star . . .’ Wang said, glancing at me.
‘The Star gave me his energy and reverted to a mindless nature spirit. I did not absorb him completely,’ John said.
‘I see.’ Wang rubbed his chin. ‘The reason I’ve called you in here is a very high-security matter, but I’m sure you won’t be too surprised when you hear what it is.’
One of his assistants, wearing a Qing-style robe in black with a red border, brought a massive book into the office and put it in front of Wang. Another assistant placed a jug of water and some glasses on the table. Both of them bowed to us and went out.
‘Holy shit, is that the book?’ I said.
It was thirty centimetres to a side and twenty thick, with a heavy dark brown leather cover and pages stained by age to a similar colour.
‘You’re not supposed to see it,’ Wang said with amusement.
John poured himself a glass of water and drank it quickly. ‘Show her where Sun Wu Kong defaced it.’
I stared at John. ‘He really did that?’
‘Damn monkey,’ Wang growled. He opened the book on the table, then held his hand over it and the pages flipped backwards and forwards by themselves. They settled onto a page with a red ink-brush stain and splotches across it. ‘He was Immortal already, he’d learned to dance the stars and ride the wind, and he came down here and defaced the book anyway. Asshole.’
‘So he crossed his name out?’ I said.
‘In vermilion ink, insulting the Jade Emperor at the same time,’ Wang said.
‘Stupid bastard crossed out the wrong name too,’ John said. ‘That’s not him.’
‘Yeah, this is a kid born on Hainan Island who had the same name,’ Wang said. ‘Gained Immortality through a clerical error.’
‘So what’s the problem now?’ John said, raising his glass of water at Wang. ‘I assume the demons haven’t tried the defences yet. What’s going on?’
Wang held his hand over the book and the pages flipped again. It stopped and he read down the characters. ‘It’s very reassuring to have some of the Thirty-Six here, but I’m beginning to wonder if their first assault will be Celestial Hell after all.’
‘It will be. If they can control all of Hell, every one of us who dies will be trapped here. It has to be their first strategic target.’
‘There don’t seem to be any of them left on the demonic side at all,’ Wang said. ‘They’ve stopped releasing people from the Pits.’
‘What?’ John said, his voice flat.
Wang tapped the book. ‘Here’s one. Went in mid-Qing Dynasty. Sentenced by every single court; he was a nasty piece of work. Bribed and murdered his way to provincial governor: he killed people and took over their positions, then raped and murdered their wives and children. Raped three babies to death. Embezzled fifteen million yuan from his citizens. Allowed health care and infrastructure to fall into ruin while he lived a lavish lifestyle of cruelty and excess. I watched with a great deal of satisfaction as he was released from each level only to be sentenced by the Courts to suffer in the next.’ He looked up at John. ‘Was due to be released last week after two hundred and fifty years of torture. Never came out. Nobody’s been released from the demonic side in two months.’
‘How many haven’t been released?’ John said.
‘Four.’
‘How many are still in there?’
‘One thousand, three hundred and . . .’ Wang checked the book. ‘Seventeen.’ He looked up at John. ‘We need to get them out. Their sentences are complete. You could go undercover and find your Serpent at the same time.’
‘The JE won’t let him,’ I said. ‘If both of him are trapped, we’ll lose for sure.’
‘So what do we do?’ Wang said.
‘Try a diplomatic solution first; we’re the good guys here,’ I said. ‘Give the King a chance to do the right thing. Call him or a senior lieutenant for a meeting on neutral ground halfway across the first causeway, and try to talk them into releasing the people who are due.’
‘My Lord?’
‘Emma speaks for me; she always knows what I’m thinking and right now she has twice the brains I do. If I am silent I agree with her and you do not need to confirm with me.’