Strong Mystery: Murder, Mystery and Magic Books 1-3 (Steampunk Magica) (24 page)

Chapter 8

Jinhao paused on the rooftop above the illegal
gambling den, watching until the activity died away in the hours just before
dawn.
After her talk with the fisherman, she had gone back
towards Owen’s house intent on talking to the man who seemed to be watching it.
Unfortunately, the dapper little man seemed skilled in avoiding any place where
she could successfully ambush him.

After changing places with his giant partner in surveillance,
he started walking, forgoing the cabs at the end of the hill. He kept to the
main streets, avoiding being close enough to buildings to enable her to drop
down on him from above. She could not risk an open fight with him. To do so
invited the intervention of the city’s constabulary, who may see her as an
Imperial Adept, and a very illegal one at that. The Adepts were men and women
who were able to perform feats of outstanding martial prowess; they were
exclusively under exclusive orders from the Han throne. Jinhao was, to put it
charitably, absent without leave from the Imperial city and likely there was an
arrest immediately
notice out on her.

While Grandfather would never allow her to be transported north
in chains, she preferred to depend upon herself to deal with the problems of life.
She had listened to Grandfather before, and all of her current troubles with
the Throne came from that. She was reminded of the old saying, ‘never make an
agreement with a dragon, for they are subtle and have no thought to the years’.

She agreed with Grandfather that there needed to be an alliance
between British and Han but she preferred her own way of reaching that goal, a
way that did not involve waiting for centuries. One reason was that she did not
think the Han Empire could wait centuries. She had seen the effects of the
unlicensed traders selling their opium, the fat mandarins squeezing their
farmers to produce more tea on more land for the foreign trade, while the
farmer’s children went hungry. No, the Han people needed a hero, and what
better hero to have than an English sorcerer-lord who would help them
regardless of caste or color. She frowned. That is, she amended in her thoughts,
if the fool hasn’t gone and gotten himself killed.

She watched in frustration the back of the shifty foreigner who
could answer her questions, a sentiment that turned into puzzlement as he
entered a place that was known to her as a low-rent gambling dive. What
attraction could such a place possibly have to a rich foreigner? A girl?
Perhaps he simply liked to feel he was slumming? No matter, she decided, he was
now somewhere she could corner him.

Swinging across the narrow gap separating the two roofs, Jinhao
paused long enough to pull black gauze over her face. She lowered herself down
the outside of the den, and through an open window. She floated down the
hallway, her feet making no noise on the old floorboards, following the echoes
of a familiar voice. Jinhao paused at the corner of the hallway, as the voice came
closer.

When the first bodyguard came around the corner, she dropped
him with a blow to the throat, quickly stepping around the corner. She saw a
little rat-faced man dressed in shabby silks that attempted to mimic a mandarin’s
robes. His eyes grew wide and he gestured frantically to the two guards behind
him.

“Put down your swords, you fools,” he hissed in Cantonese so
thick you could pour it with a spoon. “Do you want her to kill me as well as
your stupid asses?” The little man bowed almost to the floor. “Mighty lady! How
may poor Wing serve you?”

“Where is the Englishman with the cane?” Jinhao demanded in the
same language.

“Mighty Lady, I am not sure who you mean,” the rat-faced Wing
protested with shifty-eyes.

“Do not try my patience Wing,” Jinhao drew one of her swords.
“There is no profit for you here—only pain.”

“Ahh, the Englishman,” Wing exclaimed. “He sought another way
out of the building and took it.” He pointed at one of the guards. “Take her to
the back entrance”.

“You had best be true with me Wing,” Jinhao turned to follow
the guard down a flight of stairs. She stopped and turned back. “Wing,” she
called out. “Spread the word that none are to give that man aid of any kind
upon pain of my displeasure.”

“It shall be as you say, Mighty Lady,” Wing replied with a
shaky bow.

When they had gone, the remaining guard, who was an old
companion of Wing and could be so familiar, looked at Wing in puzzlement.

“Why did you give the
Quizi
to her, Master? He gave us
only pure profit. You called her by the title of Mighty Lady. Who is she?”

“Who is she?” Wang echoed the words tonelessly. “She is a
shadow who was before your time. I was but a young man when last she appeared
to my old mentor. I have prayed that the day of her return would never come.
Take my counsel and forget everything that has happened here tonight. Who is
she?” Wang repeated. “She has no name, except one . . .  she is the
Claw of Lohan
.”

Chapter 9

Jinhao followed the silent bodyguard down the stairs
.
They quickly passed an open doorway from which the heavy scents of opium and
tobacco billowed, followed by the desperate clack of Mah-Jong tiles. Going down
yet another flight of stairs, the still unspeaking guard opened a hidden door
in the cellar. He wordlessly pointed.

“Where does this come out,” she asked, looking at the dim
passage-way with skepticism.

“Not far,” her guide could speak after all, she thought. “Two
streets over. The hidden doorway opens out into an alley.”

She nodded in acknowledgment. Drawing one sword she began to
carefully make her way down the corridor. Fortunately it was dimly light by
small crystal chunks of Mage light that has been affixed to the ceiling at
intervals. Coming to a stairway that went up, she sheathed her sword to free
her hands, and began to climb up them. The door latch took only a moment to
work. Jinhao found herself standing in an alleyway. A wall of fire suddenly
roared towards her from the right. Only her Qi powered reflexes saved her.
Dropping flat, she felt the heat pass over her.

Springing up again, she threw a handful of iron spikes towards
the figure standing with an upraised cane at the mouth of the alley. She
followed that by running up the side of the building towards the sorcerer, drawing
her blades as she ran. A vortex of wind came whirling down the canyon of the
alley, tossing her spikes harmlessly about while knocking her violently back
down to the ground.

Crouching there in surprise Jinhao considered the man she had
been following with narrowed eyes. He was at least as powerful as Owen in
combat sorceries, she judged. She gripped the hilts of her swords tighter, readying
her next move.

“I have no quarrel with you woman,” he cried out. “I only need
to be sure that I killed your boyfriend, the Englishman. There is no profit in
us tangling. Let me get my proof and leave. There is nothing you can do for him
now.”

She was about to give him her answer to that with the edges of
her blades when the police whistle sounded behind him in the street. It was
quickly answered by others, and a deep male voice sounded to his attackers
left.

“Here now, sir! There is to be no unlicensed Magia workings in
this neighborhood!”

Snarling, the Sorcerer pointed his cane towards the voice. A
thin jet of flame shot from its tip, followed by a cry of pain. Turning back
towards Jinhao, he spat out, “Keep away from me!” He spun off down the street
at a run, the whistles growing louder as the policeman’s body was discovered by
a fellow officer.

Jinhao took to the shadows, quickly climbing up the side of the
alleyway to the rooftops. It would not do for her to be found near the burnt
corpse. Besides, there was Owen’s murderer to follow. After a time of casting
about, she had to admit that she had lost his trail. All the police milling
about like angry bees did not help. Dejected, she followed the rooftop highway
back to the mouth of the alley, where a small crowd had gathered. Even at this
time of night, the misfortune of others was a strong attractor.

From her vantage point overhead, she watched as a police van
pulled up, discharging a small knot of officious looking men in suits. The fat
one must be the police Sorcerer that Owen had told her about, another with a
doctor’s bag must be a coroner. After a few minutes, the two of them began some
sorcery over the body, while a tired looking man with a notebook and pencil
began talking to everyone.

Jinhao knew that the two men were not only preserving the body,
but making sure that it could not be re-animated by a Sorcerer of ill-intent.
She had never really understood the British taboo against death until Owen had
explained to her that a powerful enough Sorcerer could re-animate the corpse of
your dearest one and send it as a raving beast to attack. She shuddered at the
thought.

The tired man with the notebook must be a detective she
decided, even though he bore no resemblance to Inspector Gregg, Owen’s ally
among the police. Should she seek out Gregg to help her find Owen’s murderer
she wondered? No, the Sorcerer that had ambushed her had not been sure himself
that he had killed Owen, which meant her duty was still to find Owen if he was
alive. But how? As she absently scanned the growing crowd, a slow smile came to
her when she saw the inevitable street urchins. It must be a sign from the
Gods. Very well, she would call on
Him,
the one who the street urchins treated with reverence. Quickly,
Jinhao removed her sword harness, pulling out her night cloak.

The girl startled when the shadowy figure made the Dragon sign
to her for their place against the corner. Glancing around to be sure that no
one was watching her, the little girl slid over towards the figure. When the
shadows resolved into a woman in a cloak, she was doubly surprised. Jinhao
smiled at her surprise, holding out the small message tube.

“This must reach
Him
tonight,” Jinhao whispered, “Can you do this?”

The girl nodded wordlessly. Being a member of the
Eyes
meant not only extra food
and the occasional coin to make life bearable; it also meant total obedience to
whoever gave her the sign. While she had received the sign from a few strange
people, there was something intimidating about this woman that required
silence, as well as obedience.

“Good,” Jinhao said. A silver coin appeared outstretched
between her fingers. The girl made the coin vanish and scampered off down the
street. Jinhao watching her as she went.

The Eyes were the inspiration of the former intelligence chief
of Lohan, Dragon ruler of Hong Kong. Though the man was now dead, the urchins
still served as the wily old Dragons’ eyes and ears throughout the city as they
were able to go most anywhere and report on what they had seen. They also made
superb couriers who no one would suspect of carrying vital messages.

Jinhao sighed. Whether she wished to or not she would have to
deal with Grandfather if she wished to know if Owen was still alive and if so,
to find out where he was.

Chapter 10

Jinhao picked her way carefully over the vegetation
that threated to cover the trail completely
. Built to the Dragon
Lohan’s express design and covering what was formerly Cantonment Hill, Dragon
Park as the place was known, was a two mile spot of green in the center of the
city. It not only served as one of the Dragon’s favorite mediation places, it
did double-duty as a place where unofficial meetings could take place. Lohan’s
house at the top of the hill held too many prying eyes for Jinhao’s peace of
mind.

She had not gone back to the house that she had shared with
Owen Strong that night, but stayed in one of the small safe places she had made
for herself years ago throughout the city. When the fall of darkness came again,
she knew that Grandfather would be waiting for her.

~ ~ ~

Pausing at the end of the trail she looked
thoughtfully at the clearing lit with mage lights in paper lanterns
.

The Old Dragon sat on one of the stone benches in his human
guise. She had to admit he was imposing in his chosen form. He wore the seeming
of a hale but older man, with magnificent white mustaches that came to sharply
groomed points near his chest. He was dressed in layers of green and gold silk that
shimmered in the light.

“You may come out Granddaughter. We are quite alone,” he
announced without looking at her.

“Thank you for meeting with me Grandfather,” Jinhao replied,
stepping into the clearing. She refused to be surprised. He was trying already
to push her off balance with his tricks of perception, but she would not be
moved.

“Thank you for your message, Granddaughter. It is always a joy
to hear from one’s children. One of the few joys of old age. Please sit.” Lohan
pointed to the place on the ground where some servant had set a large cushion.
Jinhao walked towards the cushion, stopping to stand above it. If she sat,
Lohan would be higher than her thus dominating the conversation.

“I thank you Grandfather,’ she replied with a bow, remaining
standing. “I trust that you are in good health and good fortune.”

“Bah,” the dragon waved a hand as if shooing away flies. “The
British Governor and the Imperial Satrap are at each other’s throats again, but
that is hardly new. I could wish for the old days when I could safely send
their severed heads back to the thrones they claimed to serve, but those days
are gone. Now it would only lead to a messy war.”

“But you are not here to talk about that,” he said. His eyes
narrowed as looked up at her. “You are as stubborn as your sister and will give
me a crooked neck standing like that you know. Why are you here?”

“Forgive me Grandfather, but I have pulled a muscle and must
not sit on the ground,” Jinhao replied regretfully. It was not true, and she
knew that he knew it was not, but politeness counted almost as much as truth
with the Han.

“As to why I am here, I come as a humble supplicant. I fear
that my companion, Owen Strong, has run afoul of evil.” She proceeded to tell
him the circumstances of Owen’s mysterious disappearance and the foreign Sorcerer
in the alley.

The old man listened gravely then shook his head, “And what
would you have of me? You have placed yourself on a strange path with this
worthless Britisher.”

Jinhao straightened her back.

“The people of Hong Kong need a champion, Grandfather. One who
will not care about their wealth or status, one who will walk into the darkness
for them. You have spent too long upon that hilltop of yours. When was the last
time you even came within touching distance of one of the street classes?”

“And you believe that this man Strong is that person?” Jinhao
could see the red flames dance in the old man’s eyes, and feared that she had
gone too far. Still she knew it would be worse if she backed down now.

“Yes,” she said baldly. “The age where the people’s heroes are
semi-divine has come to an end. I believe what will unite the British and Han
people of this city is a hero that both people can see themselves in. And this
will bring the two closer together as you have worked for all these years.”

“Hrumph,” the old man made a dismissive sound. “I remain
unconvinced. Again Granddaughter I ask, what would you have me do about your
situation?”

“I know that you can sense every emanation of what the British
call
Magia
throughout the city. I am sure that Owen Strong gives forth a
powerful emanation. I simply wish to know if he is alive and where he may be.”

“You know not what you ask,” the old man replied. “You should
be able to do this small thing yourself if you would quit being so stubborn.”

“I thank you, Grandfather,” she bowed shortly to him, “but I am
not ready for such a commitment.”

“Hrumph,” the old man said again. He squeezed his eyes closed.
Jinhao waited patiently and quietly. Finally he opened his eyes again. “Your Sorcerer
is alive and in the dockside area.”

She let out a breath that she did not know she was holding in.
He
was alive
, she thought in relief.

“Where is he,” she asked. “The
dockside area
is quite a large place. Can you not
be more specific?”

“No, I cannot,” he snapped at her. She saw the flames in his
eyes again. After a moment, they vanished as the old man shrugged in his robes.
“Perhaps I can tell more upon meditation, should I choose to waste my time,” he
allowed.

“That would be a great aid to me,” she replied sincerely. She
bowed more deeply to him.

“Have you considered that this Britisher may simply not wish
you to find him?” The dragon asked pointedly.

“I have,” Jinhao replied stiffly. “I have reason to believe
that is not the case.”

“There is no harm in caring for a mortal,” he said, squinting
at her is if he could divine the truth of her replies. “I found caring for your
Grandmother most satisfying.”

“It is not like that with Owen Strong,” she said swiftly. “I
simply believe that he is the man we most wish to encourage. It would be a
waste of my time for him to die now.” She turned her head to one side regarding
him. “You have never spoken of Grandmother before.”

“Nor shall I now,” he replied briskly. “You now owe me a debt.
Do you acknowledge it freely?”

Jinhao hesitated. To acknowledge that she owed a debt to the Dragon
was a chancy proposition. She had worked hard to be free of the Dragon’s sphere
of power.

“I shall not serve you as I once did,” she declared.

“Nor would I ask that you do,” the dragon replied with a
strange smile. “Still, you have acknowledged the debt. I shall call upon you
sometime in the future. See that you remember it.” He waved a hand. “Now you
may go.”

She startled at the abrupt dismissal, until she recalled that
this was Lohan’s way. She bowed the bow of child to elder.

“Grandfather,” she murmured. Then turned away to thread her way
back though the wilderness to the city that surrounded the park. The old man,
who was anything but a man, remained behind.

Chapter 11

“You did not practice your lessons last night!”
Owen
Strong looked at the girl and sighed. “How do you ever expect to succeed at
this if you do not do them?”

“But it’s only been two days!” Mary protested. “So I didn’t do
the stupid exercises last night! It shouldn’t matter that much!”

“You think not?” Owen twirled his cane. “Do you really believe
that you are ready to face the energies your blood can call forth? That you can
control them? Make them do your bidding?”

“I managed just fine without you and your stupid exercises
before!” Mary cried. Between her clenched fists a glow and the flicker of
firelight began to grow.

“Then look to your hands, girl” Owen snapped.

Mary held up her hands. Her face was a study in shock as the
flames pooled in her palms. She screamed and tried to fling the flames off her
hands. Fire dripped off them in globules. Owen quickly called on his own
affinity for the water element through his tattoo and channeled it down his
electrum cane, dousing the flames.

“No, no,” he cried. “Center yourself, Mary! Breathe from the
center point of your belly, breathe!” The girl did so, the flames in her hands
gradually dimming back to flickers, then stopping as if blown out by some wind.
Mary stood up straight, eyes closed, hands at her side.

“That is the way of it Mary,” Owen crooned at her softly,
almost hypnotically, watching her very closely. “Breathe in, and as you breathe
out see the fire run down into the earth, harmless and inert. You are the
master of the fire, the fire is not the master of you!”

The girl had both power and the will to harness it, Owen had to
admit. She belonged in a school with a Master of the Elements to aid her in
learning true sorcery, not in an abandoned warehouse learning a fire caller’s
tricks. Still, he knew that if he had not come along Mary might well now be
dead, the Fire turning inwards and burning her alive. He promised himself that
he would see her to a true school. In the meantime, it wouldn’t do to let up on
her . . .  she could still harm herself or those around her.

“That’s right, Mary,” Owen directed in the same soothing voice,
“and now you can open your eyes and still be centered.” The young woman opened
her eyes.

“But I didn’t do anything,” she cried. The flames licked up
around her head like a halo. She bit her lower lip and concentrated. The flames
dropped away harmlessly.

“Still think that you can ‘manage just fine’,” he asked
sardonically. “Your power will not let you be lazy on this you know. It will
manifest whether you wish it or not. I warned you of this,” he said gravely.

“Am I to understand that being a Sorcerer means that you hold
all five elements in your body? How do you ever, manage?” she asked, with a
quiver in her voice.

“You learn,” Owen replied. He shrugged, “Control becomes second-nature
to you with time and practice. I do not even think on it these days. It is much
like the muscles you use to walk, or to pick something up with. The muscles are
always there, but you are not constantly running.” He pulled back the sleeves
of his right arm. Mary gasped at the line of scar tissue that ran ruler
straight down it. “I began as a fire caller. This is the result of not
practicing my lessons.
You
must learn.”

“But you told me that you needed your focus,” she nodded
towards his cane, “to make the elemental energies manifest. How can I do that
without one?”

“Most simple talents do not require that one undergo Sorcery
training to master them. Your connection to the Source of All is limited, as is
the power that you can manifest, whereas mine is not.” Owen smiled at her. “It
would not do for me to immolate my cab driver just because he drove recklessly,
no matter how angry I get at him.”

“Then the Focuses and the Tattoos and all that are just mental
tricks?” she asked.

“No,” Owen shook his head vehemently. “They are real tools that
enable sorcerers to wield the unthinkable power of the elements without harm.
You are not surprised when a train driver wears thick gloves and goggles to
protect his hands and eyes, are you?” Mary shook her head mutely. Owen nodded.

“Well, the same thing is true of Sorcerers,” he said. Your
gift, and it is a gift never doubt that, is simply the birthright that we all
share. It does not require the specialized technique of the Sorcerer to use.
Very few people have the Gifts to that degree.” And those that do usually
belong to one of the Noble families, he thought to himself. That Mary was some
by-blow of the branch of a great tree, he had no trouble believing.

He was under the impression that Mary had been abandoned as an
infant as had the rest of Mike’s little gang, left to die on the streets. That
the Han still practiced such cruelty towards their own children was not really
surprising to Owen. That solid Englishmen had taken the practice up made him
quite literally see red. He kept his outrage to himself. Such would
butter no parsnips
as his nurse
used to say. He gestured towards the makeshift chairs of over-turned buckets
that served as his sitting parlor.

“But enough of that,” he said, flicking the cuffs of his black
peasant tunic, his cane upright between his knees. “Now recite for me the Five
Elements of Sorcery.”

“Earth, Air, Fire, Water, Spirit,” she chanted promptly.

“Very good,” Owen said. “Now what are the properties of each
Element?”

“
Fire
, that’s my element,” Mary said shyly, “is the
easiest called and the hardest to control. It warms us from the sun and the
fire in the earth.
Water
is its opposite.” As Mary droned on Owen tried
to look attentive. He had learned these things in common school when he was
seven.

When Mike came to get them for the communal supper, Mary
skipped ahead while Owen hung back to walk with Mike. When Owen had learned
that Mike took in the girls abandoned to death as infants or very young girls,
his attitude towards the young man had shifted somewhat. Granted, he was
teaching them how to steal, but at least he was teaching them how to steal well
and survive. Still they did not end up in some crib used for some person’s foul
lust, a practice that Owen knew occurred often enough in Hong Kong. This was a
source of relief to Owen as he needed a refuge to hide out in, and he had
worked hard to cultivate his captors towards that end.

In the same way, Mike’s attitude towards Owen had shifted. Once
Owen had convinced him that he really intended to stay and cause no trouble,
Mike had given him back his cane, furnishing Owen with another set of clothes,
the tunic, coat, and loose pants that everyone seemed to wear. He even began
calling him
Sha-Tui,
which Owen understood to be a sort of nick name
meaning ‘tall man’.  Although Owen barely stood five foot eight inches in
height, compared to the rest of them he was indeed a ‘tall man.’ That Mike had
some ulterior motive Owen had no doubt—that was the way the game was played.
Still when his purpose was revealed, it was a bit of a shock.