Chapter 3: Act II: Of Local Dead and Local Gods

OF LOCAL DEAD AND LOCAL GODS

ACT TWO

 

Hạnh over-committed, still motion-sick from lagtime, and was cracked over the shoulder for it. She managed to kick away one assailant, and was grabbed from behind, the baton braced against Liu’s neck. She was fast, and Liu was tall, but her proprioception was shot and moving felt like it took a few moments before actions moved through her limbs.

One of the cloaked attackers raised his baton to strike her while she was held by the man behind her. She kicked up towards his face, then hooked a leg over his elbow, pulling him down to the floor as she yanked forward, before unwinding the leg to kick him across the face to send him tumbling down in a tangle of black fabric. Her only advantage, besides Liu’s reach, was that her assailants wore cloaks, which she knew were a bitch to fight in.

The man behind her adjusted his grip, and she knocked her head backwards to break his nose, then ducked below his arm, twisting to plant one of Liu’s sharp elbows in his ribcage before grabbing the collar of his cloak and using the momentum to crash him into the ground with the loud CRACK of sprained ribs and the wheeze of wind being knocked from someone’s lungs.

Another attacker lunged forward, and Hạnh ducked backwards, realizing too late that they were holding a knife, leaving a cut across Liu’s cheek that Hạnh was sure she’d catch hell for from Sun. Hạnh placed a hand over the attacker’s knife hand and braced her other against their inner elbow, pushing forward until the elbow braced against Liu’s shoulder and the arm of the attacker was bent at a sorely painful angle. The knife clattered to the floor as the cloaked assailant’s joints were locked, leaving them gasping in pain and reaching unsuccessfully to try and free themselves with their other hand. The others rose to their feet, brandishing their batons and knives, and Hạnh prepared to snap the elbow to fight futher, when—

“Chuò!” Someone from deeper within the temple shouted, and everyone froze.

Well, Hạnh froze, the others merely held their stances. The attacker still stuck in Hạnh’s joint lock was squirming in pain, but quieted down a bit. Hạnh found she couldn’t move a muscle in Liu’s body—it took her a moment before she realized that it was not any bit of foreign magic, but Liu herself resuming temporary control. The cut on her cheek oozed blood, and Hạnh wondered if Liu could feel the fat drops welling up and crawling down her cheek as well. It tickled and itched, and she wanted badly to wipe it, along with the beads of sweat pouring down Liu’s face, stinging where they touched the wound.

She still felt Liu's lungs pulling, Liu’s heart hammering, her brain thrumming with electricity and her adrenal still pumping enough hormones to power an army into her blood. Liu’s controlled breathing was driving Hạnh crazy—her lungs burned, her muscles and blood and brain burned for oxygen. But Liu steadily replied, once again in the foreign language. Hạnh recognized it as an Imperial tongue of the southern territories that the Bukian sisters called home. Hạnh had never learned it herself; the kingdom she grew up in no longer existed, but she knew that they still spoke the Axe language in her homeland, despite it becoming part of the Empire years before her own death.

Caught in her own thoughts, she had barely realized that the voice in the back of the temple had not only replied, but was having a conversation with Liu. It felt strange, having someone speak through what felt like your own mouth. She felt as though she should pay attention—she caught a few familiar words here and there—but found the sensation of being trapped in Liu’s body without being able to move too strange to listen in. And the cut on Liu’s cheek was really starting to bug her.

Finally, Liu said: “I think my Aeolan is a lot better than your Bahk-wá, Aetas. Or, at least, his Aeolan.”

“So, you found Lykomedes after all. It’s strange to hear you speak such clear Aeolan, and in his posh Glaukarian accent.” The goddess replied, stepping into the shaft of moonlight that poured from the doorway. She was stunningly beautiful, a bit older than Liu, perhaps—it was hard to tell with westerners. She was dressed in a simple priestess’s chiton, but even without the stephanic diadem of gold that sat upon her brown curly hair, Hạnh could tell she was divine. Her eyes were stormy gray, and moving, the irises a cloudy hurricane spinning around each pupil. There were even occasional flashes of lightning between the clouds. “But we aren’t alone, are we? I’m sorry you fell victim to a trap not laid for you. I will explain if your spirit releases my bodyguard.”

As suddenly as control had been wrested away from Hạnh, it returned, Liu’s spirit retreating from her limb. Hạnh dropped the cloaked attacker, who cradled their very strained elbow close to them. She wiped Liu’s face across her sleeve, sighing at the comfort.

“You’re the fighter she picked up in one of the southern kingdoms.” Aetas said, with a slightly deferential head-tilt of respect.

It was still weird to have the entire language ripped from Lykomedes’ spirit and stitched into Liu’s brain—weirder still to be able to speak it. “That’s right,” Hạnh replied, wobbly with the sudden control over Liu’s gangly limbs, “Châu Phương Hạnh, at your service.” She bowed, a little hastily. “Have we met?” She knew it was a stupid question, but in her defense, she was only working with about half of Liu’s oxygen-starved brain.

“I haven’t met you directly, but you’ve been in one of my temples before. In Glaukaria. I believe Liu was too exhausted to summon you at the time.” The goddess said, stepping closer. She was startlingly pretty, and nothing at all like Sun had described. “I am Aetas, the goddess of sea winds and storms,” she said, which was very obvious from the everything of her.

“O-oh.” Hạnh said awkwardly. “Uh, I didn’t beat up your bodyguards, did I?”

“I am under no threat of harm while you’re around, noble Hạnh.” She smiled, and Hạnh realized how dizzy and exhausted she was. It must have been from the fight.

“Right, well, I should be going. I’m…I’ll leave you and Liu to it.” Hạnh managed to say, with the tremendous effort of drawing Liu up to a proper height. Liu was thankfully able to take the hint, and rescued Hạnh by retaking control of her body. One of the conveniences of being dead was the ability to escape awkward situations at will.

The goddess waited politely for Liu to recompose herself before asking: “Well, Miss Liu, what brings you to my temple tonight? It certainly can’t be to apprise me of the binding of Magus Lykomedes, or you would have done so at my temple in Glaukaria.” Her tone was a bit ruffled as she picked up an empty lantern beside the altar in the temple atrium and lit it with a breath. Its flame was a haunting blue-green, the color of balefire, and cast wicked shadows across the painted friezes on the walls.

Liu followed her, wiping her mouth (she had succeeded in not retching in the atrium of the temple), waving away Sun before her sister's ghost could start worrying over the cut on her cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t return to say goodbye. I received…summons.”

“From an authority higher than a goddess of the sky?”

“Yes, from a god of the land.” She said, making sure not to knock over the offerings that had been stacked up on the sides of the grand hall of the temple. “From my homeland.” She added quickly, remembering at how jealous and petty gods could be.

“Ah, well, the gods of one’s homeland would take priority. I understand.” Aetas said. She didn’t sound like she understood, and Liu gave Sun a panicked look—her older sister was better with social cues.

Sun shook her head, which was not especially helpful, so Liu simply cleared her throat quietly and tried to sound contrite. “It was urgent. There’s a ghost in the city that’s become malevolent, and is on its way to becoming a demon.”

“Yes. It’s killed again tonight. I taste human blood on the wind.” Aetas said, sitting down on a small couch in front of a mural of some big fish monster, a sea god or whatever. Liu wasn’t an art critic, but it looked way too simple to have a mural of its size. Aetas patted the seat next to her on the couch, and Liu took the seat, and, not knowing what to do with her hands, fisted them up at the hem of her magua like a child before Sun’s needling glare forced her to sit on them. Luckily, Aetas was still staring at the mural, as if it would come to life for her if only she studied it close enough. “That’s its sixth victim this month. The local Civil Authority is convinced it’s ten, but they’re confusing the phantom’s murders with a serial killers’.” She sighed, before adding: “Messy business all around,” sotto voce.

“You know which murders are the ghost and which are the serial killer, but you won’t tell the Civil Authority?” Liu asked, furrowing her brow. She didn’t like using words like ‘phantom’ to describe malevolent spirits. Ghosts were ghosts, and taxonomy only adds to their power: it’s easier to be killed by a ghost if you believe its legend.

“The Civil Authority are out of my hands, they’re technically priests of another god. Interfering with their investigation would lead to…” She chuckled, “Bad ichor between us means I can’t interfere in their investigation, especially as a minor god of few namesakes. As with all of our affairs, it boils down to politics.”

“Say what you will about the Empire, at least they’re efficient.” Liu said, “Stopping the formation of a demon and catching a serial murderer is more important than local divine politics.”

“To humans, it is. To the gods, politics above all else. Besides, the Empire has their own gods. If you prefer the Empire so much, why do you spend all your time on this side of the treaty zone?” Aetas asked playfully.

“I’m not here by choice.” Liu said somberly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” Aetas said, touching Liu’s shoulder. She acted so mortal sometimes that Liu could almost be fooled into liking her. She knew her spirits had already been dazzled by the whirlwind.

“It’s fine, I have work here anyway, from my own god.” Liu said, touching the cut at her cheek. It had closed over already, Aetas healing her without her even knowing. She needed to get in the habit of using Lykomedes’ powers more often, she never knew what other magic the goddess could be casting on her.

“Why is an Imperial god so concerned with a demon in Kios? Certainly it can’t care about Aeolan innocents?”

“It’s not an Imperial god. Its previous covenants predate the dynasty; it doesn’t even have a recorded gei-tung that I know of. It’s a beast god of raw wild magic. Its only concern here is apparently to return a favor to the god of the lagoon that this city was build on.”

“Kios is a rather old city. Your patron must be quite ancient. I wonder what power you can get from it.” Aetas’s category five eyes sparkled with lightning and interest, and she leaned uncomfortably close.

Liu shifted until she was pressed into the corner of the couch. “It’s not my patron. I don’t even know its name. I only made one covenant with it, when I was younger and more foolish, and through great costs I fulfilled the contract I don’t want to owe it anything again. I’d rather not owe any god anything.”

“So, you’re at the beck and call of a land god, and you’re not even using any of the raw power at its disposal?” Aetas smiled sweetly, pityingly, at Liu.

“What would I use it for? I’m a spirit magician—and not one from a dynasty school, either. I borrowed its power once, and hopefully I’ll never need to again.”

“So you let this ancient thing boss you all about the Aeolan League without forcing it into a deal? You’re like a hero from the old days, aren’t you? I knew a handsome young hero from the east like you once, a few centuries ago, who would slay whatever monster I pointed him at and all he ever asked for in return was a kiss on the cheek. It’s a romantic idea, only, I don’t see the pragmatic young Liu Bukian doing such cheap heroism for a land god.” Aetas giggled at the idea.

Liu smiled. “Hey, I didn’t say I wasn’t brokering deals just because I’m not forging a covenant. I’m paid almost entirely in acorns.”

At this, the goddess laughed outright, and cool gusts of wind flowed through the room with her peals of lovely laughter. The wind felt like a summer’s breeze and smelled of ocean mist. “Acorns!” She said, pressing her fingers to her chest, “The favor of a god older than man is paid in acorns!” She suddenly stopped laughing, and leaned close to Liu, close enough to press her back into the corner of the couch. “Liu Bukian, I could grant you such favors, if you were my supplicant. Would fashion you powers you cannot comprehend, knowledge that would make you the envy of any sorcerer, both within the borders of the Empire and without. I remember the age of wild magic, the savage sorceries of the ages before metal and guns and swords. You could be a demigod of the wind, if only you swore yourself to me, and when you died I would scar the heavens with your spirit to live on forever, Liu.” The goddess was breathing heavily, her swirling eyes shining with a frightful excitement.

Liu, swallowed, exhaled, and swallowed again. “My lady Aetas…I’m sorry, I cannot serve you.” She said, hoarsely. Then, “I’m not sure why you would even want me.”

“I have a good eye for talent,” Aetas smiled gently, “You’re such a young master of spirit magic. The winds themselves are spirits…if you could learn to read them, the way you can manipulate and carry spirits of your own…you would find such a destiny as a disciple of the tempest, Liu. I’m sure there are things I could learn from you myself.”

“So, you want access to my foreign spirit magic? Or perhaps the land god itself?”

Aetas laughed again. “Cynical to a fault. Do you find the possibility so remote that I may simply like you as a person? Not everyone here is so afraid of foreigners as they were in Glaukaria. I think you’d like it here in Kios. My influence is greater here in a port city, and together we could push the limits of magic. You could help me rise among the Aeolan gods, and with more leverage in the pantheon, I could stop murders, ghosts...with your powers, and perhaps those of your land god, I could be nigh omniscient. Just think of all the good I could do, all of the power we would have.” Aetas almost trembled next to Liu.

“I’m afraid I can’t.” Liu said, standing up.

“You owe me a debt. My generosity isn’t worthless. I took in a foreigner into my care, when there are plenty of Aeolan people who could have used my help, or a bed in my temple. I could consider it grounds for a covenant.”

Liu looked down at her shoes in the dying green light that illuminated the room. She said, “You won’t.”

“What’s stopping me?”

“You had no intention of using me when you first gave me shelter. You did it as an act of kindness. That’s why, despite how important your influence is, you’ll never make it as a major god, or a politician.” Liu said. “Not for a lack of ambition, but for a lack of cruelty. It’s why you’ll help me find this malevolent spirit. You’re too kind; I see it, even in your terrible eyes.”

There was a long silence between them as the lamplight sputtered, buffeted by the invisible winds that fed it. Those terrible tempest eyes bored a painful gaze into Liu’s. They stared at each other for a while, unblinking, before the goddess turned her face down and smiled. “Perhaps I am too kind, to let you walk all over me like that." She sighed, then inhaled sharply, clapping her hands on her thighs. "If I help you catch this ghost, will you consider staying here, in Kios? At least for a while?”

“I’m sorry, my lady. I can’t stand the humidity, anyway.”

The goddess laughed, “Because you dress in so many layers!” She looked back up at Liu. “You would look so handsome in a chiton, like a romantic hero of old.”

Liu held onto the hem of her changshan childishly tight. “I don’t think that would be proper. Aeolan clothing is too revealing for my tastes, and I don’t want to stay just to remind you of your old crush.” She said, a little colder than she had intended.

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“As you wish.” The goddess rose from the couch, eye level with Liu. “Then how can I help you?”

“Tonight, I need a bed.”

“Naturally.”

“But tomorrow, I intend to go after the malevolent spirit. I need to catch it, before it becomes a demon. As for the other killer…” Liu mused, placing a hand on her chin.

“I believe the killer and the ghost are related. The murderer has been going after priests, and had even trespassed and killed someone in the temple across from mine.”

“Hence your bodyguards at the entrance.” Liu said. “Why didn’t the guards posted at the front stop me?”

“I want to catch the killer, alive. Nobody targets gods without a bad reason. They need to be interrogated.”

“Why do you think the killer and the ghost are related?”

Aetas winked coyly. “I have my ways,” She said. “Godly intuition isn’t something to be sniffed at. The wind carries away pieces of everything…I know every wind in the archipelago, their names, their voices. My estimations are often better than most people’s knowledge.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Liu said. She was coming to several realizations about Aetas, and wasn’t sure she liked them.

“I will grant you a mark of special dispensation when you leave tomorrow morning. If you help find and seal the ghost, I could still use it to prove that the leadership of the Civil Authority is incompetent. If you allow me to take the credit, of course.”

“I’d trade you a lot better in exchange for a soft bed and shelter, my lady.” Liu said.

“Then we have a deal. There should be a free room at the end of the north hallway. Sleep well, Liu.”

Liu bowed, and picked up her bags from the floor. She picked up the lantern with her free hand, knowing that the goddess did not need the light to see by, and turned to leave down the north hallway, when the goddess called out behind her.

“Liu. Don’t underestimate the Civil Authority, or their searchmen. They resist local interference at any turn—they’ll resist a foreigner even harder. Appeal to their sense of justice and strength, not their logic.”

“That’s always a good sign…” Liu said, sotto voce, as she walked down the hall to her room. One final, quiet laugh from the tempest goddess bid her to a small room, with a floor covered in bedrolls, blankets and pillows. She yawned, and set down her bags to the floor, kneeling on a pallet of blankets. Before she could blow out the lantern, it sputtered away into nothingness, blown by an unseen gust. Liu set it aside, pulled off her magua and kicked off her shoes, and fell face-first onto the pallet, rolling herself up in a blanket, too tired to even change her clothes. Sun manifested beside her, still in the same bloodied clothes she was murdered in. They both stared up at the low ceiling of the room, Liu’s breathing slowly beginning to come in even gasps, and the ache of Hạnh’s fight came to her all at once, bruising her body over as the adrenaline bled from her bloodstream, replaced with exhaustion and soreness. She felt sleep slowly begin to claim her.

“Hey Liu.” Sun whispered hoarsely into the night, like she had when they were still children, “Liu. Are you awake?”

“I am now. What is it?” Liu whispered back, irascible.

Sun nestled herself closer to her sister. They could not share warmth, but the approximation was still nice, Sun thought. “I’ve lost track of time.”

Liu sighed. “That’s a complication of being dead that I thought you’d be used to by now.”

“But I really tried to keep track since last time you reminded me. When is it? At home.”

“The same time it is here, give or take a few hours from the distance. Why?”

“No, no, in the imperial calendar. I can’t get the local one straight. How long has it been? Since…” Sun trailed off, trying to hook her sister’s hair in her finger, an absentminded gesture that had been so ingrained in them from youth that Liu didn’t mind it, and Sun pretended that she could still loop her fingers into her sister’s hair. Liu sighed deeply, shutting her eyes. Sun resisted the urge to ask if she had fallen asleep, and after a few minutes, Liu opened her eyes, her calculus complete.

“It’s five days before the first new moon of the Orchid month. Happy?”

“What year?” Sun asked. Liu stared at her sister for a moment, searching for a hint of sarcasm in her eyes. She found only the familiar desperation of the dead out of time.

“One-hundred and sixty-seventh year of the dynasty.” Liu said.

Sun turned back up to face the ceiling. “Good. I was afraid—wait, sixty-seventh?”

“Yes.”

“And it’s nearly the Orchid month?”

“Yes.”

“Liu!” Sun hissed, turning to her sister sharply. “You’re older than me!”

“What? No.”

“Well, older than I was when I died. Oh gods, you’re almost two months older than I was when I died. I’m the younger sister now.”

“That isn’t at all how it works.” Liu said.

“Twenty-five, Liu. You’ve never even been on a date.”

“I’m well aware of that, Sun. Mostly because I’ve had this big annoying growth eating away at me since I was nineteen, like a second head or a hump. It’s a real turn-off for potential suitors.”

“Twenty-five…” Sun continued, turning to look at the ceiling. “Will I have to stay the same as I watch you wither into old age? Will I still have to take care of you when you’re old and wrinkly like grandma when she passed away?”

“Between the amount of ghosts I’m host to and the line of work we’re in, I highly doubt I’ll make it to grandmother’s age.”

“I don’t want you to die, Liu.” Sun said.

“I know Sun. I didn’t want you to die, either.” Liu said. Her voice wavered a bit, and it was hard for Sun to tell if it was from exhaustion or emotion. “I’ll make up for it, though. I promise.”

“Just live a good, long life, that’s enough for me.” Sun said, closing her eyes and experimentally trying to remember what dying felt like.

“I’ll try and do you one better, but in the meantime, we both need to sleep.” Liu said, turning on her side, away from her sister’s spirit. Sun stared at her sister’s back.

“Hey Liu?”

“Yeah Sun?”

“I’ve decided that, now that I’m the younger sister, I’m going to be a lot more immature.”

“Fantastic, Sun,” Liu said, drawing the blanket further up her bruised shoulder, “I’m really glad to hear that.”

“Liu?”

“Yeah Sun?”

“You didn’t tell me we’d missed your birthday. Now I have to get you a gift.”

“You really don’t. You’d be spending my money anyway.”

“I’m getting you a gift.”

“Alright Sun. Good night.”

“Good night Liu.” Sun said, and faded into sleep, or something similar.

 

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