Chapter 4: Act III: Of Local Dead and Errant Children

ACT THREE

Of Local Dead and Errant Children

 

Liu Bukian woke from a dream about death, which she often dreamt about, feeling tired, which she often felt waking up. Her mouth tasted like tea. She was dressed in clean clothes—her usual black changshan—and was seated in front of a low table, where two cooling cups sat. She thought for a moment that she was still dreaming, that she was home. Her sister sat down next to her, and Liu turned to greet her, but saw the blood-stained wedding qipao that her sister wore, always wore, and nearly burst into tears at remembering.

“Good morning, Liu. Aetas’s priestesses brought us breakfast, and you weren’t awake yet, so I took the liberty of getting ready.” Sun said cheerfully.

Liu rubbed her face, and cleared her throat. “My hair’s wet.” She said, turning back to the table and reaching for the cup of tea on it. Sun said, “Aetas sent along some bath vouchers, and I wasn’t going to miss out on a hot bath, even though the public ones here in Kios aren’t nearly as big as the ones in Glaukaria.”

“I hope you know she’s counting each cost we make of her.” Liu took a sip of tea. It had been sweetened, which was nasty, but she needed the energy. She passed the aftertaste off to Hạnh, whose soul burbled graciously, even though she didn’t care to instantiate, still sleeping off the fight that ached in Liu’s body. Lykomedes paced behind them, looking concerned. He kept adjusting his bloodstained toga, and muttering to himself.

“Aetas is a goddess, she’s a bit above counting costs. Especially in a port city like Kios, she’s absolutely loaded here. You missed her, by the way, she came for tea and talk when I got us back from the bath. I’m surprised she didn’t try to come with us, she seems to fancy you.”

Liu chugged the last of the tea, placing the empty cup on her table. “Unlikely. I think she sees a rare opportunity in me. She knows about the demon, and she now knows about the land god. That, along with father’s magic, is too good something to pass up in a land full of power-hungry gods.”

“You don’t need to be such a cynic, Liu.” said Sun, now wearing her best ‘negotiator’ voice. “She likes you, and well, you’ve never even been with anybody else before.”

“That’s private information, Sun.” Liu said while Lykomedes snickered behind her.

“And she’s rich, she’s powerful, she’s got a future, she’s a goddess, both in the literal sense and the not-so-literal. By the gods, Liu, her corpus here in Kios is really quite easy on the eyes, you must have noticed that. I might be a bit sweet on her myself.”

“You’re sweet on everyone with nice teeth and a little bit of power. It’s partly the reason you got killed.” Liu said, reaching across the small table for the half-drunk cup of tea Aetas had left. It was cold and sweet, but she still needed the energy. Sun sat for a moment, frowning at something, and Liu watched her intently from the corner of her eye. Then Sun said, “I suppose so. But you could also stand to be a little bit exploited by a rich, beautiful, older goddess, sometime, especially if you make her laugh and remind her of better days.”

“I won’t be a whim, and I won’t be a hero. I’ll be master of my own life, thank you very much, Sun.” Liu said defiantly before chugging the second cup of tea. This taste she shunted off to Lykomedes, who did not stop his pacing to thank her. He was chewing the knuckle of his index finger, hard enough to draw blood if he weren’t a spirit projection.

“You’re certainly playing hero for a land god.” Sun said.

“That’s different. We have history.”

“You have history with Aetas! We could have gone to the imperial embassy in Glaukaria, or a road god, but you searched her out, because fair winds had favored our parents and you thought you might get lucky with a wind goddess. Well, here you are, and you’re not using your chance to get lucky with her in another sense.” Sun said, wiggling her eyebrows in a criminally lascivious way.

“These foreign gods don’t work like the ones back home. They’re not bound to families or covenant or lands. They’re more like us, more like humans, and there’s nothing I trust less than living human beings.”

“I agree with Liu.” Lykomedes said suddenly.

“Thank you.”

The ex-magus nodded. “No goddess would try to get with a pole-proportioned virago like Liu Bukian without an ulterior motive. She definitely wants something more than your body or mind, given that both are wasted away from all the dead people in your head, which is likely not a turn-on either.”

“Piss off, Lykomedes.” Sun said, before patting her sister’s shoulder. “You’re a catch, Liu. You can be an awkward bitch sometimes, but hey, all the more reason to jump on this opportunity while you can. You’re definitely not getting any younger, especially now that you’re older than me.”

“Thanks, you two. Really lifting my spirits.” Liu said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Was that a…pun? Gods, you really are tired.” Sun stood. “We’d best get on with our day then. Up and at em! We have a ghost to catch.”

Liu groaned, and rose to her feet, picking up her magua from the ground and shaking it onto her shoulders, roughly messing with her hair so that it didn’t lie the way her sister had meticulously combed it. Sun scowled, but only said, “Check your pocket. Aetas gave me—us—you, a seal that should get you past the Civil Authority cordon. Y’know, as long as they don’t look too close at it.”

Liu pulled the chunky brass seal from her pocket. It fit neatly within her hand, and it was engraved with a few grand symbols that meant nothing to her. “What cordon?” She asked.

Sun said, “Oh! Around the murder victims, of course!”

 

Liu walked through the Kionian streets, glancing furtively at the shops setting up along the sides of the main road in the cool morning sun, the market setting up for the busy day-work of the port city. Everyone was dressed for the coming heat of midday, and a few of them gave sideways glances at her black jacket and trousers. She chewed her lip, nervous from examination, and whispered, “Lykomedes, tell me how to blend in.”

“Go back to the temple and ask to borrow some normal clothes?” said the spirit striding next to her.

She flared her nostrils. “Not an option. I’m not dressing like that.”

“Don’t be such a prude, I’m telling you what you need to do for people not to stare. Why are you even wearing all black in the summertime? Is that normal for imperials?”

“No, she’s always dressed like that. She’s just a little ray of sunshine.” Sun answered. “I bet I could have rocked one of these chitons. We both have the gams for it, sis.”

“Stow it, Sun. I’m looking to blend in, not to show off my…gams.” Liu growled. “Lykomedes, I need local social protocols, not fashion advice from someone who is twenty years dead.”

Lykomedes stopped, canted his hips, and made a face like he had eaten something sour. He began to say something, but apparently reconsidered it, instead beginning with: “Well to start, you need to stop bowing on reflex. I’ve noticed you bow your head whenever someone is talking when you want them to hurry up and finish. You look impatient when you do it, and impatience is rude here.”

“It’s because your language is so inconvenient. Say what you will about Imperial Vulgar, it is at least practical—”

“And another thing,” Lykomedes continued, heedless of interruption, “You don’t make enough eye contact.”

“Because staring is rude, even I know that.”

“Don’t stare into their soul, just…look at their face, blink a bit. If your eyes are downcast all the time people think you’re a coward. If you always shift your eyes, people think you’re untrustworthy. And smile more, you look so gloomy. Here, give us a smile.” Liu smiled, and Lykomedes rubbed at his temples. “Awful, horrible,” He said.

“Don’t listen to him, Liu, you have a great smile.” Sun said encouragingly.

“No, you don’t. It’s like a grimace. It looks like you’re hurting. Try again, with teeth this time.”

Liu said, “I don’t smile with teeth.” And Lykomedes said, “Just try it,” and so Liu smiled, with teeth, and it drew a reaction from both Lykomedes and Sun like they had just opened a bag of laundry to find it full of snakes.

“Alright, yeah, no. You don’t smile with teeth. Go back to the grimace.” Lykomedes sighed.

“I’ll try to get some local clothes later.” Liu relented. “If I have to.”

Sun cheered, and Lykomedes opened his mouth to say something else sarcastic, but they were interrupted by a tugging at Liu’s sleeve. “Excuse me, Miss?” asked a small voice from below. Liu whirled around, ripping Hạnh from her resting state and preparing to overlap, her fist cocked back to fight. Hạnh caught herself before Liu could loose the strike into the face of a small child behind her, and Liu’s arm shook with the overlap of souls fighting for control of it. She relaxed, minutely.

The child had stepped back, bumping into a dog that had loped up behind them. Liu wrinkled her nose at the smell of the creature, and stepped back herself, disconnecting Hạnh from her body and stumbling over her words. “Oh, uh, hello, little thing,” she said, “Where are your parents?” She immediately began looking around to see any adults that looked like the child. She desired to spend as little time around children as possible—they were disruptive and loud and asked questions that were difficult to answer. She liked dogs even less; they tended to bark at ghosts and people who smelled like death. The dog that accompanied the child was a strange foreign breed with a curly tail and a long snout, and it looked up at her, then at Lykomedes, then at Sun and Hạnh, but only panted and drooled, which was disgusting.

“They’re still at sea, I guess.” The child said, staring up at Liu. Then it asked, “Miss, who are you talking to?” Already beginning with the difficult questions.

“I am speaking to myself.” Liu announced.

“Oh. Are you a crazy?” The child asked.

For a moment, Liu wondered if she had patched Lykomedes’ language into her brain incorrectly, or if the dialect had changed over the past twenty years. Then she realized that the child’s Aeolan was likely secondhand—despite the local clothing, it wore foreign shoes and had a complexion similar to Liu’s mother, who had been of southwestern extraction. She relaxed and said, “No, I am not mentally disturbed. I…” She struggled to come up with a lie, and so Sun helpfully said, “You like to play out arguments you’ve lost in the past to try and see how you could have won them,” which was a very Sun Bukian thing to do.

“I play out arguments I’ve won in the past to see how I could have won them even better, with more succinct logic and wit.” Liu said triumphantly, and Sun stifled an anguished sigh behind her.

“So you have imaginary friends?”

“Yes, I do.” Liu relaxed into the freebie the child had provided her. “May I ask a question?” At the child’s nod, she asked, “Who are you, and what do you want?” Lykomedes muttered something about tactfulness behind her, but she ignored him.

“My name is Arshad. This is Aban.” The child pointed to the dog, who yawned and scratched behind its ear. “You looked kind of like you were from Arascia—where I was born—so I thought we would ask you what it’s like there. I’m not old enough to go on the ship, so I ask foreigners here what their homes are like.”

“Oh, I see. You stopped me because you…want an interview?”

“That’s right. And because you were talking to your imaginary friends in the middle of the street, and nobody does that here.”

“Well, I’m not from Arascia.” Liu said. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“I know you aren’t. You only looked that way from the back, because you’re tall, and your hair is like my dad’s. Your clothes are weird, too.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll be on my way then.” Liu turned to walk away, with no destination in mind besides away, but Arshad fisted his—she inferred the child as a he from what little she knew of his clothing—hand in her sleeve again. “Wait-wait-wait-wait—” He said, being dragged a few steps with Liu’s stride before she stopped. “You’re obviously from somewhere not here, so tell me about it! I’ll give you advice on how to blend in!”

Liu turned. “How did you—”

“I’m a very good listener.” Arshad announced with authority. The dog barked, and Liu flinched at the noise. “Aban thinks you’re interesting. Don’t worry, he’s very well-behaved. He’s a ship-dog.”

“I don’t know what that means!” Liu protested, but Arshad still clutched her wrist as he dragged her to the side of the street with surprising strength. She looked desperately back at her ghosts for help, but Sun and Lykomedes shared the same sinister smile of a pair of extroverts preparing to watch an introvert get grilled, and Hạnh only gave her a tired look of solidarity and a shrug.

The child cleared his throat, and said, “Okay, so this is all on the record, I hope you know, and I have a friend who knows how to write in a diptych for…what’s the word…”

“Posterity?” Liu offered.

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“No, but that’s an even better one!” Arshad said, nodding triumphantly. “Posterity,” he tested the word on his tongue, slowly, before clearing his throat again. “Alright, first question: why do you look like you’re from Arascia from the back and far away?”

“Shouldn’t it be, ‘where are you from?’” Liu asked.

“I’m the one asking the questions here, Miss!” Arshad said, suddenly all business.

“My mother was from Kushan, an eastern neighbor to Arascia. I have her hair and her height, so I suppose I do look like her from behind. May I ask a question?”

“No!” Arshad answered curtly. “Okay next question: What’s with the clothes? Why are you wearing all black in the summertime?”

“Apparently, because I’m a little ray of sunshine.” Liu said. The child frowned at this, but continued on. “New question! What clothes are they?”

“Imperial. A changshan. I’m sure you’ve seen a representative of the Imperial Nation, even if you’ve never been traveling before. I believe there is an embassy in the diplomatic sector of town, near the governor’s house. They’ll be wearing clothes like mine, but nicer, and made from silk instead of hemp.”

Arshad wrinkled his nose. “I don’t go near the foreigner’s quarter. You can get better foreign food in the port, and my mom says they overcharge you for stuff there. If you buy in port you get things hole-sale, and usually it doesn’t even have holes in it so the sale is a really good bargain.”

“Wholesale.”

“Whichever. Next question: If you’re from the empire, why don’t you look imperial?”

Liu sighed. “I already said, my mother was from Kushan, and my father was from the island nations south of the empire, an island named Zhao-Wa by the empire. I am an imperial citizen, even though I am not of mainland imperial descent.” She answered it with practice. She’d been asked the same question dozens of times, usually followed by, ‘Do you have your citizenship papers?’ The empire wasn’t any more or less xenophobic than the Aeolan archipelago, but at least here, the assumption that she was a foreigner was correct.

“I see, yes.” The boy said thoughtfully. “Your Aeolan is really good, especially for a foreigner. You talk like one of those teacher guys.”

“Thank you. My imaginary…acquaintance taught it to me.”

“Your imaginary friends must be really smart. Mine are all dumber than me so I can beat them in arguments.” Arshad said wisely. “Okay, I ask everybody this next question: What is your favorite food from home, and what is your favorite food from here?”

“What?” Liu began feeling trapped. She’d had Sun eat nearly every meal she’d had for the past few years.

“Your favorite foods.” Arshad made a hand gesture that Liu couldn’t interpret. “Like, what have you eaten here that you really like, and what do you miss from the empire? Food-related answers only, though.”

Liu scratched at the back of her neck, feeling sweat start to bead up in her scalp. The heat of the day was rising quickly. “I…uh, I really don’t know if I can answer that one. Can I pass?”

“You can’t pass the food question, everyone gets asked the food question!” Arshad said. Aban licked at Liu’s fingers, and she recoiled sharply from the mutt, drying her hand off on her pants. Her breathing quickened, and she shut her eyes tightly—every sense seemed to assault her at once, the noise of the market behind her, the dog trying to smell something in her pockets, her ghosts pulling from her, the child’s question, the smell of food in the air and the heat of the climbing sun and the the cacophony of every errant soul in the city screaming into her senses. The yawning hunger of her shadow, and the monster pinned within it. Exhausted, she gave up, and fell into herself.

 

“Miss? Are you alright?” The boy—Arshad?—asked. His dog had started barking at her, and he had to hug it tightly until it stopped, and only whimpered, its nose low to the ground and its hackles raised in fright. “I’m sorry, he never does this—he really is a good boy.”

“I’m sure he is, I just seem to have that effect on some dogs. It’s a shame, too, I really love animals.” Sun said, reaching out a hand towards the hound’s nose. It sniffed at her briefly, before cowering behind its master. Better than a bite, she supposed. “Where were we, again?”

“I was asking you your favorite foods, and then you went all funny and your eyes rolled back, and I got—Aban got scared, I wasn’t scared, though, but he started barking and it was kind of scary. To him.” Arshad said, very quickly.

“I’m sorry if I gave you a fright,” said Sun, smiling brightly, “I didn’t get much sleep last night, and I’m not dressed for the weather.” She squatted down to her haunches. “Let’s see…favorite food from here has got to be souvia. I’ll eat just about anything that’s served on a stick. As for my favorite food from home…” She put her finger to her sister’s mouth in thought, trying to think of what Liu liked to eat. She had assumed in her childhood that her sister subsisted entirely off of thin broths and foul moods, and much of her memories after sixteen only appeared as blurry gasps, colors, places; about as substantial as the broths that Liu ate when they were children. She said, “There’s not really an Aeolan translation for the dish, but my favorite meal is like a nice beef dish with bamboo shoots and rice. It’s sort of halfway between a stew and a curry, where there’s more rice than the broth but the broth isn’t thick like a sauce. That’s my favorite food from home.” Just remembering it, she grew hungry with nostalgia. “Hmm...I also miss New Year’s cake. My sister buys me some cake every year, but it’s not the same as back home—the cakes here are really crumbly and airy. Not bad, but not the same as I was used to. Do you have a favorite Arascene food, Arshad?”

“Spiced chicken asafoetida. I haven’t been to Arascia since I was small, but my dad makes it whenever we have the spices.” Arshad said, his mouth pulling tight at the corners, an emotion passing over his face that was strangely complex for his age. “Do you miss home much?”

“Terribly so,” said Sun. “We left about five years ago, and we’ve been traveling all over the continent. I get a lot of new foods—we’ve only been in the Aeolan League for a month, but I’ve really liked the cuisine so far.”

“You’ve seen the whole continent? I’ve barely had any interviews with anyone who’s seen north of the Aeolans.”

“I haven’t seen the Brythia or any of the islands in the northwest, but from what I hear, their cuisine is possibly the worst in the world, so I know I’m not missing much there.” Sun said. This got a small laugh from the child, which made her smile. It felt weird on Liu’s face, like she was straining an under-used muscle.

They talked for a while longer—small-talk was a vital function that Sun performed for her socially stunted sister. When she finally parted ways with the boy and his dog, she felt so human she barely noticed when Liu’s body walked away without her; she separated smoothly from her sister as she retook control that she barely felt the cold fever of body separation. The nausea hit her like a gut punch a second later; Liu stopped in her tracks, and turned. Sun had no idea how her sister kept such a good poker face. Liu asked, “You alright, sister?” and Sun said, “I’m fine,” while she focused on breathing.

She didn’t have lungs to fill, but breathing still served a calming purpose for ghost. Or at least, it helped to pretend-breathe so she wouldn’t pretend-vomit, which would cause Liu’s gorge to rise in vicarious concert with her. Sun hated all of the consequences of her psyche being taken out on her sister’s body.

 

 Liu strode towards her destination: a medium-sized house on the hill overlooking the harbor. It had a nice view of the ocean, but Liu could hardly appreciate it with the effort of the hike uphill to get to it. The Civil Authority cordon came into view—the enforcers wore open-chested uniforms of white linen, and the truncheons at their sashes were reinforced with bronze studs that shone brightly in the sun. Liu fumbled around in her pocket for the seal she’d been given as they neared the perimeter.

“Sis,” Sun said, trying not to laugh as she pointed at the nearest Civil Authority Enforcer in her summer exomis. “She’s got a boob hanging out.”

“Yes, Sun, her uniform does indeed appear to be much more…aerodynamic than the police back home. Quit gawping, we have a job to do.” Liu muttered through grit teeth as she approached the enforcer ambit.

“But sis…her boob is out.” Sun said, as if it was the most important thing in the world.

“Yes Sun, her boob is out. Unlike me, that woman’s boob doesn’t live inside her head and isn’t named Sun Jin Bukian.” Liu hissed.

Sun scoffed, “You wouldn’t even know a boob if you saw one because you’ve never had any.”

“I’ve always liked the summer uniforms of our lads and lasses in white.” Lykomedes said, unprompted. “Nothing says ‘ready for action’ like an exposed heart and a short skirt.”

“SHUT UP, LYKOMEDES!” The sisters shouted in tandem.

“Is there a problem?” The Civil Authority enforcer asked, breaking from the perimeter to stride towards what would probably have appeared as an insane foreigner.

“Yes, my name is Liu Bukian, and I’d like to speak to the searchman in charge of this investigation, I think there’s some useful information regarding the case that I could provide.”

“For a price, you mean?” The C.A.E. said, tilting her head up. She wasn’t much shorter than Liu, and looked a hell of a lot more menacing. Lykomedes was right—as revealing as they were, the exomis did provide a much more ‘ready for action’ look than Liu’s symmetrical and neat changshan. Not that she could compete with the enforcer in terms of showy muscle mass—now she was staring, which made Sun laugh harder and made the enforcer seem even more agitated. “Look, if you have a tip, you offer it at the temple like everyone else.”

“No, I’m here to help with the investigation.” Liu said. She held up the seal, very awkwardly. The C.A.E. leant forward to look at it. One of her hands braced against the grip of her truncheon, and Liu fought the urge to bolt. The enforcer straightened after a while, and then looked at Liu, studying her face. “Is this a joke?” She asked after a while.

“No.” Liu said. She silently bent her energy towards manifesting Hạnh, who reluctantly appeared beside her. She wouldn’t take any chances. The C.A.E. finally sighed, and said, “Fine,” and walked inside the building. It took longer than it should have for Liu to realize that she had won in some way, and was meant to follow the enforcer. She picked up her pace, and entered the little abode—probably some merchant’s home. She was led through a tiny courtyard and into the house proper, and into a bedroom separated in half with a reed screen.

The floor was sticky with blood, and a man in a lavender-dyed version of the Civil Authority’s summer uniform was squatted beside one of the most mangled nonsenses of a corpse Liu had ever seen. She guessed it was once a man, but…she had never seen a body so destroyed by a spirit before, or even by a demon. Sun made a horrible retching sound behind her, and Liu felt her own nausea spike from her sister’s pneumatic revulsion translating into somatic—or at least, that’s how she justified the twist of squeamishness she felt with her entire being.

“Lieutenant.” The Civil Authority Enforcer said, and the man in the lavender uniform looked up. From where he crouched, Liu saw that the bottom of his buskins were soaked with blood—he had very tired eyes, and the disposition of a spellcaster whose art was turned into a very grisly work. Something Liu saw in the mirror often enough. He had the posture of a hunting hound, and the stubbly, tired jaws to match, with a crop of curly dark hair that was just starting to become leaden from early middle age. His eyes crinkled with a humor as forgone as Liu’s company. His voice was surprisingly strong and deep when he said, “Yes, Sergeant Khryboea?”

“This girl is apparently a wind priestess.” The enforcer—apparently, Khryboea—said, with ‘wind priestess’ said with about the same respect as ‘dung sampler’ or ‘tax collector.’ “She’s here because she can apparently assist with the investigation.”

“And you believe her?” The Lieutenant asked. Liu did her best not to suck her teeth. She hated being talked about like she wasn’t there.

“Not paid enough to believe or disbelieve. She has a seal from the sea witch—I’m not going to risk politics. Babysit her, will you?”

“I don’t need a babysitter. You’re a practitioner, yes?” Liu asked, stepping forward. “A specialist in psychometry, I presume.”

“The searchman uniform ought to give it away,” the Lieutenant said. “But yes, I read the past.”

“And the insights you’ve gathered from the remains, and the site of death, they’ve been garbled. Nonsense, basically. Am I correct?” Liu rarely asked if she was correct without already knowing the answer. The Lieutenant’s eyes narrowed. He slowly rose from the body, and turned to face her. “Who are you?”

Liu pressed her advantage. “You’ve never chased down a ghost, have you?” She asked.

He looked down at the body. “A ghost couldn't have done this.”

“Could a human have done this?” She asked.

The sergeant—Khryboea—grabbed Liu’s arm. “Alright, who are you?” The enforcer demanded.

“Liu Bukian. I’m a spirit caller. Aetas sent me.” Liu said, trying her best not to squeak in pain.

“Sergeant,” the Lieutenant said lowly, and Liu was released. “Give us the room, would you?”

The C.A.E. relented, bowing lightly before walking out. The Lieutenant nodded to Liu. “Call me Pestrikates. Tell me what you know about this ghost, and maybe I can work out a deal where we work together—as long as the Tempest isn’t involved in any official capacity.”

“Deal.” Liu said immediately. She relaxed tremendously, before looking over at the far end of the dark pool of drying blood. It led to a very small bed, from which Liu heard the tiny, sparkling sound of a human soul. She walked towards the bed. “Have you searched the whole room?”

“I’ve been here for hours just trying to lift a memory from this corpse. We haven’t had time to tear the whole property apart.” Pestrikates said. He seemed much more friendly now that they had agreed Aetas would have no involvement in the investigation—Liu made a mental note to question why the goddess of the local trade wind had such a reputation.

She stopped at the foot of the bed, her soft shoes soaking with blood, and squatted to peer under the frame. Under the bed was a child, about the same age as the boy from earlier, with eyes full of tears.

“Shit.”

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