Mark Chadbourn - The Burning Man

‘I cannot.’

Puzzled, Shavi thought hard until a notion came to him. ‘The Extinction Shears. That is what you use to cut the thread.’

The Daughters of the Night did not reply, but Shavi could sense he had got it right.

‘Where are they?’ he asked.

‘They are with us always, except when they are not.’

‘They exist in all-times and all-places, but find their way to the moment around which the Axis of Existence turns.’

‘You talk as if they are alive,’ Shavi said.

‘They return when we need them.’

‘But this time they have not returned.’

‘Some threads we can break … the threads of mortals. But we cannot cut the threads of events. We cannot sever that which is bound into the warp and weft of Existence.’

‘We are searching for the Shears,’ Shavi said. ‘We believe they are somewhere in the Far Lands.’

‘You are wrong.’

‘They are in the place that lies beyond our task. The place we can never see.’

What lies beyond their task? Shavi thought. And then he had it. ‘What the gods call the Grim Lands, or the Grey Lands. The Land of the Dead.’ The Daughters of the Night remained silent, but once again Shavi could tell he was correct. ‘Then we are looking in the wrong place!’ he said. ‘We must go to the Grim Lands to find the Extinction Shears.’

The Daughters of the Night began to retreat back into the walls. Soon the carriage was empty once more, but the atmosphere of dread did not leave with them. Shavi saw that the door at the rear of the carriage had opened a little more, and as he watched it opened further still.

He moved quickly into the previous carriage, where the hanging bodies had now been replaced by rows of seats. As he hurried back to Church, he saw through the windows a new landscape of uniform factories with chimneys trailing smoke. Beyond lay modern skyscrapers. The signs were all in Chinese script. Shavi also noticed that it now appeared to be late summer. They had gained no advantage; the journey had taken almost as long as it would have taken Veitch to reach the same destination.

The Last Train finally came to a halt in a railway station that mixed traditional Chinese architecture with fifties design. As the clouds of steam finally cleared, the first thing that Shavi noted was that the entire station — one of the busiest in East Asia — was completely deserted.

Tiananmen Square was deserted. The only movement came from the Morvren now nestling on every building, their unforgiving eyes turned on Church, Shavi and Tom who stood alone in the vast public space. Beyond, Beijing was still and silent beneath a brooding silver sky.

‘Where is everybody?’ Church asked.

‘I don’t think we need to be hanging around to find out, do you?’ Tom said. He tugged at the ring uncomfortably.

‘Veitch?’ Shavi asked.

‘He’s here somewhere.’ Tom shoved his ring hand into a pocket.

‘If he’d already got the location of the Second Key he wouldn’t be hanging around,’ Church said. ‘We need to persuade the King of Foxes to tell us. Then with the information Shavi got from the Daughters of the Night, we’ll have the upper hand.’

‘Don’t sound so self-satisfied,’ Tom cautioned. ‘That is usually the most dangerous time. Or do you think all your feathered friends up there are mistaken?’

Church removed Caledfwlch from its scabbard across his back. It flared brighter than he had seen in a long time. ‘The Blue Fire’s much stronger here,’ he said, puzzled.

The roosting formation of the silent Morvren appeared to be guiding them past the modern government and military buildings to the historic architecture of the Forbidden City beyond. It lay behind twenty-four-foot-high walls that gave the impression of a prison from which they would never escape.

Uneasily, they approached along the stone-flagged Imperial Way towards the imposing Meridian Gate set in the southern wall. Two grand protruding wings funnelled visitors towards five entrances, and from the top of each wing two deserted watchtowers looked down.

A shimmer like a heat haze revealed a man at least seven feet tall, his hair and beard a flowing white, his robes the green of a spring field. He held a staff topped with a hexagonal golden symbol, and around his neck hung a large clock, the hands whirling continuously. His eyes were purple.

‘The King of Foxes bids me welcome you, honoured guests.’ His tongue flashed out, thin, black and forked. He bowed. ‘My name is Tai Sui, President of the Celestial Ministry of Time.’

‘We are-’

‘I know who you are, Brother of Dragons. And you, Brother of Dragons. And you, True Thomas.’ His tone was hard, but he smiled broadly.

‘And we’re welcome here?’ Church asked suspiciously.

Tai Sui bowed again. ‘Of course. Good fortune follows you. Your deeds are well known to us here in Zilin Cheng. Enter our home and partake of all we have to offer, given freely and without obligation.’

Tai Sui led them through the Meridian Gate into a large square that at first appeared empty, but as the gate shut behind them, Church saw they were not alone. A shaft of sunlight illuminated scores of people moving somnolently across the square, their heads bowed. It was only after a moment that he noticed they cast no shadows. As they came to obstacles, they passed right through them.

‘Ghosts?’ Tom said.

‘The Guei,’ Tai Sui corrected. ‘Spirits formed from yin, the negative essence of souls.’

‘These are the people of Beijing?’ Church asked.

‘Some of them.’ Tai Sui gestured to the grand square. ‘This is Taihemen Square,’ he said proudly, ‘and you will see passing through it the Inner Golden Water River, which runs from this world to the next. It is said that even Fragile Creatures may sail along it between the worlds.’

They crossed one of five bridges and passed under another great gate before coming to another square. Rising from it was an elaborate three-tiered white marble terrace, and on top of it were three halls that were the focus of the palace complex.

Tai Sui indicated the largest, which towered almost ninety feet above the square. Along the roof ridge, ten gargoyles looked down. Church thought he saw them move, but put it down to a trick of the light.

‘The Hall of Supreme Harmony,’ Tai Sui said. ‘It is from here that all power emanates in this Great Dominion. And its fortuitous construction and siting make it a power beyond all others. Numbers are power,’ he added with a sly smile, ‘but you would know that, Brother of Dragons. You will note that the hall is nine bays wide and five deep. This is the voice of Existence speaking. Nine and five are the numbers of power and majesty of the Emperor.’

‘Five,’ Shavi mused.

‘Five,’ Tai Sui repeated. ‘Yet I see only two Brothers of Dragons. And one … other.’

‘Not all numbers are equal,’ Church said. ‘Two Brothers of Dragons beat a thousand others.’

Tai Sui bowed. ‘Your wisdom is recognised, honoured one. Please, enter the hall.’

The great imperial space was decorated everywhere with dragon motifs. At the far end of the hall, flanked by six golden pillars, was a large throne with five dragons coiled around the arms and back. Behind it was a screen with a further nine gloriously intricate dragons.

Church noted the numbers of the Fabulous Beasts and recognised a hint of some greater meaning not yet revealed to him. He could see that Shavi, too, sensed something.

‘This place … it fees like home,’ Shavi said. ‘I cannot express it more clearly than that. It calls to me.’