Steven Harper - The Dragon Men

“I don’t like doing this without Gavin,” she muttered to Phipps, who was walking beside her.

“So you’ve said a number of times,” Phipps replied from the depths of her own white robe. They were both walking in the middle of the group to hide themselves better. “But we can’t wait for him. If we’re going after the Jade Hand, we have to do it tonight.”

A crash, a small explosion, and a scream from a side street overpowered the groaning for a moment. Alice automatically turned, wanting to run and help, but Phipps put a firm brass hand on her arm. “Don’t.”

“But-”

“I said don’t. We can’t afford-”

A brass tiger pulling a two-wheeled cart with a black-clad Dragon Man in the driver’s seat galloped out of the side street. The tiger was carrying a doll in its mouth, and the Dragon Man-a woman, actually-was laughing uproariously. Alice shrank back, ready to run. The cart rocketed toward the ghost parade until the Dragon Man caught sight of the white-clad people. With a shout, she-he? — turned the tiger aside and rushed off down another street.

“Don’t,” Phipps said one more time. “The Dragon Men are still looking for us, but if they think we’re a mourning parade for the-”

“I know, I know,” Alice said. “But what kind of monster lets loose a bunch of lunatics on his own people?”

“The kind of monster we’re going to stop,” Phipps replied shortly.

Alice gave the little boy-Lady Orchid’s son, Cricket-an unhappy look. “Even if it means cutting off a child’s hand?”

“You’re doing your best to topple your second empire in a year, yet you balk at cutting off a child’s hand so he can become emperor.” Phipps gave a short bark of a laugh that meshed strangely with the cries of the men that surrounded her. “How do you live with all your contradictions, Lady Michaels?”

The parade continued. The mourners, Lieutenant Li and his troops in disguise, made a good job of it. The crying hid the occasional clank of sword or pistol or metal limb. Phipps herself kept her head down to keep both her Western features and her monocle out of sight. Occasionally people looked out of windows over courtyard walls or threw small packages of food and tiny coins wrapped in white or yellow cloth. The soldiers picked these up and ate the food and pocketed the coins. Alice worked out that in religious terms the packets were meant to be an offering to the spirit world, though in practical terms they fed and paid the mourners, much like offerings at church on Sunday were supposed to be for God but ended up buying food for the minister.

It was a long and nerve-wracking walk to Jingshan Park, which bordered the Forbidden City on the north and where one end of the Passage of Silken Footsteps was hidden. It seemed a strange way to hide, wearing white in plain sight and making as much noise as they could, but they moved unmolested. Three other times they encountered Dragon Men with animal-shaped automatons, and each time Alice’s heart stopped. But each time, the Dragon Man caught sight of the white robes and turned aside. Lady Orchid, with her white-wrapped box, remained a paragon of calm, while Alice was sweating inside her increasingly filthy white robe, and her mouth was dry as an iron pan on a hot stove from the constant tension. She wished for Click and her other automatons, but the little ones had their own part to play in this, and Click, who was obviously of Western design, had no way to remain inconspicuous in a Chinese mourning parade. So she had left him behind on the Lady.

The summer air was both hot and sticky, and Alice felt like boiled rice in the heavy clothing. Her legs ached, and she wanted nothing more than to lie down with something cool to drink. Then she saw a ragged shadow lurching along a red-painted wall. It was a plague zombie, the first she had seen since arriving in China. Lady Orchid had told her plague zombies were routinely rounded up and hidden away here. This one must have escaped, or perhaps the poor soul was a new victim of the disease. In any case, Alice worked her way to the outer edge of the false parade and made a dash for the zombie as it shambled around a corner. Phipps hissed something at her, but Alice ignored it. She followed the zombie, a dirty snowflake swirling after a bit of coal, and easily caught up with it on the empty street. Not it-him. The creature was a young man. Like every other zombie Alice had encountered, his clothes were rags. A foul smell hung about him. Sores wept pus and blood, and tattered red muscle showed through splits in his skin. Alice had lost count of the number of people she had cured of the plague, but the heartrending sympathy for its victims remained strong as ever. The young man stared at her with fever-yellow as she rolled up her sleeve to expose the iron spider. Its eyes glowed a hungry red. This would be her first cure in China.

“Spread this,” she told the uncomprehending young man. “Spread it far and w-”

A loud mechanical hiss interrupted her. Alice spun and found herself face-to-face with a multilegged, serpentine brass dragon the size of a horse. Perched behind its head at a control panel was a lithe, older man dressed all in black. White whiskers trailed from his chin, matching the brass ones on the dragon. The Dragon Man said something in Chinese, and the dragon hissed again. Damp steam issued from its nostrils. Alice squeaked and backed up, nearly bumping into the zombie. Her heart all but jumped from her chest. She fumbled for the wire sword, but it was under her robe and she couldn’t get at it.

The Dragon Man grinned and worked the controls. The dragon lifted its front leg, and with a delicate claw under Alice’s chin, pushed her face up so the moonlight spilled across it. The Dragon Man began to laugh with glee. He had recognized her-or figured out who she was. It didn’t really matter. Alice jerked the stupid robe up, still trying to get to the sword. The dragon reached for her with another foot, one easily big enough to get around her waist. Alice wanted to scream in both fear and frustration. After coming all this way, it was going to end here.

A metal wire whipped through the air and wrapped around the Dragon Man’s neck. With a hoik sound, he was yanked backward off the brass dragon. Without someone to guide it, the dragon froze. Alice squirmed free and dashed around it. Behind the automaton was Susan Phipps. The wire snaked from her brass palm, and the Dragon Man lay at her feet, gasping and clawing at his neck. Phipps wrapped the wire around both wrists and braced a foot on the Dragon Man’s chest.

“Susan!” Alice cried. “Don’t!”

Phipps yanked hard. There was a wet crack . The Dragon Man twitched once and went still.

“Oh God,” Alice whispered. “I wish you hadn’t.”

“You left me little choice.” Phipps coiled the wire back into her hand. “He was under orders from the salamander in his ear, and we couldn’t have done anything else to stop him. The night will be bloodier before long, Alice. You’d best accept that.”

Alice nodded once, her jaw set. Phipps was right, but Alice didn’t have to like it. She found the plague zombie still huddled near the wall. Before anything else could happen, Alice swiped his arm with her claws and sprayed the wound with her own blood.

“Be well,” she said quietly as he limped away, taking the cure with him.

“Can you drive this thing?” Phipps asked pleasantly from the seat behind the dragon’s head. “I don’t see any point in wasting it.”

The parade continued on its way, with the addition of the brass dragon. Alice’s talent with automatons let her figure out the controls quickly, and the few people on the street assumed the machine was merely part of the mourning. Riding was easier than walking, at any rate. Alice offered Lady Orchid a seat, and the woman gratefully accepted-clearly she wasn’t used to physical labor. She held Cricket on her lap, making it a tight fit behind the dragon’s head. Phipps and the soldiers continued on, unbothered.