Shanghai

 

 

WHEN SHE WOKE, Beth, already up and dressed, was at the window. “I was about to wake you. I think we’re coming in.”

“Is it Shanghai?” Eveline said.

“It must be. But I can’t see a great deal, the fog is almost as bad as London. Oh, there’s another airship! That must be the aerodrome!”

Holmforth came to fetch them, looking as quietly dapper as ever, the velvet collar of his grey overcoat turned up around his neck, his hat at a precise, gentlemanly angle. “You’re ready? Good. Come with me.”

“Where’s Mama?”

“She has gone ahead to the hotel,” he said, with a slight air of impatience, for all the world as though Madeleine Duchen was a normal traveller, instead of a hostage.

He had someone with him, Eveline thought. He must have, to deal with Mama. Unless he was simply paying people both in London and here – but surely that would risk drawing attention? He was immensely secretive, after all; he still hadn’t told her what he wanted. She must remember not to let slip that she knew anything.

Shanghai turned out to be cold, and grey, and thick with rain – much like London, in fact, except for the rickshaws, which were everywhere, and smell, which was slightly different from Limehouse.

Now and then she thought she caught a glimpse of Liu; of course, there were Chinese everywhere, though none of them turned out to be him.

You’d better do what you’re supposed to, Liu. She’d ended up relying on him for a big chunk of the plan, and now she wished there’d been another way.

Holmforth raised his cane. Instantly they were surrounded by eager rickshaw drivers clamouring for their business, claiming how fast, how clean, with what astonishing speed they would reach their destination... Eveline realised she could follow the pidgin quite well, and even the few words of Chinese that she caught. That was Liu’s doing, too. Now she knew he was Folk (half-Folk, yes, all right, half, she’d allow him that much), she wondered if that had something to do with how quickly she’d learned a language that was, after all, far harder to pick up than French.

The rickshaw drivers were all terribly thin, and woefully underdressed for the weather in ragged cotton trousers and shirts worn to transparency. Only one of them had a thick quilted jacket for the cold, and even that was so dirty and faded its original colours could scarcely be guessed at. Apart from the cast of their features, there was little to choose between them and the factory workers at home.

Holmforth made his choice and settled the girls in, one hand firmly on Eveline’s arm. He didn’t seem nearly as troubled about Beth running off.

Their driver bent to the shafts, the knobs of his spine clearly visible through his rain-dampened shirt, his queue a poor straggly thing, nothing like the glossy thickness of Liu’s. Eveline wondered however he was supposed to pull the three of them, but somehow he managed, though his ragged breathing was audible even over the noise of the crowds.

“What’s that sound?” Beth said. A rising roar could be heard from somewhere beyond the vast buildings of the Bund.

“The racetrack. Racing is very popular here,” Holmforth said. “I have never understood the appeal, myself. But then, many of the European population have a great deal of both leisure and money at their disposal, which they choose to fritter away in such pursuits. Not a good example. But then, you will be unlikely to meet them.”

Eveline thought wistfully of the races she had attended at Alexandra Palace, and the excellent pickings they had offered. If only a sharp-eyed peeler was the worst she had to worry about now.

Yet, like Beth, she could not help staring at the hundreds of ships drawn up along the waterfront, the great cargo steamers and tiny fragile junks, the huge warehouses and businesses with their elaborate classical frontages. Hundreds of people, Chinese and European and a great multiplicity of others of all types and shades and costumes, more variety than she had seen even in London. Men in long, loose white robes over white trousers, in square-jacketed suits of silk, in frock-coats and brightly coloured robes. Round black hats, hats with tassels, hats with buttons, stovepipe hats and flat caps and turbans. There were women, too, though far fewer out on the streets among the men. Perhaps they were all hidden away. There were Chinese women with babies or baskets strapped to their backs who walked in the strangest way, swaying from side to side, as though on tiptoe, European women in nip-waisted dresses with tiered skirts and fantastical hats with flowers and birds and veils, holding fringed umbrellas painted with Chinese characters. Everywhere the snapping rhythms of pidgin and the slip-slide musicality of Chinese, but also the quick liquidity of French, and the clatter and twang of a dozen other languages she knew not at all. Even some of the English was strange to her ears, with drawn-out vowels and odd rhythms.

“Who are they?” she said, gesturing at one group.

“Americans,” Holmforth said. “Vulgar people, as a rule, with more influence than they deserve. Ah, here we are.”

The hotel was not unlike the one he had taken Eveline to in London, but distinctly more luxurious. All the staff were Chinese; white-jacketed, soft-footed, and so extremely deferential that it made Eveline uneasy.

She felt wound to a twanging tension. Here she was, thousands of miles from home, with her mother’s life, and Beth’s too, in her hands, and who knew how many others, if anything Liu had told her was true.

They reached their room.

“Mama! Are you all right? I’m so sorry!”

Madeleine leapt from her chair and embraced Eveline, then turned to Beth. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“I’m Beth Hastings,” Beth said with a curtsey.

“So you see,” Holmforth said, “your mother has come to no harm. I am going to leave you ladies while I arrange transport, and then we must be off.” He closed and locked the door.

“Are you well, Eveline?” Madeleine held her at arm’s length and looked her over. “That man – was that Holmforth?”

“Yes. Bastard.”

“Eveline Duchen!”

“Sorry, Mama. But he is. I mean, actually, as well. Not that that part’s his fault.”

“So what are we going to do?” Beth said.

“I’m getting an idea. I think. But I gotta talk to Holmforth.”

“Mrs Duchen?” Beth said. “Please, could I talk with you? I saw your notes and I think I have an inkling about a few things...”

“You do?” Eveline said. “Why didn’t you say?”

“Because I’m not sure and I might be wrong. And you wouldn’t know if I was.”

“True enough,” Eveline said.

 

 

AS SOON AS Holmforth returned, Eveline confronted him.

“What happens after?”

“What do you mean?”

“I show you this machine works. What happens to me, and to my mama?”

“Oh, I’m sure we can find somewhere comfortable for your mama, maybe even some sort of pension. You...” He looked her up and down. “Depending on what results we achieve with the machine, you will be required to help me find more people with Etheric potential, train them if that is possible.”

“I want a promise. For Mama, and for me, when you’re done with me. In writing, all legal and proper.”

“You really are in no position to make demands, but as a gesture of goodwill I am happy to do so.”

“Now. Before we go. And signed. And addressed to whoever you answer to, back home. And money and papers so we can get home.”

“Whoever I answer to? Now why would you think that necessary?”

“This machine, if it works – there’s other people might be interested in it, ain’t there? I en’t missed everything in the lessons. You never let on when you’ve got a big prize up; you do that, every thief for a mile around’s going to see if they can get there first. And that’s when things are like to get nasty. And what happens to us if you should get murdered? Stuck here without papers and no way of getting home?”

“Now, Miss Duchen. You need not think I am foolish enough to provide you with the means to run off!” He smiled. “I will, however, write the letter you require, to provide you with peace of mind.”

“’Slong as you give me that, then.”

“Now, shall we get on?” Holmforth said.

“Not till you’ve writ that letter.”

She stood over him while she did it, watching every word. Without a lawyer of her own, she’d no idea if the language meant much. But it was his handwriting and his signature she wanted.

“Shall we go?” He offered Madeleine Duchen his arm, and she took it.

 

 

THERE WAS NO rickshaw this time; instead, a more luxurious sort of steam hansom. The body was glossy and black, the wheels bright scarlet, the three sets of seats of plushly padded, deep-buttoned leather. Holmforth handed them all in as though he were escorting them to a tea-dance. The driver wore a dark blue suit with brass buttons and a peaked cap pulled low over his eyes.

“Very fancy, I must say,” Eveline remarked. “Flunkies, too. Your tumbler, is it?”

“If by tumbler you mean vehicle, no, it belongs to the Consulate. If your worst fears are realised, Miss Duchen, you must make your way there. They will be able to assist you.”

Worst fears, my foot, Eveline thought. ’Fyou were to meet a sticky end, Mr Holmforth, I’d be jumping like a Jack-in-the-box.

Holmforth handed them each into the car with perfect courtesy, and got in after them.

“Oh,” Holmforth said, “please do not attempt to jump out, or anything of that sort. I have a gun. I would be reluctant to use it, but I’m afraid I cannot allow anything to jeopardise this.”

Eveline felt her mother stiffen with fear and gave her hand a reassuring pat, thinking of Ma Pether. I don’t like guns. They change things, make everything much more dangerous than needs be. She couldn’t help wishing they had Ma Pether along now.

There was a sack lying across the rearmost set of seats. It had a disturbing shape.

“What’s that?” Madeleine said.

“Material for the demonstration.”

“But it looks like a person.”

“It’s not a person,” Holmforth said. “Little more than an animal, really.”

Eveline felt the nape of her neck shiver. He was half-Folk himself. And he still thought of them, of people like Liu, as animals.

What did that mean for how he saw himself?

Beth craned her neck to see what the driver was doing, and, after watching him for a few minutes, sighed, and looked around her instead. “What’s that building?”

“A factory. Part of the French Concession.”

“I can hear machinery. What does it do?”

“Oh, some form of manufacturing, probably. Shanghai is the province of business, far more than of good government.” Holmforth frowned. “It has been poorly handled. Far too many concessions have been made to the demands of other countries, and to financial interests. One can hope that the same mistakes will be avoided in future.”

He means when we invade the Crepuscular, Eveline thought. If Liu’s right, he really doesn’t have the slightest idea how big a mistake that would be.

The streets grew more and more narrow; brilliantly coloured banners of cloth and paper fluttered from the houses cramming the streets. They passed through layers of smells – vile, delicious, simply odd. There were shops full of tiny embroidered shoes with pointed toes that looked as though they were made for children. Shops full of strange vegetables, pallid long ones like the fingers of drowned giants, fat hairy ones, and great piles of leaves spilling out onto the floor. Little dark caves of shops lined with boxes and bottles and jars of dried stuff. Rickshaws scurried and bounced along the streets, full and empty. The driver leaned on his horn and yelled them out of the way. Poor people huddled in doorways here as they did everywhere.

Eveline could see Holmforth’s hands whitening on his cane. She felt for her mother’s hand and clutched it. Madeleine pressed her fingers.

 

 

THE HOUSES BEGAN to thin out, the road roughened. The landscape spread out around them, green and grey beneath the grey sky. Flat fields glittered with water, trees here and there stood sentinel. A few figures in wide, pointed hats moved along hidden paths, their heads turning at the noise of the engine to watch the car puff and rumble past.

“Oh, look!” Beth pointed. “What is that?”

It was about the size and shape of a pheasant, but its body was scarlet, its head and back bright gold splashed with brilliant blue and bronze. It seemed more like jewellery than a living thing, but just like a pheasant back home, it ran, neck stretched with panic, in front of the car for a few feet before remembering its wings and taking off, scolding loudly.

“A golden pheasant,” Holmforth said. “The shooting is quite good here.”

The further they moved from the city, the more nervous Eveline became. Even if they could get away from Holmforth, where, in this flat, sparsely-populated landscape, could they hide?

The house stood in isolation, surrounded by a high wall of yellowed bricks. Above the wall, the black roof-corners curved up like the prows of boats.

The gate set in the wall was of red-lacquered wood, studded with brass bosses in the shapes of snarling creatures.

It was the sort of gate, in the sort of wall, that indicated strongly that the occupant desired privacy.

It was standing slightly ajar. Eveline’s few nerves that weren’t already singing joined the chorus.

She looked at Holmforth. His mouth tightened. “Get out of the car, ladies, and stay close,” he said. “You! Driver! Stay with the vehicle, and keep your eyes open. Should any of these women be foolish enough to try to run, they are to be stopped, alive, please.”

The driver nodded. Eveline shot a glance at him; he was Chinese, or perhaps a mix of Chinese and English – his face, in any case, was impassive. The gun he raised looked unpleasantly large and efficient.

Holmforth heaved the sack out of the rearmost seat and slung it over his shoulder.

Holmforth gestured to the women to follow him through the gate, and into the courtyard. A statue of a snarling thing that looked to Eveline like a cross between a lion and one of the school’s dogs stood there, and beyond was the house, presenting them with a blank wall. “The entrance is around the side,” Holmforth said. “That way.”

“Mr Holmforth, what exactly are we doing here?” Madeleine Duchen said.

Holmforth jolted, as though he had not expected her to be able to speak. “You, madam, are here to provide insurance that your daughter will do what is required of her. Neither she nor you nor this other young lady will come to any harm, if all goes as planned.”

“No harm?” Madeleine stopped, holding Eveline’s arm. “To make a weapon of something that was only ever intended for good? You don’t think that doing that, being made to do that, is harmful? That it is a dreadful thing to ask of someone?”

No, Mama! Eveline’s gut clenched. Now Holmforth knew what Mama knew, he would see her as a risk.

Holmforth sighed. “This is hardly the time. Something is wrong here, and I am asking that she serve the best interests of the British Empire. Now please, stay close, and keep moving. There should be servants, a houseboy at least, Wu Jisheng... oh.”

The women caught sight of the foot at the same time. It was a very small foot, in an embroidered, point-toed slipper. It was attached to a slim white-clad leg, lying on the floor. The rest was hidden behind the partly-open door.

Holmforth nudged it open.

A young woman lay there, her mouth open, her eyes wide, and a dark pool of blood spreading from beneath her, across the smooth grey stone floor.

Eveline clutched her mother’s hand, and with the other felt for the small, reassuring lump that was the jade fox.

Beth swallowed. “She’s... dead, isn’t she?”

“Yes. Be quiet,” Holmforth said. “Come with me, quickly.”

“But what if someone’s...” Eveline said.

“Quiet, I said!” Gesturing with the gun, Holmforth hurried them forwards, past the dead woman, through rooms painted with strange birds and beasts, filled with odd ornaments and brilliantly coloured statues and, strangely, great glittering clocks that ticked and chimed, European clocks adorned with fanciful shepherds and shepherdesses and pink, puffing cherubs.

Not a robbery, Eveline thought. All this stuff, even the little light things, still here. That, or the robbers are still here, and working their way through. She tugged at her mother’s hand, and when Madeleine looked at her, she mouthed – If you get the chance, run.

Madeleine shook her head, and held her hand tighter. Not without you.

They reached a door that was bigger than the gate, at least twenty feet high. Heavy wood furnished with formidable iron bolts – all of them now open.

“No!” Holmforth said. He shoved the door open, and almost pushed the women through it.

The room was huge, and full of things that glittered and ticked and gleamed.

And a dragon.

It was made of brass and bronze, copper and iron, it glowed in the dim light like treasure. Its head alone was as big as the car they had arrived in. Collapsed across one of its great clawed feet lay the body of an elderly Chinese man with eyeglasses and a long wispy beard.

Holmforth gave a sigh of relief. “Untouched.” He dumped the sack on the floor.

“Look, Mr Holmforth, I know this machine’s important to you,” Eveline said, “but maybe you ain’t noticed that’s the second bit of cold meat we’ve come across, and being as I don’t think they died of the pleurisy, maybe whoever done for ’em’s still here and maybe we should make ourselves scarce?”

“What a very perspicacious young woman you are,” said a voice. “But there’s no need for alarm. I believe the villains have already vacated the premises.”

The man who entered the room was a dapper, blond swell, neat as ninepence, looking with distaste at the body on the floor. “I apologise,” he said to Holmforth. “I know you weren’t expecting me for another day or so, but I had business to conduct, and given all your work, I thought I should investigate for myself. I think perhaps my arrival warned off the miscreants.”

“This is worrying,” Holmforth said. “Do you think that they could have been working for other interests?”

The blond man shook his head. “If so, they were easily distracted. However, I shall certainly put investigations in place. You have a man outside?”

“Yes.”

“Then I am sure he will warn us if they return. Now, perhaps you would introduce me?”

Eveline’s back hairs were up and singing louder than before. She’d seen a body or two in her time – when she was sleeping out, she’d more than once woken up after a bad frost to see someone a few feet away gone grey and empty in the night. But these had been killed – murdered – and these two were acting as though it was nothing, as though they were at a drawing-room party.

She eyed the blond man. A toff of the first water, right enough – what he had on his back would have earned her a week’s extra dumplings in her dinner at Ma Pether’s – and eyes that made Holmforth’s look warm.

“Of course,” Holmforth said. “This is Mrs Duchen, her daughter Eveline, and Miss Beth Hastings. This is Viscount Forbes-Cresswell.”

Forbes-Cresswell bowed. “I have to say, Holmforth, charming though I’m sure they are, I’m not entirely sure why you felt it necessary to bring quite such a collection of females with you?”

“Eveline is the one with Etheric ability. Beth has some mechanical skill. And it seemed wise not to leave any of them unattended, once they knew of the machine’s existence.” Holmforth sighed. “I am trying to impress upon them the importance of this development, its significance to the Empire.”

“Ah, yes, the machine. I assume that is it?” He gestured at the dragon. “How intriguing! Would you be able to make that demonstration you were speaking of?”

“Miss Duchen, if you please.”

Eveline drew a deep breath. “All right. But will you move him, please? I en’t going to be able to concentrate that well with some dead geezer flopped all over the floor.”

“Unfortunate,” Forbes-Cresswell said, looking at Wu Jisheng. “But it does reduce complications.”

“Eveline, you don’t have to do this!” Madeleine took her daughter by the hands. “Please....”

“I do, Mama. I’m sorry, but it’s the only way for us to be safe. It’ll all be all right, I promise.”

“I won’t let you!”

“Please, Mrs Duchen,” Holmforth said. “Stand aside, if you would. I really don’t want to have to restrain you.” He bent down and undid the neck of the sack.

Out spilled a young Chinese woman, dressed in embroidered robes, extremely dishevelled, her hands and ankles bound.

“Oh, the poor child!” Madeleine cried.

“There’s no need for sentiment. It’s a fox-spirit. Look.” Holmforth pointed with his cane. Sure enough, the white-tipped brush could be clearly seen protruding from beneath the girl’s tunic.

“All right, let her stand up,” Eveline said.

Holmforth gestured.

The girl got stiffly to her feet, (normal feet, these, even perhaps a little large) and stood staring.

Eveline glanced at Beth. Beth tucked her hands into her skirt.

The Chinese girl turned her head to look at her.

“Right then,” Eveline said. “Shall we get on? And can someone please shift that poor old geezer?” Forbes-Cresswell looked at Holmforth, who went and took Wu Jisheng by his shoulders and dragged him out of sight behind a heavily-carved screen. “Thank you.”

“Eveline...” Madeleine said.

“It’s all right, Mama. You sit down. Can’t one of you gents find a chair for a lady? Honestly, rude, I call it.”

“Quite right,” Forbes-Cresswell said, and drew up one of the heavy lacquered chairs. “If you please, Madam.”

Madeleine sat down, gingerly, fidgeting with her gloves. She looked desperately tired and nervous.

Holmforth turned his back for a moment. Eveline, watching, realised he was inserting his earplugs.

She steeled herself. “Beth, you come with me.” She looked up at the dragon. Niches were provided in its great bronze foreleg, making a set of steps up into the head.

“Miss Duchen,” Forbes-Cresswell said. “Don’t be foolish, will you?” He was standing right behind her mother’s chair. There was a red smear on one of his immaculate white cuffs.

“I en’t going to do anything but what I’m told,” Eveline said, trying not to stare at that smear, her brain racing.

She climbed into the dragon’s head, Beth close behind her.

Inside it was like a fantastical cave of brass and bronze, levers and dials – and Chinese lettering. She’d enough of the spoken tongue to get by, thanks to Liu, but the writing was still a mystery.

Still, she recognised a few of the instruments, most of them three times the size of what she was used to, the grooves in which ball bearings should be placed, as big as gutters, running everywhere inside the head. A case of ball bearings, like shining cricket balls, lay at her feet. There were levers and dials which reminded her more of the controls of the Sacagawea.

If only she could ask Mama! It had seemed safer that Holmforth thought Mama completely ignorant – though now it was all up in the air, and there was no safety anywhere. They’d just have to go with what they’d got and hope for the best.

“Oh, my. Eveline, look at this!” Beth said.

“Very pretty. You can play with it later. You talked to Mama, just tell me if I’m doing anything’s going to make anyone go mad or such.”

“If I knew that, we’d be fine. All right. That lever there, and then that. It won’t do anything at all, I don’t think, except make a noise.”

She pulled the first lever. A deep thrumming vibration spread through the dragon’s body, tickling the soles of her feet through her shoes. She picked up a ball bearing and dropped it into one of the gutters, pulled another lever. The ball bearing started to move, making a high, singing note.

She looked out through the dragon’s mouth; everyone was still in place. “Beth, we got trouble,” she said quietly, trusting the noise to cover her.

“More of it?”

“Yes. That Forbes-Cresswell – there’s blood on his cuff.”

“Blood?”

“I think he’s the one killed the old geezer and the girl. I don’t know what he’s doing, but I don’t think Holmforth knows they ain’t on the same side. I’d bet he’s got men with him. You found anything?”

“I think it moves. The dragon. I think these controls make it move. I can’t work them all out, though.”

“Don’t touch anything yet, it ain’t safe, not with Mama right there. All right, here we go, time to prove the pudding.”

She lifted another ball bearing, eased it into its gutter.

The note it added as it began to move was an uneasy one, a waspish buzz.

“Go,” Eveline said.

Beth pulled out from her skirts the small instrument she’d hidden, and aimed it, keeping it carefully below the line of sight of those out front.

The Chinese girl shuddered.

The two men turned to look at her. Madeleine put her hands over her eyes.

Eveline set a metal disc spinning. The sound became jagged. The girl jolted, and collapsed to her knees.

“Eveline, stop! Don’t!” Madeleine tried to get up, but Forbes-Cresswell’s hand came down on her shoulder, crushing her back into her seat.

The girl fell on her side, convulsing. A gleam appeared under her left ear. “Turn it off!” Eveline hissed.

“Dammit...” Beth twiddled dials frantically, but the girl continued to convulse. Then her head came up at a painful, impossible angle, and hit the floor with a ringing crash.

She lay still. Holmforth bent over her. Forbes-Cresswell didn’t move.

“Turn it off,” Holmforth said, loudly. “Turn it off, Duchen.”

Eveline pulled levers. The dragon became silent.

Holmforth straightened up and took out his earplugs. “Duchen,” he said, “did you really think that would work?”

“What...” Forbes-Cresswell said.

“It’s a mannequin,” Holmforth said. “I don’t know how she managed it, but it’s a mannequin. Look.” He reached down and lifted off the girl’s wig, revealing Lazy Lou’s bald, shining pate.

“Well fuck me with a ten foot pole,” Eveline said. “How’d that happen?”

“Don’t play with me, Duchen.” Holmforth’s face was white, with hectic red patches on his cheekbones. He aimed the gun at her. Eveline felt her stomach drop. “I suppose the Treadwell girl was in on it too. I assume this means you don’t know what you’re doing, that you have been deceiving me all along? If that is the case, your usefulness is at an end.” He turned to Forbes-Cresswell. “I can only apologise. She must have made the switch somehow. It shouldn’t take long to find another subject, but finding someone who can actually work the machine... well...”

“I can!” Madeleine said. “Please. I’m the one who can work the machine. Not Evvie. She’s been trying to protect me. It was all the fault of James – oh, never mind. Just don’t hurt her.”

“You.” Holmforth looked at her. “You can work it?”

“Of course I can! Just let me show you, but please don’t hurt my girl!”

“Really, Holmforth,” Forbes-Cresswell said. “You do have an extraordinary collection of females. Do put the gun down, old fellow, before your temper gets the better of you and we lose our leverage.”

Holmforth sighed harshly. “Oh, very well.”

“In fact, perhaps you’d better give it to me.”

“I assure you...”

“Holmforth.” Forbes-Cresswell held out his hand.

Holmforth, automatically, put the gun in it.

“Thank you,” Forbes-Cresswell said, tucking it away. “Now, the earplugs.”

“What?”

Forbes-Cresswell trained his own gun on Holmforth. “Earplugs. Now.”

“I don’t...”

“Really, Holmforth. We still need a subject. And you will do as well as any. Admittedly, the fact that you are partly human may make a difference, but I need something to show my buyer.”

“Your... buyer. Who...?”

“That’s of no consequence. However, he will be here soon, and if I don’t have evidence, he may become impatient at being dragged all the way out here. I have a reputation to maintain.”

Beth and Eveline looked at each other. “He’s a spy!” Beth whispered.

“Nah, just a thief,” Eveline whispered back.

“But he’s in the Government!”

“So? So’s Holmforth, and he was planning to nick this off of poor old Wu there. Ma Pether always said there’s more crooks in the Houses of Parliament than there are in Limehouse – they just dress better. C’n you get this bugger moving?”

“I’ll try.”

“Miss Duchen,” Forbes-Cresswell raised his voice. “I hope you are not attempting to conspire with your little friend there. Come out, now. It’s time for your mama to show what she can do. Really, you do seem to be a remarkably resourceful family.”

“What are you doing?” Holmforth said. “You can’t mean to do this!”

“Of course I can, old boy.”

“Is it a test?” Holmforth said. He sounded suddenly, strangely young – a boy facing a harsh schoolmaster. “You’re testing me. I know you can’t mean it. Do you want to know if I’m willing? I’m willing!” A sudden horrible kind of brightness took over his face. “Yes! Test the machine! I understand! It might kill it, it might burn it out of me! Please! Rid me of it!”

Forbes-Cresswell stared at him, and shrugged. “It’s no odds to me what you believe,” he said, keeping the gun on Holmforth, his glance flicking from him to the women. “Sit in that chair.”

Holmforth did so, staring at Forbes-Cresswell like a dog hoping for a biscuit. “This is it, isn’t it? You’re testing me. This was the plan all along.”

“You’re a fool, Holmforth. Come out, Miss Duchen. And you, Miss Hastings.”

The girls stepped down from the dragon’s head.

“Now,” Forbes-Cresswell said. “I want no nonsense. Mrs Duchen, get in there and make this thing work. Otherwise, I’ll kill your daughter, and her little friend. Understand?”

“Yes. Don’t hurt them, please. But you’ll have to give me a little time. This doesn’t look like anything I’ve used before.”

“You have until my buyer gets here.”

Madeleine Duchen walked stiffly towards the dragon. As she passed the girls, she put out her hand and stroked Evvie’s hair. “Everything will be all right.” She smiled at them.

“You, girl,” Forbes-Cresswell said. “Tie him up.”

“With what?”

“The old man has a sash around him. Use that.”

Eveline, grimacing, worked the sash out from around the old man’s stiffening body. One of his shoes fell off. His stockinged foot was somehow awful, pathetic. The gun gave Forbes-Cresswell too much advantage; but, maybe, not quite as much as he thought. Besides, something like this, Ma Pether had said, it only has one shot and you gotta reload. What good’s that? Don’t need to reload your head, do you?

Could she get him to fire it? He had Holmforth’s gun, too, of course – but he had stuck it in his jacket, and she didn’t know how quick he could get at it.

Not worth the risk, not with the way bullets flew about, not caring who they hit.

Use what’s to hand. The old man had a long silver finger-stall, with a pointed end, on the little finger of his left hand... not much, but better than nothing. She palmed it, and began to tie up Holmforth. She yanked on the sash, wanting to punish him.

“There’s no need for this,” he said.

Forbes-Cresswell ignored him, inspected Eveline’s knots, and nodded. “Now move over there by your friend. Mrs Duchen?”

“Yes.”

“I hope you are not planning on displaying any foolish sentimentality this time?”

Madeleine Duchen looked at him steadily. “This man brought my daughter into danger. Do you really think I care for one moment if he suffers? I hope he suffers.”

Oh, Mama.

“Very well,” Forbes-Cresswell said. “Oh, and I believe this Etherics can be used on humans. I should warn you that if I feel, for even a moment, any change in my mental state, your daughter dies. You understand?”

“Yes.”

Eveline watched as her mama began to move the levers inside the machine; her long hands, with their worn, reddened fingers. Did she remember? Could she remember? All those years locked away, working only with bits and scraps...

“This will be a great moment!” Holmforth said. “The future is beginning here, can’t you feel it?” He looked at Eveline. “Even you, you must. The Empire will shine its light upon the savage and pagan remnant of the Folk and...”

“Oh, really, Holmforth,” Forbes-Cresswell said. “You’re becoming tedious. That sort of jaw is all very well for schoolmasters and clergy and vote-getting, but is that really what you think Empire is? Some sort of cleansing fire of virtue and enlightenment? The business of Empire is business, Holmforth. Coin, moving from one pocket to another. And I’m a businessman, no more, no less.”

Holmforth’s eyes searched Forbes-Cresswell’s face, but whatever he sought, he did not find it. His face became very still. Eveline, watching, almost expected tiny cracks to race across his features; behind that mask, something was crumbling, falling away.

Forbes-Cresswell’s eyes moved from him, to Mama in the dragon’s head, to the two girls. Beth looked at Eveline, biting her lip. What now?

Be ready, Eveline mouthed. Ready for what, she didn’t know. A flicker in Forbes-Cresswell’s attention. Anything.

The dragon began to sing. A low vibration in its throat, rising slowly, building potential, holding the promise of thunder.

After a moment, Holmforth drew a hissing breath. He began to shift in his chair, straining against his bounds and moving his head restlessly, as though bothered by flies.

Then he moaned.

Beth gasped as blood began to seep from Holmforth’s ears. It trickled down his neck, and a small red flower bloomed where it ran onto his starched collar.

Forbes-Cresswell nodded. Eveline glanced at her mother, who was still working, her hands relentlessly moving, her eyes glimmering with tears. She looked at Forbes-Cresswell, who motioned her to go on. Another note joined the vibration, a singing hum.

Holmforth’s moans rose; he began to fling his head from side to side, as though trying to shake something out of it. His golden skin drained of colour, leaving him a pallid yellow, like a tallow candle.

Someone screamed, outside. Forbes-Cresswell’s head snapped towards the sound, the gun coming up, and Eveline’s foot shot out and caught him in the side of the knee. He yelped and buckled, turning towards her. Gun! Gun! Gun! her head screamed at her.

The controller Beth was holding caught him in the side of the head and bounced off, clattering to the floor. His hands came up, the gun went off, there was another scream. Eveline dived at his knees and Beth caught his arm, clinging like a monkey, and between them they brought him to the floor. He writhed furiously, trying to throw them off. The gun spun out of his hand, away across the floor.

Eveline held the finger-stall to his neck, dimpling the skin with the point. “Oy, mister. Mister.”

“Get off me, you...”

“Shut up. Feel that?” She pressed, feeling the point push against the bones of his spine. “Now, I seen a chap thrown off his horse, once. Landed with his neck across a mounting stone and you could hear it snap right across the street. Never walked again, that fella. Not a step. So why don’t you stop struggling ’fore I decide to see what happens if I push this right in?” Forbes-Cresswell stilled. “Beth, get the other gun.”

Beth reached into his jacket, grimacing, and extracted Holmforth’s gun.

“My buyer will be here any moment,” Forbes-Cresswell said. “And so will Holmforth’s driver; he’ll have heard the shot. He will believe what I tell him. You have nowhere to go.”

Eveline hesitated. He could be right – if they were found here, with the bodies, it was Forbes-Cresswell who would be believed. And could she bring herself to kill him? How? Drive this spike into his temple, his throat? She didn’t think she could do it, vile little bastard that he was. Thief she might be, murderer she wasn’t.

“Who was it screamed?” Beth said.

“Dunno.”

“Let me up!” Forbes-Cresswell squirmed. He was strong, and she didn’t know how long they could hold him.

“Eveline.”

“Mama.” Eveline didn’t look up, not daring to take her eyes off Forbes-Cresswell. “You all right?”

“Yes, but what are we to do?”

“I...”

Something moved in the doorway and Beth’s hand came up with the gun in it, shaking, and Eveline saw Liu, Liu staggering and bleeding. She knocked Beth’s arm up and Forbes-Cresswell heaved, throwing them off, and rolled, his weight on Eveline, so heavy, his hands were on her throat, crushing, she couldn’t breathe, and then something hit his head, crunch, and his hands slackened, his body suddenly heavier.

“Evvie. Evvie!” There was a crash and a splintering sound, and Mama was hauling him off her.

“I’m all right,” Eveline croaked.

Mama helped her to her feet. Her eyes were wide and horrified, a spray of blood across her cheek, one drop hanging in her grey hair like a dreadful jewel. “I...” She looked down at the remains of a heavy carved box, spattered with hair and blood. Ink and small stones and fine lacquered brushes were scattered around it. “I think I’ve killed him.”

Forbes-Cresswell lay limp, blood and fluid leaking from his head across the tiles.

“Good,” Eveline said.

She heard a whimper. Liu was crawling blindly towards them, blood trickling from his eyes and ears and nose. “Lady... Sparrow...”

“Liu. Oh, shit, Liu, I didn’t know... you weren’t supposed to be there...” Eveline ran towards him.

Madeleine followed her daughter. “Oh, my poor boy. Oh, dear god.”

Liu collapsed at their feet. Madeleine took his head in her lap, and tried to wipe blood from his face with her sleeve.

Beth, seeing the black ink crawl and mingle with the fluid spreading from Forbes-Cresswell’s shattered skull, backed away, dropped to her knees and threw up.

“What happened? What’s this boy doing here?” Madeleine said.

“He wasn’t supposed to be. He was just meant to free whoever Holmforth’d got for the demonstration and put the mannequin there instead, he wasn’t supposed to chase after us, and get his stupid self hurt. Mama, we have to get the dragon working.”

“What?”

“That’s what made him sick. It can make him better. Can’t it?”

“Eveline... I can try.” Madeleine stroked Liu’s brow. “This... this is...”

“I know. You can make it better.”

“What about the driver?” Beth said, wiping her mouth.

Liu muttered something in Chinese.

“I don’t know,” Eveline said. “Oh, I told him he shouldn’t come... Beth, can you check outside? Take the gun. Can you fire it?”

“I can fire it. Aiming’s another thing.” Holding the gun as though it were a dead rat, her mouth pulled down in a grimace, Beth went out.

“Stay with him,” Madeleine said. “Watch him. If he seems to get worse, call out.”

Beth sat down and gently transferred Liu’s head to her own lap. “You bloody idiot,” she muttered. “What’d you have to go and do that for? Messing everything up.”

His eyelids flickered but he said nothing.

“Liu?”

He was terribly pale. His face shimmered, making her jump; for a moment he was all muzzle and sharp, blood-stained teeth.

“Liu!”

And the dragon began to sing.

The first note was high and sweet, a soft, wavering, aahiiihaaahiiii, the voice of a tiny metal angel trapped in the dragon’s throat.

Then came a fuller, rounder sound, raum, raum, raummmm, surrounding the lost angel, lifting it on warm friendly wings.

Liu was very still, now. His breathing was so slow, so faint. Eveline rested a hand on his cheek. He was cool as the tiled floor beneath her.

“Mama, please,” she whispered.

Another note, rich and strange. She felt a strange shifting inside her, a kind of blooming warmth. She willed it to go to Liu, to help him.

Was that a flush of colour in his skin?

The dragon sang in a ringing, lovely multiplicity of voices, and Liu opened his eyes.

 

 

“WHAT HAPPENED?” BETH said.

“Mama made it work.” Liu was sitting up, suffering Madeleine to clean blood from his face with a wetted handkerchief. He still looked pale, and kept glancing anxiously at the dragon. “What happened outside?”

“I don’t know. It’s an awful mess. The driver’s dead, and there’s another man and someone I think was his driver, they’re all dead. Shot.”

“Did you do that?” Eveline asked Liu.

“I did not shoot anyone. I may have encouraged them to shoot each other. They were all most suspicious and quite ready to do so at the slightest provocation.”

“So what now?” said Beth.

“We can make it right,” Holmforth said. Eveline jumped. She’d almost forgotten about wretched Holmforth, still tied to his chair. Mama’s music had worked on him, too, though he still looked sick, and no-one had wiped his face.

“Untie me,” he said. “We will send word to the Consulate, to have the Dragon collected. I will explain everything. The other one, the buyer, he may have papers, something... leave it to me. We can still make this work for the good of the Empire. You have behaved very foolishly, but at least...” He glanced at Forbes-Cresswell, then away. “Treachery failed, as it must.” The look he gave Eveline was almost pleading. “You understand, we can still retrieve something from this!”

“Yeah, right. I think you’re going to be staying right where you are for now, Mr Holmforth. Liu. What you told me about the Queen. About the Gifts. I think... Mama. Mama, are you well?

“Yes, my dear. Only...” She looked down at her bloodied hands, and swallowed. “I should like to wash.”

Eveline wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist, and hugged her fiercely. “You saved me, Mama.”

“Yes. I had to. But... I killed someone.”

“I know. But if you hadn’t, it wouldn’t just be me dead.” She drew Madeleine out of the room, beckoning Liu and Beth to follow, hoping that would take them out of range of Holmforth’s blasted sharp ears.

Once they were beyond the doors, Eveline rubbed her eyes. She could feel a great weight of exhaustion poised at her back, but she couldn’t afford to give in to it yet. “Mama, can you do something to the dragon, if Beth helps? Make it so it will only make pretty noises, ones the Folk will like? Safe ones, like it was just a musical instrument.”

Madeleine frowned. “Well, yes. That only requires ripping out some things, silencing others.”

“What is your plan, Lady Sparrow?” Liu said. He was still pale, but he looked a little more like himself.

“To give your Queen a Gift, Liu. Not the spirit of the thing... I still don’t understand that, quite, and it wouldn’t solve our problem anyway, but the thing itself. The dragon.”

“You want to give her the dragon? I think perhaps the strain of the day has troubled your mind.”

“Listen to me. You already knew about it; how long before someone else gets wind of it? What about the Folk here, that girl he caught? What do you bet they already know something? We gotta make it look like it was meant for a Gift. Meant to please. Then, if they find out that there was something that made terrible, harmful noises, they’ll think it was a mistake – something that happened while we were trying to make them this special Gift. Can you persuade her that it’s the best Gift she could have, better than anyone else could have got? Then, if someone makes another – well. There’s a chance they’ll think we’re just doing it to try and improve on the Gift, produce something better. For them. You see?”

Liu frowned, rubbing his chin. “A Gift,” he said, slowly. “A Gift lovingly created, so much admired that people...” – he glanced back at the other room – “that people killed each other for the honour of giving it. And... now, did I steal it? Oh, yes, I think I stole it... it was intended, not for my Queen, but for the dragon god – an attempt to flatter his image and gain his favour. She’ll like that. In fact, it will delight her to think she has deprived him of such a magnificent Gift.”

“This dragon god, would he be the person you offended, maybe? What will he think of having his present stolen?” Eveline said. “Won’t you get into trouble?”

“I will ensure he hears a different story,” Liu said.

“They won’t fight, will they? I mean, go to war, over it?” Madeleine said. “Charlotte’s still there – and maybe others...”

“Go to war? Against each other? That is extremely unlikely,” Liu said. “They prefer their own hides whole.” He grinned wickedly. “Oh, Lady Sparrow, what a wonderful game!”

Eveline felt herself smile a little, despite everything. Madeleine shook her head. “A game? Really?”

“Just ’cos the stakes are high, it don’t mean it ain’t a game,” Eveline said. “Now. I know Forbes-Cresswell won’t have told anyone where he was going, and I bet he told Holmforth not to either, but it doesn’t mean nothing got around, so we’d better hurry before someone turns up looking for them. Beth, you and Mama get working on the dragon. It needs to sing pretty and if you can get it moving, all the better.”

“Yes,” Liu said. “If you can make it move, I can get it over the border. Otherwise, it will be difficult.”

“How far do you have to go?” Eveline said.

“Oh, I can make a passage in most places – the privilege of my position – but from outdoors is easier.”

“So we don’t have to try and smuggle it onto an airship, then.”

“Fortunately, no.”

“What about Holmforth?” Beth said.

“I dunno, I’ll think of something.” Beth and Madeleine hurried off.

“It would be better if he were dead,” Liu said.

“There’s enough people dead. I don’t want more.”

“Are you sure you have a choice?”

“Of course I got a choice!”

“And if leaving him alive brings down on us what we are trying so hard to prevent?”

“It won’t.”

“Eveline.” Liu touched her hand with the tips of his fingers, gently, as though she were porcelain. “I honour your gentle spirit. But...”

“I know, all right? He’s got a maggot in his head about the Folk, Liu. He wants them to pay. He’s still all fired up for the Empire... I’ll have to think.” She rubbed her eyes. “But the main thing is to get rid of that blasted dragon before it gets us all into even more trouble. And we need to do something in case someone comes looking for the old man, too. I s’pose he must have had servants, at least... wonder where they all went?”

“I should imagine they ran away, but it is possible they may come back.”

 

 

TWO NERVE-WRACKING HOURS later, Eveline watched as the dragon’s head reared up on its long, gleaming neck, and with hisses and clanks and an impressive exhalation of steam, its legs unfolded, raising the sinuous body off the ground.

Despite herself, Eveline took a couple of steps backwards as the head swung towards her. Liu, at the controls, gave her a cheery wave.

“If you would be so kind as to open the doors?”

They did so. Holmforth, still tied to his chair, who had spent the last hours alternately scolding, begging, and threatening, wrenched furiously at his bonds. “You can’t do this! You can’t! Thieves! Traitors!”

They ignored him as the dragon began its stately progress out of the building. Beth sighed. “Oh, it’s so wonderful. If only it wasn’t so dangerous. Are you sure there isn’t another way?”

“Can you think of one?” Eveline said, a little more sharply than she meant.

“No,” Beth said wistfully. “It just seems such a terrible waste. They’re not even going to appreciate it for what it is, for all the work that’s gone into it; they’ll just think it’s a pretty toy.”

“If they thought anything else, we’d all regret it,” Eveline said. “You sure we found all the notes?”

“I think so.” Beth glanced at the pretty porcelain stove where a bunch of papers was burning merrily. “What about the notes he says he gave Forbes-Cresswell?”

“He’d not have kept them at the office – too good a chance of someone else finding ’em. I s’pose we’ll have to check out his gaff when we get home. And his room at the Consulate.”

“You’re going to sneak into the Consulate?”

“Have to, won’t I?”

They followed the dragon out into the courtyard.

Beyond the gates the sun was setting, a fat red coin on grey silk. The light caught the mobile silver wires that hung about the dragon’s mouth, turning them to bloody streaks. Liu paused the beast, and turned its head to Eveline. Steam curled from its nostrils.

“You will be careful,” Eveline said.

“Of course I will,” Liu said. “Do not worry, I think it will work.”

“You’d better go, then.”

“Yes. Goodbye, Lady Sparrow of Shanghai.”

“Zhù nĭ hăoyùn, Foxy.”

“Luck?” Liu grinned. “Luck is for those who are not as clever as us.” He pulled another lever, and the dragon reared up on its hind legs, making Eveline gasp and Beth give a little moan, and with sudden, astonishing, fluid grace, it was out of the gate and moving across the road, a sinuous vision of gleam and vapour in the flat, empty landscape.

And strangely, another road – a thing of mist and whispers, but a road, winding across the plain and rising up at a slope the land did not accommodate – began to form itself before the dragon’s feet.

Suddenly Eveline realised that the dragon’s tail had something clinging to it, some ragged lump of cloth – had it caught on something?

No. It was Holmforth, gripping the moving tail with both hands, working his way up the spine.

“Liu, look out!” Eveline yelled, knowing that it was impossible he could hear her.

Beth fumbled out the gun she had shoved into her pocket.

“No!” Eveline said. “You might hit Liu! Come on!”

They began to run, Madeleine in their wake.

Liu had not noticed his passenger. The dragon was pacing elegantly up the vaporous road. Holmforth inched up its backbone, his face alight with fervid determination.

The dragon reared up. The air shimmered and swirled like the surface of a pearl.

“Liu!”

But it was too late. The dragon surged forward, the air shivered, and then there was a flash of painful, brilliant green light, and something tumbled down through the empty air and landed in the wet field at the girls’ feet.

Clothes. A Norfolk jacket, tweed trousers.

Holmforth’s clothes, sinking into the mud.

“They’re moving...” Beth whispered.

“Maybe they fell on one of them fancy birds, like we saw?” Eveline picked up a stick, and lifted the edge of the jacket.

It was a hare. Crouched inside the shirt, the collar loose around its neck, eyes wide and dark with terror, ears flat to its narrow head.

“Oh,” Eveline breathed.

“Why doesn’t it move? Is it hurt?” Beth said.

“No,” Madeleine said, catching up to them. “It’s probably confused. Come away, girls.”

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Eveline said.

“I don’t understand,” Beth said.

“I do,” Eveline said. “He tried to enter without permission. And he wasn’t Folk enough for that. That would probably have pleased him, poor sod.”

“Eveline, my love.”

“Sorry, Mama.” The hare kicked out suddenly, and ran, briefly trailing a fine linen pocket handkerchief from one leg, before it was gone, zigzagging into the long grasses.

“Will he turn back?” Beth said.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

Beth shivered.

“We’d best pick this lot up.” Eveline sighed. “There’s still a lot to do. I hope Liu’s all right.”

“I’m sure he will be,” Madeleine said. “Come on, girls.”

 

 

“’FANYONE ASKS,” EVELINE said, “We came to visit Mr Holmforth. Beth, you were coming out here to marry him.”

“What? Me?”

“No, all right, I was. Mama, you’re here to check he’s respectable. Anyway, he took us out for a little shooting party, right? Pheasants and such. But he heard a ruckus at that house, and sent us back to the city to be safe and he and the driver ran in, all heroic-like, to check what was happening. After that we don’t know because we was being proper ladies and doing as we was told.” Eveline realised Madeleine was looking at her with a kind of troubled wonder. “Mama... I’m...”

“You’re so quick, Eveline. So quick and clever. I’m very proud of you,” she said fiercely. “Very proud.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Will it work?” Beth said.

“I don’t know. But apart from the buyer, shouldn’t be anyone who knew Forbes-Cresswell was coming here. If I’d had a thought in my head, I’d have asked Liu to take the...” – she glanced at her mother – “the wretch with him, but it’s too late now.”

They took the vehicle that Forbes-Cresswell’s buyer had driven in, for fear the other would be recognised. It was at least as splendid as the Consulate’s, with seats lined in glossy red leather (which, fortunately, hid the bloodstains). Beth took the wheel, with the former driver’s cap pulled over her curls. “You know how to make this thing go?” Eveline said.

“It’s a standard steam car,” Beth said. “Except they’ve done something clever with the boiler, and some other... oh, I’d like to take her apart, have a proper look...”

“Not until we’re back at the hotel, all right?” Eveline said.

By the time they reached the city, Eveline was moving in a grey fog of weariness. The noise and colour and busyness woke her up a little; she stared out of the car, watching the parade of humanity. So many faces. The swaying women with their strange little pig-trotter feet. The brilliantly gilded sedan chairs, their occupants hidden away like jewels in a case. The rickshaws with their scrawny haulers, bowed under the weight of flush-faced, button-straining European merchants or ladies like overblown bouquets in their fine linens and lace, protecting their porcelain complexions with parasols.

It was so like London. The faces of the poor were mainly Chinese, yes... but they were at least as ragged, and as thin, as those in Limehouse. London had no rickshaws, but it had its cabbies, its crossing-sweepers, and its hostlers, easing the passage of the better-off. The backstreets of Shanghai carried the rich-sweet stench of opium, not the raw-alcohol reek of cheap gin... but they all smelled of shit and misery.

Would the Folk actually be worse? Eveline thought, watching a rickshaw driver ducking away from the blows of a European’s heavy silver-headed cane.

Maybe not. But the Folk you couldn’t fight, or at least, not yet.