speaking to any of them these days."
"Very wise," said the demon. "The less I have to do with mine, the better. Although—" He stopped, and an expression of sheer horror came over his face.
"Zhu Irzh?" Chen said sharply. "Are you all right?"
"No." The demon collapsed back onto the couch.
"What's wrong?"
"I've just remembered. I knew there was something. It's my mother's birthday. Tomorrow. And we'll be in Hell."
"She doesn't have to know that you're in Hell, does she?"
"She'll know," Zhu Irzh sounded bleak. "She's my mother. Don't ask me how she does it."
"Can't you phone her?" Inari said. "Pretend you're still here, that the connection is bad?"
Chen looked at her with renewed respect. Every time he thought he knew Inari, she surprised him.
"It's a thought, I suppose. But she'll know. That's the terrible thing."
"Look," Chen said. "It's after eight thirty. We've got to get on the road; we can't keep Miss Qi waiting." Turning to Inari, he gave her a farewell embrace and then stepped out onto the deck with Zhu Irzh trailing at his heels.
Miss Qi was waiting in the atrium of her hotel, looking prim and well-rested. Chen felt disheveled in comparison, but then he always did when confronted with Heavenkind. He doubted whether they ever sweated, except for that faintly radiant glow redolent of peach blossom or roses, and they certainly never did any of the cruder things to which the human organism was so regrettably prone. But the result was that he felt like an ox next to Miss Qi.
Zhu Irzh did not seem to be experiencing similar misgivings. He said, "Miss Qi? How are you finding the city? Sleeping all right?"
"Well," Miss Qi said. "Not as well as I'm used to. It's rather noisy here, isn't it?"
"It's a big, human city," Chen answered. "There's a lot going on."
"I suppose so." Miss Qi looked doubtful. "And so many very unhappy people. I could feel them in the night, so restless."
"Singapore Three isn't a nice place," the demon said. "It's why I like it."
Miss Qi looked at him with an expression that, in a less refined being, might have been malice. "And now you're going home to Hell."
"Don't," Zhu Irzh said, "remind me."
"It's his mother's birthday tomorrow," explained Chen.
Miss Qi clapped pallid hands together. "But how wonderful! Will we meet her?"
"God, I hope not."
"I really don't have a very clear idea of our schedule," Chen said. "Someone's supposed to be meeting us at the other side of the Night Harbor, but I don't have a name—Sung wasn't clear. Did they give you any information?"
Miss Qi shook her head. "None at all."
Chen sighed. "Oh well. We'll just have to manage, as usual." At that, the hotel doorbell rang and Chen looked up to see Sergeant Ma's lugubrious form standing in the entrance to the atrium.
"Ma!" He introduced the sergeant to Miss Qi.
Ma looked at her with interest. "Pleased to meet you, Miss. I'll be taking you to—to the point of your departure."
"Thank you so much." Miss Qi fluttered through the door. In an undertone, Ma said, "She's going with you?"
"Don't underestimate Miss Qi," Chen said. "She's a Heavenly warrior."
"With respect, sir," said Ma. "Are you sure? She looks as though she'd be more at home at a tea party."
"I'm sure," Chen said. Zhu Irzh shrugged. They followed Ma out to the car.
Singapore Three, even at this time of night, was still almost gridlocked. The city had been bad even before the earthquakes, and now it was close to impossible. Chen had thought he'd been given a tough job as liaison officer with Hell, but it was nothing compared to being a member of the traffic department. He felt almost smug as Ma took the police car the wrong way along a one-way street, up a flight of steps, and shot along the harbor road against the flow of in-bound traffic.
And then they were at the sinister black warehouse that housed the Night Harbor.
Fifteen
The clerk barely registered Chen's passport, which he gloomily regarded
"Very wise," said the demon. "The less I have to do with mine, the better. Although—" He stopped, and an expression of sheer horror came over his face.
"Zhu Irzh?" Chen said sharply. "Are you all right?"
"No." The demon collapsed back onto the couch.
"What's wrong?"
"I've just remembered. I knew there was something. It's my mother's birthday. Tomorrow. And we'll be in Hell."
"She doesn't have to know that you're in Hell, does she?"
"She'll know," Zhu Irzh sounded bleak. "She's my mother. Don't ask me how she does it."
"Can't you phone her?" Inari said. "Pretend you're still here, that the connection is bad?"
Chen looked at her with renewed respect. Every time he thought he knew Inari, she surprised him.
"It's a thought, I suppose. But she'll know. That's the terrible thing."
"Look," Chen said. "It's after eight thirty. We've got to get on the road; we can't keep Miss Qi waiting." Turning to Inari, he gave her a farewell embrace and then stepped out onto the deck with Zhu Irzh trailing at his heels.
Miss Qi was waiting in the atrium of her hotel, looking prim and well-rested. Chen felt disheveled in comparison, but then he always did when confronted with Heavenkind. He doubted whether they ever sweated, except for that faintly radiant glow redolent of peach blossom or roses, and they certainly never did any of the cruder things to which the human organism was so regrettably prone. But the result was that he felt like an ox next to Miss Qi.
Zhu Irzh did not seem to be experiencing similar misgivings. He said, "Miss Qi? How are you finding the city? Sleeping all right?"
"Well," Miss Qi said. "Not as well as I'm used to. It's rather noisy here, isn't it?"
"It's a big, human city," Chen answered. "There's a lot going on."
"I suppose so." Miss Qi looked doubtful. "And so many very unhappy people. I could feel them in the night, so restless."
"Singapore Three isn't a nice place," the demon said. "It's why I like it."
Miss Qi looked at him with an expression that, in a less refined being, might have been malice. "And now you're going home to Hell."
"Don't," Zhu Irzh said, "remind me."
"It's his mother's birthday tomorrow," explained Chen.
Miss Qi clapped pallid hands together. "But how wonderful! Will we meet her?"
"God, I hope not."
"I really don't have a very clear idea of our schedule," Chen said. "Someone's supposed to be meeting us at the other side of the Night Harbor, but I don't have a name—Sung wasn't clear. Did they give you any information?"
Miss Qi shook her head. "None at all."
Chen sighed. "Oh well. We'll just have to manage, as usual." At that, the hotel doorbell rang and Chen looked up to see Sergeant Ma's lugubrious form standing in the entrance to the atrium.
"Ma!" He introduced the sergeant to Miss Qi.
Ma looked at her with interest. "Pleased to meet you, Miss. I'll be taking you to—to the point of your departure."
"Thank you so much." Miss Qi fluttered through the door. In an undertone, Ma said, "She's going with you?"
"Don't underestimate Miss Qi," Chen said. "She's a Heavenly warrior."
"With respect, sir," said Ma. "Are you sure? She looks as though she'd be more at home at a tea party."
"I'm sure," Chen said. Zhu Irzh shrugged. They followed Ma out to the car.
Singapore Three, even at this time of night, was still almost gridlocked. The city had been bad even before the earthquakes, and now it was close to impossible. Chen had thought he'd been given a tough job as liaison officer with Hell, but it was nothing compared to being a member of the traffic department. He felt almost smug as Ma took the police car the wrong way along a one-way street, up a flight of steps, and shot along the harbor road against the flow of in-bound traffic.
And then they were at the sinister black warehouse that housed the Night Harbor.
Fifteen
The clerk barely registered Chen's passport, which he gloomily regarded
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