Hell's Pawn (30 page)

“What does that—”

The monk pressed a finger to his lips again and smiled. John listened.

The throne room was silent. Had Liu Wu left for battle?

“Master,” Yi Yi said quietly. “You are fully dressed in your suit.” Liu Wu’s voice was even quieter in its response. “Yes. I am.”

“Then why do you not go to battle?”

A sigh echoed throughout the chamber.

The monk floated even nearer to J ohn and whispered, “He who experiences the unity of life sees his own self in all beings, and all beings in his own self, and looks on everything with an impartial eye.”

I n other words, try looking at things from someone else’s point of view. For all of his bravado and bluster, L iu W u had no desire to go to war. He hadn’t since his death. No surprise, since losing a war had been the cause of his downfall. These thoughts must have weighed heavily on his mind for centuries.

I nspiration struck J ohn so suddenly that he wanted to shout ‘Eureka!’ He knew a way to get the armor while allowing Liu Wu to regain his honor.

“Thank you!” John said to the monk. “You’re really very good!”

“M y delight is yours, your happiness my own!” The monk bowed his head and disappeared.

John stood and slid aside the lid of the burial jar.

“Victory!”

A roar followed this declaration as dozens of doll-sized soldiers marched into the throne room.

“We have vanquished the enemy, your highness!”

Two motionless masses were held aloft by dozens of tiny hands. R immon and B olo were both bound in glowing ropes of white light. The plates of their makeshift terraco a armor were mostly broken or missing. B oth looked dead, or at least unconscious. Tiny glowing arrows and the occasional spear were buried in their flesh.

The li le soldiers, whose hands had always been empty, were now bristling with various weapons made from this same light.

L iu W u stood in his excitement and removed his jade mask, but now his face was puzzled. “These aren’t Qin’s soldiers! These are the fools from yesterday!”

“Allow me to explain!” John said.

He ducked back into the pot just in time to avoid a swarm of arrows.

“I can give you what you most desire!” John shouted.

“Your head on a pike?” Liu Wu shouted back. “I think that belongs to me already!”

“You leading a war,” J ohn said, “at the front of the ba lefield, in full view of every realm in the afterlife. All will witness your glory and name you victorious! All this, without you having to leave your tomb!”

The king’s footsteps echoed in the huge room as he moved toward the jar. Two jade gloves grasped the rim before Liu Wu glowered over the side. “Go on.”

“We’re about to wage a war against Heaven,” J ohn explained quickly. “We have dozens of gods on our side, but we need your soldiers. G ive me your armor and I will lead your soldiers in ba le. I will only respond to your name and won’t remove the mask. I f I win, you can claim the victory as your own. This isn’t dishonest, since they are your soldiers and the jade suit a mark of esteem you earned in life.” L iu W u shook his head. “I f you win, I win, but if you lose, then I suffer a humiliation ten times greater than before!”

“I f I lose, which I have no intention of doing, then you will confront me on the field of ba le. You can tell everyone there how I stole your armor, and you can take my head. A victory in itself, wouldn’t you say, decapitating the leader of a renegade army?”

L iu W u scowled as he considered the idea. B y the time he was finished thinking, his eyes shone with the idea. “M e, leading an army, victorious against Heaven itself while Q in and his army rot in their tomb.” He glared at J ohn. “I f you lose, my soldiers will cut your soul into a hundred pieces and sca er them across the realms, all but your head, which I shall keep and do unspeakable things to.”

John stood cautiously and offered his hand. “Then I think we have a deal.”
Chapter Fourteen

Fists of clay pummeled the demon’s back, striking the exposed skin without mercy.

R immon lay face-down on the ground, a vanquished foe powerless against the brutal onslaught. He moaned in pleasure.

“Don’t ever stop,” he pleaded. “The massage parlors in Hell can’t compare with your skills, Yi Yi. Not that much massaging takes place in such establishments.” Next to them, B olo was playing tug of war, his jaw clenched firmly on a rope pulled by six terraco a soldiers on the other side. The soldiers—who were clearly humoring the dog and could easily win—were in high spirits. The recent ba le had dusted off their cobwebs, and news of a full-fledged war had them feeling nearly as optimistic as Yi Yi. M ost of them were in council with L iu W u, who began formulating strategies as soon as he had been briefed about the enemy. The king was determined to be as involved as possible with the ba le, even though he didn’t plan to take the field himself.

R immon and B olo had made quick recoveries, the arrows that penetrated them disappearing the moment the soldiers willed them to. The demon admi ed that he had been captured swiftly and efficiently by the soldiers, an experience that had earned his full confidence in their abilities. The arrows were an effective weapon. Not only were they painful, but they rendered the victim’s body immobile while causing the mind to enter a delusional state. All in all, the mission had been a complete success. Except for one crucial aspect.

“Dante,” John said meaningfully.

“Yes,” R immon said. “I was just giving some thought to that. S omeone in the village might have a connection to the goddess Amaterasu or at least know something that could help us. Perhaps L iu W u could send soldiers out to the villagers to ask on our behalf. It would be much faster than going door-to-door ourselves.”

“It’s worth a try,” John said. “I’ll ask him right away.”

“Never heard of her,” L iu W u grunted when J ohn found him. The king was pouring over an ancient book that had diagrams of soldiers in various training exercises. “I could send men out to survey my people, but you should ask Kenjo first. All he ever did in life was read. I t’s as if someone crammed an entire talking library into a jar.

There’s a reason I had him moved to my throne room. You can’t imagine how useful that is.”

J ohn thought wistfully of the I nternet as he made his way back to the throne room.

Were there more monks in burial jars? I f J ohn could find a way to network them, he could be the afterlife’s version of an Internet tycoon.

He felt somewhat awkward when approaching the jar, wondering what the standard protocol was. S hould he knock politely or simply crawl inside like he did before? I n the end he decided to remove the lid and call Kenjo’s name. O range light collected into the shape of a man again. Now, with only his upper torso visible, the monk really did resemble a genie. Kenjo patiently waited for him to speak, a serene smile on his face.

J ohn explained what had happened to Dante. This went much smoother than he expected since the monk was already comfortable with the idea of past lives and reincarnation. Kenjo listened closely and without interruption. W hen finished, J ohn braced himself for another existential quote from B uddha, but instead the monk began to tell him a story.

“What do you know of Japanese mythology?” Kenjo asked first.

“Nothing at all,” John admitted.

The monk nodded and began his tale.

“Amaterasu was the goddess of the sun. Her twin brother, I zanagi, was god of the moon. B oth of them were renowned for their grace and fair appearance. The twins had a younger sibling, S usanoo, who was neither fair nor graceful. S usanoo was known for his temper and lack of manners. How fi ing, then, that he was god of storms and the temperamental sea.

“I zanagi, tiring of his li le brother’s rude behavior, went to great pains to banish him from the heavens. S usanoo eventually agreed to go, but insisted first on visiting his sister Amaterasu to say goodbye. S usanoo went to her home and made himself a guest there. S oon it became clear that he had no intention of leaving, so the sun goddess decided to challenge him to a game. I f S usanoo lost, he would leave, but if he won, he would be allowed to stay in her home indefinitely.

“The contest was to see who was more skilled at bringing life into the world. The sun goddess took S usanoo’s sword and fashioned from it two men. Drawing inspiration from this, S usanoo took Amaterasu’s necklace and divided it into three women. He delighted instantly in his victory, only to be quelled by his sister.

“‘The necklace belongs to me,’ the goddess said, ‘and thus so do the women. I have won the contest and you must go!’”

“That’s not fair!” John interrupted.

“S usanoo felt the same and was so outraged by his sister’s trickery that he refused to leave and made a nuisance of himself, chasing away the goddess’s animals and terrorizing her servants. E ventually Amaterasu could take it no more and fled to a cave, where she sealed herself away from the world. The earth suffered in her absence, for there was no more light and the crops could not grow. W ithout the goddess, the world grew dark, hungry, and cold.

“All the other gods gathered outside the cave and begged Amaterasu to come out, but she wouldn’t heed their cries. Finally, clever Uzume, goddess of happiness, devised a plan. First she placed a mirror in a tree across from the cave. S he then dressed herself in flowers, turned a wash bucket over, and started to dance on top of it.

Then she began to strip off her clothes, which had the other gods cheering and laughing in amusement. Amaterasu heard the music and merriment and asked what was happening. How could they be enjoying themselves with no sun in the sky?

“‘There’s a new sun goddess,’ Uzume replied. ‘One of indescribable beauty!’

“O vercome with curiosity, Amaterasu came out of her cave. The first thing she saw was her own face in the mirror and was fla ered. Then she saw the silly dance that Uzume was performing for the other gods and was herself overcome with laughter.

S he left her cave and her sorrows behind, and once again blessed the earth with her light.”

J ohn appreciated the monk’s story, but he didn’t see how it would help him get Dante back. His puzzlement must have been clear, because Kenjo spoke further.

“L egend says that the
kagura
, the spiritual dances performed by those of S hinto faith, take their origin from Uzume’s dance and are performed at the I mperial court by the descendants of Amaterasu.”

“And you think one of these
kagura
dances might attract the goddess to us?” The monk smiled. “If it is sufficiently amusing.”

“I f dressing in drag and dancing around is what it takes to get Dante back,” J ohn said, “then count me in.”

“Forgive me,” Kenjo said, “but your features are very fair. I feel you would make an attractive woman, rather than one that invokes mirth.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

* * * * *

V illagers shuffled excitedly, the crowd at least six deep. The object of their a ention was an overturned water barrel centered on a bare patch of dirt. C ha er filled the air, occasionally interrupted by laughter. W hen the soldiers of the king arrived, waving banners ten times their size, the crowd fell silent and parted to let them pass.

R immon scowled as he entered the clearing, looking as ferocious as a chained beast, an impressive feat considering his a ire. His wig was woven from field grass and decorated through with white lilies, and his makeup was atrocious. W hite paint covered his face, sharp arches of pink running from his eyelids to his temples. O nly the natural red of his lips was left exposed to simulate lipstick.

As for his clothing, the tops of two pumpkins had been cut off and fashioned into a bra, the stems pointing upwards like bizarre nipples. A skirt of bamboo and elevated wooden sandals completed the look, with the extra touch of silk bows tied along Rimmon’s tail.

J ohn led B olo to the front of the crowd as R immon climbed onto the barrel.

C onvincing the demon to do this hadn’t been easy, especially when word of mouth spread and the entire village expressed interest in being there. J ohn assured him that they were coming to see a demon and a goddess for the first time, not to laugh at him.

B esides, J ohn felt they owed the villagers something for terrorizing them and burning their homes. As R immon had promised, all had quickly been set right again, but compensation for their troubles in the form of entertainment seemed fair.

They required the villagers’ assistance too, since they needed music for their dance.

Liu Wu arrived in a
jiao
, a chair mounted on two poles and carried by four men. I n this case, four of the li le soldiers were holding the king effortlessly aloft, giving him the best—and only—seat in the audience. L iu W u gestured with his hand, and a number of villagers came forward with drums.

R immon climbed onto the barrel and gave one hopeful glance at the sky, as if the goddess might appear without him having to dance. S hapeless gray clouds were all that could be seen.

The musicians began drumming, and the audience cheered, eager for their show.

R immon stepped to the left and then to the right. He was moving to the beat, but his dance was hardly inspiring. He continued to shuffle back and forth, his eyes not meeting the now-grumbling crowd.

“Come on!” John yelled. “Show these people what a real incubus can do!” R immon’s gaze rose to meet his, and J ohn nodded encouragingly. A slow cocky grin spread across R immon’s face as his torso began to gyrate, a movement that wound down to his pelvis, which pumped just enough to be suggestive. His forked tail began to thump against the barrel, se ing a new beat that the musicians quickly picked up.

R immon’s steps were twice as fast now as he turned and whirled, showing off every angle of his body.

There was laughter from the men in the audience, but most of it was drowned out by appreciative catcalls from the women. E ventually the men grew quieter, and when J ohn tore his eyes away from the strangely erotic display, he found most of them looking confused. The men hadn’t expected to find R immon so sexually appealing, but the incubus was turning the ridiculous costume to his advantage, rubbing his hands over the pumpkin breasts and hiding them so the men were forced to use their imaginations.