The Demon and the City

kitchen, Robin stuffed the dirty clothes in the washing machine and padded into the bathroom in her underwear.
    "What are you doing?" Alba called.
    "Having a shower!" At least the water was on. She caught a glimpse of herself in the bedroom mirror as she dressed, a short, pale-faced person under a wet bob of dark hair, wearing huge clothes. Where are you, Deveth?
    Alba was hunched on the sofa, smoking sourly. Deprived of her audience, Robin thought.
    "What are we going to do?"
    "Well, I don't know." She wondered if Paugeng security, Tserai's private troops, could be roped in. An ice-cold thought made her shiver: What if Deveth was dead? What if the Sardai family thought she'd killed Deveth? She wasn't the same class . . .you didn't know how these people might behave. Robin had been brought up to consider that the rich were all mad.
    "Could you call her parents?" Tarai said, doubtful.
    "I don't think they'd trust me," Robin replied. She didn't want to talk about the earlier visit. "I'm not good enough for Deveth."
    Underneath the posturing, Alba had a kind-enough heart. She protested. "I'm sure they wouldn't think that! I mean—Dev and I were never real lovers, we had a thing sometimes but it wasn't—we were friends."
    She stubbed the cigarette out, and Robin, relieved to be leaving this sad, empty place, followed her down the stairs.

MING I:
The Darkening of the Light
Nine
    In the fashionably muted atrium of Paugeng, Zhu Irzh found that Jhai Tserai was unavailable. The young man behind the reception desk seemed entirely unfazed by the demon's presence. He smiled warmly at Zhu Irzh. The subtext said: We're so happy to see you. What a welcome visitor you are . It made Zhu Irzh smile. They all got it from Jhai Tserai, who was apparently picky about details, especially those regarding quality management. Top down.
    The young receptionist told Zhu Irzh that he was most welcome to stay and wait. Perhaps he would like to wait in the guest suite? There was a pool (green, cool, a length of water submerged between the fronds of ferns; you could swim with the soothing carp in the pond). The demon's mouth watered at the thought, a surprising physiological reaction, but some perversity made him decline.
    "No thanks. I think I'll go and explore the port."
    The receptionist managed to convey to Zhu Irzh that this was absolutely fine. If the demon had announced his intention to immolate himself on the front steps he would, he presumed, have evoked a similar response. He smiled and left.
    Outside, a wall of sticky heat hit him. At the edge of the port, a battered tin sign announced the presence of a café. The demon hesitated for a moment, then went down some steps and was disorientingly out in the open again, in a small and dusty side street. Two boys were cooking something in a large, flat pan over an open fire. Both of them looked up and wary recognition flickered across their faces. They could see him, then. That betokened some evidence of magical training—Paugeng and the police precinct could afford expensive wards to bring visibility to supernatural intruders; out here in the slums, you were on your own. But there was a vacancy to the boys' faces that suggested they were simple. Under a corrugated iron awning, an old woman dozed, her seamed, beige face nodding above a stiff, black collar.
    "It's all right," the demon said. "I'm not here to hurt you." The boys grinned up at him. He estimated they had about six teeth between them.
    "Tschai?" a boy said without preamble. After a moment, this made sense.
    "Thanks. I'd love some tea." The demon squatted on his heels beside them, fastidiously flicking the skirts of his silk coat out of the dust with his tail. The older child pottered to the back of the shop and produced a vast iron kettle, from which a thick, chocolate-colored liquid emerged. He handed the warm glass to Zhu Irzh, who thought of ice: ice and mint and pale green drinks. Actually, the tea was refreshing, although there was a peculiar aftertaste which he couldn't quite get hold of. He smiled and nodded at the boys; they smiled and nodded back; the grandmother woke up and everyone smiled and nodded at everyone else. It was all very friendly. He sipped the tea and consulted his watch. One of the boys came to with a start. He spoke to the old woman. The grandmother retreated into the depths of the shop and staggered out again with a large box. The demon watched curiously. She set the box in a niche, where some of