The Demon and the City

pheromonal hatred emanating from the dowser. Heat began to swim in his blood and drive a spike behind his eyes. He blinked, trying to keep a sudden, overwhelming fury at bay. It was too powerful for Zhu Irzh to reflect that this was not normal behavior for him, that it was utterly irrational . . .
    "—who summoned you up?" Paravang shrieked. His round face was distorted with rage.
    "I was not summoned," the demon heard himself say, very softly.
    "—just because you're some spawn of Hell you think you can lord it over the rest of us, come here and take my living away—"
    The crowd made a little convulsive motion forward, as if pulled by a sympathetic string. Zhu Irzh reached Paravang in three strides. He appraised the ranting dowser for a moment, then reached out, as contemptuously as a cat, and swiped Paravang in the ribs. His sharp claws cut through Paravang's shirt like butter and sent him sprawling to the ground. Paravang looked aghast at the parallel bloody grooves in his flesh and wailed. All movement stopped. Zhu Irzh watched him with a dreadful interest. Everything became inverted, the sky darkened and the ground underneath him seemed horribly bright. Zhu Irzh reached down a clawed hand, hauled Paravang easily to his feet, and hit him again across the side of the head. He could smell the enticing scent of fresh blood. There was a series of meaningless noises away to his right, which, if he had been able to understand them, would have resolved into the voice of the site manager, shouting. He glanced down at the ground and saw that the meridian at his feet was glowing white hot, all the way down into the city. Then something hit him in the ribs and bowled him over, knocking him away from the meridian. The rage was abruptly gone, melted like snow, but in its place was a dull, burning ache in his side that kindled into blazing pain. Zhu Irzh's vision blurred, but through the fading landscape of the site, he saw someone sprinting toward him. A woman: tall, and wiry, dressed in Paugeng security team fatigues. And in her hand she was holding a remarkably large gun.

Twelve
    The lab team did not find Robin for some hours. Her erstwhile experiment had not bothered to gag her and when she came round, she cried for help until the coughing stopped her. She tried to get out of the bonds, but they were tied too securely and the fever weakened her. She lay for a long time in a daze. Faces swam above her: Jhai, Deveth and Malian Sardai, her own mother, and always back to Mhara's well-water blue eyes. At first she thought they were real, but soon realized that they were no more than illusion.
    Eventually, George Su found her, having heard her coughing uncontrollably. He acted promptly, releasing the bonds and sending a priority call to Jhai, who had just arrived back at Paugeng. She came straight down. Robin was too ill to speak by now, running a red-hot fever and coughing until she couldn't breathe. Tserai called the medics and got Robin into a ward. On the way, Robin was vaguely aware of Paugeng's private troops pouring out into the atrium. It was then about nine in the evening and the light had gone. They won't find him now, Robin thought, elation running under the fever. He's long gone . She was too ill to worry about the consequences. The medic kept trying to bring her round, and she knew Tserai was hovering over her to find out what had happened. She tried to tell them, but could not stop coughing, and eventually she felt a sedative prick her forearm and the ward became a woolly haze.
     
    Under the sedative, Robin dreamed. It was a small, clear dream, like a sequence of images, very finely drawn. She was standing on a hill in a hot place. A dark red sun was setting over a line of sea. Beneath the hill lay a city, walled and crowded with tall houses, each with a curling edge to the roof, and bearing a lacy fretwork of balconies. The air smelled of blood. Smoke drifted up from the buildings and drifted across the steaming air. She could see immense towers in the distance, reaching almost to the crimson sky.
    Then she was inside one of the tall houses. It was warm and shadowy, a small room with a fire in the grate. The window was made of some kind of paper, with a curled catch that cast a precise shadow against the lacquered pane. She was waiting for someone. She looked down and saw a cup filled with something thick and red.
    And then she was outside again. A great wall of mountain rose up before her, a remote and