The Demon and the City

sorry at all. No doubt she thought it was nothing more than he deserved.
    "Perhaps he should have stayed on the dock," Chen said.
    "What, I'm not good enough to be in the presence of a Celestial immortal?" Zhu Irzh asked.
    The maiden gave him a long, measured look. "Technically, no."
    "Oh, thanks!"
    "Well, you are from Hell, aren't you?"
    "Hell was where I was born. I can't help that, can I?"
    "I suppose not," the maiden said after a moment's consideration. Then she added, humbly, "Perhaps I should be more charitable."
    "Yes, maybe you should." But the whole exchange set Zhu Irzh to thinking as they followed the maiden along the deck, with the badger trundling along behind. It was true: as far as he knew, he'd had no choice. He wasn't at all clear about the workings of Hellkind's reproduction, at least, not as far as it concerned the soul. Humans were different: born into the flesh, they served out their time in it, discarded it, and then went elsewhere as if snapped back to their true realm by a piece of elastic. But the Celestials and Hellkind were not like that; they were born all of a piece. There was a limited kind of reincarnation—when a demon died, it simply remanifested, and as far as Zhu Irzh knew, the Celestials did not die at all. But did that mean that they could not die, or only that they rarely did? He had heard of demons slaying Celestial beings, but not what happened to them after that. He had assumed that they simply reappeared in Heaven, a bit ruffled. But maybe this wasn't the case at all. Zhu Irzh was starting to feel a distinct theological lack. He frowned as he walked along the deck and was conscious of a sense of nervousness as they approached what was presumably the goddess Kuan Yin's cabin.
    When they got to a tall, narrow door, the maiden turned. "Wait here, if you please. I must speak to my mistress." Then she stepped through the closed door, which rippled like water to let her in.
    "You know," the demon said. "I don't think I've ever heard of a Celestial being coming all the way to the Night Harbor. I mean, apart from the clerks and so forth. But a goddess?"
    "I've been wondering why she's here," Chen replied. "I can't see it as a positive sign, somehow."
    "Neither can I." Zhu Irzh glanced up as the maiden reappeared.
    "She wants to see both of you," the maiden said, managing to convey an air of discreet distaste as she looked at the demon.
    "We'd be honored," Chen said, before Zhu Irzh could answer.
    "Then please go in." The maiden opened the door. Zhu Irzh followed Chen into a warm, dark place, confined by red lacquered walls. It reminded him of a womb—that might, after all, be the idea. Smoke curled into the air from several tall incense burners, forcing the demon to stifle a sneeze. As his vision cleared, he saw that the goddess was seated at the far end of the chamber, upon a comfortably upholstered chair. She did not rise as they entered—one would hardly have expected her to—but greeted Chen with warmth. Zhu Irzh received a rather cooler salutation.
    "Detective Zhu Irzh. We've met, have we not?"
    "Yes, we have. After the—unpleasantness—last year."
    "I remember all too well," the goddess said grimly. "And now you are here, on Earth."
    "Assigned to the offices of justice," Zhu Irzh said. "Performing good and useful work." He was suddenly aware that he was babbling. He was of one of the aristocracies of Hell, he reminded himself. There was no need to justify himself before the enemy. And yet, looking at Kuan Yin's remote, cool countenance, Zhu Irzh could not help feeling very small.
    At last the goddess rose, in a swish of silk and a wave of subtle perfume. "I have come, Chen, to search for someone. Someone who has answers to my questions, and someone who has been transformed."
    "With all due respect, Goddess," Chen said. "I'm surprised that you came yourself, and did not send a minion."
    "I'm very hands-on sometimes," the goddess remarked, surprising Zhu Irzh. She hesitated. "Besides, there is a question of trust."
    Zhu Irzh could almost feel Chen's mouth drop open. "Trust? Among Heavenkind, I thought that would be automatic."
    "Then you would be wrong," the goddess said. "We have our factions, just as you do. Aeons ago, perhaps, it was different—but you know the myths of origin. Creation arises not from agreement, but from conflict and tension. These things are the crucible that generates change. And there are many who hold that this is not a good thing, that Heaven must