The Demon and the City

out beneath like a pastel tapestry: its plains, its mountains, its temples and cities. Its complexity and depth overwhelmed him. He staggered against Chen. Then they were over the Sea of Night and his sight went dark.
    When it cleared again, they were standing in the courtyard of Kuan Yin's temple, not far from Shaopeng. The badger gave a sneezing snort, which managed to sound almost happy. Zhu Irzh suppressed an inclination to pat the badger on the head, took a lungful of diesel-laden air and reached for his cigarettes.
    "It's great to be back."
    And at that point, the earth cracked under his feet.
     

Forty-Six
    Jhai was halfway out of the city when the first quake hit. The limousine in which she and Opal were traveling was flung sideways across the road, slamming into a lamppost. Jai and her mother were hurled forward, but the seatbelts held them in. Jhai detached the belt, wrenched open the door and leaped from the car. She ran around to the driver's side, where a dazed Colonel Ei was also getting out.
    "What the hell—!"
    A gaping chasm had opened up along the length of the street. It was not very deep, but cars and a tram had half-fallen into it and now rested at a variety of angles, with people scrambling from them.
    "It's a quake," Ei shouted unnecessarily.
    "I can see that!" Jhai looked behind her. The chasm extended up the road, zigzagging unevenly across it. No chance of driving anywhere now: they would have to continue on foot. And the airport was a good twenty miles outside town. Once they'd got beyond the quake damage, she would have to find a taxi.
    "Jhai?" Opal came to stand beside her daughter, her face creased with fright. "What's going on?"
    Jhai could not help feeling that all this earth-heaving wrath was somehow directed at her. Was this Heaven's attempt to strike her down? It seemed uncharacteristically unsubtle. If that were the case, then the best thing to do was to take advantage of the confusion around her and make as quick an exit from the city as possible, before anyone noticed she was gone. At the airport, a private plane to Kerala was waiting. If they could only get there—she would not think about the possibility of damage at the airport itself.
    "Ei," she said. "Where's the nearest main road? Apart from this one?"
    "Shaopeng." Ei pointed. "Up there."
    "Come on," Jhai said. "We'll get a taxi."
    "Shouldn't we go back to the tower?" Opal quavered. "It's supposed to be earthquake proof, that nice Japanese man told me. And we can visit Kerala another time."
    "No, Mother," Jhai said firmly. Perhaps it would have been better to tell Opal the truth after all. "We're getting out of here. Trust me."
    Opal gave her a suspicious look. "Is there anything you're not telling me, dear?"
    "Of course not." Jhai took her mother by the hand and led her, followed by Ei, up the street of steps that came out into Shaopeng. Here, to her relief, the traffic seemed unimpeded and the road surface was intact. A few cars had been abandoned by the roadside, but otherwise it seemed that people had resolutely decided to ignore the quake. Jhai, looking uneasily up at the sky, stepped out into the street and flagged down a taxi. It took several minutes, but eventually one slowed to a halt and she pushed Opal inside.
    "The airport. Quickly!"
     

Forty-Seven
    Paravang had gone to Senditreya's temple that morning to give the priest-broker the good news, and had been unable to find the old man. Indeed, the whole temple seemed to be in complete disarray, with priests and dowsers running to and fro. Eventually Paravang managed to collar a temple clerk and ask what was going on.
    "No one knows!" the clerk gasped. "It's been chaos here. The goddess hasn't been answering prayer slips—not even the highest priests have been able to reach her. And the city is falling apart."
    "Apart?" Paravang said, nonplussed. "What do you mean, 'apart'?" He hadn't done any actual dowsing or geomantic analysis since the episode at the murder site; he must be out of touch.
    "The meridians are contorted. No one knows what's wrong with them. Ch'i, sha, it doesn't matter—the place is starting to crack along them as though they were fault lines. I spoke to a priest this morning and he said that it's as though the goddess has been holding the meridians in her hands like a knot, and now she's just let them slip."
    "But why?"
    "We don't know. There are rumors of a war in Heaven."
    "That's not possible."
    "Maybe not, but that's the nature of the