As Yet Unknown (#Wattys2016)

Chapter 7

Ping listened to the night breathe with a thousand shocked breaths. She disentangled herself from Serena's cooling thighs before rigour set in. Carefully, using the same words she'd heard from the dead whore she addressed the darkness,: "My lord, I believe you have a new feera."

As if lit by her words, several fires took hold, billowing and cracking and talking in that creaking voice that fires have. She wandered if she could stand for much longer.

Tap. Shuffle. Tap. Shuffle. Ping sensed, rather than saw the Wu come closer, clearly recovered from his fit. He may be ancient, he may be blind but there was nothing wrong with his voice.

"It is as the Buddha wills," he said into the dark moon. "Do you agree to serve Weixiang for one year, from this dark moon to the next?"

Studies of post-pagan marriage rituals popped uncomfortably into her mind. One year, that's all she had to globe this doci. Perfect cover. She was in.

"Yes."

"Weixiang," he said, turning his sightless eyes on him. They glowed strangely in the fire light. "Will you take this female as your feera, your left hand for one year."

"Yes," he said, seemingly bored.

"Let the contract bind," said the old man. One of the boys scurried up, a small metal bowl in his hand. It was old and tarnished but Ping thought, probably priceless. He motioned at Ping. She bent, retrieved her blade from its juicy apple. It made a greedy, sucking sound coming out.

Wiping it on the bloody shirt pad on her forearm, she proffered it to him, hilt first. He took it and again, with a speed she didn't expect, grabbed her hand and caressed her right palm with it. The sharp blade broke skin, blood welled up and dripped into the bowl.

She wanted to pull away but didn't. She wanted to yell: "What is it with old men slashing me." Her control was slipping fast.

He did the same to Wei, then made them spit into the container. Ping felt sick listening to Wei hawk up some phlegm. Was that entirely necessary? The Wu sprinkled a dry powder over the fluids. As it absorbed the wet globules it started to glow. This interested her. She figured the enzymes in the blood and saliva must activate the chemicals in the drug and break down the fibres. She make a mental note to analyse this further.

He added another plant-based liquid and stirred it with a dirty finger. Ping did not want to drink it. Aside from the contamination, the risk of germs and disease, she didn't know what environmental toxicity was being stirred in.

"You don't have a choice," she told herself. She couldn't go back now. Visions of the silent maid crossed her mind. That, or she'd be neutralised. And if she refused with this rabble, she knew she'd never make it back to the Lotus Cities, not alive. They drank the rank potion, Ping struggling to hold back her gag reflex.

"It is done," he said, "without contest."

A disembodied voice came out of the crowd. "I contest." It was followed by the slab of man Ping had seen earlier. "You used my woman. You made her your whore when she was mine by right. This flesh-eater killed her. How can you make this insect your feera? Does your perversity know no limits? You lack respect."

"I think you know as well as I do that she was more than happy to be used, Smithy." Weixiang's voice was casual, friendly. Accusing someone of lacking respect was a serious statement, even in the orderly Lotus Cities. This couldn't end well.

Wei drifted closer. The firelight flickered over the man's tense features, his bunched muscles. It looked like Wei was going to take care of things himself. Then he reconsidered.