Chapter 16: Joyla beards the dragon in his den
The glass panel slide at the base of the Pearl River Tower slid aside, and Rex nudged his tactical Toyota Hilux through opening into the wonderland of expensive auto-flesh. He whistled quietly then drove up to the valet stand.
They exited, adjusted their party wear, exchanged keys for ticket and headed to the elevator.
“Did you know about this place?”
“Yes. Zau loves it apparently. I’ve never been, only heard about it.”
“Did you see those cars? Fifty million quid there.”
“I’ll take your word for it. I assumed from the all of the gleaming that they were expensive.”
“I thought Kensington parties were posh.”
“Welcome to Asia. The Law of Large Numbers, or at least, I think that’s the way it works.”
The door opened. A massive, upward curving expanse of glass interlaced with white metal beams framed the setting sun, a ball of flame dropping into the sea behind Guangzhou. They stopped. Breathed. Looked.
Exquisitely preserved people lounged on low cushions around slightly less low tables, widely spaced. Spreading trees in pots. Exquisitely dressed, perfectly coiffed, enormously attractive people circulated: the wait staff. The subtle aromas transported Joyla, left Rex ravenous.
One of the exquisitely dressed perfect people approached. “This zàixià will take you to your table, esteemed ones.”
Joyla and Rex exchanged a glance of raised eyebrows, and she realized that his command of Chinese dialects was even better than she had suspected.
The man gestured in the direction that they were to take across the space, then led them across the sparsely populated expanse. A low table with a half-a-dozen people around it appeared from behind the potted trees. Square objects on legs were set back against the curving glass of the wall.
“Beehives?
“What?”
“Beehives. Those are beehives. That’s an apiary.”
“Is this some British class thing? Are you really trotting out some class thing right now?”
“Sorry. But bee hives on the top deck of a skyscraper that looks like it dropped out of a space opera?”
“Point.”
Zau gestured for them to join the table. Joyla recognized half of the small group, including her erstwhile lover, the fox spirit but in human form. He nodded, sharp teeth slightly exposed in his grin. This wasn’t reassuring. While she’d enjoyed her time with him, she had never considered him at all tame. She’d had the opportunity, thankfully never repeated, of seeing him both angry and hungry. Teeth weren’t reassuring. In fact, with his species the degree of exposure was a dialect unto itself, one she hadn’t learned to speak.
Introductions were made. Xiaotao, Renton, Marcel, Chu-Hua and Gopala.
They reclined upon the pillows, the sun disappearing, indirect lighting emerging seamlessly along with the lights of the city.
Iced quail egg canapés garnished with petunia blossoms arrived. A fervid discussion of the frescoes by Giotti in Padua floated around the table. Drinks came and went. Joyla kept track, ensuring she retained her faculties. Thai golden baskets and braised ribs circulated. Marcel joked about Renton’s many lady loves; Joyla, included among them, wasn’t clear if this was a barbed and specific reference, or a general and thoughtless comment. Her calves were beginning to ache from the thought of what she was going to do.
In the direction of Asia Minor the full moon appeared from behind a cloud. The conversation went awry from art and bawdy teasing, drifting into finance. That conversation was a sonic cloud of tar, exposed assets and leveraged annuities. The finances of the ageless were even more tawdry than those who expected to die more quickly.
Joyla considered backing out of her plan, dipping back into temerity. But she drifted back to that first encounter with Kaa, her rediscovery of her warrior nature, her willingness to fight dragons if need be.
“Zau, may I have a word?”
The ancient dragon, cosseted in his human form, looked at her for a moment, nodded, stood. He walked to a small table for two in the corner of the massive expanse, expecting her to follow. He gestured, and the sounds and voices dipped to the sound of slow stitches in silk.
“Yes?”
“Let me help.”
“Help in what, exactly?”
“Please. I may be a fraction of your age, but that doesn’t make me a child. You are making a major play. I want to be a part of it. I’m tired of being a poor second to the powers of the world.”
“Ambition. Awareness. Admirable traits, as are your other talents. But insufficient in themselves. Permit me.”
Zau didn’t await a response, but touched her arm with an extruded talon. The shock of it ran through her, articles running into pleas running into nicks in time.
“Sincerity. Even more admirable. I’ll explain briefly, and we can discuss how you might ensure my success, and your ascension.”
