Part I - Introduction

Part I - Introductions

It is nine o’clock. On the third chime of the grandfather clock, I am summoned.

"Fox," they say. "You are wanted by the Mistress."

Where I am from, you do not - under any circumstances - keep the Mistress waiting. She is a rotund woman with heavy bones, wide hips, a stern chin and an unbending nose. Her eyes are cold. 

She has no soul, the other girls whisper when they are alone in the gardens. Why she is missing a soul, no-one knows. Some say the gods ripped it from her as punishment, but no-one offers up a story as to what she might have been punished for.

The carpet in the Keep is a dark red. When you walk through it, you feel as though you are wading through a river of blood. Which is appropriate, considering where the carpet leads to.

The Consulting Room.

I knock three times.

"Enter," a voice from behind the door says.

It's dark inside. The walls are painted black; there are no pictures, no ornaments, just two simple seats. Our clients come to us because we offer them a solution to their problems and provide anonymity too.

I bow, as is custom.

In the silvery light of the moon, brave enough to trickle through the window - the single source of light - the Mistress sits. Her face is only half illuminated, as if the other half doesn't exist.

She nods. This is a sign that I may sit. So I cross my legs on the floor and face the darkness.

"You are quite young," a voice says from within. The voice chimes as if there are bells in the room, but I find that my ears do not appreciate the sound; there is something off about this voice.

"Fox is one of our most accomplished Miaos, I assure you."

There is no response. No movement either. I make out nothing but opaque shadows.

"Is she clean?" the voice eventually asks.

"As clean or as messy as you would like her to be. She is here to serve you."

The darkness grows legs. These legs move closer to me. Until the darkness abandons its cloak and is replaced by a woman standing before me. Slowly, she lowers her hood. I am surprised at how young she is. Early twenties, perhaps. Though the surprise does not touch my expression. 

She has looked-after, cream-like skin with just a hint of blush on the high points of her cheeks, making me believe she is of aristocratic ancestry. Her eyes, however, are almost black and she has startlingly red lips. My own lips ache for this kind of colour.

She studies me.

Usually, my clients do not bother me. I see them not as people, but as actions for me to carry out. Tasks. Likewise, their judgement of me I never care to feel. Except that this woman unnerves me. She takes in my skinny frame, my unruly hair and the freckles that, no matter how hard I try to cover up, continue to show through on my cheeks.

"Why do they call you ‘Fox?'” she asks.

Her question is directed at me, but practice at the Keep dictates I do not address my clients. So the Mistress answers.

“She’s always been a sullen, skinny thing. When she was ten years old she was even worse, all bones, if you can believe that from the look of her. We offered her food, sat her with the rest of the girls but she never spoke and she never ate. Not one bite. To the point where the matron was worried she might waste away and die. Until one night, when I came across her rummaging in the bins with freshly thrown food in her mouth. I knew then that she was a scavenger. It's what makes her so good at what we do. Why I recommend her for your current…predicament.”

The woman flicks her tongue through her thick lips, like she is a snake, tasting the air. She doesn't reply to the Mistress, just turns her eyes away from mine, releasing me from her scrutiny. When she talks, it is more to her own ears, than either the Mistress or myself.

"She will do.”

"And who is the target?” the Mistress asks.

"His name is Han Shiu."

The name triggers some vague memory in me; a memory that doesn't have enough of a hook to be pulled from my mind. Not that it makes much of a difference; our policy is also to accept all targets, no matter the name. If the price is right then this is all that matters.

The red-lipped woman stares at the many gold rings she has stacked up on her fingers. The villagers, who have always feared the Miao women, say that with every death we cause we take that individual's soul and weave it into gold; a golden silkworm is said to slip out of a body once we are done with it.

They are wrong, of course. There is no reward in death, especially not at the point where the soul is separated from its body. I have been present when many have met their end and never seen anything slip out of a dead body but their last breath. And even then it is gone too soon for me to catch. These are just the stories of the uneducated peasantry trying to make sense of a life they do not have the tools to control.

Still, we are rich - our vaults overfilling with gold. This is because our clients are always from the upper classes, which would lead you to think they are the most corrupt section of our society. However, I’ve seen evil, sought dinner with it many times and I know better. It is this way because the poor simply cannot afford our high priced services. Prices set by the Mistress, who makes no secret of her disdain for the peasant folk. 

In my mind, there should be no distinction made between the rich and poor. There’s evil in every heart; but not everyone has the means to act on it. 

"You must be wondering why?” the red-lipped woman says to me.

I stare back blankly. I've always been curious, this I cannot deny, but curiosity is not an essential part of my role. Nor is it appreciated by the Mistress, who has spent my entire life with the Miao trying to beat it out of me. Which is why now, I say nothing to the young woman, whose black eyes well with tears.

"Han Shiu and I were meant to be wed. Our families had a contract, but he voided that contract five months ago when he told my father that he didn't want us to be married anymore."

The red-lipped woman dabs at the corner of her eyes with the drooping sleeve of her dress. The dress shimmers in the moonlight like a rippling pool; its fabric clearly made from the finest silk in existence. Silk she probably imported to fashion into her outfit, as I know of no-one in our town who manufactures such luxuriant material. What’s more, the hems are stitched with what I suspect is thread woven from real gold. A dress such as this would probably fetch as much as the annual salaries of several peasants within the town. She is, therefore, among the wealthiest of even the upper classes.

There is a lengthy silence before she speaks again. This time the quivering has gone from her voice, replaced with a sharp tone.

"I want him gone."

The Mistress rises. Her chair creaks in relief as she does so.

"Consider it done," the Mistress says.

The red-lipped woman grins. “Thank you. I knew I could count on the Miao.”

We all put our palms together and bow our heads. Without sparing another glance at me, the Mistress and the woman leave the room. It is time to talk payment and the Mistress never does so in front of her girls.

I wait dutifully. In the emptiness of the room I focus on a feeling I have had ever since the red-lipped woman revealed herself. She is beautiful, a woman men would gladly go to war for, so it is a surprise to hear that a man would shun her.

Except that - behind her beauty - I sense there is something...rotten. Or at least quietly festering. If so, then perhaps this is the reason why Han Shiu voided their marriage contract - an act that would cause any family great offence, especially in this town. Han Shiu has certainly done enough by rejecting her to warrant this request for an assassination, yet I also sense there might be more than just wounded pride involved here.

I ponder it for a while, trying to pinpoint where the rottenness is within the red-lipped woman’s perfectly constructed persona, but cease this exercise after a short while. It is not an avenue of thought I want to pursue much further, nor is it necessary to know for this job. She will be my client whatever my suspicions of her are. So instead, I re-focus my mind on the task at hand.

Han Shiu will soon be in Diyu - a vicious purgatory for the damned - and there he will receive his judgement at the hands of Yama. It isn't our role to pass this; only to end their human life.

The Mistress returns. There is a tight smile on her face, one that I know means she has made a large sum of money. It is the closest she ever comes to being in a good mood and when she is least likely to bite off our heads - which she does to her girls a regular basis, to the point where we pick the longer routes round the Keep in order to avoid her study.

"You will prepare the Jincan.”

"Yes, Mistress," I say, bowing my head.

“Tomorrow, you will take out the target," she instructs.

"Yes, Mistress," I bow again.

"No-one must know the Miao were involved. The client has explicitly asked for it to look natural."

My head dips once more.

She glares at me. "Well, what are you still doing stood here, girl? You have work to do."

I make to leave.

"Fox!" the Mistress calls me back.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Do not embarrass the Miao."

My heart hammers. It is always like this, the Mistress placing the weight of the Keep on each of our young shoulders. But the way she says it this time - not condescendingly, but almost pleading with me - makes me understand that this truly is a mission of great importance. Why? I wonder. But quickly extinguish the thought, lest it show on my face. The Mistress has a knack for sensing our dissent, and I do not wish to be at the mercy of her whip tonight.

So I assure her I will carry this out both swiftly and efficiently.

She doesn't thank me, she simply waves me away with her square hand - a hand that has slapped my cheeks many times during my life here with the Miao - and has me close the door as I leave.

Although this last sentence isn't really accurate; I do not live with the Miao - my life belongs to the Miao. Forever.