Go was nearly flattened in the rush, as shoppers pushed and shoved their way out of the market, away from the roar. He struggled toward it nonetheless, dodging around stalls, trying and failing not to knock over stands of peppers, strings of chilies and ginger, baskets of millet. Treading on a slick of grain, he fell, going down under the flying feet of escapees. Cursing at his wrenched ankle, Go clambered to his feet, looked up, saw Lara.
"You!" the tigress said. She was bigger than Go remembered, or perhaps it was the enhanced perspective lent by fear.
"Yeah, it's me," Go said. That fear had already started to ebb, replaced by simple weariness. Suddenly, all he wanted was for this to be over and done with, knowing all the same that it never would. A transition, that was all, stepping from one room into another, into even deeper shit. "Go on then, Lara. I guess I deserve it. I won't even ask you to make it quick. Just get it over with."
"All right," the tigress said. Burning bright, indeed: she looked like a bonfire, all flame and soot, making the spilled colors of the fruit and vegetables pallid in comparison. "All right then, I will." And leaped.
But as she leaped, Go smelled something pungent, a blast of spice, heard a harsh male voice crying out something in a language that was familiar, and not Cantonese. Lara knocked him flat again: Go was suddenly struggling underneath a mass of silken draperies and warm flesh.
"What the fuck?" Lara, no longer tiger, shouted.
"Get off me!" He was sure she'd broken a rib. Go was prepared to meet his death in feline jaws, not to be flattened by a felled actress. This might be the dream of some of Lara's fans; Go, at this point, would rather have been buried in centipedes. Moments later, his command was enforced by a tall man, gloriously dressed in orange and gold, who hauled Lara back by the arms and smacked her across the face when she resisted.
"Agni!" Lara's face was working.
"You've been having quite a time." Black eyes, golden ringed, a voice like a purr.
"Who the hell are you?" Go asked, then remembered. The tiger prince, no less. Agni's gaze was predator-cold.
"I might ask the same of you. Are you the man who stole my Lara?"
"I didn't see her protesting much."
"Agni, this is my career we're talking about!"
The prince gaped at her. "What career? You're a tiger spirit. You don't need a career."
"Jhai has a career." Lara began furiously tucking stray hair back behind her ears. "This is the trouble with you, Agni. These are modern times and you think all women want to do is kill things and fuck."
"Everyone else seems perfectly happy with that!"
"Oh, that's what you think, is it? My sisters spend half their time plotting against you, Agni."
The prince laughed. "Is that supposed to worry me? Of course they do. They need their little hobbies. They never manage to do any real harm, do they?" He gestured toward Go. "Anyway, if a career is really what you want, you can have one. I don't hold grudges, Lara"—and I'll believe that when I see it, Go thought—"and I'll give you a role in the hunting party. Come on, it'll be fun." His teeth glittered. "Like old times."
"I don't think so," Lara spat, and she turned and ran. Go had never been so pleased to see anyone leave.
Agni, smiling, swung around to watch her go, and that was when Go also took to his heels, barely able to believe that he had cheated death once more. But as he ran he heard laughter, soft as a cat's feet, and the voice of Agni saying, "Well, you'd better go after them, hadn't you?"
All Go's courage had evaporated like water through a sieve. He ran desperately, glancing up at the rudimentary exit signs to find his way, banging into stalls and stumbling on the spilled produce. Maybe by now, someone would have alerted the authorities to the fact that there was another tiger incursion within the market; maybe police marksmen would be waiting—but then Go reached the side exit of the market and it was locked. He rattled the metal door, kicked out, but the door opened inward and he ended up hammering on it with useless fists. The authorities—or someone—had indeed responded. They'd locked everyone in.
Behind Go, somebody screamed. Go swiveled around and saw Lara, still in human guise, backing toward him. He wasn't sure if she'd even realized he was there. The tigress in front of them, however, almost certainly had. Lara's form rippled as Go stared, hazing with stripes, a phantom tail switching briefly before disappearing into the air. She was trying to change, he realized, and could not. Ahead of her, the tigress came ever on. Lara's fists bunched with magical effort; her body contorted, and still nothing was happening. The tigress licked whiskery lips.
Go turned back to the wall and started kicking it, more out of panic than anything else. But the old market building responded. A panel of corrugated iron collapsed, letting in a square of daylight. Go threw himself into it, scraping hands against the sharp edges of the ruptured metal and not caring, because he was finally free. He rolled out into steamy heat and found himself in an alleyway, buildings on one side, the market wall on the other, and at the end of it, the port.
Can tiger demons swim? Who cares? Go thought. He sprinted for the line of sea, hearing, behind, something battering its way through the hole in the metal wall. Someone else was shrieking, an indication of agony that—even though it was probably produced by Lara and was therefore a good thing—made an arctic sweat break out across Go's brow and dissipate the heat of the day. It spurred him on; he reached the edge of the harbor and hurled himself off the edge.
Down and down, a surprisingly long way to fall, into the sudden green shadow cast by the harbor wall. Go hit greasy water with a splash and a gasp, went under, kicked out, and came up again. He supposed he should try to rid himself of his shoes, but they were only sneakers, and instead he struck out, swimming in a confused mélange of styles that just about avoided taking him in a huge circle. He glanced back, once. A striped head was peering over the harbor wall, teeth gleaming in the sun, eyes full of fire. The sister who had visited him, or someone else? Go did not care. He hoped the lot of them were hunted down and killed; he would have no more to do with magic after this, no more spells, even if it meant starving in a garret . . ..
He was free. He continued swimming strongly, heading for the middle of the harbor, planning to find a boat and haul himself aboard. But that was before something grabbed him by the ankle and hauled him down.
Go swallowed filthy water and choked. The thought struck him, even in these extreme circumstances, that if he didn't drown or wasn't eaten, he'd probably die from some vile disease communicated by the revolting waters of the harbor. A lot went into the port; it was closer to soup than sea. He kicked downward, trying to dislodge whatever it was that had hold of his ankle, and squinted through the murk. He was in the shadow of a ship, now, but the kick propelled him and his assailant out into a shaft of sunlight. Go, half-drowned, found himself staring down into the fierce face of Savitra.
Tiger demons aren't always tigers. As a woman, Lara's sister evidently possessed Olympic-standard diving skills. Her grip on his ankle was unbreakable, a steel fetter, she dragged him down. Go sank through green shadows, dimly aware that the boat above him was receding, to be replaced by winding, curling shapes. Snakes, he thought. Snakes, and I am dying. It didn't seem to matter anymore, wherever he ended up. The water around him was brilliant, green and gold and shining, radiant as the sun, and instead of the oily warmth of the city harbor, it tasted of mud and weed.
Go's vision swam and pressure laid a huge, heavy hand upon him. And then, just as forcefully, Savitra was dragging him up again. Go broke through the surface with a spluttering shout. He gasped for air, wheezing, trying to keep afloat.
Everything had gone. The boats, the city skyline beyond, had disappeared. Go was looking up into dappled emerald shade, elephant-ear leaves fringing down over a mass of roots into the water. Everything was hyper-real, etched and edged in gold and flashing darkness. At first, Go thought that it was just his vision, affected by a near-death experience, or an actual death experience, whichever it had been. He felt very much alive, if the burning in his lungs was anything to go by. His ears were ringing, and that gradually resolved into the screeching of birds and something else. Monkeys. Which Singapore Three did not have, unless one counted the zoo.
"This is India," Go said, wondering, aloud, and someone behind him answered. "Not quite."