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B efore Rondeau and Marla had walked a block from Finch’s house, a man stepped out<br />

of an alleyway and blocked the sidewalk in front of them. He was broad-shouldered and<br />

short, a squat bulldog of a man, wearing what looked like a black karate gi. Marla and<br />

Rondeau moved to walk around him, and he slid over to block the way.<br />

“I hope you’re a mugger,” Marla said, cracking her knuckles. “I’ve only whipped one<br />

ass so far tonight, and I could go for another.”<br />

“You should look for easier pickings,” Rondeau said cheerfully. “She’ll use your head<br />

for a punching bag.”<br />

“My master sends his greetings,” the man said. His voice was formal, and he spoke with<br />

a faint Chinese accent.<br />

“You work for the Celestial?” Marla said. “Have you come to drag us back to his lair, or<br />

just to kill us?” Rondeau was, prudently, stepping back, putting Marla between himself<br />

and the other man.<br />

“My name is Ch’ang Hao. What is your name?”<br />

“Your master didn’t tell you that?”<br />

“I prefer introductions to be made personally,” he said, bowing slightly.<br />

“Call me Marla.”<br />

“And your associate?”<br />

“We’re not at a cocktail party, Ch’ang Hao,” she said. “State your business, throw a<br />

punch, or piss off, okay?”<br />

He spoke past her, to Rondeau. “I regret the necessity of committing an act of violence<br />

against someone to whom I have not been introduced,” he said, voice heavy with<br />

genuine regret. “It smacks of mere thuggery, a condition to which I never wish to sink.<br />

But, alas, circumstances are what they are. I—”<br />

Marla threw a punch at his throat.<br />

He blocked, knocking her hand aside, without even pausing in his speech. “—will do as<br />

I must.” Bowing again, he slid his right foot back and brought up his hands, assuming a<br />

defensive stance.<br />

“Get back, Rondeau,” she said, and slid into a stance of her own. It had been a while<br />

since she’d used martial arts for real, and she hoped she hadn’t lost the knack. Actually<br />

fighting someone was quite different from practicing at the gym or her friend Master<br />

Ward’s dojo.<br />

Ch’ang Hao moved sinuously—he was a snake stylist, or at least he was starting out in<br />

snake style. Of all the forms of five animals kung fu, snake was the most reactive, the<br />

most dependent on moving around your opponent. Fighting a snake stylist could be like

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