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“Give him hell,” Marla said. “But don’t get yourself killed, all right? Not while you still
owe me.”
“I would not dream of dying and depriving you of a favor, Marla,” Ch’ang Hao said.
“There is one more thing,” Rondeau said. “It’s possible that the guy you think is your
former master isn’t, and his apprentice is.”
Ch’ang Hao appeared to mull that over, then shook his head. “This is not my first
language,” he said, apologetically.
Marla clarified. “What he means is, there’s a chance that our friend in Chinatown has
switched bodies with his young apprentice. We’re not certain, but it’s a distinct
possibility.”
“That is ugly magic,” Ch’ang Hao said. “If it is true, he owes the world an even greater
debt of suffering than I had imagined. It appeared to be the old master who gave me my
orders, but I have seldom spoken to him, and cannot be sure. Though I owe no mercy to
my former master’s assistant, I shall proceed carefully, as I wish the fullness of my
vengeance only upon him who imprisoned me. There are ways and means to tell which
mind resides in each body.” He bowed. “Good night, Marla. If you need me, simply
find any snake, and tell it you require my service. The message will reach me.”
Marla nodded.
Ch’ang Hao started to leave, then hesitated. “In the interests of honesty, and so that you
understand the nature of our relationship fully, I feel I must tell you something.”
“Go on,” Marla said.
“You and I are, from this time forward, mortal enemies,” he said, almost sadly. “I regret
that such a position must be taken, but I have no choice.”
It was all Marla could do to keep herself from gaping. “What? Why would you want to
be my enemy? I just cut your apron strings!”
Ch’ang Hao regarded her with his cold eyes, and it was obvious that the face he wore
was merely a convenience; he was not human at all. “There are few things so terrible as
being enslaved. But being only half free is little better. I wear a suit of spikes, Marla
Mason, and I am tormented. It is in your power to set me free, and yet you do not. You
choose to leave me bound, in agony.”
“I don’t know you,” Marla said, striving to sound as cold as Ch’ang Hao did. “I can’t
risk cutting you loose. I don’t know what you might do.”
“I understand,” Ch’ang Hao said. “Nevertheless, I do not forgive you for leaving me
bound, and we must therefore be enemies. Had you chosen to set me entirely free, we
might have been great friends. But you sought to make me another sort of slave, to your
own will, and I will not forget that.”