But Laksha had just willingly sacrificed herself to save Ireland, minus a few sheep, and she went with a lighter heart and soul than I had ever known her to possess. It was one hell of a good deed, and a counter to Loki’s plans he could not have anticipated. That it also happened to save my own personal potatoes was beside the point: I’d be putting it all on the line before the day was through. And like Jörmungandr, I fully expected to exit this life via the unexpected, and people would find my body as they find so many others, staring at eternity in surprise. I felt prepared for most everything I could think of, but what kept my mind racing at night was worrying about what I hadn’t thought of. Because just as I had managed a quick and abrupt removal of a key chess piece from Loki’s board, the god of mischief and lies had no doubt prepared some surprises for our side. He had never expected someone like Laksha to get involved, and I had only vague ideas of what to expect when I got to Sweden.
But if I am honest, I did feel a bit giddy and self-congratulatory in that moment for thinking of a solution to Jörmungandr’s rise that would benefit everyone. I might have even succumbed to the urge to quote some Shakespeare.
I squatted down next to Mhathini, entirely too pleased with myself. “Ligarius said in Julius Caesar, Now bid me run, And I will strive with things impossible; Yea, get the better of them. But he never did anything like that, did he?”
“Mmmh?” Mhathini stirred, and her next words were not in English but Hindi. Fortunately, that was a language I knew, though I’d had few reasons to speak it in recent years.
“Where am I? Ireland?”
“Yes. Welcome.”
“Who are you?” She frowned and her whole body tensed.
“You can call me Atticus or Connor, whichever you prefer.”
She breathed out in relief and relaxed. “Good. Laksha said you’d help me.”
“And so I will.”
Mhathini sat up. Her voice, while obviously using the same set of vocal cords that Laksha had used, possessed a slightly different timbre. A softer edge to it. Or perhaps it was the different language we were speaking, I’m not sure.
“Laksha said she was trying to prevent the end of the world but it might still happen in spite of her. Is that true?”
“Yes. Both things are true. She did her part, but it still might happen.”
“I see.” She looked down at Laksha’s ruby necklace around her neck and brought her slim fingers to it, considering, or perhaps silently praying. I let her take all the time she needed, and it was only a couple of minutes before her fingers dropped away and she looked up at me. “Well, thank you for being here. I didn’t ever think I’d get to see the sun again, and even if it’s only for a little while, I’m glad I have this time. It’s good to have a friend at the end of the world.”
i spare a worried glance at the swarming cloud of demons erupting from Seven Star Mountain and then look at my bubble tea, which the Monkey King insists I must enjoy right now.
“I don’t know, Wukong. Maybe the demons are more important? I can always try bubble tea later.”
“Nonsense. Live in the present, Granuaile. Presently my copies can take care of the first wave, and your bubble tea should be at its peak deliciousness.”
The Monkey King had sent an impressive number of clones to join battle, and he seemed unworried. But his eagerness for me to try this tea is making me worried in turn.
“Is there something in my tea?”
“Yes!” He flashes his teeth at me in triumph, excited that I have finally figured out something important. “Little pearls of tapioca!”
“It’s just a bit weird that you want me to drink it so badly.”
“It is merely pride in my work. And it is the right action to take in this moment.”
I am not sure I agree with his priorities. But then, looking again as the red-and-gold clones meet the swarm and immediately have a visible impact, even from this distance, I doubt my participation in the fight would make much difference.
“Why am I here?”
Wukong chuckles, throwing his head back in unrestrained glee. “A philosophical question! The answer is simple: to learn and to grow.”
“No, I mean, why am I here right now?”
The Buddha cocks his head at me and shrugs. “The answer is the same, and will remain the same days and months and years hence.”
Flidais catches my eye. “Learn well, Granuaile. I must leave you now.”
“What? I thought you said you had to be here—”
“I had to bring you here, and I have. I am needed in Japan. Farewell.”
“Okay, yeah—” Flidais doesn’t wait around. She’s climbing down the fire escape before I can finish saying goodbye, leaving me with Sun Wukong. He waggles a bushy eyebrow at me and grins, nodding at my bubble tea. “Oh, fine, whatever! I’m trying it, okay? Look.”
I take a sip through the almost absurdly thick orange straw and it’s slightly sweet, slightly floral tea with milk in it. Light and lovely and—whoa. One of the tapioca bubbles rockets into my mouth, and it’s mildly chewy and a perfect complement to the tea.
“Eh? Huh?” The Monkey King smiles as he watches my face. He so clearly wishes me to flatter him that I smile back.
“It’s good, Wukong.”
“Yes. It is good. And it can be enjoyed in so many different ways. That is the basic tea you have there. So much else for you to try.”
“I suppose—”
“Good.” Sun Wukong reaches a finger up to his ear and plucks at it. Something like a small toothpick grows and spins in his hand until it’s a long golden staff. He crouches down and holds the staff in both hands. “Now we fight.”
“What?” is all I can manage, because I didn’t realize before that moment that tea could be a prelude to battle.
His only answer is to launch himself toward me, staff held high to crush me from above. I throw the bubble tea at him and he spins in midair to avoid it while I bring my staff up crosswise over my head to block his strike. The impact shudders through my arms to the sockets of my shoulders, and I stagger back. The Monkey King lands and promptly ducks under my counterstrike as he tries to sweep my legs. I hop over that and lash out with a kick, but he somersaults away. I pursue because the one rule of fighting someone this powerful is that if they start something, you need to be the one finishing it and doing so quickly, because the longer you delay the less chance you have of winning.
Sun Wukong cackles as he tumbles and somehow deflects every one of my strikes with his staff. When we run out of roof, he finds his feet and launches himself over my head, knocking away my thrust at his abdomen, and sticks the landing behind me as I whirl around to face him.
“My turn,” he says, and then he’s on the attack. I manage to parry the first five strikes or so, but after that he gets through my guard every other strike and lightly taps me instead of destroying me, a masterly show of control.
He backs away, leaving me flustered, and smiles again as he stands next to his staff, held upright in his right hand and resting on the rooftop. “Bubble tea is good. But as I mentioned, there is more than the basic flavor. Would you like to learn more?”
“Yes. I am always ready to learn more.”
“Good. You have the right mind. Very well. You have been trained in techniques that date back a thousand years and you also have some modern moves.” I nod once, because that’s accurate—Atticus came to China in the eleventh century and received the bulk of his Eastern martial arts training then, which he passed on to me. “You are in fact a master by any mortal measure. I do not intend to demean your skill in any way. That must be understood.”
“I understand.”
He nods in acknowledgment before continuing. “But there are older techniques. Some newer ones. And some that are my own invention.” He flicks a finger to the north. “What you see happening at Yangmingshan right now is the work of only the first and weakest of the Yama Kings. It hardly requires my attention. But there will be seven more, each deadlier than the last, and you need to be prepared if you are to survive and fulfill your purpose.”