The courtrooms of hell have it all over the courts of Fusang, Wen thought. "I only hope that Governor Li doesn't see one of these places until well after it's too late for him to copy any of the ideas they've used," he said.
"Quiet," said Fengzi. "Your Number One Grandfather is talking with the clerk."
Wen shut up, and looked around the room. It was, as one might expect in hell, considerably larger than any earthly court Wen had encountered. The main hall seemed to stretch off into nothingness, but Wen guessed this was probably illusion, since when he looked at the judge's dais the back of the room seemed to swim into focus.
The dais itself was huge, red, and richly ornamented with gold-covered rails and carvings. Red and gold were supposedly the colors of good luck, but that didn't seem too likely if you found yourself in this place. Off to one side—and somehow dominating the courtroom despite the apparent infinity—was a mirror whose diameter was easily fifty feet or more. The Mirror of Retribution, Wen decided. "I suppose I shouldn't look into that," he whispered to Fengzi.
"Not unless you like the idea of having every bad deed you've done, or bad thought you've ever had, replayed to you in excruciating detail," she said. "And down here the definition of 'bad' is a whole lot more flexible than any definition you've used."
"Thank you for the clarification," he said.
The judge, King Qin Guang, was nowhere in evidence—Wen gave silent thanks—but two of his guards were, and they made the demon at the reception gate look like one an expensive courtesan in comparison. Their bodies were massive and heavily muscled, but at least they looked more or less human—in fact, they might have been cousins of Chin Gwai. Their heads, however, were those of beasts. Not the sort of beasts Wen had encountered in his travels—and those were weird enough—but the sort of beasts certain drunken artists painted in the midst of especially bad hangovers. One head might have been a horse—if horses were insane carnivores. The other head was faintly reminiscent of a demented ox. Both guards had fangs, ample in length and plentiful in number—there had evidently been a sale on fangs when King Yama made these guards. They also had eyes of red, naturally, and on one of the guards they seemed to be bulging out whenever the demon looked in Wen's direction. Presumably these were the Horse-Face and Ox-Head to whom Number One Grandfather had referred.
"Sorry," said Number One Grandfather, returning to their hiding place near the entrance. "The clerk is being a supercilious twerp and won't tell me a thing."
"That's what clerks are," said Fengzi. "Nice to see there's consistency between heaven and hell."
"Whatever, you scandalous woman." Wen turned to look at the old man. Was Number One Grandfather starting to use that as a term of affection? It certainly looked as if a tiny smile might be hiding under the gently rotting mustache. "The fact is, he won't help us. Says we'll have to talk to the judge."
"I am not looking forward to seeing the judge, much less talking to him," said Fengzi. "You crotchety old goat," she added, happily giving as good as she'd got.
For some reason Wen thought about Chin Gwai. Then he knew why the vision of the Green Turban leader had come to him. "Grandfather," he said, "can you go back and talk to the clerk some more? Don't ask anything directly, but see if you can find out from him the name of another judge, one this judge knows and doesn't like. And Fengzi, do you have any way of contacting One-Eyed Lum back on earth?"
Fengzi shook her head, but once the grandfathers had left to attack the clerk from all sides she shifted close to him and said, "Don't tell any of your ancestors, but I do have a spell that will allow me to send messages to Lum. He won't get them until he dreams, but at least it's something. What do you want to say to him?"
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