Strong Mystery: Murder, Mystery and Magic Books 1-3 (Steampunk Magica)
Read Strong Mystery: Murder, Mystery and Magic Books 1-3 (Steampunk Magica) Online
Authors: Raven Bond
STRONG
MYSTERY
BY
RAVEN
BOND
IMPISH PRESS
SHORELINE WASHINGTON, USA
COVER SUMMARY
An omnibus edition combining Book 1, 2 and 3 of the Owen
Strong and Jinhao Steampunk Magica series.
In Strong Adept, Raven Bond has created an inventive and
highly mystical world, where East and West, the ancient ways and the Age of
Steam intertwine. Murder and magic are at the heart of the first meeting of
Owen Strong, Master Sorcerer, and the mysterious Imperial Adept, Jinhao.
The year is 1885. The city is an alternate Hong Kong.
Some of the city’s most powerful men are dead from what appear to be heart
attacks. Though no evidence points to foul play, members of the British Crown’s
secretive Obsidian Order know something is amiss. Owen Strong is a former
member of the secret sect and a Master Sorcerer who no longer has any interest
in the Order—or its rules. He’s recruited by the Order to come out of
retirement to investigate the mysterious deaths and save his island city. When
Owen and Jinhao discover that there are radicals in Hong Kong who are planning
to assassinate key delegates to disrupt upcoming trade negotiations, it’s not
just Hong Kong that they must save: if they do not succeed, a world war will be
imminent.
In an alternate Hong Kong, Owen Strong is in trouble. He
meets with an old friend from his school days in Britain who asks for his help
in a personal matter, only to betray him. When Jinhao, Owen’s mysterious
Chinese companion, returns early from a visit with a sister who is a notorious
pirate, she finds Owen missing. She will search for him with all her
considerable martial and investigative skill, even if that means calling on the
help of the Dragon ruler of Hong Kong. Nothing and no-one is going to stand in
her way.
“A solid, fun romp reminiscent of a good BBC/SYFY
crossover original show. Fast-paced and witty, Bond has created a detailed
world filled with vibrant characters.”
Raven Bond's author blog is located at ravenbond.com
COPYRIGHT
Published by Impish Press
P.O. Box 65198
Shoreline WA 98155, USA
Strong Mystery, Copyright © Raven Bond, 2015. All rights
reserved.
Printed in the United States of America.
Mystery, Fantasy, Science Fiction, Alternate History,
Steampunk / Raven Bond, Author
Cover & Book Design – Ria Loader
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above,
no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a
retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written
permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not
assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
This book is lending-enabled.
DEDICATION
To the amazing steampunk community
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
What you have in this book is a collection of my early
adventures with the Sorcerer Owen Strong and his mysterious companion, Jinhao.
While it has become almost cliché to say that writing is a solitary art, after
the writing phase, revising and publishing a book requires the work of many. I
wish to recognize some of the many contributions that have made the current
volume possible.
To my beta readers, thank you for your time and honest
feedback. I would especially like to thank Josh for his insights, and for
making of himself a sounding board for my strange ideas. To my editor and
publisher, thank you for believing in the world of Owen and Jinhao, and for
polishing my words. This work is truly beyond my dreams. To everyone who has
bought the stories, written to me, shared reviews and expressed your
enthusiasm—thank you. You have kept the creative energy going, and continue to
do so.
Finally, and most importantly, I would like to thank my
beautiful alpha reader and red-haired muse Ria—not only for her insights and
patience, but also for her love—love is the wind beneath my wings. Thank you.
BOOK 1
STRONG ADEPT
CHAPTER 1
The
Resting Lion Inn, Lou Hu,
China, 1884 A.M. (After Mithras)
“The Trader has decided that we shall stay the night
here and go on in the morning,” Lee Shen said to Jinhao.
“You
can take first place in the stable loft. I shall lodge in the main house.”
Jinhao nodded wearily at the old trail boss. He was looking
particularly tired this evening. It had been a long day of travel that started
at dawn in their last camp. Everyone was ready for the ease and relative safety
of an established rest-stop.
She had examined the ancient inn with approval in the flickering
light of the oil lanterns. It had seen better days but was still respectable,
with a strong wall around it and plenty of oil lanterns to banish the darkness
from the main areas. Shadows still lingered in the corners of the warren of
buildings. She dismounted, handing her reins to the stable boy who stood
attentive in the courtyard.
She turned, giving the dismount order to the other caravan
guards, together with their individual special tasks for the evening. The more
routine tasks would take be taken care of without her supervision. The pack
attendants began unloading the Trader’s boxes under the watchful eyes of the
guards who would see the goods placed safely in the stables.
She doubted, however, that anyone would be interested in the
Trader Chen Lu’s dyed silks, which made up the bulk of their cargo. To her eye
the tightly packed bales looked much the same as a hundred other such parcels.
However, she set a careful watch over the travel cases in the same way as she
had on the long road journey, more in an attempt to assuage the nerves of the
old Trader than out of necessity.
Chen Lu, Master Trader from the Imperial City, had assured her
during a long night-watch that the dye patterns were exceptional enough to
command very high prices among the foreigners and should be guarded with
particular care. As those were anonymously rolled up and out of casual view,
she took precautions but was not particularly concerned. The guards knew their
job and she could leave them to it. The few pieces of silver and fine amber
jewelry the Trader carried were in a small strong box that rarely left his
side.
The merchant caravan had traveled many miles over the last five
days, traveling down the Imperial Road from the capital to the border town of
Lou Hu, stopping at camp sites along the way. The town of Lou Hu was regarded
as the gateway from the Middle Kingdom of Han to the outlying province of Hong
Kong.
Hong Kong was its own special city. It was the demesne of the
Great Dragon Lohan, who in his wisdom, and for his amusement, allowed a mixture
of government. The Government comprised both Chinese lords and the foreign
British, all advising, and definitely answering to the Dragon, rather than the
Imperial Court. It was said that many years ago the Dragon had greeted and
allowed the British Traders to enter the covered bay because of their Magia and
their sorcery, both of which made for shiny things to intrigue him. The Dragon
had then, it was said, ordered the Imperial Emperor to open the area to the
British. Whatever the truth of it, Hong Kong province was the only Imperial
sanctioned Trading Port for foreigners in all of China. It was also true that
Hong Kong was ostensibly administered by a joint Government of the Han and the
British Empires and had been so for many years. Jinhao knew of the Dragon.
In the distance Jinhao heard the whistle of an approaching
steam train. The train would travel all the way to the city of Hong Kong. The
Trader Chen Lu, not being wealthy enough to make use of the steam railroad, still
led a trade caravan down to the province of Hong Kong every spring, as did many
others. This meant pack horses, attendants, and, in these uncertain times, more
guards than was usual to protect against bandits. The increased requirement for
experienced guards afforded Jinhao the perfect disguise for her to flee the
Imperial City. After all, she reasoned, who would remark on one more sword woman
caravan guard?
She had quickly displayed the acumen and discipline that had
caused Lee Shen to appoint her guard leader. Unknown to Jinhao, the canny old
trail boss had recognized in her the training of an Imperial Adept. Despite her
best attempts, Jinhao stood out like a wolf among the sheepdogs. The Trader
intended to have a smooth trip with no dominance issues among the guards, and
he had readily appointed her to ensure that none occurred. Jinhao had picked up
the reins of authority without any difficulties. Given that Imperial Adepts
were usually held close to the Throne as bodyguards, he wisely said nothing of
his suspicions. He was simply glad that she was along. If she was pursuing her
own clandestine interests at the same time, he could respect that. Should
bandits attack the caravan, he was sure that Jinhao would deal with them in
short order.
Adepts channeled a mystic force into martial prowess beyond the
capabilities of ordinary folk. Surely everyone knew that. Aside from that, he
did not care if he inconvenienced the Dowager Empress by borrowing her Adept.
His disregard for the feelings of the Dowager Empress was a sentiment that, if
Jinhao had known it, would have caused her less worry on the journey. Although
he had accorded her the loft sleeping space, as befitted her rank as guard
boss, rather than accept it, she would keep her usual practice and take her
sleep in a place where making a quick response to danger was assured.
Like most public rest houses, this one had a common room where
travelers gathered and were entertained. As the hour was late, there were only
two locals in the inn, to judge by their simple gray tunics and loose trousers.
Most travelers wore either colorful travel robes, such as the Trader wore, or a
mix of brown and black linens and leathers, such as those worn by Jinhao and
the other guards of the caravan.
Jinhao ate by herself in the common room as was her habit. Her
traveling companions had learned that she was scrupulous about both her duties
and her privacy and gave her space to herself. She watched the pack attendants
and off-duty guards at their dice game in one corner while Lee Shen coaxed the
portly old Trader to take some more wine. She was glad that Lee Shen looked
after the nervous old Trader; she doubted that she would have had his patience.
She dug into the spicy fish stew that was common to the province, her mouth
reveling in the burn of the spices. Then she took another mouthful of rice to cool
the burn down. After the bland dishes of the northern court, it almost tasted
like home. Home, as a child, had been here in the south.
After dinner, she checked that the Trader’s strong box was
secured to her satisfaction in his rooms. There was only the one way in or out
of the suite. She had placed her most attentive guard, a dour Tamil named Wong,
on the Trader’s room, while he and Lee Shen ate in the common room. To carry a
strong box in public was tantamount to screaming ‘I have something you want to
steal!’ Luckily for Lee Shen and for Jinhao, the portly Trader was a veteran of
the road, understanding the need for discretion.
As she headed downstairs a most raucous din alerted her.
Drawing twin swords from over her back, she quickly hurried down to the common
room, fully expecting to find brigands forcing their way into the inn.
There, instead of invading bandits, she saw a single Westerner
surrounded by a whirlwind of the inn’s house servants. They were bustling
around and away from him with cries of distress.
The man was somewhere in his thirties, clean shaven and wearing
a black travel-cloak with red trim. He held in one hand a walking cane made of
some kind of red metal, a Sorcerer’s cane if Jinhao ever saw one. Doubtless
this was what had the servants in a turmoil.
Western Sorcerers were not much seen outside of Hong Kong
itself, and had a reputation of being capricious. The man was pleading with
them to wait and listen to him, speaking in passable Mandarin. Jinhao was
impressed. Most Westerners never bothered to learn any language but their own.
What the poor man did not realize was that Mandarin was as foreign to the
servants as Russian or English. Lou Hu was situated in Shenzhen Province, which
was largely settled by Tamil and Hakka ethnicities, rather than Imperial Han.
The fact that the Middle Kingdom was composed of different peoples was largely
lost on Westerners.
She sheathed the swords across her back as she strode into the
room.
“What is the difficulty here?” she asked the man in English.
Most foreign travelers spoke English, and he looked as if he might be British
himself. He startled, then looked relieved at her appearance.
“At last. Someone who speaks the Queen’s tongue,” he replied in
the same language. “All I want is a room and a bath for the night. They,” he
pointed at the fleeing servants, “took off as if I were a bandit.”
The innkeeper chose that moment to come striding out from the
back of the inn, a heavy cudgel in his hands. Jinhao quickly stepped between
them.
“What is this, what is this?” the innkeeper shouted. “Foreign
devils threatening my staff?” He brandished the club in the Westerner’s
direction. Jinhao spoke to the innkeeper in his native tongue, Hakka.
“There has been a misunderstanding. This eminent person,” Jinhao
said, pointing to the stranger, “simply wishes a room for the night and a bath.
Do you have such available?”
This brought the innkeeper up short. His face took on a canny
look.
“Well,” he said hesitantly, “I might. But it will cost him
extra. No one will want to come near his room after he leaves. I will have to
pay someone to come in from the outside to clean it.”
Jinhao had no patience for this sort of haggling.
“Do you or do you not?” she asked the innkeeper shortly. The
man’s face took on a stubborn look.
“He will have to pay in advance!”
She nodded sharply and turned to the Westerner.
“Do you have money to pay for the room?” She asked in English.
“Well, of course,” the stranger replied. “Incidentally, what
language is it that you are speaking? I am not familiar with it.”
“Hakka,” Jinhao replied. “Most of the locals are not Han. While
your Mandarin is very good, likely only he,” she nodded at the landlord, “will
really understand you.”
“Payment,” the innkeeper demanded.
“Give the man money,” Jinhao instructed the Westerner.
He held up an Imperial gold talent.
“Will this be enough?” he asked. The innkeeper snatched it out
of his hands, while bowing deeply.
“Welcome,” the innkeeper said in broken, badly accented
English. He bowed again. “You come this way.” The Westerner looked at Jinhao.
“Follow him. You should have no more trouble.” She forbore from
telling him that he had just likely paid enough to buy half the inn. The
Westerner executed an intricate bow towards her, one worthy of the Imperial
Court itself.
“My thanks,” he said in perfect court Mandarin. “My name is
Owen Strong. I am a Peer of the Realm of Her Imperial Highness, Elizabeth the
Third of Britain. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing, that I might make
offering to the Gods?” Jinhao had to struggle not to respond in kind which
would not be in keeping with her disguise of old linen and leathers. Instead,
she managed a sketchy bow of the kind that an untutored guard might make.
“Jinhao,” she said shortly. The innkeeper bobbed impatiently in
the background.
“You should go with him,” she repeated. The Westerner turned
towards the innkeeper.
“Well, lead on.” The Westerner made a hurrying motion with his
hands, then picked up the single bag at his feet.
“My thanks again,” he said with a shorter bow in her direction.
Jinhao gave him a nod, watching him climb the stairs after the innkeeper.
“You seemed comfortable with the foreign Devil,” Lee Shen
remarked, appearing at her elbow.
“I could not stand the commotion,” she replied. “Besides, he
was simply a man like any other.”
Lee Shen grunted.
“Perhaps,” he said. ”Although I am not accustomed to having men
nearby who can call fire like a sword. It may be different for you.”
Jinhao thought he could have little idea just how accustomed to
it she was.
Lee Shen continued.
“Still, it was well done,” he said. “Dealing with him calmed
old Chen Lu right down. He was almost hopping with anxiety at the unlucky
appearance of the Westerner.”
Jinhao imagined the portly old Trader hopping from foot to
foot, wringing his hands. She suppressed an impulse to giggle. It would not do
to make fun of their employer, no matter how comedic his displays of worry had
been on the road. Lee Shen nodded, as if guessing her thoughts.
“He was ready to pull up and go back on the road,” he added.
Jinhao whirled her head to look at him.
“Surely not,” she said in surprise.
Shen cocked his head to one side.
“I convinced him that it was too late,” Lee Shen said. “Too
dangerous to move around in the dark. Still, a
Quizi
is an uncanny
thing.”
“You do not know that he is
Quizi
,” she said sharply.
Quizi
was Mandarin slang for “Tricky Foreign Demon”, a term that had become very
popular here in the south over the centuries.
“I do not know that he is not,” Lee Shen returned. “Such a
meeting is uncanny in itself, I feel it in my bones.”
Jinhao failed to reply, suddenly feeling the crawling tingle up
her neck that she felt before a premonition. Lee Shen looked at her, noticing
her shiver.
“You feel it too,” he observed.
“Perhaps,” Jinhao said diffidently. She had no desire to
explain to him her birthright. Lee Shen nodded emphatically.
“Damn right,” he said forcefully. “Mark my words, uncanny.
Anyway, the Trader wishes to be off in the morning, as do I. Best get some
sleep.”
