Bridge Of Birds (20 page)

“Cured!” he cried joyfully. “I could not be sure before, but now when I look at this loot,
my fingers itch only for the pearls and jade, and that is because I would like to give
them to Lotus Cloud.”

Li Kao's eyes met mine, and I nodded. Both of us had instinctively studied the top of the
pile of treasure for a ghost shadow, and there it was. I was getting rather good at it,
and the shadow blanket lifted easily over my head.

I was looking at the same ghost! No, not the same, but dressed in the same ancient
fashion, and with the same streak of blood where a blade had pierced her heart. Again I
sensed that she was making a terrible effort to appear before us, and I felt the same
searing wave of agony when her lips parted.

“Take pity upon a faithless handmaiden,” she whispered. “Is not a thousand years enough?”
Ghost tears like transparent pearls trickled down her cheeks. “I swear that I did not know
what I had done!” she sobbed. “Oh, take pity, and exchange this for the feather. The birds
must fly.”

Then she was gone.

Miser Shen had seen nothing, and he gazed in wonder at the stunned expressions on our
faces. I snarled and scrambled up the pile, and slid back down with an identical jade
casket in my hands. I jerked the lid open, and then I cried out in despair.

Inside was not the Heart of Power, which was supposed to be the ultimate, but two more
tiny tendrils. They were the Arms of the Great Root, and if the Legs had failed, what more
could we expect from the Arms? The ginseng aroma made my eyes water, and I turned the
casket upside down. Something else fell to the floor.

Li Kao got down on his knees and carefully examined a tiny crystal ball, about the size of
the miniature flute.

“Miser Shen, I would advise you to sit down and prepare for a rather unusual phenomenon,”
he said grimly. Then he spat on his hand and reached out and cautiously rubbed the crystal
surface.

The ball began to glow with a strange inner light. Then it began to expand. It grew until
it was several feet in diameter, and the inner light grew brighter and brighter, and then
we all cried out in wonder as a picture appeared, and then we heard sounds.

We were looking at the interior of a pretty little cottage where an old lady snoozed on a
stool. We could hear her peaceful snores, and the sounds of chickens and pigs, and the
gentle murmur of a stream. Birds sang and bees droned drowsily, and the sun-dappled leaves
of a tree rustled outside the window.

An ant scurried across the floor, carrying a tiny crust of bread. After a moment a roach
took notice, and began to scuttle after the ant. A rat stuck its head from a hole and
dashed after the roach. A cat bounded after the rat, and then a dog bounded through the
door and raced after the cat. The whole procession charged beneath the old lady's stool
and tipped it over, and she sat up and rubbed her eyes, unleashed a torrent of peasant
profanity, grabbed a broom, and started in hot pursuit of the dog that was chasing the cat
that was chasing the rat that was chasing the roach that was chasing the ant that was
carrying the crust of bread.

It is difficult to describe in words, but the scene that unfolded was incredibly comic.
Around and around they went, racing through the door, climbing back inside through the
window, smashing through the flimsy walls, reappearing through a hole in the roof, and
reducing the furniture to splinters. The variations appeared to be endless, and they were
so ingenious that Miser Shen and I held our sides as we howled with laughter. At one point
the old lady's slashing broom sent every piece of pottery flying into the air, and they
all came together with a crash. The fragments fell to the floor, and as one piece landed
upon the other, they formed a solemn statue of the Sacred and Venerable Sage of Serenity.
The mad procession raced outside and splashed through a pond, and when they crashed back
inside through another ruined wall there was a huge bullfrog squatting upon the old lady's
head, croaking indignantly.

Miser Shen and I might have laughed ourselves to death if Li Kao hadn't reached out and
touched the crystal ball. The glow faded, and the sounds and the picture vanished, and the
ball shrank down to its former size.

“Shen, have you ever seen anything like this?” Master Li asked, as soon as Miser Shen had
recovered enough to breathe.

Miser Shen scratched his head and said, “Well, I can't be sure. Surely I have never seen
anything like that incredible scene, but I once saw a tiny crystal ball that resembled
this one in an ancient painting. It was in the Cavern of Bells. An old lame peddler with
his back to the viewer was facing three young ladies who were dressed in the style of many
centuries ago. In one of his hands he held three feathers -”

“Feathers?” Master Li yelped. “Girls dressed in the ancient style?”

“Ah... yes,” said Miser Shen. “In the other hand the peddler was holding a ball that
resembled this one, and a tiny bell, and a miniature flute.”

Li Kao grunted in satisfaction and unsnapped one of the fake shells on his belt.

“Like this?”

“Precisely like that,” said Miser Shen as he examined the tiny tin flute. “I don't
remember much else about the painting except that it was said to be very mysterious and
that the old lame peddler was thought to be divine. The Cavern of Bells has become a
shrine in his honor, and it is tended by a small order of monks.”

Li Kao placed the flute back into the shell, and added the crystal ball and the Arms of
the Great Root of Power to his smuggler's belt.

“Let's get some sleep. In the morning we'll find out how to get off this island, and our
first stop will be the Cavern of Bells,” he said.

He spoke too soon. When we made a circuit of the oasis the following morning we discovered
that it was indeed an island, completely encircled by murderous lava, and the narrow
bridge was the only exit. Fingerprints pawed in the salt, and my heart sank to my toes as
I realized that we would never be able to get back to the children of Ku-fu. I could not
stop the tears that welled in my eyes and trickled down my cheeks, and Miser Shen looked
at me and then hastily averted his eyes.

“Number Ten Ox, this is not such a bad place in which to spend the rest of our days,” he
said shyly. “We shall live like kings on fruits and berries and pure spring water, while
the rest of the world enjoys war, famine, and pestilence.”

And death, I thought. I heard weeping and mournful bells, and I saw a long row of small
coffins disappearing into the ground.

“Of course, the rest of the world will also be enjoying Lotus Cloud,” Miser Shen said
thoughtfully.

“You have a point,” I sniffled.

We were sitting upon the grass with our backs against the trunk of a huge palm tree. Li
Kao trotted up and joined us, and I saw that his eyes were sparkling.

“Gentlemen, how much do you know about the great Chang Heng?” he asked.

I dimly recalled schoolroom lessons. “Didn't he invent the seismograph, about five hundred
years ago?”

“And the Fire Drug?” said Miser Shen.

“He did indeed, and his achievements did not stop there,” said Master Li. “The great Chang
Heng was a superb poet, a competent painter, an engineer and astronomer without equal, and
the world's greatest student of the phenomenon of flight. He perfected the science of
latitude and longitude, determined the value of pi, revolutionized the armillary sphere,
and constructed kites that could carry men through the air for long distances. One day he
happened to be sitting as we are, with his back against a tree, and something brushed
against his face.”

Li Kao lifted his right hand and opened it, displaying a tiny object.

“A sycamore seed?” said Miser Shen.

“Precisely,” said Master Li. “Chang Heng had seen thousands of them, but never before had
he thought to examine one closely. The more he studied it, the more convinced he became
that he was gazing at one of the marvels of nature.”

Miser Shen and I stared fixedly at the seed. It was nothing but a tiny stem and a circle
of fan-shaped blades.

“Observe,” said Master Li.

He blew gently into the palm of his hand. The fan-shaped blades began to revolve, faster
and faster, and then the seed lifted straight up into the air. The breeze caught it and
away it went, spinning into the sky, sailing over the treetops, dwindling to a tiny speck
in the distance.

“Chang Heng was gazing at one of the most efficient flying machines in the world, and he
immediately began to build a sycamore seed that could carry a man,” said Master Li. “The
emperor graciously provided pilots from the ranks of criminals who had been sentenced to
death, and one after another the wailing wretches were strapped into Chang Heng's flying
machines and pushed off the tops of cliffs. One of them encountered a strong updraft and
actually flew for several hundred feet, but the end result was the same. The blades could
not whirl fast enough to compensate for the weight, and the pilots all crashed to their
deaths. Do you know what Chang Heng did then?”

“We are as ignorant as apples,” sighed Miser Shen, speaking for both of us.

“The great Chang Heng mixed sulphur, saltpeter, and charcoal, and invented the Fire Drug,”
Master Li said. “We use it mostly for fireworks, but he had something else in mind. By
adding resin, he managed to produce a compound that would burn steadily instead of
exploding, and he packed it into long tubes of bamboo. He built a wicker carriage and
attached it to a revolving pole. On top of the pole he placed fan-shaped blades, and at
the bottom he added a wheel to which he attached his tubes of Fire Drug. The emperor and
all the top officials gathered to watch what promised to be a spectacular execution, and
the weeping convict was strapped to the seat in the carriage. Chang Heng lit the fuses.
There was a spurt of flame, and than another and another, and a great cloud of black smoke
obscured everything. When the smoke cleared, the astonished audience saw that the
contraption had lifted straight up into the air, with the blades whirling furiously. A
trail of smoke and flame stretched out behind as it flew through the air, and the screams
of the pilot could faintly be heard as the thing streaked toward one of the palace towers.
The emperor cheered and the audience applauded madly as it hit the tower and exploded with
a great roar, and it was said that pieces of pilot rained down for a week, although that
may be a slight exaggeration. The great Chang Heng locked himself in his workroom, and one
month later he had completed the final design of the most marvelous of all his inventions:
the incredible Bamboo Dragonfly.”

Li Kao smiled happily. “The plans for which I have seen in the Forest of Culture Academy
in Hanlin,” he said.

There was a moment of silence.

“You can't possibly mean...” Miser Shen whispered.

“Right above us is a circle of palm branches that are light, strong, and fan-shaped,” said
Master Li.

“Surely you don't intend to...” I said weakly.

“Bamboo is all around us, and so is resin. The lava is full of sulphur. There are natural
deposits of saltpeter all over China, and probably on this very island, and if a former
peasant like Miser Shen can't make a little charcoal, I will be very surprised indeed.”

“But it would be suicide!” I exclaimed.

“Insanity!” cried Miser Shen.

“We will have no hope of survival at all,” Master Li agreed. “Ox, you get the palm
branches and resin and bamboo. The charcoal will be Miser Shen's department, and I will
search for saltpeter and extract the sulphur from the lava. I suggest that we hurry,
because with every passing moment I grow closer to expiring from old age.”

For a week a series of explosions shook the little island, followed by the furious screams
of Li Kao. His beard was singed and blackened and his eyebrows were nearly scorched off.
So many fires had started in his clothes that he looked as though he had been attacked by
a million starving moths, but finally he found the right formula and his tubes of Fire
Drug began to behave. Miser Shen and I were rather proud of our handiwork. The basket was
woven from reeds, and quite comfortable to sit in, and the palm-leaf blades revolved very
nicely around the bamboo pole. The bamboo wheel to which the tubes were attached was
balanced carefully, and although we had no steering mechanism, we hoped to be able to
control our flight by shifting our weight.

“Of course this is madness,” I said as I climbed into the basket.

“Moronic,” said Miser Shen as he climbed in beside me.

“We are totally deranged,” Li Kao agreed as he lit the fuses.

He hopped into the basket, and I covered my eyes and waited for death. The basket
shuddered as the tubes of Fire Drug began to spurt flames. The wheel started to revolve,
and the blades began to whirl round and round. I peeked through my fingers and peered
through a cloud of black smoke and saw that the grass beneath us was bending beneath a
blast of wind.

“We are rising!” I yelled.

“We are falling!” howled Miser Shen.

Both of us were right. We had suddenly lifted into the air, and now we were dropping back
down. Unfortunately we had also moved fifty feet to the left, and we were dropping
straight toward bubbling lava.

“Lean back!” Master Li yelled.

We shifted our weight and the Bamboo Dragonfly suddenly straightened out and began to skim
just above the fiery surface toward the other side of the moat, and we stared with
horrified eyes at the prints of immense fingers that were eagerly pawing the salt.

The Hand That No One Sees almost got us. A slashing invisible finger ripped off one of the
palm-leaf blades, which proved to be a blessing because we had apparently used one too
many. As soon as it was gone our flying machine lifted into the air and began to perform
very nicely indeed, except that it was flying around in circles. Around and around it
flew, moving slowly across the ruins of the city, while great lunging marks of furious
fingers kicked up clouds of salt beneath us.