Everything Under the Sky (39 page)

It was horrifying to climb down in absolute darkness, listening to Fernanda and Biao huff and puff above me. My breathing was soon labored as well. Fortunately, the arduous descent didn't take long, and we were soon at the bottom, in what seemed like a cubicle with no exit.

“Why don't you light the torch, Lao Jiang?” I asked.

“Because the
jiance
forbids it, don't you remember?” he barked.

“We have to move about in the dark?” Master Red asked in disbelief.

“Sai Wu said, ‘I know even less about the second level, but do not use fire to light the way. Move forward in darkness, or you will die.’ ”

“There must be some sort of door,” Biao murmured as he moved around that hovel, feeling his way along the walls. “Here! There's something here!”

We all turned around, bumping into one another, as we let Lao Jiang through and heard him struggle with some sort of bolt. After a good deal of wrestling, the door finally opened with the most unpleasant creaking of hinges.

“Well, I don't know how we're going to get through this second level if we can't light the torch. Who knows where we go down to the third.”

I was the one who made this optimistic comment, but it didn't arouse any response from the others. They were all crossing through the invisible door Lao Jiang had opened. So this is what it must be like to be completely blind, I thought, extending my arms so I wouldn't run into anyone. I thought back on Sunday mornings in the park when I was little and used to play Blind Man's Bluff with my friends. I told myself to look at this the same way, to find the fun in it, as if it were a challenge—provided, of course, that the dangers awaiting us on the other side weren't so terrible that profound darkness became a hellish nightmare.

There was nothing on the other side of that door. The only thing we felt was absolute emptiness. Since it wouldn't do to just randomly wander about and wind up lost and disoriented, I had the idea that one of us should tie one end of Lao Jiang's long line around his or her waist and explore a little while the rest of us stayed where we were near the exit. Everyone agreed, and Biao quickly offered to be the one to explore, because he was quick and had good reflexes. He could react in an instant, he said, if he came up against anything or noticed a hole opening up under his feet.

“True,” I commented. “Don't ever let anyone say it was you who fell to the bottom of that shaft where we came into the mausoleum.”

“But that's how I survived!” he protested. “I quickly jumped onto the wall when the ground gave way!”

“That's exactly why you're not going to be the one to tie the line around your waist. That and because I can't take any more scares. I'll do it.”

“No, Elvira, you won't,” Lao Jiang's resonant voice declared emphatically. “Master Red Jade or I will go, not you.”

“Why not?” I asked, offended. “Because you are a woman.”

So we were back to that, were we? Men seemed to think that being a woman meant you were crippled or maimed, even if they wrapped it in the guise of male gallantry.

“Don't I have arms and legs, too?”

“Don't insist. I'll go.” We could hear him open his bag and close it again. “Please hold on to this line, Master Red Jade.”

“What sort of line is this?” Master Red murmured. “It's not made of twine.”

“Hold on tight,” Lao Jiang said as he walked away. “It could slip out of your hands if I fall.”

“Don't worry. I'm tying it around my wrist.”

“Anything out there, Lao Jiang?” I asked, raising my voice. “Not yet.”

We all remained quiet, waiting for news. After a while Master Red told us that the antiquarian had gone as far as the line would allow and was tracing a sort of semicircle, like a compass, to see what he might find along the way. Unfortunately, he found me: I suddenly felt something touch my stomach, screamed, and jumped back. Though the shock had made me yell loudly, it came back as a faint, strange echo, as if we were in a cathedral of unimaginable proportions.

“Did you scream, Elvira?” the antiquarian asked.

“Yes,” I admitted, a little embarrassed. “You scared the daylights out of me.”

“Everyone please sit down on the floor and lower your heads so I can finish examining this area.”

“How long is your line?” I asked as I sat cross-legged, noticing that Fernanda and Biao sat next to me. The floor felt like a mirror, cold and polished smooth, though it wasn't slippery.

“About eighty feet.”

“Is that all? It seems like you're much farther away. In any event, it's too bad you didn't think to bring a longer one.”

“Would you be so kind as to be quiet? You're distracting me.”

“Oh, of course! Sorry.”

The children, on the other hand, continued whispering. The pitch black made them nervous, and talking made them forget their fear a little. I was scared, too, though there was no logical reason to be: The foreman hadn't spoken of any special danger in this room. He had simply recommended that his son not use fire to find his way, because he'd die if he lit a torch.

Why? I suddenly asked myself. “Move forward in darkness, or you will die.” It didn't make any sense, unless … Coal miners died from gas explosions. The gas would detonate when it came into contact with the flames on their lamps. What kind of gas? Methane, the very gas the Chinese had been using for thousands of years to illuminate their big cities or make torches like the one Lao Jiang was carrying. He had proudly assured us that Celestials had known how to use methane ever since the time of the First Emperor. So were we breathing methane? Nearly every day there was an article in our papers about a coal-mine explosion. Although there'd been great technological advances such as security lamps, methane didn't smell. Sometimes miners would be chipping at a wall and gas would suddenly escape from a great pocket, exploding when it came into contact even with a nearly cold lamp wick.

I sniffed the air. It didn't smell of anything, of course. After one had inhaled methane for a certain amount time, it caused symptoms such as dizziness, nausea, headache, lack of coordination, loss of consciousness, and asphyxia. What I didn't know was how long it took for any of that to begin.

The darkness drove me crazy. My old neuroses were back. How could there be methane in an emperor's tomb? This wasn't a coal mine. Either Lao Jiang got back with news soon, however bad it might be, or my sick thoughts were going to consume me in that gloom. My heart was pounding, and my hands were beginning to sweat. Calm down, Elvira. Calm down. The last thing I wanted was to have a severe attack of panic in there.

“You're on your way back, Da Teh?” I heard Master Red ask.

“Yes.”

“Did you find anything?”

“No.”

“Well, there has to be something,” Fernanda declared.

“The only thing I can think of is to move along the walls until we find the exit,” Lao Jiang said.

“But what if it's another trapdoor in the middle of the floor somewhere in here?”

“In that case, young Fernanda, it will take us a little longer, but we'll find it.”

I did everything I could to force myself not to think about the ridiculous idea of death by methane.

“Let's start at the door and go clockwise around the room,” I said, to scare off any other thoughts.

“And what direction is that?” Master Red inquired curiously.

“You speak French perfectly, and yet you've never seen a Western clock?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“There were none at the mission where my brother and I studied.”

“Well, the hands turn in a circle from right to left.”

“So we'll start where I'm standing,” he observed, as if we could see him.

“We should leave something at this door so we recognize it on our way back,” I suggested, always worried about the way back.

“What do you propose?”

“I'll leave one of my pencils.”

We began walking. I ran my left hand along the surface of the wall, which, unlike the floor, was rough and uneven. Then I began grazing just my fingertips so as not to set my teeth on edge and, toward the end, using only my index finger. After a while I came to the conclusion that it was a much larger room than the funeral palace on the floor above. It must have been the size of the plastered walls on that level. By the time we turned the first corner, I was sure of it and prepared for a long, boring walk. Why not make it a little more pleasant? I could walk wherever I wanted. Since I couldn't see anything, I was free to imagine anywhere in the world, and I chose the Left Bank of the Seine in Paris, with its secondhand-book stalls and amateur painters. I pictured the lovely bridges, the water, the sun…. I could hear the sound of the cars and buses, the shouts of the sweet vendors…. My house! I saw my house, the gate, the stairs, the door…. And inside, my living room, my bedroom, my kitchen, my studio…. Oh, the smell of my house! I had forgotten what the wood furniture smelled like, the flowers I always had in vases, the burners I cooked on, the starched clothes in my drawers, and of course the brand-new, unused canvases, the oil paints, the turpentine…. It had been so long since I left home! I became desperately homesick, and I wanted to cry. I was too old for such silliness.

It might have been the sadness that made me feel a bit dizzy, as if the wall or the floor were moving, like on the
André Lebon.
It couldn't be much farther until we were back at the beginning. We'd already turned four corners, so the door where I'd left a pencil had to be nearby. Perhaps the rocking sensation was simply because I was hungry. You shouldn't walk long distances on an empty stomach. I didn't want to think of the other possibility.

Ten minutes later I had my pencil back in my hand.

“I don't think we got very far,” Fernanda said sulkily. “We're back where we started.”

“Yes, but we've also eliminated one possibility. Now we have to try others.”

“I'm feeling a little dizzy,” my niece protested, alarming me. “What about you, Biao?”

“I'm also dizzy,
tai-tai.
But it's not too bad.”

“What about you two?” There was no need for me to say their names; they simply responded.

“I'm fine,” Lao Jiang said. “We've just been groping around in the dark for too long, that's all.”

“I'm also fine,” Master Red said. “What about you, madame?”

“Yes, fine,” I lied. Either we found our way down to the third level right away or I was hurrying the children back up to the funeral palace. “Does anyone have any quick ideas?”

“We should examine the floor.” Master Red hesitated. “But if the children aren't feeling well—”

“We know we're in a big rectangular space,” Lao Jiang interrupted. “Let's divide it into strips that we'll mark using Elvira's pencils and then search the floor for the trapdoor.”

That would take forever, and we didn't have that long.

“I propose we go up to the palace and eat. There's light up there, and we need to recover a bit of energy. Then we can come back down and check the floor. What do you say?”

“Not yet,” Lao Jiang disapproved. “Let's do at least one section before we go up.”

“One section's too much,” I protested, without knowing exactly how big a piece the antiquarian was referring to, but he ignored me.

“Biao, take five big steps forward and stay there while the rest of us search the floor between the wall and the line you represent. If we get lost, we'll call out so you can guide us with your voice. Understood?”

“Yes, Lao Jiang, but may I say something?”

“Don't tell me again that you're not feeling well,” the antiquarian warned.

“No, no…. What I wanted to say was there's something strange under my feet. It's not a trapdoor, but it must be important, because it's like one of those hexagrams from the
I Ching.
”

“Are you sure?” Lao Jiang spit this out as if he'd been stung by a wasp.

“Let me check,” Master Red said. “Biao?”

“Yes, that's me. Crouch down. It's right here. See?”

“No, I can't see”—Master Red Jade laughed—”but I can feel it, and it is indeed a hexagram. The floor must be made of polished bronze, and the hexagram is engraved in relief.”

“Bas-relief,” I confirmed as I touched it with my own hands, noting how smooth the shapes were: six horizontal lines, some solid and others broken, forming a perfect square a little more than two and a half feet on each side.

“How odd!” Master Red said. “The hexagram is Ming I, ‘Darkening of the Light.’ It would be quite meaningful if it weren't just a simple decoration.”

“What sort of decoration would they put in a place that's pitch black?” Fernanda snapped. “It's there for a reason.”

“Do you know the
I Ching
by heart, Master Red Jade?” I asked.

“Yes, madame, though that's not unusual,” he noted modestly. “Master Tzau in Wudang knew it by heart as well.”

“Master Tzau is a very wise man, madame. In fact, no one in China knows more about the
I Ching
than he. People come from all over to consult him. I'm glad you had the opportunity to meet him.”

“Enough of the idle chitchat!” Lao Jiang interrupted. “Interpret the sign, Master Red Jade.”

“Of course, Da Teh. I humbly beg your pardon.”

“Hurry up!” Lao Jiang barked. I couldn't believe the radical change that had come over the antiquarian since we arrived inside the mausoleum. It was as if anything we said or did infuriated him. Indeed, he was nothing like the elegant, educated gentleman I had met in Paddy Tichborne's rooms at the Shanghai Club.

“The hexagram Ming I, ‘Darkening of the Light,’ “Master Red was saying, “alludes to the sun's having sunk beneath the earth, causing utter darkness. A sinister man is in a position of authority. Wise and able men suffer as a result, because although it is a burden, they must not abandon him. The judgment says that the light has disappeared, and in such situations one must persevere when faced with an emergency.”

“I don't understand a thing,
tai-tai,
” Biao whispered in my ear. I put my hand over his mouth to tell him to be quiet, not wanting to hear any more reprimands from Lao Jiang.

“Given the situation we're in,” Master Red went on, “I suppose the interpretation would be that there's some risk we can't see, some emergency that requires us to move quickly. I think the hexagram is telling us to hurry and find the light, because we're in some sort of danger.”