Jade Dragon Mountain (18 page)

Pieter's grave was obvious. The dirt around it was new, and the marble was not yet streaked or cracked. There were no words carved into it. On either side of the flat white cover two standard, blocky dragons stood guard. A few slips of imitation money fluttered in the breeze like translucent leaves.

Li Du slid the book under the claw of one of the stone guardians. It gave the indifferent dragon some personality, and Li Du imagined the creature reading the parables and poems in the thick foreign tome when there were no humans present.

The sun was setting now, and the light was fading to violet blue. Sounds drifted faintly from the mansion below: voices, dinner gongs, and the thuds and jangles of doors being pulled closed. He put one hand on his knee to straighten up, and as he was brushing the cold dirt from his robe, he saw something sparkle on the ground.

Nestled among the fallen oak leaves was a tiny silver ornament. It was leaf shaped. No, a feather, with delicate striations etched into its face. At one end a ring joined a length of silver chain, strung with three pearls.

It was the feather of a phoenix tail, and the last time Li Du had seen it, it had dangled from the comb in Lady Chen's hair.

*   *   *

He found her in one of the small banquet halls. She was speaking to an attentive maid, and continued to speak as Li Du approached.

“… more powder for the consort house. Be sure that it is not the white lead variety, but the other one, the morning glory seed. The ladies prefer it—the white lead is too sticky. And you must also buy rouge, the safflower with added attar. Choose one with a strong pigment. We will need extra for the concubines who are to attend the banquets. They may not have their own cosmetics, and they must look sophisticated, or it will reflect poorly on our house. Can you remember all of that? I will not have time to tell you again in the morning.”

The maid departed in a flurry of curtsies and nods, and Lady Chen turned to Li Du. “The magistrate has explained the situation to me,” she said. “The household is, of course, at your disposal.”

Her face, moon white, was composed, suspended above a gown of maroon satin. She reminded Li Du of the tower rhubarbs that he had seen growing on shale slopes in the high alpine meadows. It was a plant known as the aristocrat of the mountain, and in the woman who now regarded him, he saw something of the isolation and strength that opposed the studied perfection of her costume. Her hair was dressed with turquoise and pearls.

Li Du said, “I am sorry for the anxiety that these events must have caused you.”

“I appreciate your courtesy,” Lady Chen answered, with a hint of impatience, “but it is not necessary for you to be so tactful. The success of the festival is as important to me as it is to the magistrate. I want to know what is happening in my home, and I want to know what it is necessary for me to do. I do not have the leisure to indulge in distress. You have questions for me?”

Her posture was rigid, and in her fixed expression Li Du saw her determination to maintain control of the conversation. He wondered if he could relax her guard before showing her the silver feather.

“I do have questions,” he said. “Could you describe to me the tea sets in the guestrooms? Are they identical?”

“In form, yes. The patterns differ, but they were all commissioned together from the same kiln. Why?”

“And the sets are all complete, as far as you know? None of the pieces have been lost?”

“It is very fine quality. I would not dishonor the magistrate by providing his guests with cheap porcelain, or with imperfect sets. I conduct strict inventories of all our valuable goods regularly—paper, rugs, statues, cushions, and of course the porcelain. The last time I examined the guestroom tea sets, they were whole.”

“And when was that?”

Lady Chen took the time to search her memory. The silence did not fluster her, and when she spoke it was with assurance. “It was ten days ago. I inventoried the tea sets, the cushions, and the paper and brushes.”

“But on the night Brother Pieter died, I counted only three teacups in his room.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Do you mind if I fold these table covers while we speak?”

Li Du gestured for her to continue. She picked up a green satin cloth and folded it deftly as she said, “If there is a cup missing from the room, it must have disappeared very recently. The maid who cleaned the room should have noticed. But this has been a difficult week for the servants. The death of a foreigner frightened them. The cook was terrified that she had prepared the food badly.”

“I understand. You will tell me if the cup is found?”

“Yes. And I will ask the maids what they know of the matter. Does this mean that the poison was in a cup of tea?” She asked the question a little too quickly, with affected disinterest. Her expression was unreadable.

“I cannot answer you,” replied Li Du, “because I do not yet know. But I have another question—of a slightly delicate nature.”

“Yes?” Lady Chen set the folded cloth down and picked up another.

“Do you know the name of the concubine with whom the merchant Sir Gray had an assignation on the night of the murder?”

Lady Chen looked faintly amused. “He had no tryst with a woman hired by this house.”

“You sound very sure. These meetings do call for—for some privacy. Are you certain that it did not occur?”

The hint of humor brightened into a smile at once charming and superior. “There are many good reasons to know which men accept the overtures of pleasure women and maids on banquet nights. I question the women very thoroughly, and they know that the consequences of lying to me are severe. I trust you will not repeat this information. As you say, there is a certain assumption of privacy. But I can assure you that he was not with a woman.”

Lady Chen was regarding him still with a trace of mockery, and he decided that the time was right to try to catch her off balance. He drew the ornament from his pocket.

“I found this,” he said. “I believe it is yours.”

He was relieved to see her composure waver. A tiny furrow appeared between her brows, and she stretched out her hand to take the silver-and-pearl feather from him. He set it gently into her open palm.

“Yes,” she said. “It is from a piece of my jewelry. It must have fallen from my hair. Thank you for returning it to me.” She avoided meeting his eyes.

“I found it beside Brother Pieter's tomb. Can you tell me how it came to be there? I understand that the burial was performed without ceremony. Not even the magistrate was present.”

Lady Chen's hand closed in a fist around the ornament. She said, coldly, “Of course I was not at the burial. And I did not visit the man's grave.”

“Then how did a jewel from your hair come to be there?”

“I was visiting a different grave. I go there to honor my own ancestors—my mother was a distant cousin of the family that used to rule this province. I do not speak of this often—the Chinese nobility does not admire the local bloodlines. I would prefer not to speak of it now.”

She gave the explanation smoothly, but Li Du noticed that her eyes remained on the cloth that she was folding, and that the silence after she finished speaking discomfited her as it had not before.

Li Du said, “On the night of the murder, you served wine to Brother Pieter.”

Lady Chen drew in a sharp breath. “If you are suggesting that the poison was in the wine, it is impossible. I served all the guests from the same bottle. You yourself drank from it.”

Li Du pressed. “But can you tell me what made him spill the wine? Had he perhaps seen something at the edge of the garden, or heard something that upset him?”

“You are misremembering. He was tired, and he spilled some wine. That is all that happened.”

“Then why did you go after him soon after he retired?”

Lady Chen's gaze snapped up to meet his. She said, very firmly, “I did not go after him. I was going to fetch more wine.”

“But you did not have a servant with you to carry it.”

“They were occupied. I can carry a bottle of wine without help when necessary.”

“And when you returned, you did not have any wine with you.”

“No—I was going to get the wine. I did pass close by to the guestrooms, and I thought I heard voices. I continued on, and then there was a sound of someone falling. That is why I went to the guesthouse.”

“And what did you find there?”

“Only the dead man. I called for help, and when Bao—the maid—arrived, I sent her at once for the doctor. I knew that there was nothing that could be done. He was not breathing.”

“And after that?”

“You know what happened after that. I came straight to the stage courtyard to tell the magistrate what had happened.”

“And you saw no one at all either on your way to or from the guesthouse?”

“No. But I was walking on the main path. There is another, a more hidden way, under the willow trees. But there are no torches there at night. If someone were leaving the guesthouse and did not want to be seen, that is the path the person would have taken.”

“Thank you, Lady Chen. You have been very patient. It is late, and I know that you have many demands on your time.”

And with a respectful bow, Li Du turned and left her there, watching him go.

*   *   *

It was dark. Li Du had obtained a lantern from an open storage room and now held it before him, walking slowly in the small pool of light, peering at the dark shapes that loomed beyond its border. As he traversed the zigzagging flat bridges over the ponds, a cold wind blew through the withered lotus stalks. They rotated slowly in the water, as if they were turning to look at him. He shivered and quickened his pace, careful not to miss a turn. Demons traveled in straight lines, and the sharp angles of the bridges were built to evade them.

When he passed the guesthouse where he had stayed, he saw the small path leading into the willows in the direction of the library. It was as Lady Chen had described it, unlit and obscured by hanging branches. He began to make his way down the path, walking carefully on the flat stepping stones.

He passed through a moon gate draped with thick vines, and found himself in a rock garden behind the library. In the center of it grew a plum tree, its branches black veins against the sky. The rocks varied in shape and size, each chosen for their resemblance to miniature mountains, castles, and cities.

Li Du had never cared for rock gardens, and this one was particularly eerie under the bony fingers of the plum tree. Removed from the mountain, the looming stones were strangely unsettling.

He could see the path continue through the garden and the lights of the guesthouse where Pieter had died not far beyond. Lady Chen had been right. If someone had wanted to approach or leave the guesthouse at night without being seen, he, or she, would have taken this path.

Li Du turned around and looked at the rocks. Almost all of them were taller than a person, but at least three were small enough to lift. He knelt beside one, set the lantern down, and eased his fingers into the cold earth. He tilted the rock up, but saw only wet dirt and the indistinct movement of insects. He lifted another rock and found the same. Feeling slightly foolish, he lifted the third. Crushed beneath it, amid a scuttling family of beetles, were the bright fragments of a blue porcelain cup decorated with red flowers.

 

Chapter 11

Hamza reached with his chopsticks into the copper pot that sat between them, and plucked a jade green pepper from the depths of the chicken stew. He regarded it as if he had found a treasure, but before he could begin the story of the magical pepper or the tale of the butter coins—Li Du was learning to identify the signs of Hamza departing one world for another—Li Du spoke.

“Have you noticed,” he said, “that every person in this room has looked at us at least once since we began our dinner?”

Hamza put the pepper in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. He swallowed. “It is my striking appearance. But I am accustomed to being admired. I am not discomfited.”

“You do not think they are looking because you told everyone here that I am going to solve a murder in three days' time?”

“I did not tell everyone.” Hamza was indignant. “I selected my listeners with care. Tell me—before the rumor reached the mansion, were you succeeding in convincing the magistrate to pursue the killer?”

“No.” Li Du leaned forward a little bit over the stew and added: “And you should know that your efforts produced an immediate effect.”

Hamza grumbled. “I would have enjoyed seeing the reaction myself.”

“I think that you would have.”

Imagining it, Hamza gave a satisfied smile. Then he pinched the tip of his beard to neaten its point. “If you fail,” he said, “it will be very bad for you.” He might have been speaking on the subject of a light rain about to begin on a summer evening. “Yes—it will be very bad. Your cousin will not hesitate to sacrifice you in order to save himself. You are an exile. He is a magistrate. He can say what he wants about you, and the other officials will believe him.”

This had already occurred to Li Du. “Are you implying that he could accuse me of the murder? I doubt he would go so far. But if you foresaw this risk, why did you go to such effort to put me in the position I am in now?”

For a moment, the flame in the lantern closest to them went still, and cast a uniform glow through the thin silk shade. Lit this way, Hamza looked like an illustration, his beard a single brushstroke, gleaming ink, his burnished face and black eyes unmoving. Then he spoke, and the spell was broken.

“Remember that I traveled with the man who now lies dead in the ground. We traversed mountain passes so treacherous that even the caravan horsemen dared not speak or move in their saddles. I saw how his bones shook and pained him. I saw his lips move in silent prayer. But whenever he spoke, it was to express gratitude or to offer help. He completed with grace a journey that frightens even the people who live in those mountains. And then he came here, to this city in a valley, redolent with gold and musks and posturing tourists, and here he is killed,
here in this place
.”