Jade Dragon Mountain (4 page)

Tulishen rose from his chair with a sigh of exasperation. “Mu Gao,” he said to Li Du, “takes care of my library. He is barely literate, but his family used to be powerful in this province. That is the only reason he has a place here. If you meet him, advise him on the proper care of books. His skills are only adequate.”

He turned to Jia Huan. “I will reassure the merchant that the treasure room is as secure as the mansion itself. There are guards at the gate and at every corner of the wall. He will have to be satisfied until the Emperor's own soldiers arrive. What is that you are carrying?” Tulishen indicated the papers.

“I found more graffiti on the walls in the market. I have peeled it away so that it can be copied and filed, according to the Emperor's new mandate.”

“You did well,” said Tulishen, directing a nervous look at the offending papers. “Of course, these foul slanders against the Emperor are unavoidable with so many people crowding the city. The Emperor must understand that. But someone will see the culprits and report them soon. It is inevitable.”

He returned his attention to Li Du. “I will attend to these other matters. You will be shown to your room, and you will meet the Lady Chen. She is first consort, and responsible for the household.”

“Your wives are not here with you?”

“Of course not. They are in Beijing. Lady Chen is of a local family, though one of high rank, naturally. She is very capable in this rough setting.”

Li Du perceived no lack of opulence or comfort in the mansion, however rural its surroundings, but he said nothing.

“Tonight there will be a banquet,” continued Tulishen. “You will attend.” He paused and added, “It is not necessary to tell the foreigners that you are an exile. It is better that they consider you an authority. If they do not respect you, perhaps they will not talk to you. You will be introduced as a scholar traveler.”

*   *   *

A maid in crisp red-and-white robes led Li Du through the mansion along shadowed paths. A series of flat bridges took them over three deep pools, from which rose last year's lotus flowers, brown and dry, swaying drunkenly on their long stems. Ponderous carp, golden, white, and red, swam under the bridges and through forests of water greens. Occasionally their wet backs slid above the water, and submerged again.

It was in a small courtyard at the edge of the third pool that Li Du met the Lady Chen. She was sitting on a stone bench, her back to them and an easel before her. A filigree ornament was set in her coiled hair—five silver phoenixes surrounding a golden sun. Her shoulders were covered by a heavy fur cloak, and cold sunshine lit her pale, raised hand. The only movement came from the tremble of dangling silver in her hair, and the sweep of her brush as it imparted a slope of gray mountain onto the white paper.

She turned to them, wearing on her beautiful face an expression of calm authority. It was an unusual face, with angular cheekbones and a profile that did not presage the appearance of her features from the front. Her skin was startlingly pale, a quality that the noblewomen of the capital tried hard to achieve with the application of thick creams and powders.

“I am mistress of this house,” she said, rising to her feet. Li Du noticed as she approached that, though she imitated the tiny steps of a Beijing lady, there was concealed strength in her stride, revealing that her feet had never been bound. She reached him and bowed her head in polite deference. “You are very welcome here.”

“I am—” He paused, unsure what she knew.

“You are the magistrate's cousin. I was just informed.” She smiled. “I am relieved that you have come to help us. You will counsel me on how to host our strange guests? Their etiquette is very…” She searched for a tactful word. “Surprising.”

“I remember a dinner in the capital,” said Li Du, with an answering smile, “at which a Jesuit explained that in his country they never eat rice with their meals.”

Lady Chen's delicate eyebrows went up. “How extraordinary,” she said. “You must tell me more of what you know. I would not embarrass the magistrate by showing poor hospitality to his guests. But you are tired, and I am keeping you from your refreshment.” She turned to the maid, who was escorting Li Du to the guesthouse. “Bring him tea and something to eat before he meets the other guests.”

Honored consort
, thought Li Du, as he and the maid left the courtyard. A woman whose lineage denied her the security of marriage to the magistrate. But here, far from the Beijing residence where the magistrate's wives held sway, Lady Chen had power. His interview with Tulishen had ended only minutes before he met her, but she had known already who he was and that he would be staying at the mansion.

The guesthouse was nestled against the hill at the far end of the complex. Li Du and the maid entered through a keyhole-shaped door in a low white wall. It led into a square, enclosed courtyard with black and gray pebbles embedded in the ground, depicting the animals of the zodiac. In the corners stood potted boxwoods and azaleas that had been trained into elegant, sculptural shapes. Immediately to the right of the door, against the wall and far from any foliage, there was a small, lit brazier, over which a blackened kettle was suspended from a metal frame with a hook.

The other three sides of the courtyard were defined by the three guestrooms, each of which opened onto a marble porch that ran unbroken in front of them. The sloping tile roof, supported by thick painted beams, extended over the porch. Each row of tiles ended in a round clay medallion stamped like a coin. The doors and windows were made of pale wood carved with elaborate floral and animal motifs, so that the light shining through would cast shadows like pictures on the walls of the rooms.

Li Du's room was the center of the three, directly across the courtyard from the door in the wall. The maid, after bowing and gesturing him inside, bowed again, and left him there. The walls were jade green and painted with golden peacocks. Against one wall was an ornate compartment bed enclosed in a green curtain. Against the other was a dark cherrywood desk, on which stood a small cabinet, its doors open to reveal writing tools arranged on shelves. Four brushes dangled from a brush stand. Also on the desk was a tea set arranged on a slatted tray. It consisted of two teapots, a set of small cups, and a set of large cups for drinking tea more casually, with the leaves loose in the water.

A soft knock on the door announced the return of the maid, carrying a tray laden with fresh dumplings and an assortment of savory sauces in colorful porcelain bowls. He inhaled the dark, salty fragrances with grateful pleasure. Another servant had brought tea, and offered him the choice of green, chrysanthemum, or red. He chose the green, and she prepared it. Before she left, she explained that the brazier and kettle in the courtyard were for the convenience of guests. The water in the kettle was boiled, replenished often, and kept hot over the coals. He thanked them, and breathed a sigh of relief when they were gone.

It was cold now that the sun was behind a cloud, but the food and drink revived him, as did the silence. He unhooked one of the brushes from its stand and touched it to the clean surface of the desk, idly testing the give of the bristles.

The last time he had stayed in such luxurious quarters had been in the earliest days of his exile, when he had gravitated automatically toward the inns that most resembled what he was used to, silk and polished sandalwood. As the months passed and he had spent his silver, these establishments had begun to lose their appeal. Their common rooms made him feel like an unaccounted-for shadow on the wall, ignored or acknowledged with unease. Occasionally he had run into the scholar recluses, and had listened to them bemoan the intellectual decline of China and complain about the uncivilized provinces. These meetings always left him dispirited. For years now he had avoided populated areas.

And now?

It's only for a few days
, he told himself as he returned the brush to its hook.

Li Du thought of the coming eclipse. He refused to be one among the thousands of people willing to take part in the performance. He would not watch the Emperor pretend to command the heavens. No—he would find a good vantage point on the mountain, as high as the wind and snow would allow him to climb, and he would watch the eclipse alone. Taking comfort in this certainty, Li Du left his room to meet the travelers who had come to Dayan more willingly than he.

 

Chapter 3

The stairs leading to the open doors of the library were guarded by four creatures of white marble: a lion, a dragon, a phoenix, and a tortoise. Li Du passed through the doors and into a large room furnished with bookcases that radiated from a central point like spokes on a wheel. He started down the nearest aisle. Its shelves were full of books bound in identical black silk and arranged in matching boxes like stern ranks of soldiers.

He looked around him and, seeing no one, pulled a volume from its place and opened it to a crisp white page covered in words as familiar to him as the tree in the courtyard of his childhood home.
Outlaws of the Marsh.
He closed it and reached eagerly for another, for a moment lost in memory.
Genzhai's Jottings
,
Judge Bao and the Steward's Suicide
—books of romance, adventure, mystery.

“Hello! Hello, sir!”

Li Du hastily returned the volume he held to its place on the shelf, and turned to see a smiling figure in black approaching him from the other end of the aisle. He was an elderly foreigner with a long white beard that flowed in a thick wave against his robe. He was very tall, though his thin shoulders were curved slightly inward with age.

“You must be the librarian from Beijing,” he said, speaking with the energy of a much younger man. “It is a
great
pleasure to meet you. A great pleasure. Forty years since I last saw the library in Beijing, but I remember it still. I had the honor of studying a text in the hand of Du Fu himself. Such words. Such sadness. A poet of unrivaled skill, and reliably forlorn in his choice of subject. You
are
the librarian?”

His Chinese was perfect, and Li Du, startled and disoriented, struggled for an appropriate response. “Yes,” he said finally.

The Jesuit studied him, blue eyes twinkling with merriment. “I would be surprised too,” he said, “were I a scholar recluse just emerged from isolation. I assume that you are a recluse, for what other purpose could have drawn you from so great a library as that of the Forbidden City itself? But the task of the scholar recluse is also commendable. And now here you are, used to those silent oaks and lonely cottages, and the first person you meet is a doddering old foreigner who cannot pause for breath. I do sympathize. But where the Emperor of China goes, the Jesuits follow, do we not? When I heard of the Emperor's invitation—not, of course, that it was a personal invitation to me—but when I heard of the festival to be held in Dayan! Well, it was not so far to travel from Agra. And it has been too long since I saw these mountains. But I am prattling. I am afraid it is a habit of mine. What of this library? Is it not impressive?”

The Jesuit had delivered this speech with all the nods and gestures of a person engaged in conversation, but without at any point pausing for a response. Anticipating interruption, Li Du said tentatively, “I—I have not seen anything beyond this aisle. But it appears to be a fine collection.”

“Ah, then you have not yet taken my meaning. I refer to the arrangement of the shelves. A compelling formula, and one that you, as a fellow scholar, will surely appreciate. Come, come, I will show you.” His tone was one of such genuine warmth that they might have been old friends meeting after a long separation, and his gesture for Li Du to accompany him was as eager as a child's.

Li Du followed the Jesuit down the aisle, which narrowed as they approached the center of the room until the bookcases on either side of Li Du almost touched his shoulders. They emerged at the edge of a large round table, white marble veined with black and circumscribed by a frame of gold filigree. This was the center from which the bookshelves emanated.

“Now,” said the Jesuit, “I will be patient while you examine the design.” And he waited with obvious delight and anticipation for Li Du to pronounce judgment.

Li Du inhaled with pleasure the scent of paper and dry cedar wood. Then he scanned the shelves. He counted twenty-eight bookcases in total, with books arranged by color into four sections. Across the marble table were seven cases of books bound all in deep red. To their left, the books were silken blue, and to the right, the pale color of pearl.

Carved into the wood at the end of each bookcase, facing the central table, were two symbols, one above the other. The upper carving was the abstract likeness of an animal: a lion, a dragon, a phoenix or a tortoise. Below each animal was a word.

“The twenty-eight constellations,” he said, picturing the four stone guardians outside.

The Jesuit clapped his hands together. “I knew that a librarian would know,” he said. “Are they not elegantly linked to the four subject matters? The histories associated with the red phoenix who rules the southern skies, the classics with the white tiger of the west, and the philosophies with the azure dragon of the east. And of course the tortoise, here, where the literary works gleam black like obsidian. You know that we do not share your four celestial beasts, or the twenty-eight constellations they rule. This one, for example”—he indicated a carving on a shelf that stood for the constellation
emptiness—
“how can emptiness be a constellation? It is very intriguing to me. But I imagine you wonder why I am so taken with this heavenly library?”

“I am curious,” Li Du admitted.

“It is, you see, a personal interest of mine. I am a student of astronomy. And,” he added, modestly, “a teacher of it, in my time. I am at present composing a manual on the construction of astrolabes. You must have seen the armillary sphere that sits atop the Observatory in the capital?”