Panda Panic (6 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

F
or the next hour Ping and Little Bear wandered downriver, climbing over rocks and wading through the shallows. When the water was too deep, Ping gave Little Bear a piggyback, which made the tiny cub squeal with delight. He was full of questions, of course, and didn't stop talking, and Ping eventually decided that it would be simpler just to tell Little Bear what he wanted to hear. After all, he was taking him home and would probably never see him again. And what was the alternative? If Ping was to tell Little Bear that all he really did was eat, sleep, and poo forty-seven times a day, the cub would be gravely disappointed. No. It was kinder to carry on lying. So Ping talked about the fitness training that went into being a bodyguard, and the ceremony at the palace when he was given the job by the Emperor. He talked about learning how to write with invisible ink, how to eavesdrop on bandits using nothing but a seashell, how to make a walkie-talkie out of a bamboo pole, and how to drive a Jeep.

“Incredible!” gasped Little Bear. “But you still haven't told me about the palace. What's it like living there?”

“Well, there's lots of feasting, obviously,” lied Ping, “and people dancing in dragon costumes and drinking loads of tea. They like their tea at the palace. That's why the Emperor keeps beavers in the garden, because beavers make the best tea.”

“And I bet they're really good at chopping firewood as well,” said Little Bear. “Are the clothes beautiful?”

“I've never seen a beaver wearing clothes,” said Ping.

“Not the beavers' clothes,” said Little Bear. “The courtiers' clothes.”

“Beautiful,” Ping declared. “There is gold and silver thread everywhere, and not a wooden button in sight, because they are all made from rubies or diamonds. And everyone's wearing bracelets and necklaces and trinkets of all shapes and colors. But the main thing is that around the court you have to look neat.”

“Of course you do,” nodded the cub. “The Emperor doesn't want to talk to someone who looks like a scarecrow.”

“Or someone who's got black currant juice on his chin,” agreed Ping. “And of course when you are sitting at the table you must never burp. That's absolutely forbidden. The Emperor can cut off your head for burping. As for bottom-burping… that's even worse.”

“What does he cut off if you bottom-burp?” asked the wide-eyed cub.

“Your bottom,” said Ping, “so you can never do it again. And here's a strange one—when you go to the bathroom you're not allowed to go in the forest, you have to sit indoors on a wooden seat with a hole in the middle.”

Little Bear wrinkled up his nose.

“That sounds dirty,” he said.

“It's not pretty,” said Ping. “Unlike the bedrooms.”

“They're pretty, are they?” asked Little Bear.

“And comfortable,” added Ping.

“Well, they would be,” Little Bear said. “Emperors
always
have to sleep on comfortable beds, don't they?”

“That's why his mattress is stuffed with rhododendron leaves,” said Ping, unable to stop the fibs from tumbling out. “And he heats his bed with a hot-water beetle. It's the height of luxury. The servants slide a water beetle between the sheets and encourage it to run around until it's hot.”

Every time he opened his mouth Ping made his situation worse. There was one point, however, that he enjoyed returning to again and again.

“You have to be exceptionally brave to be a bodyguard,” he said.

And each time Ping said it, Little Bear grew more and more impressed by him.

“I think you're very brave,” he said. “I wish I was you.”

“Thank you,” Ping replied graciously. “But sometimes even bravery's not enough. Sometimes you have to be prepared to put yourself in mortal danger to save someone else's life.”

Little Bear asked him what the scariest fight he'd ever had was. Ping rose to the challenge and made up a story about twelve masked bandits scaling the walls of the palace in the dead of night.

“It was my job to scare them away before they could hurt the Emperor,” he said. He told Little Bear he had hung upside down off the palace roof, clinging onto the ramparts with nothing but his bare paws, and repelled them with hedgehog bombs, armadillo grenades, flamingo throwers, and anti-bandit mosquito missiles, which he'd thrown down on top of their heads.

Little Bear squealed with excitement.

“Did they fall off their ladders?” he asked.

“They fell in the moat, which I'd filled with specially trained crocodiles,” said Ping. “You should have seen the speed with which they jumped out of that water!”

“Wow!” gasped Little Bear. “Twelve masked bandits, specially trained crocodiles, and hanging off the roof by your toes! You are so brave.”

Although Ping liked being called brave, the truth was that every time Little Bear said this to him, Ping felt a little bit sadder, because of course he knew that he
wasn't
brave. Yes, he'd surfed down the river, but that was more stupid than brave. He'd never put his life in danger to save someone else—it was all made up. But obviously he couldn't say this to Little Bear without breaking the cub's heart and making himself look stupid. So he didn't.

Instead he offered to show Little Bear how to be a bodyguard and stop a bandit from creeping up on the Emperor.

“I'll be the Emperor's bodyguard,” Ping said. “You be the bandit and this katsura tree can be the Emperor. Obviously he tends to move around a bit more than a tree, but you get the idea.”

“You won't hurt me, will you?” said Little Bear nervously.

“Why would I hurt you?” Ping asked.

“Because you're a martial arts master and you won't be able to restrain yourself when you catch me.”

“My body may be a lethal weapon,” Ping said seriously, “but I always keep it firmly under control.” And he demonstrated what he meant by shouting “Banshai!” and kicking the tree. Unfortunately, he misjudged the distance between his leg and the trunk, kicked the air, and fell backward into a puddle.

“Are you alright?” asked Little Bear, while Ping lay on his back rubbing his leg.

“Lesson number one,” said the panda, trying to cover his mistake. “Always let your opponent think he can beat you so that he drops his guard.
Then
you can attack him. Shall we start?”

Ping and Little Bear played Bandits and Bodyguards all afternoon. They found out many things about each other. Little Bear was good at crawling on his stomach and sneaking up on Ping from behind, but Ping was equally good at looking between his legs and spotting Little Bear before he could touch him. Little Bear was excellent at jumping on Ping's back and putting his hands over Ping's eyes so that he couldn't see where he was going, but Ping was a master of scratching his back against a tree until Little Bear fell off. Little

Bear showed a talent for aerial assault, using vines to swing through the trees like a monkey, while Ping showed a talent for sitting down and pretending to be asleep when actually he had one eye open. Little Bear discovered that he could run silently on the tips of his claws and make a noise like a bird, which was useful for signaling, while Ping discovered that he could pull in his stomach and hide himself behind a tree. They had a great time, leaping off branches and jumping out of bushes to scare the pants off each other. Eventually, after both of them had collapsed to the ground, weary from so much laughter, Ping finally called it a day.

“It's time to get you home,” he said.

“But I don't want to go home yet,” Little Bear said. “I'm having too much fun. Tell me more about the Emperor. Please!”

“I've told you everything I know,” protested Ping.

“Pleeeeeeeeeeease!” begged Little Bear.

“OK. How about the time I went with him to England to meet a Queen named Elizabeth.”

“Yes. Tell me about that,” Little Bear cried.

“Well, there's not a whole lot to tell,” said Ping, stalling for time while he tried to remember what his friend Jack had told him about London. “It rained cats and dogs all the time and we had to use umbrellas to stop the cats and dogs from landing on our heads. And the Queen had just had some new bamboo blinds put up in the palace, which tasted rather delicious. She was charming as I recall, although she did expect us to bow to her all the time.”

“What's bowing?” asked Little Bear.

“It's very dangerous. You don't want to know,” said Ping quickly. “It's a bendy sort of a dance thing that needs to be done correctly unless you want to end up at the veterinarian's office.”

Little Bear shook his head.

“I don't think I want to do that,” he said. “But what about the Emperor—will we have to bow when we meet him?”

“You don't give up, do you?” said Ping.

“Please take me with you!” Little Bear begged. “I've already shown you what a great bodyguard I can be and I've never met an Emperor before, and I bet he'd love to tell me all about
you
—about the brave exploits and heroic feats of his favorite bodyguard.”

Ping sighed. He'd let it get out of hand again. Why did he never learn to stop making up stories? One lie was never enough. And it wasn't as if his mother hadn't warned him, either.

One lie, two lies, three lies, four,

Five lies, six lies, seven lies, more.

When a lie gets up to ten,

It won't go back in the box again.

Ping had to be firm with Little Bear.

“You have to go home,” he said, trying to sound as grown-up as he could. “Your mother will be wondering where you are.”

“She won't miss me. Honestly. I've got tons of brothers and sisters!”

“I'm taking you home,” said Ping, ignoring the little cub's pleas. “Now show me where it is.”

“Just up here,” said Little Bear quietly. “But—”

“No buts!” said Ping. “We've had a great time, but it'll be sundown soon and you have to get home to bed.”