The Story Of The Stone (20 page)

The reeds remained quiet, but then, slowly, they moved.

“Shi tou chi.”

“The Story of the Stone?” Master Li nodded. “Yes, I vaguely perceive what you mean. It's a question of priorities, of course, and I haven't quite sorted them out. But I'm almost there, I think.”

He got to his feet. Moon Boy and I followed his example, and we bowed to the skull.

“Ling,” Master Li said, “I still say you're a very great artist.”

The reeds moved for the last time. “Kao, I still say you were born to be hung.”

A
priest was holding a gate open for us. We walked out to a green hillside, and the last I saw of the Temple of Illusion was a window in a small tower with shutters half-closed. A winking eye.

A few miles past the White Cloud Convent we turned off the path and climbed shale and granite and black rock and crossed a clearing. We burrowed through brush to another clearing at the side of a cliff, and Master Li gazed happily at a strange and rather unimpressive plant.

“The mind is a miser,” he said. “Nothing is ever thrown away, and it's amazing what you can find if you dig deep enough.” He began stripping thorny little seed like things. “Don't play with thorn apples unless you know what you're doing,” he cautioned. They're of the nightshade family, like mandrake and henbane and belladonna, and their principal product is poison. From the Bombay thorn apple comes the legendary potion of India, dhatura, which can stupefy, paralyze, or kill, depending upon the dosage, but which can also produce a medicine with remarkable effect upon internal bleeding and fever. With any luck we'll have Grief of Dawn on her feet in no time."

Our trip back to the Valley of Sorrows was fast and uneventful, although Moon Boy and I grew ever more apprehensive as we approached, and we were weak with relief when the feather duster head of Prince Liu Pao thrust from a studio window and called cheerfully to us.

“Hurray! Grief of Dawn is as good as cured!” the prince yelled optimistically. “She's been unchanged! No weird sounds while you were gone, no more murdered monks, and no mad mummies crawling up from tombs!”

Moon Boy and I ran inside. Grief of Dawn looked very lovely and very vulnerable as she tossed in fever. She seemed to sense our presence and tried to sit up, and fell back, and Master Li stepped up and took her pulse. Since he used the right wrist I assumed he was checking on the condition of her lungs, stomach, large intestine, spleen, and parta ulta. He grunted with satisfaction.

“She can take the potion in full strength,” he said confidently, and at once he set to work with the thorn apple: boiling, distilling, blending with herbs and mysterious ingredients, and finally testing it on a cat, who seemed to enjoy it.

I don't know whether or not the stuff could be called miraculous, but I do know that Master Li added a final ingredient that no other physician could have managed. Moon Boy and I propped up Grief of Dawn, and Master Li managed to get a good dose of the portion down her throat. Within a minute she was stirring restlessly, and then her eyes opened. At first she saw nothing. Her eyes cleared and focused and her head moved forward and her lips brushed Moon Boy's cheek. “Darling,” she whispered. I leaned forward. “Dear Ox,” she said, and she kissed me too, and even managed to blush when Prince Liu Pao grinned and presented his cheek for a kiss.

“What happened?” she whispered. “It was dark and damp and I was running and running and running, and something terrible was behind me.”

“Well, it's gone now,” Master Li said comfortingly. “You have nothing to worry about except how in hell Ox is going to add enough space to our shack.”

The sick girl sat up straight.

“I've already figured it out, and there'll even be space for Moon Boy when he pops up,” I said happily.

“How about the prince?” said Master Li. “Let's include all of the family. Your Highness, do you object to sleeping three to a bed when you wander into our alley in Peking?”

“Not at all!” the prince said cheerfully.

Grief of Dawn was looking at Master Li with wide glistening eyes. The old sage shook his head ruefully.

“A man my age starting one more family. Sheer idiocy! At least,” he added, “I'll have the most fascinating young wife in all Peking, and that is the understatement of the century.”

I didn't fully understand what he meant until Grief of Dawn had completely recovered. Both she and the prince had us recount our adventures in Hell over and over, and Grief of Dawn gazed in wonder at the scar where the arrow had entered her chest and said she wished she could remember what it was like to be stone-cold dead. Master Li paced the floor, obviously yearning for action. His excitement was catching, and I think it helped speed Grief of Dawn's recovery, and then she was as fit as she had ever been and Master Li got us up with the sun. He said it was time to try something, and we had best be heavily armed. I chose an axe and stuck a short sword in my belt. Moon Boy and the prince both selected spears and daggers. Master Li lined his belt with throwing knives. Grief of Dawn was far and away the best archer among us, and she selected a bow from the pile and added a quiver of arrows and a knife in her belt. Master Li climbed up on my back.

“Start down the hill, and go across the valley to the hill beside the monastery,” he said. “Along the way I'll entertain you with some fascinating notes I've taken.”

Master Li pulled out a sheaf of notes and told Grief of Dawn to walk beside me. It had rained during the night, and the morning was very beautiful. Raindrops like tiny pearls glowed on each leaf, and damp grass sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight.

“My pet, according to the inner recesses of my mind, you have a credit account in Hell that could buy one or two of the lesser kingdoms. The reason lies in a lullaby to old Tai-tai that you sang when you were delirious, and that was only the beginning of an incredible performance. You're packed with more marvels than the Puzzle Book of Lu Pan!” he said enthusiastically. “Let's start with one of the most astounding conversations I've ever experienced.”

He flipped through his notes and began to read aloud.

GRIEF OF DAWN: Mistress, must I go to Chien's? It smells so bad, and the bargemen make rude jokes about ladies, and that old man with one leg always tries to pinch me.

MASTER LI: Darling, what does your mistress want you to buy at Chien's?

GRIEF OF DAWN: Rhinoceros hides.

MASTER LI: And where is Chien's?

GRIEF OF DAWN: Halfway between the canal and Little Ch'ing-hu Lake.

MASTER LI: Darling, does your mistress ever send you to Kang Number Eight's?

GRIEF OF DAWN: I like Kang Number Eight's.

MASTER LI: Where is it?

GRIEF OF DAWN: On the Street of Worn Cash-Coin.

MASTER LI: What do you buy there?

GRIEF OF DAWN: Hats.

MASTER LI: Hats. Yes, of course. And where do you buy your mistress's painted fans?

GRIEF OF DAWN: The Coal Bridge.

MASTER LI: I suppose she also sends you to buy the famous boiled pork at . . . What's the name of that place?

GRIEF OF DAWN: Wei-the-Big-Knife.

MASTER LI: Of course. Do you remember where it is?

GRIEF OF DAWN: Right beside the Cat Bridge.

Master Li lowered his notes, and regarded Grief of Dawn with the fondness of a connoisseur examining a rare orchid. “My pet,” he said, “you were describing a shopping trip that the personal maid of an aristocratic lady might have taken in Hangchow.”

“Hangchow?” the prince said with a startled expression on his face.

“Indeed yes, but you're right. No such establishments exist today, and the only reason I know about them is because they were often mentioned in the casual journals of classical writers,” said Master Li. “Both one-legged Ch'ien and his famous rhinoceros hides disappeared during a fire that destroyed the entire neighborhood during the late Han Dynasty. The Coal Bridge and Kang Number Eight's were razed to make way for a new canal more than three centuries ago. Wei-the-Big-Knife's was destroyed during the turmoil of the Three Kingdoms, and so it goes with every single reference.”

Grief of Dawn's eyes were like soup bowls. “I don't remember saying any of that, and the names mean nothing to me,” she protested.

Master Li shrugged. “You were delirious. At first I thought you were citing the same journals I'd read, but they're written in ancient scholarly shorthand that none but academics can decipher. I started asking loaded questions to pin down the exact date of this marvelous shopping trip, and I found it in two references.” He went back to his notes.

MASTER LI: And what's-his-name personally blends her ink?

GRIEF OF DAWN: Yes. Li Tinghuei.

MASTER LI: And that lovely courtesan makes pink paper for her?

GRIEF OF DAWN: Shieh Tao. Yes, she is lovely.

“Li Tinghuei and Shieh Tao are mentioned again and again in classical journals,” said Master Li. “Since Tinghuei was senior by more than forty years, there could have been only a brief period when it was possible to patronize both of them. I checked the dates, and the amazing shopping trip took place between 765 and 771 years ago.”

Moon Boy and I were gaping at Grief of Dawn, who was gaping at Master Li. Prince Liu Pao looked like he was mentally counting on his fingers, and Master Li read his mind.

“Precisely! That was when the Laughing Prince and Tou Wan kept a palace in Hangchow, and Tou Wan's maid would have accompanied her between Hangchow and the Valley of Sorrows.”

Occasionally a moderately intelligent thought misses a turn and accidentally enters my mind, and I said, “Sir, in Hell you confirmed from the Recorder of Past Existences that the Broth of Oblivion isn't always properly administered, and Grief of Dawn had come to the Valley of Sorrows, but perhaps she was returning to the valley, because when she was wounded and hallucinating—”

“Good boy!” said Master Li. “I had begun to suspect that Grief of Dawn had been Tou Wan's maid in a previous incarnation. Fever allowed deep-buried memories to rise to the surface, stimulated by the familiar surroundings. I wasn't just guessing wildly, of course. An absolutely delightful pattern was beginning to emerge, and we'll get to it in a few minutes.”

We began to climb again. Master Li led the way along a twisting path, and then we got down on our knees and crawled through the opening of a cave where the angle of the sun sent a flow of warm light over a small pile of bones. We sat in a semicircle around the skeleton of Wolf and Master Li patted Grief of Dawn's knee reassuringly.

“A thought kept returning to my mind,” he said. “Was it merely the familiar landscape of the Valley of Sorrows that released memories of a long-forgotten existence, or was something more dramatic involved? The night before you were wounded, you sat here and heard the story of Wolf and Fire Girl. Folk epics of the heroic quest are almost always based upon historical fact and then embellished beyond recognition. Was there fact behind the flight of Wolf and Fire Girl? They were running beside an underground river that was lined with statues bearing heads of animals and birds. During your fever you relived parts of a terrible experience. Here's some of it.”

He picked up his notes and found the place.

GRIEF OF DAWN: Faster . . . Must run faster . . . Where is the turn? . . . Past the goat statue . . . There's the raven and the river . . . Faster . . . Faster . . . This way! Hurry! . . . Soldiers . . . Hide until they pass . . . Now run! Run!

“Interesting,” Master Li said thoughtfully. “Here's how my subconscious mind reacted in Hell.”

TOU WAN: All I had was the sliver for my hairpin . . . That maid, always looking at it, always wanting it, trying to steal it . . . I stabbed her, but she ran away with the stone . . . My maid and that concubine with the ring of Upuaut my husband gave her . . . The soldiers killed them, but they could not find the stone.

Master Li shrugged. “I have no idea why I tossed in the bit about the maid having been stabbed, but other parts are clear enough. Anyone ever hear of Asyut?”

The sudden change of subject startled us. We shook our heads negatively.

“It's a city in Egypt, or used to be,” he explained. “The patron deity was called Upuaut, and when the barbarian Greeks conquered the place, they retained the deity but renamed the city Lycopolis. Prince, can you provide a literal translation?”

The prince was obviously pleased to be able to contribute something. “City of the Wolf,” he said promptly.

“Exactly. The head of Upuaut is that of a wolf, and the artisans of the city are renowned for amulets and bracelets and rings with wolf heads.” Master Li carefully lifted the ring from the skeleton's finger bones. He displayed the faint inner markings. “Hieroglyphs. It means 'He Who Rules the West,' which is one of Upuaut's many titles.”

Master Li gently replaced the ring. “Did you know that it is virtually impossible to distinguish between male and female skeletons? All one had to go on is size. A fairly large boy and a small young lady would look precisely the same. You see, one of Upuaut's duties was guarding women through pregnancy, and that is why his rings were strictly for females. Nobody would give such a ring to a man or a boy, but he would give it to a concubine.” He turned to his notes.

GRIEF OF DAWN: Faster . . . faster . . . Where is the passage? . . . Hurry! . . . More soldiers . . . Faster . . . faster . . . Hurry, darling! . . . There's the ibis statue . . .

Master Li put his notes away. “I strongly suspect that more than seven and a half centuries ago a maid and a concubine were forced to run for their lives from the construction site of the tomb of the Laughing Prince,” he said. “Over the years the boys of the valley transformed them into Wolf and Fire Girl, but many details of the story are still accurate history. Here in this cave the concubine was caught and killed. The maid was no doubt also killed, and if I may borrow an atrocious poetic style: The Great Wheel turns, the lives roll on, the maid returns as Grief of Dawn.”

She was stunned and shaken, and Master Li patted her shoulder.

“Dear girl, we need more than this delightful hypothesis to go on,” he said quietly. “May I have your permission to try to bring buried memories of a previous incarnation up to the surface?”

“You have my permission,” she whispered.

I had seen him do it before, but it always fascinated me. Master Li took his business card from his pocket and attached it to a leather thong. (The card is a seashell, and the half-closed eye painted upon it seems to say: “Part of the truth revealed; some things I see, but some I don't.”) Slowly the shell swung before Grief of Dawn's eyes, back and forth, back and forth, while his soft voice told her she was getting sleepy. Her eyes closed. Grief of Dawn slept yet didn't sleep, and when she awoke she wasn't Grief of Dawn. She was Hyacinth Bud, the personal maid of Tou Wan.

“We're your friends, darling,” Master Li said soothingly. “We're going to help you. Do you remember running up to this cave?”