Barry Hughart - The Story of the Stone

The great man paused. Flunkies, priests, acolytes, and apprentices peered around for sneezers or coughers. Nobody breathed. The great man continued.

“The proper tone possesses eight qualities: clarity, wonder, remoteness, sadness, eloquence, manliness, softness, and extensibility, but the tone will suffer under any of six conditions: bitter cold, extreme heat, strong wind, heavy storm, noisy thunder, or swirling snow, and the Wen-Wu lute must never be played under any of seven circumstances: mourning the dead, simultaneous playing with orchestra, preoccupation with worldly matters, uncleanliness of body, untidiness of costume, failure to burn incense in advance, and lack of an appreciative audience.”

The audience held its collective breath as the demigod slowly raised the lute from his lap. He plucked a string: plink! He plucked a second string: plonk! He returned the lute to his lap.

“I,” he announced, “am currently mourning my wife, secondary wives, concubines, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and pet parakeet, all of whom perished during a typhoon. The snoring of those louts in the corner constitutes playing with orchestra. The leering moron in the blue robe is more interested in dancing girls than in art. Half of you haven't washed in a month, and the other half have spilled soup on your robes. I fail to perceive the slightest trace of incense, and to call this collection of oafs an appreciative audience would be to provoke the gods into howls of hysterical laughter.”

The world's greatest master of the Wen-Wu lute slowly rose to his feet. The forefinger of his left hand lifted. “However.” A divine nimbus appeared to envelop the awesome figure. Six more green leaves appeared to sprout from the staff as his fingers closed around it. “My period of mourning ends in two days, and if the other factors are rectified, I may possibly grant you a performance. In the meantime you may direct me to my suite. See that I am not disturbed, for I wish to contemplate the phenomenon of human fallibility.”

The great man shuffled slowly from the room, accompanied by a series of dull thuds as distinguished guests fainted and toppled to the floor.

“Fraud, my children! Fraud and forgery. Dry rot covered with paint and gilded with lies,” Master Li declaimed. He tossed the Wen-Wu lute to a hook on the wall: plunk. “A fool will study for twenty or thirty years and learn how to do something, but a wise man will study for twenty or thirty minutes and become an expert. In this world it isn't ability that counts, but authority.”

“Sir, you're doing wonders for my education,” I said.

“And mine,” Grief of Dawn said admiringly.

“What do we do now?” I asked.

“Wait to be arrested,” Master Li said matter-of-factly. “I didn't fool the king for a moment, of course, but I hope I entertained him. What did you think of the Golden Girls?”

Of the king I had seen only a vast shape looming in the shadows, but his bodyguards had been very visible.

“They're beautiful,” Grief of Dawn said. “Beautiful and dangerous. Did you see the captain? She worships the king and can't wait to kill to prove it.”

Master Li nodded. “Be very careful when we're summoned to his majesty's presence. Was Moon Boy there?”

“No, sir,” said Grief of Dawn.

The suite was enormous, with a number of private bedchambers connected to bathing rooms that made my eyes bulge almost as wide as Grief of Dawn's. There were jade-tiled tubs that one could sit in while warm water poured from the mouths of nine-headed bronze dragons. There was soap made from perfumed Fenglai peas, and thick velvet towels, and the water exited through the mouths of nine-headed bronze tortoises. In the central suite were racks containing beautiful paintings in rich brocade cases with jade-tipped scroll unrollers, and an entire wall was covered with books. The inkstone on the desk had the most perfect purple eye-spots I had ever seen, and Master Li said it was a genuine Tuan from Ling-lang Gorge. His nose led him to a cabinet that contained wines from every corner of the empire, and he selected a jar and moved to the windows.

He was studying the layout of the castle. A deep moat ran between two high parallel stone walls, and anyone crossing the drawbridge was stopped at three checkpoints. Getting out was not going to be easy, and I was not cheered by King Shin Hu's idea of decoration. The walls were lined with pikes holding severed heads, and a row of bare pikes had name-plates beneath them—bandit chiefs, I learned, who would sooner or later join the decorative scheme.

“They're here,” Grief of Dawn whispered.

I hadn't heard a door open, but I turned to see six of the Golden Girls and the captain. The captain had the eyes of an eagle, fierce and pitiless, and she gestured commandingly. Master Li held up a hand.

“Would you mind if I remove this atrocious thing first? I'm either going to strangle in it or trip over it.”

He removed his fake white beard, and then his huge eyebrows. The Golden Girls escorted us outside and down a maze of marble corridors. We approached a pair of very pretty lacquered doors that stood fourteen feet high, and they swung open to reveal the most beautiful room I had ever seen.

It was big enough for five village dances and a riot. Various sections were curtained off by shimmering screens of falling water that flowed into pools where brightly colored fish swam. Skylights let sunbeams play over magnificent rocks that had been left as nature had placed them, and the air was rich with the scent of growing flowers. In the center of the room was a boulder of bluish-green stone that needed only a cushion to become a throne, and upon it sat Shih-Hu, King of Chao.

The closer we came, the huger he grew. His eyes were small bright dots in the vast expanse of his face, and I was relieved to see a suggestion of a twinkle in them. We knelt and performed the three obeisances and nine kowtows, and he signaled for us to rise. His voice was soft, with thunder rumbling beneath it.

“We prefer you without the beard,” he said to Master Li. “It was rather overdone, although we cannot fault you for allowing artistry to overpower reality. It was a superb performance.”

Master Li bowed.

“Who are you and what do you want?”

“Your Majesty, my surname is Li and my personal name is Kao, and there is a slight flaw in my character,” Master Li said politely. “This is my esteemed former client and current assistant, Number Ten Ox, and the lovely young lady is Grief of Dawn. With your permission, she would like to show Your Majesty her hair clasp.”

Grief of Dawn removed the clasp and handed it to the Captain of Bodyguards, who examined it for sharp points and poison before passing it to the king. He examined the interlocking phoenix and dragon and turned it over and read the names. He whispered to one of the Golden Girls, who bowed and left the room.

“Grief of Dawn wishes to see Moon Boy again, and I saw no reason why I should not help her enter the palace,” Master Li said smoothly. “As for my own interest, I am seeking a manuscript. I wish only to read it, not take it, and I have heard that Your Majesty is the greatest collector of rare things. I took the liberty of a harmless deceit to gain entrance, and I have a small fragment of the manuscript in question.”

He handed the fragment of the Ssu-ma to the captain, who checked it over and handed it to the king. I began to warm to the huge monarch when I saw the obvious incomprehension on his face. He could no more read ancient scholar's shorthand than I could. He shrugged and handed it back to the captain, who passed it to Master Li.

“It means nothing to us,” he said. “Your information is slightly inaccurate. We do indeed collect the rare, but our interest is not in things but in people. Here is the jewel of our collection.”