Barry Hughart - The Story of the Stone

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.