Christopher Moore - Lamb - The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal

Once in Kabul we asked around the market for any news of a Chinese woman named Tiny Feet of the Divine Dance of Joyous Orgasm, but no one had heard of her, nor had they seen a woman simply named Joy. After a full day of searching, Joshua and I were about to abandon the search for our friend when I remembered something she had once said to me. I asked a local tea seller.

“Is there a woman who lives around here, a very rich woman perhaps, who calls herself the Dragon Lady or something like that?”

“Oh, yes sir,” the fellow said, and he shuddered as he spoke, as if a bug had run across his neck. “She is called the Cruel and Accursed Dragon Princess.”

“Nice name,” I said to Joy as we rode through the massive stone gates into the courtyard of her palace.

“A woman alone, it helps to have your reputation precede you,” said the Cruel and Accursed Dragon Princess. She looked almost exactly as she had almost nine years ago when we had left, except perhaps that she wore a little more jewelry. She was petite, and delicate, and beautiful. She wore a white silk robe embroidered with dragons and her blue-black hair hung down her back almost to her knees, held in place by a single silver band that just kept it from sweeping around her shoulders when she turned. “Nice elephant,” she added.

“She’s a present,” Joshua said.

“She’s lovely.”

“Do you have a couple of camels you can spare, Joy?” I asked.

“Oh, Biff, I had really hoped that you two would sleep with me tonight.”

“Well, I’d love to, but Josh is still sworn off the muffin.”

“Young men? I have a number of man-boys I keep around for, well, you know.”

“Not those either,” Joshua said.

“Oh Joshua, my poor little Messiah. I’ll bet no one made you Chinese food for your birthday this year either?”

“We had rice,” Joshua said.

“Well, we’ll see what the Accursed Dragon Princess can do to make up for that,” said Joy.

We climbed down from the elephant and exchanged hugs with our old friend, then a stern guard in bronze chain mail led Vana away to the stables and four guards with spears flanked us as Joy led us into the main house.

“A woman alone?” I said, looking at the guards that seemed to stand at every doorway.

“In my heart, darling,” Joy said. “These aren’t friends, family, or lovers, these are employees.”

“Is that the Accursed part of your new title?” Joshua said.

“I could drop it, just be the Cruel Dragon Princess, if you two want to stay on.”

“We can’t. We’ve been called home.”

Joy nodded dolefully and led us into the library (filled with Balthasar’s old books), where coffee was served by young men and women who Joy had obviously brought from China. I thought of all the girls, my friends and my lovers, who had been killed by the demon so long ago, and swallowed my coffee around a lump in my throat.

Joshua was as excited as I had seen him in a long time. It might have been the coffee. “You won’t believe the wonderful things I’ve learned since I left here, Joy. About being the agent of change (change is at the root of belief, you know), and about compassion for everyone because everyone is part of another, and most important, that there is a bit of God in each of us—in India they call it the Divine Spark.”

He rambled on like that for an hour, and eventually my melancholy passed and I was infected by Joshua’s enthusiasm for the things he had learned from the Magi.

“Yes,” I added, “and Josh can climb inside a standard-size wine amphora. You have to bust him out with a hammer, but it’s interesting to watch.”

“And you, Biff?” Joy asked, smiling into her cup.

“Well, after supper I’ll show you a little something I like to call Water Buffalo Teasing the Seeds out of the Pomegranate.”

“That sounds—”

“Don’t worry, it’s not that hard to learn. I have pictures.”

We were four days at Joy’s palace, enjoying comfort, food, and drink such as we hadn’t experienced since we’d last seen her. I could have stayed forever, but on the morning of the fifth day Joshua stood at the entrance to Joy’s bedchamber, his satchel slung over his shoulder. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. We shared breakfast with Joy and she met us at the gate to say good-bye.

“Thanks for the elephant,” she said.

“Thanks for the camels,” Joshua said.

“Thanks for the sex book,” Joy said.

“Thanks for the sex,” I said.

“Oh, I forgot, you owe me a hundred rupees,” Joy said. I had told her about Kashmir. The Cruel and Accursed Dragon Princess grinned at me. “Just kidding. Be well, my friend. Keep that amulet I gave you and remember me, huh?”

“Of course.” I kissed her and climbed on my camel’s back, then coaxed him to his feet.

Joy embraced Joshua and kissed him on the lips, hard and long. He didn’t seem to be trying to push her away.

“Hey, we had better go, Josh,” I said.

Joy held the Messiah at arm’s length and said, “You are always welcome here, you know that?”

Josh nodded, then climbed on his camel. “Go with God, Joy,” he said. As we rode through the gates of the palace the guards shot fire arrows that trailed long tails of sparks over us until they exploded above the road ahead: Joy’s last good-bye to us, a tribute to the friendship and arcane knowledge we had all shared. It scared the bejeezus out of the camels.

After we had been on the road awhile, Joshua asked, “Did you say goodbye to Vana?”

“I intended to, but when I went to the stable she was practicing her yoga and I didn’t want to disturb her.”

“No kidding?”

“Really, she was sitting in one of the postures you taught her.”

Joshua smiled. It didn’t hurt anything for him to believe that.

The journey on the Silk Road through the high deserts took us over a month, but it was fairly uneventful, except for one attack by a small group of bandits. When I caught the first two spears they flung at me and flung them right back, wounding the two who had thrown them, they turned and ran. The weather was mild, or as mild as one can expect in a deadly and brutal desert, but by now Joshua and I had traveled so much in this sort of harsh country that there was little that affected us. Just before we reached Antioch, however, a sandstorm whipped up out of the desert that left us hiding between our camels for two days, breathing through our shirts and washing the mud out of our mouths every time we took a drink. The storm settled enough to travel, and we were at a veritable gallop in the streets of Antioch when Joshua located an inn by impacting with its sign on his forehead. He was knocked back off his camel and sat up in the street with blood streaming down his face.

“Are you hurt badly?” I asked, kneeling beside him. I could barely see in the driving dust.

Joshua looked at the blood on his hands where he had touched his forehead. “I don’t know. It doesn’t hurt that badly, but I can’t tell.”

“Inside,” I said, helping him to his feet and through the door of the inn.

“Shut the door,” the innkeeper shouted as the wind whipped through the room. “Were you born in a barn?”

“Yeah,” said Joshua.

“He was,” I said. “Angels on the roof, though.”

“Shut the damn door,” said the innkeeper.

I left Joshua sitting there by the door while I went out and found shelter for the camels. When I returned Joshua was wiping his face with a linen cloth that someone had handed to him. A couple of men stood over him, eager to help. I handed the cloth to one of them and examined Josh’s wounds. “You’ll live. A big bump and two cuts, but you’ll live. You can’t do the healing thing on—”